West sat at his labelled desk in utter silence, eyes on his favourite professor. It was a good thing, he reckoned, that that whole old age business hadn't coincided with this freezing school business.

Old people died in extreme temperatures.

... Botros wouldn't though, West would make sure of it. Subtly he directed his wand at the professor, or rather at the old man's outer cardigan layer, and silently directed the same warming charm he had on his own clothes that way. Just a bit of extra insulation. He slipped his wand away and settled back in his chair, waiting for the lesson to begin.