Regulus paid me a visit at lunch this afternoon. It's quite sad that the mere sight of my little brother now ruins my appetite. He came dashing up to the Gryffindor table, and plopped down across from me.
"You know what this is?" he asked, waving a scroll of parchment at me.
"Is it our dear mother's obituary?" I asked, trying to keep from flinging a spoonful of recently mashed banana at his forehead.
This apparently wasn't the answer he wanted.
"No, Sirius," he answered. "This is an owl from Mother, who is very much alive. She inquired as to the health, grades, and general well-being of her younger, favorite son....and not you," he added. This time he sounded as if he really cared, as if I mattered in the grand scheme of his life. I almost believed him, too.
"Who cares, Regulus? I'm about ready to blast myself off of the family tree and save Mother the trouble."
"Sirius, if you'd only listen to what Mother and Father have to say-"
"I don't want to." And with that, I did fling the mashed banana. Hit him in the eye, I did. The wet squelching was quite satisfying. He began to huff quite indignantly and I got up and walked out of the Great Hall. James, Remus, and Peter looked at me a bit funny, and I'm sure they'll ask me about it later, but I really don't care.
Is it normal to wish your parents dead?