⋖ 20/July/2024 @ morning | OUTFIT | ENGLISH [#715380] | FRENCH [#b654a9] ⋗
INTERACTIONS n/a | MENTIONING n/a
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Reducio

Snow crunched underfoot, slush squishing out from between leather treads. Overhead, snow continued to fall from clouds that never seemed to go anywhere and came from nothing, replenishing the ever sublimating winter blanket that the camp organizers had pulled across the stadium grounds. It was an odd experience, this cold, but not cold; sunny, but snowing; summer, but winter. Evelynn could never quite decide whether she needed to be wearing clothing more typical of July, or not. At times, it felt as though the weather were something of a pendulum, swinging first one way and then the other. Perhaps the enchantments that kept them within this atypical wonderland required refreshing now and then, allowing the opportunistic sun to warm the stadium and melt the freeze?

Regardless of the reason, she found herself needing to layer up, often opting for leggings beneath a skirt, gloves and scarves over a long-sleeved shirt.—items that could be removed or applied as needed to accommodate a fluctuating environment. In truth, it could be a bit exasperating. With so many activities and events to attend, she generally tried to make her own life easier by just lugging around her shoulder bag. Like many (if not all) of the summer camp tents, its interior had been enchanted to hold a volume much larger than its exterior appearance might have allowed. She kept everything from books to spare clothing to tools to emergency supplies within even at the most mundane of times. With how variable her needs seemed to have become here, however, just about all of her belongings had been stowed in its singular space just in case. It was terribly convenient. But also very heavy and unwieldly. Which, unfortunately, made treks through treacherous snow quite a gamble. And all the more so when time was of the essence.

On this occasion, Evelynn found herself taking long strides through the camp, gloves hands both clasped tightly around the strap of the bag to keep it from slipping from her shoulders. Her dark skirt swayed, twisting around her legs with the breeze and her sharp turns. In the more trodden areas, snow had compacted to ice, frozen footprints of previous pedestrians chiseling uneven grooves into her path. Now and then her boot would slip, arms jerking for balance and skirt swaying like a flag to warn of an impending fall, only for her to catch herself and carry on. Of course any risk could have been mitigated had she just slowed down, but already the echoing boom of an announcer's voice could be heard from over the din of passing conversation marking the preliminary introductions of the next sporting event.

She might not have been competing, and even Hogwarts as a whole may have been withholding this summer, but that didn't make her desire to spectate any less ardent. These summers were a singularly unique opportunity to study the strategies and magical aptitudes of students from all around the world. It provided a window of insight into variations in study, and could even inform of new spells or approaches to magic that Hogwarts had yet—or simply wouldn't—teach. She didn't want to miss a moment of it. The world, however, didn't seem to care what she wanted. A single misstep was all that was needed, and she hit it on decline towards the stands when the sole of her boot slipped on melting patch of ice.

A call of surprise sounded as the world fell towards her. Hands splayed out reflexively to catch her fall, but her skirt tangled about her knees and her scarf obstructed her view as it flew up. By the time all the moving parts seemed to settle into a state of newfound inertia, Evelynn was very firmly seated at the bottom of the small hill with a track trailing behind her, evidence of her unintentional slide. Her bag was a number of meters away, having evidently been dropped to follow its own path down the hill, depositing its contents along the way. Slumping slightly where she sat, the Gryffindor groaned, rubbing at one of her elbows as she tried to find her footing and hastily gather up the multitude of books, quills, potions, weather appropriate gear, articles of clothing, and whatever else might have fallen from the depths of her bag.

It was somewhat comforting to see that Hogwarts had never swayed from its obsession of doing things just for the sake of it. Apparently the Summer season wasn't short enough in the opinion of the camp organisers, so they felt the need to bring back Winter for a return tour just in case the students were missing it too much.

The last thing AJ was going to do was complain though. For fear it would bring bad karma and send him back to his bed for another year, perish the thoughts. He was delighted to be back in this illogical world of magic and mischief. He couldn't wait to feel stupid again in front of his peers as he marveled and delighted in all the things they found to be normal, everyday occurences. He secured his knitwear cap over his curly head of hair, adjusted his gloves and neatened up his coat as he continued his stroll around the camp grounds. He had left his walking stick in his tent for now. In the hopes that he could manage without it, as it wasn't exactly the coolest accessory for a teenager to be strolling around with.

