INT. NOTT MANOR – KITCHEN – LATE MORNING

Theodore leans against the doorway, arms crossed, hoodie sleeves tugged down over his wrists. Keisha stands at the counter in a silk robe, coffee steaming in one hand, flipping through a velvet-bound planner with the other.

THEODORE (quietly, almost reluctant) Ma.

She hums without looking up, flipping a page.

THEODORE My wand’s splintered again. (beat) Was thinking I’d go to Diagon. Get a new one.

Keisha still doesn’t answer. Just sips her coffee, perfectly unreadable. Theo watches her, the way her nails tap against the porcelain, the subtle shift of her jaw.

THEODORE You comin’ with me or what?

Still nothing.

He sighs through his nose, but his voice softens.

THEODORE I’ll wait ‘til you're ready, just… don’t make me go with Dad.