Lesson in Ignorance PV Aurelia Valentine Finished

Despite his early arrival to the library, and intent to have a 'productive' morning, Edwin had made very little progress in his books. Though, many may not agree with Edwins definition of a 'productive' morning, as werewolves were something that Edwin had no real reason to be reading about, given they weren't often studied in first year.Time after time, he found his gaze drawn away from the pages of his book, and instead to the large arched window besides him. It wasn't as if the window offered some great view, he just found himself distracted by people passing by the window, finding people watching to be far more interesting than the contents of these books, which likely just repeated the same regurgitated information that was present in so many other books. Perhaps he simply wasn't looking hard enough, but so many of these books that spoke of werewolves had all the same information, just rehashed to suit an authors writing style, and yet none of these books contained the information that Edwin desired.

When he finally dragged his gaze away from the window, intent on grabbing a different book from his small pile. Instead, however, he was thrown slightly by the arrival of a girl, who had just wandered over to his quiet corner of the library. He hadn't expected to be disturbed whilst so far tucked away in the corner, but he assumed that she would simply move on, searching for other seats, which there would surely be many still, and so he just looked back down towards his books, grabbing a different one, flicking it open to a random page. However, when he took another glance up, she had not moved on. Instead, quite the opposite, and was in fact moving to take a seat opposite him.

Once more, he looked back down to his book, but he hadn't even made it through a single word before he tore his gaze away once more, making no attempt to hide the confusion on his face. As he looked towards the rest of the library, he could see a plethora of seating options that she could have taken, and there was presumably even more, just not visible from his seated position. And yet, she had sat opposite him. Whilst he hadn't exactly got some written message stating that he wanted to be undisturbed, he figured it wasn't too hard to figure that much out, given that he had seated himself so far in the corner, in a relatively empty area of the library.

Again, he looked back down towards his book, trying to continue with his readings. This was to little avail, however, fully conscious of her gaze burning into him, seemingly studying or inspecting him in some manner. With an eventual, dramatic sigh he closed his book, carelessly sliding it over onto the pile of books that he'd bought. He finally looked over towards her directly. There was no attempt to mask his emotions, peering over towards her with a scowl, very much put off by her sudden presence. A Hufflepuff, such an awfully drab house in Edwins eyes. Though, he had had the misfortunate to be placed in Gryffindor, so he was hardly in a position to be judging somebody based off of their house. After his eyes had briefly flicked across her features, they were drawn towards the book in her hand, to which he let out a small snort. How dull, he thought, failing to realise that the contents of her books was probably at least somewhat comparable to the contents of the books he had piled in front of him.

He wasn't necessarily someone who would be described as being anti-social, but he certainly did hold his own personal time in high regard. Now, that time had been imposed on by someone who he did not recognise. She looked to be a first year, like him, but as she was a Hufflepuff, it wasn't all too often that they would have been within each others vicinities. This imposition onto his reading time left Edwin with a sense of uncertainty, what exactly should he do now? Whilst he had only been taken from his readings for only a matter of seconds, this was enough for any interest in continuing to read to have been completely killed. He could just leave, but then what? He had no exciting plans, nor did he want to seem rude by leaving as soon as she arrived. Though, he reasoned with himself, she had been rude enough by just sitting in his space.

"Something I can do for you?" He broke the silence after a moments pause. He spoke with a drawl, his tone sounding bored, disinterested. "There is at least fifty other seats, you know." He gestured towards the rest of the library, towards seats that were, despite his claim, already beginning to fill up as Edwin spoke. "Sort of distracted me from this," He said, nudging the pile of books with his foot. "Not that it matters, they're all boring anyway."

Any attempt that Aurelia made to physiologically intimidate Edwin from were met with no sign that the Gryffindor had any intent to leave, nor any major displays that he was overly affected, beyond shuffling in his seat. He did not care for any message she was attempting to send, his only feelings on the matter revolved around the feeling that she was intruding on his space, unknowingly sharing the same train of thought that she had. Through her attempts, having by now abandoned any attempts of reading, he continued to glance over towards the window, idly watching the passer-by's. It was very easy to ignore he presence, when he was focused on those outside.

The rain was a welcomed change, Edwin drawing comfort from watching as the rain belted against the window, unable to reach him from the comforts of the library. He watched as some students dashed desperately to any kind of shelter that they could find, using whatever they could as makeshift umbrellas. Whenever it did rain, it was one of the few occasions that the Gryffindor dorms truly felt like a home to him, the fire casting a comfortable heat around the common room. But, alas, he was in the library, and it felt homely enough for the moment.

