Theo glanced at the clock on the wall, counting down the minutes until Barton Carrow would arrive. Barton, with his flashy bravado and a name that carried weight, was exactly the sort of person Theo needed to draw information from—if he could keep the conversation from spiraling into the depths of blood purist ideology.

When the door creaked open, Theo steeled himself, adopting a congenial expression. Barton entered, clad in his usual designer robes, the fabric shimmering as if it had been woven from the threads of privilege itself.

"Ah, Nott! You actually look like you're enjoying yourself," Barton declared, his voice a tad too loud for the intimate setting. "I wasn't sure you could smile outside of brewing potions or whatever it is you do these days."

Theo arched an eyebrow, keeping his tone light. "Well, I can't have the family reputation tarnished by a lack of socialization, can I? Come in, have a drink." He gestured to the decanter on the table, pouring two glasses of firewhisky, the amber liquid catching the low light in a way that made it look dangerously inviting.

Barton accepted the glass eagerly, taking a generous swig. "Now, that's what I'm talking about! A proper drink for a proper evening." Theo watched him closely, noting the way his eyes glinted. He may or may not have added a heavy dose of veritaserum in the glass he had handed the young wizard.

"What's new in your world, Barton? Any interesting parties on the horizon?" Theo asked, carefully steering the conversation.

"Parties? Oh, you know how it is. The same old faces, spouting the same old nonsense," Barton replied, leaning back in his chair, clearly becoming more relaxed—and loose-lipped. "But I did hear something interesting. Rumors of a little gathering… you know, some of us are starting to talk about how things used to be. The good old days, right?"

"'Good old days'?" Theo echoed, his skepticism tinged with a hint of amusement. "I wasn't aware you were alive for the good old days."

Barton laughed, the sound booming in the otherwise silent room. "Touché! But still, there's a certain thrill to it all. I've heard whispers, you know. Some of the more ambitious lot are… looking to make a statement."

"Ambitious," Theo mused, swirling his drink. "Or reckless?"

"Both, perhaps. I mean, have you heard about the attacks on the Squibs? Makes sense to get rid of anyone who doesn't fit into our world. That is our pureblood world of magic."

Theo felt a cold knot form in his stomach. He was all too aware of the ideology that fueled such violence, the way it twisted loyalties and blurred lines. "And you think that's the work of our kind? Purebloods?" he asked, his voice measured, betraying none of the turmoil brewing beneath.

Barton waved his hand dismissively, taking another deep drink. "Oh, you know how it is. We want to take our place in the world. Make a mark. But I know some older, er, individuals who support us."

Theo's thoughts raced as he processed Barton's words, his own family's legacy looming over him like a specter. The implications were staggering—was his family, in some way, tied to this madness? "You sound awfully certain," he said, his voice flat. "Are you involved in this?"

"Me? No, no!" Barton laughed again, but there was a nervous edge to it. "But I hear things. You know how it is. The circles I run in… if you want in, you have to prove yourself."

"By attacking Squibs?" Theo pressed, feeling the need to rein in Barton's bravado before it got out of hand.

"Well, that's just a stepping stone, isn't it? A way to show commitment. To send a message!"

Theo's pulse quickened at the implications. He felt as if he were staring into a dark abyss, where the familiar faces of his childhood mingled with a new generation of fanatics. "And who exactly are the leaders of this… movement?" he asked, his voice lower, probing.

Barton leaned closer, emboldened by the firewhisky. "Why are you interested in joining?"

"Perhaps," he replied, though his mind raced with the implications. The thought filled him with dread.

As Barton continued to ramble on, Theo's gaze drifted to the family portraits lining the walls. They stared down at him. He had been raised in this world, steeped in its prejudices and entitlements. But now, he was beginning to question everything.

"Good thing I have you here to keep me informed," Theo said, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Now if you could kindly share the names of those involved in this, that would be most helpful."

"Lycurgus Nott."

Theo dropped his tumbler. He remained silent.