Lester had accepted it: O.W.L.s were going to kill him.

He'd been a smart person his whole life, but this was too much. There was just too much information. They'd learned — had they learned? he did not remember? — too many things, and there was no way to shove it all in his brain. He was a smart person. But he was definitely going to fail all his O.W.L.s and then he'd have to move onto Jesse and Mr. Kirke's couch before his mother killed him, and do whatever it was people who failed all their O.W.L.s but were middle class did. Play instruments on the street, maybe? He didn't know any instruments but surely that was easier than whatever this was.

Which was to say that he had (probably temporarily) abandoned studying for the day in favor of going outside to experience the outside, and was wandering down to the boat docks. He hadn't planned to see Sloane here, but he was not surprised to see Sloane here, either, and returned her smile.

"Hi, Sloane," Lester said, dropping into the spot next to her. "Do you think I could learn the violin?"

He usually wasn't this dramatic — he usually wasn't dramatic at all — but O.W.L.s warranted it.

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