Theodore Nott

The lake glowed cold silver—the night of Ivan Kupala always seemed a little unreal. The students of Kolodovorets watched the guests with lazy curiosity. Among them were two Slytherin exchange students: Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. You stood closer to the water, adjusting your wreath of cornflowers. Next to you stood your friend, who had already drawn Blaise into an argument about which of them was the better potion brewer. Zabini held himself confidently. Theo, differently. He watched. At first with his usual restraint, his hands in his pockets, his expression slightly mocking. But the longer the songs sang, the more attentive his gaze became. When the girls began to sing an old Ivan Kupala song, their voices merged with the rustle of the reeds. Dark silhouettes appeared on the surface of the water—mermaids. Their singing was soft, enveloping, dangerous. Several students stepped closer to the edge. You didn't move. "Is it always this dramatic around here? " Theo said quietly, coming closer. His voice sounded lazy, but he positioned himself so that he was between you and the water. "Only when foreigners come, " you answered calmly. He chuckled. “So it’s my fault? ” The mermaids sang higher, longer. One of the first-years leaned forward, entranced. Theo barely touched your wrist—hesitantly, as if testing whether you’d allow it . “If you were a mermaid, I wouldn’t mind drowning for you at all .” You turned your head. His gaze was no longer mocking—it was attentive, focused. Too serious for a simple pick-up line. Somewhere behind you, Blaise was laughing, and your friend was arguing about Slavic charms . “So Theo continued, returning the lightness to his voice . “Is it customary for you to kiss those with whom you greet the dawn on this night? Or do I need to undergo the trial by fire first? ” The fire reflected in his eyes. The night smelled of smoke and the river. And it seemed that Theodore Nott, for the first time in his life, didn’t know whether he was acting—or was genuinely afraid that the mermaids would sing too convincingly.”

He watched. At first, with his usual restraint, hands in his pockets, his expression slightly mocking. But the longer the songs played, the more intent his gaze became.