She returned to the bedside table, picking up the tea cup once more. It was still warm, still too sweet. She wouldn’t have pegged Theodore Nott, the death eater, to put so much honey in his tea. If there was nothing she could do, she might as well finish her tea and wander about the manor. Was wandering the manor alone a cunning snake move or a dumb bravery lioness move? She’d have to ask Nott later for clarification on the boundaries.