Edwin watched as she grabbed her satchel, retrieving a number of sheets of parchment, and some objects that he was unfamiliar with - her pens. His brow raised as she slammed the objects down onto the desk, his lips curling into a small grin. "We're in a library, you know?" Her intent to build a makeshift barrier quickly became obvious, though for what reason he was unaware, as he was unable to think of what he could of done to provoke such a reaction. She had, after all, made the choice to sit opposite him, whilst he had clearly sat in an area so secluded that he was asking to be left alone.

"Respect what about them?" He asked. "All these books copy the same stuff, not one ounce of creativity between them." He gestured to the tomes, though his words were not strictly true, although equally not entirely wrong. The contents of the books were similar, but likely due to discussing objective facts, rather than any issues with the authors creativity. "Besides, I don't think I particularly disrespected them by calling them boring. I didn't say they were bad, did I?"

"Again, who cares if they're famous?" He sat upright in his chair with a sigh. "Yeah, I'll never be as famous as any of them, but so what? Not everyone wants to be some famous author, especially not writing about this kind of stuff." Fame was a concept that was foreign to Edwin, desiring the furthest thing from it. Whilst he wanted his work to be impactful, the hassle of fame often seemed to out weigh any benefit that would come associated with it.

"I checked out all these books, if you insist on knowing," He began with a sigh, reaching forward to grab one of the books he had started on reading, flicking it open to the topic of his interest - werewolves. "Because I need to learn about these things." He set the book down atop the table, turning it so that she could easily read the information, which was mainly basic descriptions of how the curse was spread and how it's dealt with in modern times. "And this," He prodded at the description of the wolfsbane potion. "Hardly an adequate solution, is it?"

"I can read them in one sitting, because these things are all that I'm interested in in these books, so it's not like I'm reading whole books, just a couple of chapters, if that, in each." He flicked open another book, this book detailing all XXXXX creatures, and only having a double page dedicated to werewolves. "And, no." He snorted at her claim of the contents being to difficult. "This stuff isn't exactly hard, is it? I'm good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, and this overlaps a lot." He spoke with only a small amount of hesitation, not entirely truthful in his words. Whilst he mostly was able to understand it without a problem, some of the more technical descriptions were beyond a first years typical reading, and would take Edwin more time to understand than he cared to dedicate. "And someone like you?" He scoffed, mocking her tone of voice. "You don't even know me to make that. claim."

After his rant concluded, he allowed a moment of silence to hang, reclining back into his chair with a sigh. "What about you, then?" He gestured towards her book. "I'd of thought someone acting so high and mighty about books would've been reading something more interesting than that."

Her obvious annoyance at his reminder that they were in the library brought a grin to Edwin face, watching as she closed her eyes and seemingly assumed some kind of practiced breathing pattern. It was somewhat cruel, he realised, but watching even the slightest provocation cause a reaction was always something that would be amusing to the Westbridge, especially when that somebody was someone who he hadn't had even a remotely favourable impression of.

"Half of these books are about werewolves," He began, idly sifting through the pile, seemingly searching for something. "Those authors haven't gone on some grand adventure to find out the information, so much of it is readily available and this country has plenty of werewolves. Those authors haven't exactly warranted any respect, especially given your justification for it." He eventually found what he was looking for, turning the book so that Aurelia could better see it's contents, it was the book that detailed all creatures of XXXX ranks. When he spoke, he spoke with some hesitation, as if admitting to anything caused him a physical pain. "This," He tapped the books cover with his finger. "I will concede on, this author likely has travelled."

"Now, as for the rest of your accusations," He drawled. "Who are you to call me a spoilt brat? We met thirty seconds ago, I don't even know your name, how could you have possibly came to that conclusion?" Whilst she was, of course, correct in her assumption about Edwin, he lacked the self awareness to know just how spoilt he was. He knew he was somewhat, he'd be stupid not to have noticed it at all, but the extent to which he was spoilt was lost on him entirely.

It was also a fair question about why he had expected creativity in academic works, but that was a point he was not quite willing to concede on. He offered only a small shrug, before speaking, "Just more exciting ways to convey information than the way these authors have. This book," He tapped one of the books at random. "will almost word for word say the same as this book." He tapped another. "There's more exciting ways to convey information, but I'm not an author, it isn't my place to think of what those ways could be."

