Bole’s eyes narrowed as Theo moved away, and his lip curled in a pleasured smile. So there was a lingering fear of him. His gaze drifted to the wand in Theo’s hand. Would he attack? He hadn’t done anything malicious to Theo. He’d not provoked him yet.
“So you went to him?” Bole replied, his eyes alight with curiosity, “Maybe you’re not as pathetic as I first took you for Nott. Are you going to join Lestrange’s army? Lead his troops? Help him to become the leader of Wizarding kind?” He spread his arms and laughed, “You’d make an excellent Muggleborn controller. Imagine it! Getting to decide when and where those dirty little witches and wizards get to cast magic. You'd get to make your own laws. You could keep them as servants, or use them for whatever sick little pleasure gets you off. They’d lick your boots to win your favour.”