"He's not a member of anything," Greg said, "he's just grouchy and tricky."
After taking a moment to glare at the door that was only supposed to open to him or the Fergusons, not wide-eyed daughters of newspaper publishers, Greg set the mess of thingies and tea down on mostly finished table. He looked down at Luna's bright smile and sighed. There were going to be charms and talismans cluttering up his workshop very soon. He just knew it.
"The boggarts and the other things haven't bothered me that much yet. There's no need for you to trouble yourself over it," he offered in hopes that she'd stop smiling at him so.