He didn't get too far when he heard the distinct FWOOSH of something sliding through snow. He wondered if somebody was getting up to a bit of sledding to pass the time. What he saw was quite the opposite however, a rather disgruntled redhead hastily stuffing things back into a bag.

Half-running and half-trudging through the snow he moved to the young woman's side, gathering up the items he could see as best he could. He stooped down to scoop up one particular tome, and as he did his gloved hand touched briefly with her's, and he quickly withdrew as he finally got a good look at her face.

"Hul' on hul' on, dunnae tull meh." He broke into a small, playful smile as his deep blue eyes scanned her face. "Go' ets ben a wheel. Beh th' sleeght froon uf dusapproovul. Et's gotta be Uvullen." He chuckles gently, hoping to lift her spirits as he shuffles her items around in his arms in an attempt to not drop them.

⋖ 20/July/2024 @ morning | OUTFIT | ENGLISH [#715380] | FRENCH [#b654a9] ⋗
INTERACTIONS @Allister-Jameson MacAllister | MENTIONING n/a
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Snow shifted, powder hastily brushed off items as Evelynn collected them, the distant announcements a constant reminder that she was going to be missing the start of the match if she didn't hurry—or all of it if this delay meant being unable to find a decent seat. She didn't have time for this. Her skirt continued to tangle around her knees, collecting packed snow and ice in the process, even as her boots fought and sometimes failed to find traction. The concept of a winter wonderland had been so enchanting upon first arrival, a novelty that spoke to a distant past. With every passing day, however, that sheen was growing ever more dim as that novelty wore off and the reality of contending with winter conditions exacted its toll.

All she could do now, however, was take each day as they came and apparently try her best to stay dry. and upright. She groaned internally, fighting away those peripheral thoughts that wondered how ridiculous she must look right now, thrashing about in the snow. Wasn't it enough that she had fallen? Did the world really have to punish her with the scattering of her things as well? Perhaps if she was lucky, the only ones that would take notice would be those who would be departing by the camp's end to various corners of the world and the whole ordeal would slip into a void of the forgotten and inconsequential. As tempting as it might have been to peer about to see if anyone had noticed, that would only attract attention she didn't want. To that end, she kept her head down and hoped to go unnoticed.

The sound of approaching steps dashed that hope, and she felt—more than saw—the presence of another individual stoop nearby. A futile flitter of thought hoped they were merely stopping to tie their shoe or something equally as dull and would quickly be on their way. But no, she could hear as they collected items from the ground, undoubtedly stacking them into their arms. She redoubled her efforts, evidence of embarrassment creeping up her neck to tinge her ears pink, to minimize the help required. And when she spied her journal sitting in the snow midway between her and the other, her hand darted for it, propelled by the urgency of keeping it within her possession and hers alone. She got to it just as the stranger reached for it, heart quickening when she felt his touch upon its surface. A breath of relief escaped as he withdrew.

She was just sliding the tome into her bag when the boy spoke. Familiarity paused her movement, memories immediately sparking to quidditch games and crossed paths in a shared dorm. Her head snapped up with enough speed to crick her neck, her expression of disbelief briefly marred by a fleeting wince. Lips slackened, perhaps with the intention to speak, though nothing came forth. Grey gaze met blue as she likewise scanned the spectre of one MacAllister. Hairs prickled across her skin and up the back of her neck, the chill breeze teasing scarf and curls alike. Her eyes scanned his countenance, pitting its features against those locked away to memory. He looked older, of course, but he still had the same easy smile and relaxed aura about him. Nothing looked out of place, though she couldn't be certain she would recognize the difference of an imitation. But surely nobody could replicate the accent...

A swell of emotion rose suddenly, choking off any immediate reply. She didn't even take offense to the jab about her carrying a perpetual frown of disapproval—if that part had even registered at all. All that came to mind in that moment was that somehow, by the Grace of God or the beneficence of Fate and Fortune, MacAllister had appeared in front of her. Without thinking, her hands released whatever they were still holding. The flap of her bag fell gently back into place as she attempted to throw her arms around his neck to—quite uncharacteristically—pull him into a tight embrace with little regard for the items still in his arms. "I thought you were gone... like the rest of them..."

