Jamie pulled his arm away sharply. "If there are, they exist at the bottom of the bottle. I wasn't joking. You want to know where it all went wrong? Ask whatever bottle of Ogden's he crawled into at the end of the day. Or the morning. Or after a stressful meeting. I don't know. None of us do. I mean, we have our guesses, ranging from curses to simply doing the maths for when I was born. But, Dad doesn't talk to us about it. Mum doesn't talk to us about it. Grandma Molly looks affronted if anyone so much as hints something might be wrong with him. Aunt Hermione tried to explain mental health from a muggle perspective once, but that's not something we consider in the wizarding world, is it? I started covering for him with the press when I was sixteen, slowly taking over as the face of the family once I was out of school so that there was nothing public to be talked about."
He snorted. "And your second son is brilliant, every bit as much as the two you named him after. He's also got more of a bloodline to inherit from than just his parents. I can think of at least two uncles who share the gene pool and are also brilliant, intellectual men who enjoy learning new things, even if they aren't professional scholars. There's nothing strange about Al."