In reality, he’d probably not want to teach here at Hogwarts but… he was only a third year, so maybe his future goals would change. He’d put it all on a list and then make some decisions after his fifth year. Or during. Because that would help him prioritize which OWLs were most important, right? It was far too early for him to be worrying about that. Her following words made him laugh, but he covered it quickly with his hand not wanting to be rude and seeming like he was laughing at her. “So it sounds more like you love her and your grandmother also liked her?” Still family, still had been fond of her, but her first statement did seem a weeeeeee bit exaggerated.

Wait.. she’d have to do something else after she was old? “Quidditch players don’t just make enough to retire on after they’re career?” He knew that was how a lot of muggle sports had worked, particularly in the States. He could remember Appa making jokes about how he should have gone into playing American Football or Baseball instead of politics in order to make more. “You could be a sports reporter? Get paid to go to games? Or maybe work in Games and Sports in the ministry? Or uh.. Sports medicine?” Although, the last one at the very least would require university. “It.. does?” University sounded like a lot of FUN to him. They could choose pretty much all of their own classes! Instead of just having to do core curriculum that may or may not have been interesting. It was like… more electives over general ed!

The question startled him but.. As she asked, it occurred to him how long he’d been out here and his stomach gave a soft rumble in response as he flushed. “Uhm, yeah. I could go eat food.” Probably should not just always be eating his candy stash.

She...supposed Evan's summary of her family's impression of ABoli was accurate, if not very enthusiastic. Did it really matter what her family thought, after all? Aboli was her friend, not theirs. She shrugged. "Yes, I guess."

"Um...maybe? No?" She really did not know how much Quidditch players made. "Someone said Quidditch players need a second career for after they age out..." She couldn't remember who had said this to her. It did sound smart to have a second plan. Like, what if she got hurt playing Quidditch, or they decided Muggleborns weren't allowed to participate again? She needed a solid backup plan.

"I don't know if I'd be good at reporting," she said with a sheepish smile. "And I'm not smart enough to be a healer...."

"Let's go eat," she said with a firm nod, ready to change the subject from her future, hypothetical second career.

Had he heard that question in her head, he would have said no it did not matter. In terms of friends, the only person whose input mattered was the person actually doing the befriending. Unless one of her brother’s was planning on befriending and trying to take Aboli away from HIS brother, it really did not matter. He also assumed that would be unlikely.

“Oh. I just assumed it was like muggle sports.” But maybe not all. Did soccer players make enough to retire or did they forever rely on marketing? Which… “You’re pretty, if you went pro you could probably get some sponsors and do advertisements and such for them and make some income that way? And if you’re really good and have name recognition, they’d use you even AFTER you were done in the league.” See! There would still be ways. And she wouldn’t have to go to school for those things.

“It’s really about excitement about the subject that matters for reporting. And you seem to have plenty of that regarding Quidditch.” But if she also didn’t want to do that, she didn’t want to do that and that was fine. He blinked a bit at her second comment. “I don’t think that’s true.” Mamie was smart, perhaps healing was just not where her interests lay.

“Okay.” Didn’t have to tell him twice when it came to food.

She frankly had no idea if playing Quidditch was like Muggle sports. Even so, she was fairly certain only the very best players in a league could retire from the sport and not work anymore, and even then the best people could get hurt and have to retire early. She wasn't stupid, she knew she needed a backup plan. He--did he just say she was pretty? "Oh...thank...you." What did being pretty have to do with being good at Quidditch, though? She gave him a quizzical look. "Do you think being pretty is more important than being good?"

She thought about the reporting thing. Maybe she could find a way to do reporting without having to actually write a whole bunch. "Maybe I could do the commentary!" That sounded more exciting than writing an article about a match after it happened.

She started away from the gates, looking back to see if Evan was coming.

Ollie stood in awe. Not the good awe either. Her eyes were wide open and she was starting at New, which she knew was rude but what else do you do in with all this information! Wow, now she knew why all the older students were so weird about some topics they had talked about. "Oh my..." was all she could muster out.

She couldn't help but wonder if something like that would happen again while she was at the school. Would she be targeted since her mother was a muggle? Maybe she should get to the dueling area with a few friends to practice some spells that could help... would they get in trouble?

She felt like her mind was racing a mile a minute. It was a lot in information to take in at once. "I'm so sorry that that happened. I'm sure it was hard to come back to the school after that happened." She looked back to the castle. How could anyone who went through that trust the school again? How could their parents send them back here?

Nem was patient, at least in all respects that mattered when they had dealings with these other kids. They didn't mind the staring, didn't mind the extended silence, were happy to wait it out and let their words sink in. Sometimes, that was all for the better.

So they said nothing at first, only stood there with their hands in their pockets, though it wasn't long before they drew them out again, and folded their arms over their chest instead, in such a way that their hands were still protected from the cold.

At last, Nem shook their head. "No need for you to be sorry, but I appreciate it all the same." It was tempting to add 'only the people involved should be sorry', just for the fun of it, but opted against it. "Harder for some than for others. A lot of kids were pulled out. For the rest of us it's business as usual, and we have His Royal Trent-ness back now, so that's something." Nem smiled at the first year, warm and friendly, to show that the nickname was a stab of humour, to put her a little more at ease.

No good being stuck in the past forever.