"What do you make of it?" Aldous asked of his sister before she could reasonably be expected to have finished looking over the letter, charmed so that November might understand the Latin—not a language expected of even accomplished ladies.

The letter had, understandably, come as something of a surprise on multiple fronts. Firstly, Aldous Crouch had never been in the business of receiving overtures of admiration, and had quite imagined to continue on in such a fashion for much of his life. Secondly, of course, the words themselves and the language in which they had been delivered; the Latin had a poetry to it, at least on parchment. And thirdly, the anonymity of it. Given his incredibly limited understanding of the opposite sex, it had been his dear sister's advice he sought out, for Malfoy would tell him to pay it no heed, Reuben would laugh, and Roman was likely to have little more insight than Aldous himself.

November, though, was a wildcard—her opinion on the matter would be trustworthy and was not to be predicted.