Aveira was siting in the common room with a collection of vials in different shapes and sizes in front of her. They contained her home-made potions which she was now trying to sell to some cautious first years. "Look, everyone else in the school buys them. No big deal, right?"

"Sure, not a big deal at all," Toru muttered. He wasn't in the best of moods.

Sensing his mood, Aveira scooted over to him. "You know, I sell happy potions. You want one?" She shooed the first years away. They'd come back eventually. They always did.

Toru waved his wand. One of the quills in the room started spitting small fireballs. "I think I'm good."

"Normally they're 2 galleons a piece. But for you, mon cherie? Half price." She smiled prettily at him and opened the top from a small yello vial. A smell almost like spring filled the room and many of the first years actually started giggling. Everyone else was used to the random mood change that Aveira often caused. "So what do you say?"

Toru waved his wand and a cork appeared in the vial. "I tried that stuff once. It took a month to clean the Gryffindor common room of all the string cheese with blood coating. And it still has stains. You might have heard of that? Two years ago?"

"That was you?" Her eyes lit up in appreciation. "Nice. Why aren't we friends yet?"

"I don't know. I usually avoid people," Toru muttered. He opened his hand and let a red butterfly fly out.

She let her eyes light up again. "Not anymore you don't. Consider Aveira Lestrange your new best friend."

"Mmm...I've heard about you," Toru said, but that's all he said. He decided against saying who his parents were.

"Everyone's heard of me, mon cherie. Daddy was famous." She rolled her eyes as if it were no big deal that he was a legendary dark wizard.

Toru sighed. She didn't bring up his parents, and he was glad. "I see. Morbid to meet you. And it looks like your customers might want your...merchandice," he mentioned, eyeing the first years.

It was true. The first years were starting to crowd around her again. "Oh, mon cherie. I hate to leave you, but business calls," she said in a perfect French accent. She quickly handed out business cards to the first years and sold them her whole stock of happy potions before turning back to Toru. "And have I heard of you?" she asked, wondering his name.

"Not likely," Toru murmured, changing his butterfly from red to green, green to silver, silver to black, black to white, white back to red. "I keep to myself, usually. I did almost kill a teacher in my third year."

"So did I. In my first year and second year and fourth year and fifth year and sixth year and most likely this year too. But you still haven't told me anything about yourself." She watched the butterfly, leaning her head in her hands.