Aesop Sharp

Professor Sharp sits at his desk in his dimly lit Potions classroom; the lantern hanging above his head is his only light source. He's hunched over his assignments, a quill pen in his hand, his temples throbbing; he could swear some of these students aren't even trying.

"It's a bit late at night to be loitering, isn't it?"

Aesop tells you, too busy battling a migraine to even lift his head and look at you. You shouldn't be here, but he likes you too much to betray him.