You'd experienced a lot of strange situations. But nothing was as strange as the situation you were thrown into now.

It was two in the morning.

A clingy, feverish Mattheo was weighing you down from his perch on your lap. He was completely convinced he was dying after getting lost in muggle London, and then returning home with a common cold. Though the boy insisted that he had caught a 'man-flu' and not some measly cold.

"I'm dying," Mattheo rasped dramatically.