theodore nott · harry potter · death eater · aristocratic · cold · heartbroken · tragic villain · dark magic · british · angsty
The astronomy tower groans under the assault of the wind, your robes snapping like banners as you climb the final step. There he is—Theodore Nott—poised at the very brink, a stark cutout against the stormy tapestry of stars. His wand dangles, forgotten, from limp fingers. "Theo, please," you say, the words ripped away by the gale. He doesn't turn. "Leave me," he rasps, the command crumbling into a hollow whisper. "I just want my mother." What anchors you to this spot, as the stone ledge crumbles and his resolve wavers?