The finished paintings kept squirming in his hands as he carried them up the stairs. As he reached the second floor landing, a painting of a centaur wearing a bonnet suddenly bucked in his arms and spilled the whole lot. Picking them back up he was surprised by another first year student. The boy wore Slytherin robes and had a slightly wholesome look to his face. He held the errant centaur portrait in his hands.
"Can I help you?" he asked earnestly.
Tamblin hesitated just a moment.
"Yes, please. Thank you."
"Not at all," the boy said as he placed the centaur on top of the stack that Tamblin barely had under control. The Slytherin boy then took one side of the stack. With two people it was much easier.
"My name is Nott."
"I know of your family," Tamblin said automatically.
The boy's eyebrow arched slightly.
"Demosthene, Tamblin."
The slightest light passed through the other boy's eyes.
"Ah, yes. Our families move in similar circles."
Tamblin could feel the other boy's eyes measuring him minutely as they climbed step after step.
"Shame, really," Nott said after several minutes of silence.
Tamblin looked at the boy but he was looking down at the paintings.
"Pardon?"
"A waste of potential," he said.
Tamblin wasn't sure if Nott meant the painting or himself.
"You don't care for the style?"
"That's not what I meant."
They reached the third floor landing and stopped, setting the wriggling canvases down.
"Where are you taking them?"
"Dumbledore's office."
An immediate coolness passed through Nott's features.
"Well I can get you part of the way, but you'll have to go to the end alone."
Tamblin felt a predatory awareness pass through him. Nott was saying something mundane, but he meant something else too. Nott was pureblooded, from a wealthy family, and subtle. He was everything Tamblin had been trained to be wary of as the scion of a wealthy pureblood family.
Nott was holding the centaur picture again.
"The style is fine, but the potential is still lost."
"How do you mean?" A guarded tone had crept into Tamblin's voice, but if Nott noticed he didn't comment.
Nott looked at him.
"The blank page can be anything. But now this," he tilted his head toward the painting while his eyes stayed on Tamblin," is all it will, or can, ever be."
He threw the bonneted centaur on top of the other paintings and picked the stack up. Tamblin took the other end and they continued up toward Dumbledore's office. Nott was silent until they reached the seventh floor.
"We're all canvases, Tamblin. Try not to let them paint you too soon. This is where I leave you."
Tamblin took the full weight of the paintings. Nott was just a flash of black and green disappearing around a corner. He made a mental note to write Vlora. He'd have to brush up on the Nott family history and holdings.