He smiled when she confirmed what he already knew. A Ravenclaw. Out of all the houses, that was the one he knew he wouldn’t ever fit in with; he wasn’t very smart, not in the ways it counted at Hogwarts at least. He’d been proud to be a Gryffindor, and while it didn’t matter much now, he still held a small inkling of pride. He could only hope his sister would follow in his and Heathcliff’s footsteps. She asked him then, what he did and he was conflicted.

Cliff was proud of what he did - it was a lot of work for sure, and people scoffed at him because it was manual labor. It wasn’t a fancy ministry title that was always attached to the upper class, but without people like him they wouldn’t have the opportunity to work there. “I own a tree nursery. We grow magical wood for wands and brooms.” Even if Ms. Dashwood scoffed, as he narrowed his eyes to watch her more carefully to see if she’d do, he wouldn’t sink into the seat. “During the holidays we grow special pine trees.” As if someone like her would ever cut down her own tree.

Then she teased him, and Cliff just smirked at her. “Only the ones that I think are pretty.” He answered her as he wrapped his fingers around the teacup. If she was going to be brash, he might as well tell her the truth.

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