Although a naturally bright boy, with a definite knack for retaining information like a sponge, it was a very rare occasion indeed when Dangerous chose exerted any extensive energies or efforts into his school work. Year in year out it was the same tired story – his report card echoing phrases that he had quickly become indifferent to. Doesn’t apply himself. Doesn’t work to his potential. Has the ability to excel, but... There were, of course, a handful of classes that were the exception to this, but even then he was unlikely to give them much of a second thought outside of their designated times.
Needless to say, he was not necessarily in the habit of chasing up Professors outside of class. If he was forced to think back he would not have been able to recall a single instance to date where he had thought to query his grade, or to clarify a theory. As a general trend the only time he spent thinking of his classes outside of them was when it came to set homework; he tended to be too busy otherwise consumed by Quidditch, or running amok with his friends. Then again, Professor Kettleburn was hardly you’re bulk-standard Professor, was he? And it wasn’t anything Care of Magical Creatures related that drew Dangerous outside to search him out on the chilly afternoon.
Braced against the cold, neck wrapped up tightly in a Ravenclaw scarf and gloved hands buried deeply in his pockets while his cloak billowed around him in the wind, even still his cheeks were flushed and the tips of his nose and ears were a bright pink before he’d made it so much as half-way across the grounds. Showing no signs of being at all bothered by this, he instead wore a broad smile as he approached the much older man, who he had located on the edge of the Fordbidden Forrest. Not at all put-off by the fact that he was clearly busy, he called out a loud greeting to the man, “Afternoon Professor! How’s things?”
Through every season, Silvanus counted himself as an outdoor person. It was quite easy and comfortable to declare a love for outdoors when the sun was shining in a moderate fashion, without any sort of harshness. Kettleburn had experienced all sorts of meteorological shenanigans in his life. Desertic sun in the colony, along with a couple of monsoons and blizzards in Northern Europe. A little cold didn’t bother him at all, part of the reason he wasn’t as layered up as the regular person. And if his toughened senses failed him, there was always a flask with firewhiskey in the inner pocket of his leather jacket.
The cold day was perfect for collecting Bowtruckles for tomorrow’s Fourth Year lesson, and Silvanus had already spent half an hour or so inspecting the trees in the limits of the forest, looking for the creatures. The sound of his name being called distracted him momentarily from his endeavor, and he turned around to find ‘Dangerous’ Llewellyn, a Ravenclaw in his class. There weren’t many students who ventured into Care of Magical Creatures past O.W.L.S level, and Kettleburn was quite acquainted with all his older students. Besides, the younger boy’s stunts in the Ravenclaw’s Quidditch matches where highly entertaining, and something Kettleburn found himself looking forward to.
“Dai,” He acknowledged the Ravenclaw good naturedly with a nod and a smile. Perhaps teaching wasn’t how he had imagined he would spend his days ten or fifteen years ago, but young people were full of energy, and it was hard to feel monotony or dread when surrounded with energetic children. “I’m good! I’m collecting Bowtruckles for a lesson.” He said, gesturing to a large wooden trunk that thudded regularly. Kettleburn had made sure to charm the trunk to be comfortable to the creatures, but he knew it didn’t provide the freedom creatures cherish so much. “And what about you? How's Quidditch coming along?” He asked.
