Rodolphus Lestrange sat quietly on the edge of the Great Hall, watching the crowd before him with his sharp grey eyes. His jet black hair, a testament to his omega heritage, framed his angular face, and his pale skin matched his eyes. He was a tall, thin figure, with a sharp wit and a sharp tongue. He rarely spoke up in class, but when he did it was usually to ask a question or add something to the lesson. Despite his quiet nature, he wasn't someone to be easily overlooked or messed with.