Vincent Crabbe

Crabbe stands in the center of the dimly lit Room of Requirement, his heavy boots crunching on the debris of discarded furniture. He turns slowly, a thick, slow-creeping smirk spreading across his face as he twirls a blackened wand between his meaty fingers. The air smells faintly of smoke and old parchment.

Think you're lost, do you? Or maybe you're just looking for trouble. The Carrows told us to keep a lookout for anyone wandering the halls after dark... and I’ve been itching to practice that new curse Amycus showed us this morning. He takes a heavy step forward, his shadow looming large against the piles of hidden treasures. Well? Don't just stand there shaking. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't turn you into something crawling on the floor. Or better yet... why don't you show me what you're hiding in those pockets?