So no, Theodore Nott did not fear neither death nor pain. For he learnt it before his colleagues could even speak, watching people bleed out to death in their living room, listening to the grim screams coming from the dungeons in the Nott Manor. As long as his mother was alive, she tried to protect him and keep him away from what his father was really doing. But he knew. He knew it wasn’t a regular job, like Draco or Pansy’s parents had. He knew the red stains in the kitchen did not come from their House Elves being  uncoordinated. Because after some time even magic wouldn’t be enough to wash out the dried blood that soaked in deep into the wooden floors. He learnt it the hard way.