She stared at him for so long that he began to wonder if he'd either gotten the name wrong or if he had forgotten about some great upset he had caused her in the past that was causing her to freeze out of sheer unbridled rage. He definitely hoped it wasn't the latter. "Ehm...sumthen on meh feece? Ah noo am nae as cyoo es ah yoost teh beh, bu' ah oonleh go' toller an' heerier." He cracked a smile, hoping to break the bizarre tension that was forming. She was still staring at him, so much so that he began to blush a little bit. He wondered if maybe the accident had rendered him far uglier and he just hadn't checked in a mirror properly.

Then she ATTACKED! Oh wait no, she hugged, it was a hug. Though it was still surprising, for all the time he'd known Evelynn, she'd never once hugged him. At least not that he could remember, so she was either cold or just in desperate need of a hug, either way he would be ordinarily happy to oblige. At this particular time however he was holding quite a few things in his arms and with her sudden assault his grip on these things became a lot worse than it had been prior, books, scrolls, quills and other assorted bits and pieces spilled out of his hands onto the snow as he felt a sudden shooting pain up his leg. It seemed the still weakened muscles didn't take too kindly to a sudden force and weight being thrown at them. "Lugs! Lugs! Lugs!" He shouted rapidly, as if that would somehow serve as an adequate substitute for 'Pardon me Evelynn, my legs cannot currently support both our weights combined.'

As one might expect his leg gave out from underneath him, causing Evelynn's lovely hug to turn into a less lovely falling motion as AJ tumbles backwards into the cold snow, likely pulling her along with him if she wasn't fast enough to stop herself.

He would hit the snow with a dull thud and an OOF as the cold crystals melted slightly to his body warmth. "Glud teh see yeh too." He chuckles. "Oor mebbe yeh jus' wante' teh gev meh ah soggeh bottom?"

If she allowed him he would slowly get to his feet and brush off the cold snow, shivering slightly. "Brrr, okey...alwuz love ah goo' hug, beh y'gotteh warn meh." He grins, gaze meeting her's once more. "Whadded y'mean 'gone' by th' whee? Whas happuned?"

⋖ 20/July/2024 @ morning | OUTFIT | ENGLISH [#715380] | FRENCH [#b654a9] ⋗
INTERACTIONS @Allister-Jameson MacAllister | MENTIONING n/a
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It did not at all register that the boy was shouting about his legs when he was chanting that sounded more like she was a great weight that he was suddenly having to carry. Not that it really matter. Both of them effectively amounted to the same thing as his limbs gave out from under him and they both went toppling back. Eyes widened as the snow rushed up to meet them, jaw tensed and head thrown back in an attempt to avoid secondary collision upon the sudden stop. Great in concept, not always effective in practice. Unable to pull her arms back in time and with boots losing traction, Evelynn was unable to break her descent. The moment the ground arrested their fall, her head continued forward, colliding somewhere between the side of AJ's head and his shoulder.

"I am so sorry..." Mortification enveloped every word as the lioness hastened to untangle herself. One hand lifted to cradle the spot of collision on head, rubbing away the discomfort, as the other hovered out in front of her, sort of just hanging there as though awaiting input to complete one objective or another. "Are you alright?" Again, her gaze scanned over him, this time in assessment of any damages. Meanwhile, a fresh flush of embarrassment deepened the rouge upon nose and cheeks that had already been placed there by the chill. The injection of easy humour and the way that he rolled with the moment certainly didn't help. The last thing she wanted to do was think about his bottom.

"That was... not very tactful of me. I apologize," she acknowledged solemnly, gauging to see if he would require a hand back to his feet. Judging him just fine by the way he righted himself and set to brushing off the snow, Evelynn lowered herself to pick up those objects that her actions had strewn about again, averting her gaze from his in the process. They returned to meet his upon his final inquiry, however. Brows pinched, she rose slowly, arms bundling the last of the migrant objects. "I... Well, I do not know what happened, exactly..."

She eyed him warily, not really intending to have opened this particular door. It was a conversation she had had with only a limited few, after all. Chewing her lip for a breath or two, she debated how to answer, silently acknowledging that saying nothing at all might raise even more questions. "I suppose it would be a bit much to try to explain it..." She dropped her gaze, lowering to a crouch and busying herself with returning her items to her pack. "It is just that... it seems that those with whom I associate seem to... well... vanish. No word, no warning. They are attending classes one day, then are not seen again. Bastille, Charlie, Flash, Jo..." She gave a small shrug of her shoulders, voice tapering, "others.."

