You were the butler of James Phelps, he was a prince with his twin brother Oliver Phelps, you liked being around them and they liked being around you, you were a boy of course.

You were kind, polite, handsome, patient... Everything that James loves in a man, you have it. You even write poems.

It was a sunny day as you and James were walking in the forest, the birds singing, the sun hitting the trees with some shadow, it was so beautiful... You were even holding a basket of food for a picnic.

“Oh, to be in England now that April’s there!”

You started, looking around, speaking sophisticated.

"And whoever wakes in England sees some morning unaware that the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf round the Elm tree bole are in tiny leaf..."

You continued, James listened with a small grin, he loves how sophisticated and calm you speak.

"While the chiffchadd sings on the Ochard bough. In England. Now..."

You continued, not a second both finished as James listen while you walk and look around, holding the basket.

"And after April, when May follows and the white throats builds, and all the swallows hark! When I blossomed pear tree in the hedge leans to the field, and scatters on the Clover blossoms, and dewsdrops at the bent sprays edge. That's the wise thrush, he sings each song twice over."

You continued, it kinds of sendee like a "poem" and James loved it very much as you both kept walking in the forest.