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 Second Task
At eight fifty nine, they gave up.
Not because they wanted to.
But because they didn't want to risk Pince's fury.
Calli and Harry stepped out of the library, both of them struggling slightly under the weight of the books stacked in their arms.
The corridors were quieter now.
Dimly lit.
Cold.
Harry looked worse than before.
Tired.
Defeated.
Calli adjusted her grip on the books and glanced at him.
"Hey." She said, nudging his arm lightly. "You're not done yet."
Harry let out a weak breath.
"Feels like it."
"It's not." She said firmly. "You've still got time."
He didn't answer.
So she kept going.
"You've handled worse." She added. "Dragons, remember?"
"I got injured."
"You survived."
"Barely."
Calli huffed a quiet laugh.
"Still counts."
They reached the corridor leading toward Gryffindor Tower.
Harry shifted the books in his arms.
"I just don't see how I'm supposed to breathe underwater for an hour by tomorrow."
Calli paused for a second.
Thinking.
"Well..." She said lightly, "I could always try putting up signs in the Slytherin common room windows. See if the merpeople feel like helping you out."
Harry blinked and let out a small, tired chuckle.
"Yeah, I'm sure they'd love that."
"Worth a shot."
He smiled faintly.
Some of the tension easing, just a little.
They stopped.
Harry reached out, taking the books from her arms.
"I've got these." He said.
Calli let him.
"Thanks." He added, more genuine now. "For all of it."