She cleared her throat and rose, adjusting the strap of the bag to sit more comfortably over her shoulder. A polite smile tugged gently at the corners of her lips as she regarded him. "I suppose it is just... comforting to see you. And—" And perhaps that means there is yet hope for the others as well, she had almost said. But the words died before they could even be formed, hesitation gripping at her core. To speak it aloud would infuse the world with a hope that could just be smashed down. She didn't want to put herself into that position. Even as the surprise of MacAllister's sudden and unexpected return faded, it was replaced with a sort of melancholy realization that the hope of return could not be applied to all of those whose names were on that list. Many of them were final. And he would be a walking reminder of that injustice. "—that's all."

He stood and listened silently as she explained the hurt and hardship she had been through in his absence. How it seemed to her that friend after friend was intent to walk away and abandon her. He could see how she was spiralling down a bad path of thoughts and he was intent to reach out a helping hand to yank her free of that spiral whether she wanted it or not.

"Ye dunnae thunk leebellun yerself responseble fer tha' menneh pepull leavun' es a ta' egotusticull Ev?" He gives her a warm grin and a charming wink to hopefully show that whilst he understood her feelings on the matter, he didn't share them. "Ah feel off a treen, yeh tellun meh tha' happunt coos we're frunds?" He would stoop down to grab a dropped vial of liquid that was still lying in the snow and hold it out to her. "Ah dunno, sems a li'l far futched."

He hoped he didn't come off like he was trying to intentionally disregard her worries, but he knew nothing would come off simply telling her she was incorrect about this. If he knew anything about Evelynn, its that she was stubborn as anything and if he simply argued against her point he'd get nowhere. This way at least he hoped she would question her viewpoint a little.

"Un a dufferen' topuc, whun ded yeh star' spekkin leek ah twunteeth century Guvvernuss?" He teases, hoping to steer the conversation back to playful banter of some kind.

⋖ 20/July/2024 @ morning | OUTFIT | ENGLISH [#715380] | FRENCH [#b654a9] ⋗
INTERACTIONS @Allister-Jameson MacAllister | MENTIONING n/a
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Evelynn blinked, lips parting, then closing, taken slightly off guard at the suggestion that she was being egotistical about the disappearances. Despite the twitch at the corner of her mouth suggesting that she had something to think about that particular sentiment, she would have been willing to let it slide without comment. After all, as far as she was aware, he wasn't. He didn't know the extent to which shadows crept the halls and Evil kept the school in its grip. She would have been able to keep her breath calm and a polite, if somewhat chilly, smile upon her lips and let this interaction pass as just a coincidence of little consequence. One less name to keep upon the list.

But he kept talking, spewing opinions that may as well have been acid for the insult that they spat upon her lived experiences. What warm relief had flooded through her only moments before turned to ice, chilling her to the core. It left her feeling heavy. Hollow. A reminder that even when she went out on that precarious limb to share something quite difficult to talk about, more often than not, she was shamed for it. Mozor would call her paranoid. Now she was egotistical. So what was the point. It only reinforced the notion of being silent in her resolve, to keep what she knew to herself. To act in their defense, but leave unburdened from the weight that knowledge would be. It was rarely handled well anyway.

She wasn't sure how much time had spanned between the time that MacAllister had fallen quiet and she had become aware of the bottle of liquid being held out to her. Like an old movie, the recent moments replayed themselves in quick succession, delayed awareness highlighting his final question. Her gaze fell to the bottle, a delicately cut multifaceted vial with a semi-clear liquid of swirling violet and fushia. As though living the dreams that it prevented, Evelynn reached slowly forward to accept it gently from his grip and in the process adopted a guarded smile.

"I suppose around the time where childhood fell behind." She never really consciously made the change in her speech patterns, but neither was she oblivious to the point where she didn't recognize that there had at one point been a time where she was significantly more casual in the way she spoke. It likely coincided with the realization that purebloods were generally well respected, and to be regarded as one garnered certain advantages. Or perhaps it was just the death of innocence that had come with the first set of assaults. Or the need to keep people at a distance, and coming to learn that formality in word could erect an intangible wall that the subconscious had difficulty navigating.

"So, if it was not for some nefarious plot to feed my ego," she began again, slipping the bottle away and out of sight into her bag, "what was it that saw your extended absence from Hogwarts?" Even now, she couldn't take what he had said entirely at face value. It was quite possible, she acknowledged, that he had been trying to throw her off guard in mocking her ego. For all she knew, he actually was involved in the events and was returned now as a puppet of sorts. It wouldn't be the first time that someone had perished only to be brought back to life and returned to the school.

