My eighteenth birthday is on Friday.

We're going to have a party, all right? A great big, grand party with loud music and dancing and loads of drinking and loose-morals aplenty (of the strictly Order-approved variety).

It can be a belated wedding celebration for Justin, Hydra, Ron, and Sally Anne, too. Not just a birthday party.

We'll hold it at the Manor. My house, that is. You can all have a look around and rub your less-than-pureblooded bodies on the expensive, antique furnishings.

Or no, best to have it at the castle. Then the galleon holders can come, and anyone else who wants to.

It'll be brilliant.