The good thing about having a friend like Cleo is that you don’t need to get overly sappy. None of the simpering ‘oh my god I missed you so much, you look great, how’s your family’. No, she’s the sort of friend you can toss yourself down next to during breakfast, and launch right into things. “I’ve been back like five minutes and I already feel as though I need another weekend at the spa. I’ve had it up to here with first years absolutely shitting themselves at every little thing - like, yes, it’s a magical castle, that staircase did move, that portrait did talk to you, can we please move on.” Evra might only be a second year, but she’d had the dignity last year to not block the corridors, constantly overcome by the urge to stop and gawp at everything. They’re worse than the bloody tourists in London, ambling slowly along pavements and peering into each and every shop along the way.