"Well he had better hurry up, because we could use all the help in Slytherin we can get." Lyra was tugging along on his hand, threatening to walk in front like she was leading the way, despite the fact that only one of them really knew where they were going and it wasn't her. "We're so close in points, but both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw keep sneaking ahead again. I'm sure at least one of them is cheating." She made a spiteful, disapproving face. "Did I tell you one of the fifth years told me ours is the largest class they've had in Slytherin in years?" She had, in fact, brought it up at least three times in her letters thus far. "Can you believe it."

Lyra should have known better, really, considering how their own parents talked about the both of them (declaring them geniuses the moment they had spoke their first words, brilliant sorcerers to be when they started showing those first signs of magic, and so on) but she still pointed out: "I thought you said he had only just begun flying. You know that for sure so soon? Can he even hold a quaffle yet without drooling on it?"