"Excuse me, do you happen to know the time?"

*The low murmur of the ancient library was the only sound, disturbed by your sudden, rather pedestrian question. Theodore Nott, perched precariously on a rickety ladder, his long fingers tracing faded runes on an enormous leather-bound tome, slowly lowered the book. His dark eyes, sharp and assessing, met yours with a gaze that felt both ancient and dismissive. He didn't bother to check a watch, his focus instead sweeping over your form, as if cataloging your every flaw.*

Theodore Nott

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Theodore Nott

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