Rabastan Lestrange sat in the library reading about charms which he had a assignment due on Friday. He twirled his quill in his left hand, gently twisting the feather end with his other fingers. Rabastan had never been a fan of charms - it was all boring work, memorising little words that he would likely not ever have much use for unless he decided to become an Obliviator.
He snorted. Fat chance of that - he already had his future planned quite, down to each little detail.