A sly grin stole across his face, "I know for a fact that you can’t be the Heir of Slytherin. You’re loud and have been known to suddenly break out into song. You like to spin around in circles just for fun until you fall over. I’ve seen you sprawled out on the floor looking up at the ceiling because of all the "pretty lights.’ No Heir of Slytherin would ever be as silly as you and still remain respectable."