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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The Triwizard Tournament
The drizzle that had followed them from the station had turned into a full storm by the time the carriages reached the castle.
Rain lashed sideways across the grounds, the wind howling so loudly it almost drowned out the rumble of the distant Black Lake. It felt as though the lake itself might rise up and swallow the castle whole.
Students tumbled out of the carriages and ran toward the stone steps of Hogwarts Castle, cloaks whipping wildly behind them.
"Second time today, brilliant!" Lucy shouted over the roar of the storm.
Calli groaned, knowing exactly what she meant.
"Don't remind me!" Calli shouted back.
Suddenly Stella shrieked.
A massive red water balloon had dropped from the ceiling above the entrance hall and exploded directly on top of her.
Water splashed everywhere.
Lucy and Calli were instantly soaked as well.
Fred and George doubled over laughing.
"Great aim Peeves!" George shouted gleefully.
Sure enough, hovering high near the vaulted ceiling was Peeves, the castle's resident poltergeist, grinning wickedly while clutching two more balloons.
"That was brilliant!" Fred called up to him.
Peeves bowed theatrically.
Then he raised another balloon.
"Stop encouraging him!" Calli hissed, wiping the water from her face.
With a practiced flick of her wand, warm air rippled around the three girls. Their robes dried instantly, hair settling back into place as if they'd never been drenched at all.
Behind them, more shrieks echoed through the corridor.
Apparently Peeves had found more victims.
In the Great Hall, the enchanted ceiling showed dark storm clouds swirling above, mirroring the weather outside. Hundreds of candles floated in the air, illuminating the four long house tables.
Calli, Lucy, and Stella waved goodbye to Fred and George as the twins veered off toward the Gryffindor table.
The three girls made their way to Slytherin.
The Sorting carried on as usual. First-years, who looked as if they all took a dip in the Black Lake on their way to the castle, shuffled nervously toward the stool while Sorting Hat decided their fate.
Eventually the feast began.
Plates filled themselves with roast chicken, potatoes, steaming vegetables, and gravy. Conversation buzzed around the hall as students caught up after the summer.
