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Nevan’s gaze lingered on Damien as he spoke, quiet and still in contrast to the other boy’s animated enthusiasm. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t even shift his posture much. He just listened, taking in not only Damien’s words but the way his tone lifted when he spoke of his passion, the way he smirked with pride at his collection, the way his voice faltered briefly when mentioning his father. Nevan tucked that last part away, silent and subtle.

“Prodigy,” he echoed softly, almost tasting the word. “That’s not something most people can claim. It means you’ve already set yourself apart from others.” His voice wasn’t fawning or overly admiring, but calm and deliberate, the way one might weigh a fact. “If you can keep that, and build on it, then you’ll have more than just passion. You’ll have something lasting. It could make you successful.” Success had always been something Nevan was taught to go after, the most important thing in life. At first he had disagreed, and he still quietly did at times, but he accepted that success was important.

He adjusted the sleeve of the pretty formal robe he was currently wearing, almost hesitantly, then looked back to Damien. “I’ll be sure to find you, then, if I have questions. I prefer learning from those who know their subject best. Books are useful, but people…” He let the sentence trail for a moment before finishing softly, “People can tell you things in different ways than books can.”

At Damien’s remark about wisdom from experience, Nevan tilted his head slightly. “True. Experience shapes us. But even experience can be sharpened by guidance.” His lips quirked faintly, just shy of a smile.

The mention of Damien’s private library drew a longer pause from Nevan. He gave a low, thoughtful hum, his expression still and contemplative. “That is pretty impressive.” He also enjoyed reading a lot, but perhaps not for the fun of it, rather for the knowledge.

At the softer note Damien ended on, Nevan studied him for a moment longer, the corner of his lips turning up in the barest flicker of a smile. “Not many people our age think about leaving an impact on others. That’s… unusual. Admirable, I'd say.” He spoke carefully, as though testing the words on his tongue. “Perhaps Hogwarts is fortunate to have you.”

He glanced briefly toward the counter where Madam Malkin was neatly packing their purchases, then back to Damien. His fingers brushed against the silver clasp of the cloak draped over his arm, absently tracing the detail as he added, “And perhaps I could be fortunate to have you as a mentor too.” Not a real mentor, of course, just someone to answer his questions and help him if he struggled. Nevan usually preferred doing things on his own, but he'd give it a try. "Though I think I'll be more interested in Potions than Astronomy, I've always enjoyed watching my father work whenever he'd let me. He's a healer."
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Nevan listened quietly as Damien rushed to clarify, his tone earnest and almost anxious not to appear boastful. He blinked once, slowly, then gave a soft nod. “I didn’t take it as bragging,” he said simply, his voice even. “There’s a difference between arrogance and certainty. If you’re absolutely certain of your abilities, then that isn’t arrogance.”

When Damien admitted his dream of teaching one day, Nevan tilted his head slightly. “It doesn’t sound foolish to me. If everyone gave up on their dreams because they thought they were foolish, no one would accomplish much at all.” His words carried a quiet conviction, though his face remained composed, his hands adjusting the folded robes in his arms once more, almost nervously. He didn't often have such long conversations with people close to his age. He was scared he was boring Damien, especially since the other boy was so optimistic and enthusiastic compared to him. “Besides, Hogwarts would be fortunate to have someone who cares for the subject and enjoys teaching it.”

He gave Damien a look that lingered for a moment longer than usual when he told him where he could find him, then he nodded once again. “If I need to find you, then, I'll look at the library or the tower.”

As Damien agreed to be his mentor, Nevan’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “Then we’ll call it an arrangement,” he said softly. “Though don’t expect me to come to you for everything. I prefer to learn things myself first… and only ask when I’ve already tried.” There was a stubborn pride in the way he phrased it. He liked succeeding on things on his own, but he'd admit having a mentor sometimes wouldn't be too bad either.

He wondered if he should shift the conversation slightly, to move it along. Maybe sharing one of his own interests would help? He hoped so, he didn't want to bore Damien, he was one of the first children who's company Nevan actually found himself liking. “My father lets me watch him make potions sometimes, I think that's why I enjoy it,” he said, voice quieter, almost unsure, but he made sure he didn't seem unsure outwardly. That would be embarrassing, he had been taught to be confident, after all. “Not every healer does their own brewing, but he insists on it. He says it makes a difference, because every potion is more than just ingredients, it’s the intent behind it. I like that.”

He glanced to the side for a moment, thoughtful. Then he looked back at Damien, expression calm and composed yet again. “Perhaps potions will be where I’m most at home.”
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Nevan blinked once at Damien’s laughter, his expression calm, almost thoughtful. “Confidence is only mistaken for arrogance by those who feel threatened by it,” he said matter-of-factly, the words smooth and deliberate, like something he’d heard his father say before. He didn’t mean it unkindly, just as a simple truth. His head tilted slightly, a faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “So perhaps you should take it as a compliment that they think so.”

