"Protego, 'course ya are." Charley grinned back, her know-how didn't just extend to flowers anyway. She wouldn't have thought anyone named for a spell would embrace it so much, but standing before her was just such a wizard. Quite a crafty one at that. The urchin hung the amulet from a buttonhole on her vest, sure that she would make use of it herself before long.

And when she could afford it, visit his shop for more useful charms.

"Charley," she told him in return, tucking one foot behind the other to offer the best curtsy she could with a tray of flowers —and without a dress. Charley liked a handshake better, herself, though a bow was usually simpler most times. Introductions aside, she tipped her head down toward High Street, making sure to note that she wasn't exactly a self-made flower girl. "Of Montague's House of Flowers, a bit down past yer shop, I reckon. Best blooms in all of Hogsmeade, an' don't let nobody tell ya different!"

The passing rustle of more Ministry wizards, they had that self-important look that Ministry folk did, caught the urchin's eye. For one brief, fleeting moment, Charley could almost grasp at that same self-importance. Should things go her way, she might have her own shop someday. Then she could make deals like this sort every day, and never need to answer to any more Mrs. Manns. Someday, but not today. There were more mourning and shaken folks around her, their faces practically begging for a flower to light them up.

Before she wandered away, Charley just offered an off-handed sort of farewell, "Well, best be gettin' back to it..."

It might not be long before the Ministry folk thought otherwise about pretty flowers around their morbid sort of work, so she ought to sell as many as she could in the meantime.

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