A bowl of cornflakes sat in front of Albus. He’d been up until almost one in the morning, revising for his OWLs, which started in only two days. It was all he could do to keep himself from crawling back to bed and forgetting all about them. But it wouldn’t hurt to rest his eyes; a little kip never hurt anybody.
At that moment, a pair of arms snaked around his waist and jerked him from his seat, vaulting his groggy mind into full attention.
“There’s my favourite little brother!”
If thoughts could kill, James would’ve surely been dead.