Lessons Learned

The second floor of Flourish and Blotts was deserted except for one lone figure curled up in an armchair, thumbing slowly through an overly large book about wizarding law. It was the self updating version, giving the laws from ancient times through to the current passings. Grey eyes followed the text quickly, seemingly just flicking her eyes back and forth along the page.

If someone approached her they would see an unmoving form hunched over a large book. That was the way Ciar liked it. It kept most people away. And if it didn't then the Whelan crest visible on her chest kept the others away.

Damian wandered about Florish and Blotts, not really searching for anything in particular. They were no decent potions journals in, and he already owned many of the texts on the subject. There were other books and magazines, of course, many of which he found interesting, but at the moment, he wasn't looking to buy anything. His mind was far too distracted for that.

Footsteps carrying him up to the second story of the shop, the boy wended his way between bookshelves, gaze idly browsing titles. His gaze flitted to a figure hunched over a particularly large tome. The girl exuded an unapproachable air, clearly wanting no distractions. Shrugging a shoulder, Damian continued about his own business, blue-eyed gaze returning to the books all around even though his aimless wandering brought him closer to the end of the aisle where she sat.

"Aimless wandering usually denotes a wandering mind," the Irish teen said in a lilting English, showing her Irish roots, as the boy wandered closer. She had been watching him out of the corner of her eye ever since he had reached the top of the stairs. It was a habit of hers to always keep an eye on what was around her. It helped keep her alive through the month long trials she had gone through.

Her head rose slightly as she observed the boy fully. Brown hair, blue eyes, looked rather sturdy like he had been through a bit. Ciar smirked inwardly. This could be interesting. His personality would be a useful tidbit of information to match with his physical features.

"My mind is wandering," Damian stated with a shrug, giving her a glance as he spoke. It was common courtesy, after all. He was able to find out almost as much, if not more, about the girl without looking at her, at all. "I've a lot to think on.

"You don't attend Hogwarts," he said, taking a promising title from the shelf. "I'd have come across you." And he'd neither seen her nor caught her scent. Putting the book back - it wasn't that great, after all - he turned his attention back to her, blue gaze appraising her.

"Durmstrang, probably," he guessed. "House Whelan never really sent their children to Hogwarts." Damian might not have been pureblood, himself, but he did more than enough reading to make up for it.

Ciar smirked as she closed her book and used her wand to return it to the shelf using nonverbal casting. She was slowly making headway with the skill thanks to her master and was rather glad she was of age and able to use magic outside school as well. "House Whelan had a reputation of using magic that even the founders of Hogwarts frowned upon. Durmstrang welcomed our magic with open arms. Whelan's care not for light or dark for the only thing that seems to matter in this world is power. It is also one of the reasons my house is known for its warriors and keen strategists."

She stood from the chair and sauntered towards the boy before circling around him looking him up and down. Not Pureblood by birth, his attitude and bearing were wrong unless he was of the new blood. Ciar extended her hand to him. "Lady Whelan, Head of House Whelan and House Hufflepuff, at your service. You must be first or second generation Pureblood, judging primarily by your appearance and mannerisms. Most of the English old Houses I've been around are usually arrogant, stuck-up little monstrosities that are an embarrassment to the name of wizard with their inbred ways a lot of the time."

"Hogwarts marches to a different drumbeat these days," Damian replied; not arguing, simply stating a fact. Either way, the boy learned a wider variety of magic under Asric's mentoring than the school would offer him.

Blue eyes followed her as she approached, inclining his head as she moved behind him rather than continuing to watch her. There was no need, really, even if it was a rather odd sort of greeting. Most people didn't feel the need to study him quite so intently.

The corner of Damian's mouth twitched upward in mild amusement. "Not quite," he replied, taking her hand in a firm, confident grip. "Damian Gray, apprentice to Asric Chaos. Muggleborn. And I happen to agree on your assessment of the pureblood elite in England and elsewhere. A lot of them are full of themselves."