It had taken Valerie some time weighing the various options of which table to sit at for this feast. She had initially made her way towards the Slytherin table as she had their welcoming feast, but seeing Aurora there had caused her feet to pivot and seek elsewhere. She would (surprisingly) like to avoid unnecessary conflict. That and she was being conscientious of a certain Thunderbird should he elect to join her. Although she did have purpose for passing by the Gryffindor table, she quickly rules it out seeing how robust the crimson and gold were being once again. She was perfectly fine observing that from a bit of a distance. As for the Ravenclaw table, well, there was no real reason for her to avoid there other than she did not particularly care for Louise nor her longing glances elsewhere.

Thus it was she arrived at the table of yellow and black.

At least Lanchlan was present (a bit among swooning girls but she found herself more willing to tolerate Irene these days and she really had no particular opinion of the female champion, Henrietta) so she simply offered them a bit of a curt nod as she took a seat a bit of a distance away from them. When she looked down, however, she was greeted with irritation. "What are these?" she asked no one in particular as she looked upon the face of one Rooney Bronwyn as the signature implied. Groaning, the Wampus whipped out her wand and pointed it those in her general vicinity and sent a nonverbal Incendio upon them. Feeling a certain kind of satisfaction watching those go up in flames, she did take care to ensure their precious table was not damaged. Well, no more so than it being covered unnecessarily in autograph photos that is.

Her own spot now cleared, Valerie set her elbows on the table and gave the rest of it a proper look over and made quick work of spotting the younger Westwood and allowed her gaze to linger upon him an uncomfortable moment too long before shifting to the other younger student [sweetpinkpixie] at the table.

Oh. That one.

Perhaps she she should occupy herself at another table after all.

Although her eyes fell on another (a boy her age [emjay]) and while her instinct was to request he keep the small blonde away from her, the seventeen year old instead decided to attempt in small talk. "It will be odd returning," she offered in way of response to his inquiry. One that had not been directed at her and yet here she was. "Though I suppose it will be pleasant having your school back to yourselves."

She would feel thus if the roles were reversed.