Kearney nearly bolted when the Healer showed up, legs tensing to run, hand gripping his wand fiercely. Oliver was surprised at he tensed himself, immediately wary of the stranger. He knew a good portion of Healers, enough to know that their ranks had contained a surprising number of blood elitists.

It became quickly apparent that this Dria was not one of them. She was lively and bright eyed, but the way her eyes had darkened when Ryan said [i]on the run[/i] was familiar. Muggleborn, then. The fury in her voice was familiar to him, a raging fire, and that, more than anything, comforted Oliver.

"Ye dinnae need ta apologise fur bein' radge," Oliver directed towards Dria in a surprisingly even voice. The last thing he wanted was people putting aside their anger. They needed that rage, that burning desire to fix their world.

Kearney was still wary, looking a little overwhelmed by the sheer force of Dria's personality. He looked to Oliver cautiously. It was such a change from the man Kearney had been before Azkaban--confident, open, and although quiet, never fearful. 

"Err...Hogwarts," Kearney managed. "I played for Ravenclaw."

"Manpreet scooted heem at hogwarts. He cam tae trials an' oot-flew th' whole damn crew, sae we strong-armed heem intae signin' wi' us," Oliver elucidated, beaming with pride. Kearney shifted a little uncomfortably, but looking a bit pleased at the praise.

Ryan apologised for Dria's forwardness and Oliver chuckled. After several moments, Kearney shook his head.

"It's alright," He said finally, before clearing his throat. "But...can I go home?"

Oliver paused, exchanging a long, quiet look with Ryan. Breathing deep he turned to Kearney, dropping a heavy hand to his shoulder.

"We got ye a new place, kearney. Th' death eaters...they burned yer auld place."