Albus tried not to wrinkle his nose at the smell of the tea and took a sip to be polite. It was awful. It somehow managed to be flowery, bitter, sweet and weirdly soapy all at the same time. "Oh, well, I started using a journal as a way of gathering my thoughts," he said, trying not to grimace at the metallic aftertaste of the tea. "We were... very isolated and I couldn't really talk about this stuff with my brother or sister."