It was almost seemless, Dina and Spencer baring down on Roger. If the two Gryffindors ever had a child together, they would be a forbidable team during displinarian times.
Spencer had suddenly gone eerily quiet. No more cursing. No more loud words. This was truly, pissed off Spencer - beyond the point of rage. "Will you be happy when you're dead, Roger? Neither of us would ever DIE if in an unhealthy relationship. You're supposed to be a Ravenclaw, you're supposed to be smarter than this."
"Oh yes, the people who believe in what you do. The people who bet on the games. Who wouldn't shed one tear at your funeral. You're so stuck up your own ass that you can't even see when your two best friends are trying to look out for you. That's okay. You've never done well with tough love. Since you're going to be so rotten about it, we might as well take it a little furthur. Your mother, for example."
"Because honestly, Roger," And then he exploded again, "I'm SICK AND TIRED OF YOUR STUPIDNESS!" This was bad. Rage after calmness meant a shouting lecture that would last for at least, thirty minutes.