The heat of the day was such that a sleepy cadence had settled over the town; despite there being much to do. Now that the Summer holidays had commenced at Hogwarts, its Groundskeeper had less responsibility, with fewer children trampling the grass and getting up to mischief; but it remained his job alongside his far more covert profession as ghost writer. And it was writing Natty had in his mind now, as he took a stroll along the banks of the lake in search of bright inspiration.

As he looked across the still blue water, he saw a number of flat pebbles on the shore and gave pause. The words of a certain memorable young man sprung into his head. Natty picked up a stone, and, for the first time in his life, skipped it across the water.

Winston Umbra