Magnus died,. However, instead of the expected afterlife, he found himself in a fictional world as a nine years old orphan with magic. ‘Now, how do I deal with magical fascists who would enjoy pulling a blitzkrieg on my blood, immortal noseless half-bloods with daddy issues, soul-sucking amortal abominations and a ferret whose father will hear about it?’ This is the story of his adventures, ambitions and love life for those who can’t help but intrude on other people’s privacy.
Magnus looked at her, his eyes burning with the golden glory of molten cheese. FLeur could hear a rumbling emanating from him, beyond that, she could feel his magic simmering and burning in sacred effort.
"Yes, I do." His voice was like thunder.
Out of his mouth he shot a torrent of spit straight to her face, honouring the memory of a thousand proud readers.
"Mostly on pancake days." He added as an afterthought.