As she placed a book down in front of him, he peered down at it with a scowl. He also cocked a brow at her assessment of the 'silliness' of wizarding folk - his folk. A muggleborn, he assumed, it would certainly explain her interest in autobiographies, as well as the otherwise vast curiosity she seemed to have, a trait that he assumed would be shared by many who had not grown up with all of this information at their disposal, as well as the strange writing tool that she held. "I'm comfortable here, and content with these, even if they are boring to read." He would not be leaving his corner, he had a feeling that if he did, he would not be welcomed to return, even if she realistically had no power to stop him. There was a brief pause after he spoke, every logical part of his brain telling him he had no reason to ask, and yet, after a moments silence. "You're a muggleborn?" He asked, his tone void of any judgement, only a true curiosity.

"No, I don't want to be an Author." He started, his eyes briefly drawn to the tapping ballpoint pen, a brief flash of annoyance passing over his expression, before he returned his gaze to her, any sign of annoyance gone as quickly as it had arrived. "Would rather work somewhere more directly impactful," Whilst he could admit that Authors were useful, he couldn't imagine wanting to work somewhere that the fruits of your labour could not be witnessed first hand. "Hopefully be an Auror like my parents were, do something where I can actually be involved in stuff." He shrugged, his voice trailing off. Ultimately, he had many years yet before he even had to truly spare a thought to his aspirations, but they were something that weighed on his mind. He didn't have to work, but he was sure that he'd feel guilty if he was the only son who didn't bother working, given that his brothers had all became very successful at young ages.

At her claim that werewolves aren't treated kindly, he snorted, waving his hand dismissively. "Sure, maybe the public isn't the kindest." There was another brief pause, as if he wanted to add onto that comment. "But legally and stuff, they're all fine now. Even society has taken on different views, after that Hogwarts battle back in the day, the anti-werewolf stuff was all lifted, uhh.." He paused, before pointing out one of the books about werewolves. "This one is all about it. But anyway, your logic is backwards. If these things ar- were still dangerous, then the information should be made more readily available, and better covered, rather than the current selection of information."

"I didn't even mean any of that." He shook his head at her description of the potions effect. "Or, maybe the accessibility bit is part of what I was talking about, that was a good point to be fair. However, one point that I disagree with is you critiquing the government for complaining about the number of bites. That is a perfectly fair complaint, werewolves are more than capable of positioning themselves away from any would-be victims, and preventing a bite, or having preventative measures took against them, such as getting somebody trusted to lock them somewhere. And yet, more people are bit, even children, makes me think that maybe people were a bit quick to change their views on them."

"Bowtruckles?" He snorted, leaning forwards to try and get a better look at her work, which she, much to his annoyance, was blocking off. "Bowtruckle and fascinating have never once spoken in the same sentence, you're tricking me for some reason."

"Third year, yeah." He confirmed with a nod. Partly because I like to read ahead, I'm good at Defence Against the Dark Arts." He said. Though, most of his reading ahead was mainly only the second year spells, which he was working on teaching himself, but his theoretical readings did occasionally stray into third year topics, and he felt that he could, for the most part, follow the content easy enough.

His eyes narrowed at her gasp, leaning forward to meet her so that he could better hear her whisper. As she spoke, he reclined back into his seat, looking thoroughly unimpressed with her allegation. "I am nothing like them." He practically spat out, offended that she had even thought that he could be. "I'm reading about them because I do not like them." He said, bluntly. "As I said earlier, I think it's stupid that so many put themselves in positions where there is a potential victim, only spreading this illness further. I think that the wolfsbane potion is a poor excuse for treatment. I read all of this so that I can be confident in what I am saying, not a baseless dislike of this." He continued, before letting out a relieved sigh. "Why I'm telling you this? Who knows, but it is good to finally say it all."

"I often am," He agreed with her assessment of him being correct, though he wasn't entirely sure what it was he was right about, or even if she was being sincere, or simply being dismissive. His eyes briefly flicked to the click of her pen, a scowl passing over his face, finding the noise to be rather annoying, annoying enough to distract him from any train of thought that he otherwise would of wanted to pursue.

He shook his head as she began to introduce herself, biting back an instinct to cut her off mid sentence. "No, I don't even remotely mean that," He began, sitting up in his chair with a sigh. "Knowing your name, and knowing you hardly equate. You're attempting to judge me, because of what?" He asked. "You sat across from me, despite me clearly wanting to sit alone, and then got pissy when I wasn't some gracious host to this corner?" He continued, speaking with the slightest traces of hesitation through his words, as if he was trying to convince himself of a story as he spoke, no longer entirely confident what had lead their conversation in such an argumentative direction.

