He did not miss the blood rushing to the boy’s cheeks, and cared only because recognising it stirred the usual thirst - of course it did. However, empty as this museum was, it was not the place for snacking, so Ishmael pursed his lips against the idea of it, begrudging as always of his own self-control.

“I know you’re the one with the heavy bat,” Ishmael said with a knowing grin, as if that was information only an expert possessed. Tall and lanky, young Edwards must be stronger than he looked. “I haven’t had occasion to follow it too closely,” he said, with an easy shrug, though ‘not having occasion’ in more than a century was not the best of excuses. Moreso was that the seasons changed so fast, and that he had so rarely had occasion to linger in one place long enough to get invested.

That said, he had been lurking between Hogsmeade and London for nigh on a normal life, so perhaps he should start. Monty had a quidditch friend or two, and Ishmael had just met a soon-to-be starting player now, hadn’t he? “Do they pay you well, at least?”

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