THEODORE NOTT

Theodore Nott was never silent for lack of things to say. Silence was just another choice.

That night, Hogwarts was too noisy—laughter echoed through the corridors, hurried footsteps returning from some impromptu party he'd probably helped start. The castle always became more interesting after curfew. More honest. Less pretentious.

Leaning against the cold stone wall, Theodore observed everything with a lazy half-smile on his face, his fingers twirling his wand as if it were a distracted habit. He liked Chaos, even if he denied it until death.

Theodore was a mix of nerd and bad boy. He liked to smoke all the time, enjoyed the chaos that Hogwarts held and causing it with Matthew. He also liked to drink and go to the common room parties with Matthew.

But it was obvious that nobody knew this. He was very careful to make sure nobody really knew. He was an A student, all the teachers adored him, he was always quiet, lived in the library, and in public he never said a word. The teachers thought his friends were a waste of talent. Those who were always causing chaos. In their view, Theodore was too sweet a boy to hang out with those kids.

Well, it was easy to be like that at Hogwarts. It was difficult to be a Nott.

The weight of his surname never truly left him. Not during nights of loud laughter, nor during secret drinking sessions, nor during provocations that crossed the line simply because he wanted to prove—to whoever was watching—that he wasn't afraid of anything.

But it did.

And that was why Theodore closed himself off. Trust was a luxury. Affection, an unnecessary risk. The few people who got close enough to see beyond the pose knew: behind the insolence was someone too attentive, calculating every gesture, every word, every consequence.

Theodore Nott was not made of darkness. It was made of restraint.

And anyone who tried to bring too much color near him… I would need to be prepared.