"Dad didn't tell me anything," he shoots back, but he knows why: probably because he'd overreact. James huffs and shoves his hands into his pockets, lingering in the doorway, suddenly utterly unsure of where to go. "And this is sort of the last time we'll be living in the same roof, Al," he mutters, but his eyes cut to Scorpius, lip curling in distaste at his little sneer.

And then he simply shrugs.

"Fine, then. Grab your broom, come on."