You say that like you're an aged hermit. [ She affects a deeper voice, her most playful imitation of him: ] Oh me, I am wise old grizzled dragonkeeper, living away on the mild moors. You're not that much older, Charles.

[ On the list of things that Luna cared about, an eight-year age difference was right at the very bottom. Between her odd personality, being an only child, and being her father's best friend, it meant associating with all his friends rather than children her own age — she had peered in on dinners, sat in on the adults' conversations, chatted amiably to seventy-year-old wizards. Sometimes people looked at her wide eyes and distracted demeanour and saw innocent naiveté; other times, people could realise she was wise beyond her years. (Twelve years old and standing by the carriages with her hand against the warm, leathery neck of a thestral, the animal pressing its bony nose into her palm.)

But, still— ]

You are right though. Maybe I'll change my mind entirely a few years from now and decide to become a competitive Gobstones player. You could, too — though something tells me you're rather happy where you are.