Basil frowned decidedly at the young boy’s belligerence. He wasn’t used to his students, even the shy first years, being quite so evasive. He supposed there was likely more to this backstory than he’d realized and, letting out a soft breath, he crouched beside the boy to meet his eye level. “No, you may not,” he replied decidedly, but then in a gentler tone he added: “Why don’t we see if there’s something nearby at Florean Fortescue that you’d like and we can trade. You can have your pick of flavors in exchange for some polite, explanatory conversation, hm?”
Basil gave the boy an encouraging smile. He didn’t know why this boy had struck a nerve with him, or why he was so keen on getting the truth out of the little brunette. Perhaps it was because the whole situation reminded him clearly of something that could so easily have occurred on any like day when he’d been a child, or maybe he was just getting old and soft. Regardless, Basil offered the boy - Mr. Waterford - his hand. If the boy shook like the young gentleman he was, they had a deal.