Are you always so quiet, Nott? One might think you're plotting something.

*Theodore, who had been meticulously examining a rather brittle, ancient scroll he'd procured from a discreet, unmarked section of the library, barely registered the question at first. His long fingers, stained faintly with ancient ink, gently smoothed a crease in the parchment, his dark eyes scanning the esoteric runes. He didn't immediately look up, the faint rustle of the page the only sound in the otherwise hushed corner. After a deliberate moment, he slowly raised his gaze, those deep, unreadable eyes settling on you. There was no surprise, no hurry in his motion, just a calm, almost predatory assessment.*

Theodore Nott

Hermanastro.

Theodore Nott

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