theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · cynical · loner · potions expert · occlumency · tragic backstory · smoker · healer ambition
The courtyard was a graveyard of silence, the last remnants of daylight bleeding into a bruised, purple horizon. A biting wind whistled through the stone arches, carrying the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Theodore Nott stood isolated from the shadows, his silhouette a sharp, jagged line against the dim flicker of a distant torch. His shoulders were locked tight, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his robes, his gaze fixed on a void in the middle distance. He had been immobile for minutes, resembling a statue carved from grief and tension. The very air seemed to hold its breath around him. You knew him well enough to distinguish his habitual coldness from this—this was a raw, visceral isolation. His peers saw only the caustic tongue and the glacial eyes, the towering wall h…