“A native of Hogsmeade, then?” Porphyria said quizzically, though she was surprised if he did reside here that there were still any paths untaken from his window. (It sounded like he made just as much a habit of hiking about as she did around the estate in Ireland; if she lived in Hogsmeade, she would have been bored, she thought, of the town in half a minute.)

“The wilder way,” Porphyria mused idly, respecting his choice for the unknown. “A noble pilgrimage for anyone,” she teased with a grin. It was only a shame this lakeside was bordered by a castle-turned-school and a park and a quaint little town; it would have felt all the more beautiful if it were alone in the mountains - and possibly covered in rolling mist rather than watery sunshine. (For the atmosphere.)

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