Despite the opinions of some. AJ wasn't a complete buffoon. Sure he had evidently taken the completely wrong approach when it came to trying to cheer up Evelynn, but he was smart enough to at least tell that he'd done wrong here.

When she took the potion from his hands and answered the question about her new way of speaking an uneasy silence hung for a few seconds. Long enough for a cold wind to breeze past to blow hair and clothes gently as the two stood opposite. "Am sorreh..." He spoke low and quietly, shame evident in his voice as he cast his eyes downwards. "Ah wez jes' soo uckceeted t'be ba'..." He paused for a moment as he pondered his next words. "Et's no fair fer meh t'stroll ba' en heer an' preten' thengs 'ave nae cheenged."

His gaze caught her's again for a brief few moments. "Thus isnae succund yeer nae meer. You're ah dufferen' person noo..." It had been rather naive of him to think he could just stroll into camp like the years had never happened and reconnect with the people he knew like he had always been a part of their lives, but that wasn't how this worked. He was ignorant of so much, and he began to worry that all his old friends no longer wanted an AJ in their lives.

"Eh?" He was brought out of his contemplation by Evelynn's question about where the hell he had been all this time. "Aye, wusnae yet faul'. Ah jus' thut meself meer 'af a hero than ah wez. Wen tha' treen wuz hijacked ah fell off en ah dumb stun'." He was of course recounting the time the Hogwarts express had been attacked and he'd tried to make his way to the roof in order to bypass the attackers and hopefully stop the train. Only to fail catastrophically and break numerous bones in the process. "After tha' ah go' real seck. Beboon'd (Bedbound) an' all..." He didn't exactly like recounting this part of his life, but he supposed Eve deserved an explanation. "An' dunnae evun thenk aboot bleemun' yersel' fer tha'. Unluss yeh've go' some eejit (idiot) meekin' spull ye've ben castin'."

He could tell her mind was still somewhat troubled, and his attempts to improve her mood had done quite the opposite. But if he knew one thing that it was impossible not to be delighted by, it was big dogs. And so, in a last ditch effort his form transmogrified down into his Animagus form. He closed the distance between them, trundling over the snow as he gently placed his big fluffy head into her hand.

⋖ 20/July/2024 @ morning | OUTFIT | ENGLISH [#715380] | FRENCH [#b654a9] ⋗
INTERACTIONS n/a | MENTIONING n/a
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Reducio

For some reason, it wasn't often that those with whom she interacted could actually pick up on social subtleties. Or maybe they could and were generally just steadfast in their point of view and opinions, regardless of how skewed they may have been or what impact they may have had on their conversational counterparts. Perhaps Evelynn was simply too accustomed to the contentious argumentative types, stubborn to their cores. What she wasn't expecting was for MacAllister to deflate apologetically. Her own false smile faltered and began to fade, crimping slightly at the corner as he delivered his regrets.

She would have waved it off as nonconsequential, ready to move past the moment and offer some sort of superficial statement of forgiveness-equivalent and provide her excuses to carry on to her previous destination, but what he said next took her off guard. This isn't second year anymore. Unable to veil her scrutiny entirely, her eyes narrowed slightly, brows knitting. Just as they had when he'd first appeared, they slowly roamed his face and features, trying to pit them against what she could recall from memory. Something wasn't right.

"...that hijacking happened in second year," she said slowly, certainly corroborating his statement that this wasn't second year anymore. Except...that wasn't when he had gone missing. Or rather... she didn't think it was when he'd gone missing. "...we played quidditch together in third year."

Was he lying? Or had he forgotten? Or was he telling the truth? In this moment, red flags were waving in cyclone-level winds, so desperate to claim attention and exhalt their warnings that they risked being torn to shreds. She couldn't decide which of the three options was more concerning. If he was lying about this, what else was he hiding? If he'd forgotten-- why? Who--or what--would have orchestrated that lapse of memory. And how? And again... why? And if he was telling the truth and he really had been hospitalized since the train incident, then who the hell was it that had walked around wearing his face? It wouldn't have been the first time there had been some sort of doppleganger. The dolls seemed to have been sort of prototypes for just that. But they were imperfect and easily recognizable for what they were.

The implication that she could have been fooled was... disconcerting. To say the least.

