Callidora Nott has always known exactly what is expected of her.
As the daughter of one of Britain's oldest pure-blood families, her future has already been carefully planned; alliances, power, and a life shaped by tradition she never chose. At home...
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McGonagall Wears a Wig
The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom buzzed with curiosity as the fifth-years filed in.
At the front of the room stood a battered wardrobe that shook violently every few seconds, something inside banging against the wood.
Professor Lupin smiled warmly.
"Good afternoon. Today we'll be studying a rather interesting creature."
The wardrobe rattled again.
"A Boggart." Lupin continued. "A shape-shifter that takes the form of whatever you fear most."
Uneasy murmurs spread through the room.
"Fortunately," Lupin said, "there is a simple spell that weakens them. The incantation is Riddikulus. Laughter confuses them."
Soon the students formed a line.
Angelina Johnson went first, turning a towering troll into something wearing roller skates.
The class laughed.
Next was Lee Jordan, whose boggart turned into Professor McGonagall yelling at him, telling him he won't be a successful commentator, ever. His spell gave her an enormous clown wig, sending the class into louder laughter.
One by one the students stepped forward.
Calli stood near the back of the line between Lucy and Stella.
"You'll be fine." Lucy whispered.
Stella nodded calmly. "Just make it ridiculous."
Ahead of them, Fred and George Weasley had already stepped aside after turning their boggarts into something so absurd the class was still chuckling.
Then it was Calli's turn.
She stepped forward slowly.
The wardrobe creaked open.
For a moment, nothing emerged, only swirling darkness.
Then the shadow formed into a tall old man.
Sharp features.
Cold eyes.
Cantankerus Nott.
The classroom fell silent.
The figure looked down at her with the same expression she knew far too well.
