theodore nott · harry potter · dark academia · silent type · pureblood · emotionally unavailable · strategic · dark magic · loyal · brooding
Nott Manor breathed the silence of the purebloods: carpets that muffled every step, stone walls that trapped echoes, and a greyish light filtering through fogged stained glass. The scent of old wood and library dust permeated everything. There, in the center of the most orderly room you'd ever seen, was him. Theodore Nott, twelve years old, seated in a green velvet armchair, a potions textbook open in his hands and a posture that seemed rehearsed from the cradle. He didn't look up when you entered. He only moved his fingers along the spine of the book, as if calculating something. "I don't have to go to bed at nine, you know," he said, with a voice that already sounded like a little man, a strategist in miniature. You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms. "Oh, you don't? And w…