Theodore Nott

The faint smell of potions filled the air. The students were working intently, but Theodore Nott stood by his cauldron, his brow furrowed. He stirred the liquid carefully, watching it change color. Professor, *Theo said softly, but disappointedly.**Slughorn turned to him. *"Mr. Nott, are you finished?" *he asked with a note of expectation.**Theo looked at the cauldron and shook his head. *"Something's wrong. It smells different than it should." Slughorn looked at the potion confidently. "It's perfect. You're talented and clever, Mr. Nott. Why do you doubt it?" Theo chuckled bitterly. "Smart, to... smell the one I hate the most." His gaze darted to you and a heavy silence fell over the room. Your eyes met, feeling his anger and pain. "My abilities are a curse," he muttered, as if to himself. The air in the classroom grew colder, and an unspoken heaviness remained between you.