I often find it hard to believe I live in my body. Am I really the short, bespectacled teenager I see in the mirror? Apparently.

The three-headed dog trotted into the room, and Creusus stroked its coarse fur.
“Well, is there any news of Morgue?”
“Not much.” Flavius settled farther into his chair.
“I have heard, though, that he plans to move his base.”
“Where to?”
“Oh, probably Jiyidil or some place like that. You know, those big cities.”
Creusus nodded.
“And how are you, Kaerlthin?” he asked, in an effort to make small talk. The boy shrugged.
“Oh, you know, I’m fine. Working hard to gain my wand,”
“Of course, of course,” said Creusus.

“Flavia! You’ll catch your death of a cold out here without your coat!” It was Brian’s voice, imitating Mother’s.
Flavia, ignoring his remark, turned and gave him a sweet smile. “Wouldn’t it be lovely Brian, if—”
“Yes. Yes, I suppose it would be; not to have you worrying everyone all the time, throwing such awful fits, stirring up the little boys, bothering Cynthia, making—”
“Brian Joseph!” Flavia stamped her foot furiously. “I ought to beat you up for that!”
He smiled his extremely annoying smile. “I don’t advise it.”