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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Goblet of Fire
The Great Hall buzzed with a kind of excitement it hadn't known in years.
The Beauxbatons students had settled at the Ravenclaw table, their pale blue silks catching the candlelight, while every pair of eyes in the room seemed to flick between them and the Durmstrang delegation.
Calli didn't miss the way Ron was practically waving his arms off, gesturing eagerly for them, specificallyViktor Krum, to sit near him.
She almost snorted.
That plan failed spectacularly.
To her dismay, the Durmstrang group turned and headed straight for the Slytherin table.
"Brilliant." Lucy muttered.
They filled in along the benches, heavy cloaks and all. A few of the boys sitting near Calli, Lucy, and Stella offered polite nods and small smiles.
Calli returned one, composed as ever.
Across from them, Draco Malfoy had already latched onto Krum, talking at him with far too much enthusiasm.
Krum, meanwhile, looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.
The staff began filing in.
The Beauxbatons students immediately leapt to their feet as Olympe Maxime entered, prompting a ripple of sniggers from Hogwarts students.
Calli arched a brow slightly.
"Imagine if we did that for Dumbledore." She murmured.
Lucy chuckled.
Everyone sat again, but two chairs at the staff table remained empty.
"Who are those for?" Stella asked quietly.
Calli shook her head.
"No idea."
Dumbledore rose then, giving a warm, welcoming speech, announcing that the Triwizard Tournament would officially begin at the end of the feast.
As soon as he sat, the plates filled.
Food appeared in abundance, richer than usual. French dishes Calli barely recognized, alongside familiar Hogwarts fare and some heavier, heartier dishes she guessed came from farther north.
Durmstrang.
No one knew exactly where it was.
Only that it was cold.
Very cold.
The Slytherin table, for once, had everyone's attention.
And not in a bad way.
Students from other houses kept glancing over, trying to sneak looks at Krum, who remained hunched over his plate, eating in silence while Malfoy continued his one-sided conversation.
