[Kavinsky's fantasies are realities waiting to happen; he can make his daydreams real by simply slipping past waking fancy to unconscious artistry. Wizard is a silly word that makes him think of little pewter statues in shops that want to convince you psychics are real and tarot cards can predict the future. The fact the word is nigh mundane to Sirius isn't lost on him. For Sirius, it's a regular noun, like man, like woman. Wizard. Something Kavinsky is not, because he's never gone into mystical alleys or attended schools with staircases that swap direction on a whim.
That's what Sirius is. A wizard. Not a trinket or a man in a robe with a beard down to his knees, but a wizard in another fashion. Magical, but not abnormal. Part of a group. A many.
Kavinsky's starving for the scraps he's given, but he can't take them all at once or else Sirius will start to think he's desperate.]
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That's what Sirius is. A wizard. Not a trinket or a man in a robe with a beard down to his knees, but a wizard in another fashion. Magical, but not abnormal. Part of a group. A many.
Kavinsky's starving for the scraps he's given, but he can't take them all at once or else Sirius will start to think he's desperate.]
I'm a thief. We're rounding out the party.