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The little bell above the door made a ding as Nevan stepped into Madam Malkin's. The warmth of the store washed over him, the scent of fabric and polish settling in the air. Tall racks of robes stretched along the walls, strips of fabric stacked neatly on dozens of shelves, and mannequins stood in the corners dressed in Hogwarts uniforms, dress robes and cloaks trimmed with velvet.

Nevan smoothed his slightly tousled bangs back and straightened his shoulders. His parents had taught him since he was even younger than he was now that presentation was important, so even at eleven he knew how to carry himself properly. First impressions mattered, after all. That was something everyone knew.

A kindly witch in pale lilac robes hurried over to him, a smile on her face as she looked him over. "First year?" she asked, already reaching for a measuring tape.

"Yes,'' Nevan answered softly, his voice polite and slightly reserved. He stood perfectly still as the tape measure sprang to life, darting around him and marking down numbers. His dark eyes studied the way the measuring tape circled his arm before snapping back into the witch's hands.

Within a minute, he had a set of Hogwarts robes fitted over his shoulders. The fabric felt a little stiff at first, but it was smooth beneath his fingers. He inspected himself in the mirror, adjusting the sleeves of his robes a bit. He didn't say much, but he nodded in approval, showing he was satisfied.

He took the robes off and folded them, holding them in his arms for now. When the witch asked if he needed anything else, he nodded. "Yes, a winter cloak, please. Something warm and proper." His tone was measured, not demanding, but with the quiet certainty of someone who was used to getting things in order. He wanted a nicely made winter cloak, not something shabby.

She returned with a few options in her arms, and Nevan looked them over, holding the fabric between his fingers. In the end he settled on a black cloak with silver fastenings, but with the added detail of a soft fur trim. He took it into his arms and nodded at the witch that this was his choice. He also got a pair of protective gloves and a pointed hat.

Once his final selections were set aside for packing, Nevan drifted away from the fitting area. He wandered between the racks, fingertips trailing lightly along a row of neatly folded cloaks. He found himself studying the different cuts and stitches with a quiet curiosity. But he was mostly just looking to see if anything would catch his eye. Perhaps a suit, as Nevan did want to have some formal wear, even if it wasn't necessary at Hogwarts. His parents would want him to have something to look more proper on special occasions.
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Nevan's attention flicked towards the door as the bell announced someone entering. It was another boy, maybe a year older than Nevan. The red and gold suit caught his eye first. It was bold, striking, the kind that seemed to demand attention whether one wanted it or not. Nevan adjusted his hold on the folded robes in his arms, watching quietly from between the racks as Madam Malkin greeted the boy with familiarity.

Dragonclaw. The name wasn't unfamiliar. His tutors had mentioned it in passing more than once, a respected pure-blood family. He filed the detail away as easily as breathing. Names mattered, just as appearances did.

He smoothed his bangs back again and stepped away from the row of cloaks, approaching with the same careful posture his parents had drilled into him. He didn’t speak at once, though. Instead, his dark eyes studied Damien for a moment, taking in his height, the crest stitched into the suit, the way he carried himself. He seemed… less proud than his clothes suggested. That was interesting.

Finally, Nevan offered a polite nod, his voice soft but clear.
“Second year, aren’t you?”

He wasn’t asking out of ignorance, more so to see how the boy would respond. After a brief pause, he added, “Nevan Easton. First year.” His tone was calm, measured, with none of the bluster some children might try to put on to seem older than they were. He found the idea of doing that a bit stupid.

Nevan tilted his head slightly, glancing at Damien’s suit once more before meeting his eyes. “Your robes are already waiting for you? You must come here often.” The words weren’t quite flattery, but there was a quiet curiosity in them, the kind that made it clear Nevan was weighing him, trying to learn something from even the smallest reply. He was curious about this boy, even if he wasn't sure why.
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Nevan's eyes flicked briefly to Damien’s outstretched hand before he took it, his grip light but deliberate. He shook it once, then released it, straightening his posture again as though he’d practiced that gesture countless times.

“Dragonclaw,” he repeated softly, the name measured on his tongue. His expression didn’t shift much, but there was the faintest flicker of curiosity in his dark eyes. “I’ve heard of your family before.” It wasn’t said with awe, but as if he were simply stating a fact, cataloguing something he already knew. He knew names were important, but he wasn't the type to suck up to people.

At Damien's explanation about his robes, Nevan gave a small nod, though his gaze lingered a moment longer on the boy's polished suit. “Efficient. My parents did the same, though they insisted I come to be fitted myself.” He smoothed his bangs back absently once again, his tone calm and polite, almost formal for someone his age. “They think it's important to be present for things like this."

