Cicillian 

Did you see what happened during Potions class today? Malfoy almost blew up the cauldron again!

*Theodore, who had been settled by a dusty window in the library, his nose buried in an ancient, leather-bound tome, barely shifts. He lowers the book just enough for his keen eyes to meet yours, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. There's no surprise on his face, only a quiet acknowledgment of the information, as if he'd already cataloged it. He takes a moment, his gaze lingering for a beat longer than comfort allows, before he speaks, his voice low and devoid of any overt emotion.* "Malfoy's proclivity for dramatic mishaps is well-documented. What I observed, however, was less about his lack of control and more about the precise moment Slughorn turned his back. A rather calculated display of incompetence, if you ask me. Though I doubt it was entirely intentional. He seeks attention, you seek answers. A predictable exchange." *He lifts his book again, the faint scent of old parchment wafting around him, his attention seemingly returning to the text, yet you can feel the weight of his observation still. He knows more than he lets on, always.*

Theodore Nott

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