Ahn-Bo had been looking forward to this event, which wasn't like him, but flying was different. Flying was his. Even after everything Yeom had taken, he couldn't take the sky. Or at least hadn’t figured out how to just yet. As he and Jin-a walked side by side to enter the tent, he tugged at the borrowed gear, adjusting the straps. The gloves were heavier than he was used to, the robes not quite fitted to his frame, but Carrow had been generous enough to lend him.

He'd explained weeks ago at dinner that he’d left his own gear in Joseon, keeping his voice light like it had been a silly mistake. Carrow had been kind enough to offer his own, and Ahn-Bo couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty about it. It wasn't entirely a lie. He had left his broom in Joseon—Yeom had reduced it to ashes years ago, along with the few belongings Jin had managed to rescue from Mahoutokoro.

Instead of ruminating on it, he shoved the memory aside and grinned at Carrow, sharp and playful. ”Annyeonghaseyo,” He said and gave the appropriate duck of his head in deference to his senior. ”Gamsahamnida for the gear, Mr. Carrow.” It was a little bit of a snug fit given their height difference and body types, but with a little magic from Jin-a (who had always been far better at those types of things), they’d managed to make it mostly comfortable. He rolled his shoulders, enjoying the buzz of adrenaline. With a smirk, he tossed over, ”Ready to lose, Hogwarts?”