“Sir,” Philip said, in a tone so similarly curt it almost came across mocking. He couldn’t bring himself to care today. There was so little point pussyfooting around this, anyway: it was an appointment practically bound to go downhill.
(Almost a shame he hadn’t been the one half-deafened, because then he might have been able to get away without listening to whatever the lecture would be.)
Philip dropped into the chair opposite his father, doing his best to look bored and unbothered. If there was one thing he didn’t feel, it was regret for the hexing – Robin was lucky he hadn’t gotten off worse. Philip could have murdered him for it. Now his life was over at nineteen, because quidditch was out the window, all because Robert couldn’t keep his mouth shut for two bloody minutes.
(Almost a shame he hadn’t been the one half-deafened, because then he might have been able to get away without listening to whatever the lecture would be.)
Philip dropped into the chair opposite his father, doing his best to look bored and unbothered. If there was one thing he didn’t feel, it was regret for the hexing – Robin was lucky he hadn’t gotten off worse. Philip could have murdered him for it. Now his life was over at nineteen, because quidditch was out the window, all because Robert couldn’t keep his mouth shut for two bloody minutes.