When Damien pressed about his father, Nevan tugged at the sleeve of his robe before answering. “Yes. He works at St. Mungo’s.” His tone was steady, but there was a small flicker of pride beneath it. “He specializes in spell damage, but he’s well-versed in potions as well. I’ve seen him brew things that would be hard for many wizards.” His eyes lowered for a moment, considered. “I’d like to learn from him more, but he says some things require patience, and that I’ll understand when I’m older. That annoys me sometimes, but I understand it.”

The mention of Damien’s father, an Auror, earned only a slight nod. Nevan didn’t press or pry. He had gotten the impression that Damien didn't like talking about his father. Instead, he said smoothly, “Perhaps they’ve crossed paths. He doesn’t often speak about his work at home. But I know he's helped many people.” His tone carried a quiet finality, the kind that suggested he wouldn’t say more on that subject. He didn't mind his father, not at all, he just preferred other topics than his parents' success at times.

The compliment about becoming a potion master or healer made Nevan pause, studying Damien with a steady gaze. “A potion master or a healer,” he repeated softly, almost testing the words on his tongue. “That would be… respectable.” He let the thought hang a moment, then added in a quieter tone, “But I think I’d prefer a path that allows more freedom than hospitals. I like being able to do whatever I want, to an extent, study whatever I want.” His eyes flicked briefly toward the cloak in his arms before moving back to Damien. “Still, mastering potions would give me choices. And I intend to have many, I want to keep the options for my future open.”
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Nevan nodded his head slightly at Damien’s thanks, a subtle acknowledgement, before he let the matter rest. He didn’t press further, since he rarely did once he felt his point had been made.

At the mention of Damien’s mother’s sweets, though, his brows lifted ever so slightly. “Your mother makes sweets?” His voice carried quiet curiosity, though not the eager, bouncing kind of most children. His tone was careful, interested without being overeager. “That explains why you mentioned a business that could rival Honeydukes earlier. I’ve only been there once, but I remember the shelves being… overwhelming.” His gaze flicked down at the polished floor, lips pressing together a moment. “I don’t eat much sweets myself, but my mother says a proper host should always have some on hand for guests. Perhaps I’ll try more when I’m older.”

Shifting a little bit, Nevan looked back at Damien. “Still, it must be interesting to watch her work. Do you help her often? I imagine her sweets must be amazing.” The words were genuine, though in his usual composed way, more observation than flattery.

After a short pause, he added, “I wonder what Hogwarts food will be like. I’ve heard the feasts are grand, but I suppose that means more distractions too. It will be strange not following the routines I’ve kept at home.”

His eyes drifted briefly toward one of the robed mannequins, as if imagining himself at the Sorting Ceremony. He was curious which house he'd be in. “Are the professors strict? I don’t mind rules, as long as they don't become chains and stop me from learning further. If they do I might be inclined to break those rules. I'm not sure which subjects will provide me the most freedom, but they'll probably be my favourites.”

He looked back at Damien then, the faintest spark of curiosity breaking through his reserved tone. “What about you? Besides Astronomy, are there other subjects you enjoy or dislike? I’d like to know what to expect. My tutors never covered much about how the classes are actually taught at Hogwarts.”
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Nevan listened in silence, watching Damien with that steady, unreadable expression of his. He didn’t interrupt, he just let him speak, the corners of his lips twitching slightly when Damien’s pride in his mother’s shop became obvious. “Dragonclaw’s Delights,” he repeated softly, almost testing the name on his tongue. “I’ll remember that.”

When Damien offered to bring him some, Nevan tilted his head, the faintest trace of a smile flickering there and gone again, along with a little bit of suprise. “That’s very kind of you. I’d like to try something, though I can’t promise I’ll be much of a judge. I’ve never had much of a sweet tooth.” He shrugged, running a finger along the silver lining the robe he was currently wearing had. “Still, ifyou say it's good, then it should be worth trying.”

The mention of the feast drew a thoughtful hum from him. “Sitting with different houses?” He tilted his head a little. “That isn’t something I read about.” He didn’t say whether he liked the idea or not, but his eyes were thoughtful, as if he was filing the detail away. And there was also some curiosity in them. “As long as the food isn’t too overwhelming, I suppose I’ll manage.”

At Damien’s thoughts on the professors, Nevan gave a small nod. “Stern is tolerable. It’s the unnecessary rules I dislike. Things that waste time rather than encourage discipline. But if the professors are fair, then that’s enough for me.”

He lingered a moment on the list of subjects Damien rattled off, humming in contemplation. “Herbology, hm? That one I’m not sure about. Plants seem… unpredictable. But perhaps that makes it useful. Defense Against the Dark Arts, though, that’s something I want to see for myself. Theory is one thing, but proper application is something else entirely. And if the professor is as good as people say, then it will be a valuable class.”

His gaze flicked back to Damien then, sharp and intent as if measuring him. “Transfiguration interests me from what I've read. Being able to change things, but even more so to make things from out of thin air, that's appealing. Even if I have read that Conjuration is studied in the later years so I probably won't be seening much of it for a while.”
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