He let the silence stretch a little, testing how comfortable Damien was with it, before adding, “Ravenclaw suits you. I’ve heard the house values wit and wisdom. You must be clever if you were placed there.” Since he had heard about the Dragonclaw family, he had also heard which house their son had gotten into.

The words could have been pure flattery, but Nevan’s tone wasn’t flowery. It was calm, appraising, as though he was gathering information piece by piece. And also showing Damien that he knew some stuff about him. His gaze softened slightly as he added, “I’ll be sorted this year. I don’t know where yet, but… I think I’ll do well wherever I am.” There was a subtle confidence in that statement, like he already trusted his ability to adapt to whichever he house he went to.

He shifted the folded robes in his arms. “Do you enjoy it? Hogwarts, I mean. Being a second year now, you must know quite a bit about it.” There was curiosity there, genuine, but also strategic, the kind of question that let him learn while keeping the conversation flowing. He wasn't only talking to Damien for information, he was also truly interested in the boy and wasn't minding the conversation so far.
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The way Damien studied him was familiar. It reminded him of the way his tutors had taught him to observe, to take in details, to notice patterns, to learn about something without having to ask. He found himself wondering what Damien saw when he looked at him, but he kept that question tucked away for later.

When Damien spoke of his Astronomy internship, Nevan’s eyebrow lifted subtly. “An intern already? For a second year?” His tone wasn’t incredulous, more… impressed, or perhaps testing the truth of it. “That’s unusual. You must be very skilled, or the professor must think highly of you. Probably both.” His eyes lingered on Damien, sharp and searching, before he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. He thought to himself that this was something worth remembering.

He glanced toward the racks again, though his focus remained mostly on Damien. “I’ve read about Astronomy, but I’ve never had the chance to practice it properly. It seems vast. Like there’s always something new to find if you’re clever enough to look for it.” He spoke with a careful curiosity, as though he was not only complimenting Damien but also probing him for more.

At Damien’s reassurance about houses, Nevan gave a small, thoughtful nod. “I think so too. Each house has its own strengths. What matters is how one uses those strengths, not the label attached to them.” His voice was calm, even, but with a quiet edge of conviction, like someone who already knew he’d make his place, wherever he landed. He'd be able to get more knowledge no matter what house he got into.

Damien’s enthusiasm about Hogwarts made Nevan pause, studying him again. There was something genuine in it, something warm, and for a moment, Nevan let down the formality just slightly. “The library, the lake and the Astronomy Tower.” he repeated softly, as though cataloguing the information. His lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. “Good places to start. I’ll have to see them for myself when I arrive.”

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “Perhaps you could show me. A second year’s perspective might be… useful.” His tone was polite, but beneath it lay something else, an unspoken suggestion that Nevan wasn’t simply seeking a guide, but testing whether Damien would be worth his trust.
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Nevan shifted the robes in his arms, his fingers brushing over the smooth fabric absently as he listened. Damien’s blush at the praise hadn’t gone unnoticed, and neither had the way his tone brightened when he spoke of astronomy. Nevan tilted his head slightly, dark eyes narrowing just a fraction, as though filing away the observation. It seemed Damien really was enthusiastic about the subject.

“You must have a gift for it,” he said softly, his voice calm but carrying a quiet weight. “Most people wouldn’t bother trying to make others interested in something they already love. But I'd... appreciate it, if you answer my questions about it once I start, even if I'm confident in my ability to study the subject.” His lips curved into the faintest of smiles.

At Damien’s praise of his “wise words,” Nevan’s brows lifted slightly. “Wisdom is usually borrowed from others,” he said quietly, almost like he was repeating a lesson taught by his parents. “I’ve just had good teachers.” Still, there was a pride under the humility, and he perked up significantly at the praise.

The way Damien lit up when he spoke of the library caught Nevan’s attention. His lips quirked faintly at the edges, almost a smirk but softer, a glint of amusement. “A personal collection that can rival Hogwarts’ library?” he echoed, tone curious. “That must be impressive. You must read a great deal.” His gaze softened for a beat. “I do as well. My parents say it’s the one habit they’ll never scold me for.”

Damien’s promise of a tour earned him a proper nod, but there was some excitement in Nevan's eyes. He was eager. “Then I’ll look forward to it.” Nevan’s voice was still measured, but there was a subtle shift in tone, less testing, more genuine. He let his eyes flick briefly toward the shop windows, where sunlight glinted off the glass, then back to Damien. “It’s always nice to have someone show you around, you can get used to the change of scenery more easily. But I think I'll manage to adjust to being at Hogwarts rather than at home, I'm looking forward to not being cooped up.”
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