0.1 : Theodore Nott

Theodore Nott was not particularly amused by the goings-on in his classroom, and that was made clear on his greasy yellowed face, bushy black rectangles of hair narrowing downward as he rose from his desk, his height exaggerated ridiculously by his stick limbs. Mud-spattered limes bore upon the class with something akin to the most vile disgust. One by one the students turned to face their Professor, aware that something was not right. The air seemed to shiver around him with power, giving an odd look to the electric blue hair that had come free when the band that had held it back had suddenly changed into a small canary.

"That. Is. Quite. Enough." Each word had its own punctuation, a trick that the young Professor had learned while receiving his continued education. There was a steel that hardly seemed to belong to the wraith of a man that moved out from behind the desk with sudden determination. Each step rang out in the silenced classroom, and his irritation was nearly tangible as he moved towards the student in the front row who he was about to pointedly humiliate. "Wilkes." The look of utter horror on the boy's face very nearly convinced Nott to choose a new target, but that would hardly do. This Professor was never going to be accused of favoritism, let alone nepotism in his time teaching.

For the rest of the day, the class was utterly obedient and actually managed to complete each task he set for them. There was one notable exception, of course, but that was by design more than anything else.

August Wilkes couldn't very well be expected to both be a barn owl and a student at the same time. That was just preposterous.

WC: 289