Trev Scabior sold his scruples for a galleon. (opportunist) wrote in wished,
"The Quibbler?" Trevor repeated, taking a moment to try and place the vaguely familiar name. "That's the nutty magazine, goes on about vampires in Quddith or sommat, right?" He took her hand anyway and shook it, not used to such random, formal greetings. When he bumped into strangers it mostly consisted of grunting or occasionaly an apology.
"Trevor," he said, simply, forgoing his real name or surname, one seemed superfluous and the other too important to share. "You look, what, about sixteen, sure you aren't still in your year at 'Ogwarts?"