"No." The reply is automatic. He turns his head, looking straight at Professor Rammsteiner instead of at the ground. He doesn't even have to tilt his head to look at him - they're almost eye-to-eye with each other nowadays. He thinks he'll be taller than Professor Rammsteiner soon.

"I was thinking," he says, a little slower than usual. Inside the pocket of his robes, his fingers curl restlessly. He still feels hot, flushed with the same incessant heat that had plagued him for weeks now, and even the brush of his own robes against his body makes him straighten unconsciously, tension radiating from his frame.