Despite his words, she introduced herself regardless, to which Edwin scoffed. "Nice to meet you then, I guess, Irene Adler." He began, entirely unaware of any muggle works of fiction, and so completely ignorant to her deceptions. Whilst he had noticed the change in pitch of her tone, and the slight quiver, he was unable to establish a link to it's origin, seeing no reason as to why anyone should ever lie about their name. "Edwin Westbridge." When he returned the greeting, it was in a complete contrast hers, he sounded incredibly self-assured, and proud of his surname, a mannerism that was so very common amongst older pureblooded families. "Even if we now know each others name, you still don't know me," He began, as she once more attempted a description of his character. "Though if you're so insistent, I'll give it a go myself. You're a bitch." It wasn't a word he'd used much before, and never once before Hogwarts, but being around older students, and some more foul mouthed muggleborns had exposed Edwin to words he hadn't even imagined saying before, and he quite enjoyed the sound of many.

This little retort had bought about a grin on Edwins face, pleased with his incredibly mature handling of this situation. However, the grin did not last long, replaced by a look of confusion as she confessed herself to being a half-blood, her previous references to 'wizarding folks' no longer making sense to the Gryffindor, given half-blood would surely have meant she grew up around magic. "As it was revealed?" He asked with a frown. "Could you not just have figured that out by yourself? Saw one, or both, of your parents doing magic? I don't see how being a half-blood really needs to be some revelation." He continued, blissfully unaware that others weren't raised in such a fortunate environment, as he was.

"Not a tradition, no. Both of my parents were, but then my grand parents did other stuff in the ministry." He explained, before pausing for a moment. "Dunno why I'd want to do something different, being an Auror is a good job, you get to actually do good stuff, help people out and stuff." He concluded, though it did raise questions in his mind. He had never even considered another path, so it may be worth at least giving it some thought, though he had seven years to do so. "No worry about that," He snorted to her claim that he may not be able to uphold his parents reputation. "I'd be even better than them."

"I say it's backwards, because it genuinely is. You're making it sound as if every wizard alive is afraid of them, but that's far from the case. There are those who aren't, and they would gather the required information, which then can be widely published so that people can understand what it is they are afraid of."

As she once again leaned forward, he mirrored the action with a sigh. "Yes, I've heard that." He replied, his voice barley above a whisper. "That's another part of my issue, if there are werewolves at school, that means that adults are attacking children. Hardly paints them in a good light, does it?" He then leant back away from her, his voice reverting to his typical volume. "Yes I'm subscribed, but mainly because I'm waiting for an official report of all that Hogsmede stuff. I don't subscribe otherwise, so I'd of missed that August one." He'd only heard rumours of that attack thus far, but the rumours alone had been enough to throw him for a loop, but his desire to know more had been enough for him to make a rare subscription to the Daily Prophet, waiting for the inevitable story to be released, hopefully painting some more light on the situation.

He waved off any comments about dignity and respect, it being evident that they'd never see eye to eye on that matter, instead once more pushing the wolfsbane book towards her. "They are perfectly capable of retaining their mind, at least somewhat. If they choose not to take this, are they not willingly endangering others? Endangering others who could be children? Besides, if they can't afford it or whatever, they still know what day they are to transform, there are many precautions that they can take to avoid an accidental attack, it just seems sloppy of them, if they allow themselves to turn in areas where an attack is possible."

As she wrote down her list, he reached down to grab it, peering down at it. "He's a hack," He began, continuing to read down the list. "Maybe I'll have a look at some of these, then. But I don't need multiple publications, if anything important happens, my dad will just send me an owl, far more reliable than anything wrote in the papers." And far more convenient, but he needn't mention that part.

"Bowtruckle, boring. Hufflepuff, boring." He drawled, relaxing into his seat once more. "Perfect comparisons, you were right."

As her eyes focused on his, he returned the stare, his expression blank. "Maybe that's so," He shrugged off her accusation, steadfast in his beliefs about werewolves, and their usefulness, or more accurately, lack of. "I've heard enough horror stories of attacks involving them to know I'm right." He had only ever heard the bad stories, given his parents professions and their dealings with werewolves, which was something that he was partially aware of, but would never point out, as it did not help with his arguments.

"Besides, did I ever imply I wanted them to fend for themselves? If anything I'm saying the opposite, I think there needs to be more than this." Once more, he tapped the pages of the wolfsbane potion. "This isn't good enough, but having said that, schools aren't the place for them, nor should they be completely free if they area able to attack children."