At the risk of sounding even more altered than he had already suggested her to be, she kept her thoughts to herself this time, gears turning in her head to work through the timelines and fit his narrative to her own experience of reality. "I..." Besides, it occurred to her, perhaps when he talked about having gotten sick, he had meant after his previous return to Hogwarts? That would make sense, she rationalized, working to stemmy the forceful gale and settle down the flags. An illness--an actual illness and not something like the Draught of the Living Death or some other bottled malady being employed for nefarious use--would have nothing to do with her. Of course she couldn't have been blamed for that. And while uncommon, it wasn't impossible for someone to fall ill and require an extended time away from school. Still, two years was quite the time away. It would have to have been quite the illness.

Before she could really reground herself and stitch together any comprehensible reply that didn't make her sound like a skeptic, however, MacAllister changed. One might have thought, especially after everything she had experienced, nothing could surprise her. Yet, when suddenly there existed a dog--a very large dog--where the Lion had once stood, Evelynn's brows shot up.

"You were indisposed and bedbound and still managed to complete the Animagus ritual?" she gawked while simultaneously withdrawing her hand. A shiver of goosebumps had flashed up from where he'd rest his head into her palm up her arm and into her neck and she pulled it back, cupping her other hand over it against her chest out of his reach and took a step back. Perhaps it was because she shared the same talent that physical touch left her skin crawling. Though he might wear the coat of a canine, he was still MacAllister, and he would not have stood so near or pressed his cheek into her hand if he were human.

"I was not aware you were so gifted in transfiguration," she admitted with genuine respect. "How did you do it?" Several times, error had seen her restarting from square one during her own attempts. Even then, hers had not been a comfortable transformation. She couldn't imagine attempting the process without the guidance of the Transfiguration professor.

"Are there others among your family who have likewise completed the ritual?" Pericles had had the guidance of his grandmother. Perhaps MacAllister had someone like that as well. "Did you know there is a club for animagi?" Leave it to her to solicit interest for the group. "The League of Aspirant Animagi," she continued. "Although not everyone is aspiring any longer. There are several who have completed their rituals and now offer guidance for those still working towards their own rituals, and a general comaraderie."

An involuntary whine sounded out from AJ as Evelynn swiftly withdrew her hand. He hadn't meant anything serious with the sudden contact, he was just well enough aware that his fur was extremely soft in his Animagus form and hoped that may have been of some comfort to her. It seemed like he was wrong a lot today.

Not wanting to continue her discomfort he very quickly reverted back to his normal form and once more he stood before her as merely AJ. "Clurleh ah nee' t'sto' treein teh cheer yeh up." "Clearly I need to stop trying to cheer you up." He jokes, waving his hand playfully in front of himself to show he meant nothing but an apology by it. But he could see in her eyes she still distrusted this situation. And he realised she was clearly overthinking again.

"Pleese dunnae bleem meh bein' stupi' as a box o' rocks an' tweece as furgutful on yersel'." "Please do not blame me being as stupid as a box of rocks and twice as forgetful on yourself." He shakes his head and chuckles slightly. "Ah cannae 'member when thus nor tha' happun'd, ah stell cannae beleev am en suxth yeer alruddeh." "I cannot remember when this or that happened. I still cannot believe I'm in Sixth year already." He studies her expression for a few moments, unsure if its words are having any effect.

"Y'deered meh t'plee meh pipes yeers ago. Yeh go' upse' weth meh jokin' aboo' yeh been skerry en th' yeer boo'. Y'go' reeght mad when ah sed ah wus kwutten tha' Quddutch teem evun though ah wus crap." "You dared me to play my pipes years ago. You got upset with me joking about you being scary in the year book. You got extremely mad when I said I was quitting the Quidditch team even though I was crap." He stands and retells some of the various events he can recall. Because that is where the pair of them differed. AJ had no mind for exact dates and times or the negative things. He could remember the various precious moments he had spent with friends, regardless of the order they happened in.

Ef yer pessed off oor yeh thenk am leein..." "If you're pissed off or you think I'm lying..." He takes his wand out of his jacket and tosses it to the snow beside him, extending his arms out openly, chest thrust slightly forward. "Thun 'ave at et...blas' meh t'smethereens..." "Then have at it, blast me to smithereens." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, awaiting the impact of whatever curse or hex she'd throw his way.

It seemed in his headstrong attitude towards trying to resolve this animosity he hadn't quite processed her changing the subject to Animagi and Transfiguration. Surely he would get round to it after being blasted to smithereens.