The All Seeing Eye
Moody had taken things to another level.
"Nonverbal means nonverbal Montague!" He barked, pacing between them, his magical eye whirring unnervingly as it flicked from student to student. "You won't have time to shout incantations when it matters!"
Students were scattered across the room in uneven pairs, the aftermath of failed attempts written across their skin; small burns, shallow cuts, lingering hex marks.
"Protego." Someone whispered aloud.
"Wrong!" Moody snapped. "Mr. Weasley!"
Fred stiffened slightly.
Moody turned fully toward him and Calli, his expression twisting.
"Switch partners if the worst you can cast against Miss Nott is a disarming spell."
A few snickers broke out.
Fred didn't laugh.
He didn't move.
Moody's lip curled.
"Pathetic."
Before Fred could react, Moody raised his wand.
Straight at Calli.
There was no warning.
Calli moved on instinct, dropping down, reaching for her wand that was on the floor following Fred's spell but panic hit first.
Sharp.
Violent.
Her father's voice.
The Cruciatus.
Her hand hadn't even closed around her wand yet and she cast.
Nonverbal.
Powerful.
Instinctive.
The shield burst into existence in front of her just as the spell struck it.
To the rest of the class, it looked like she'd grabbed her wand just in time.
Perfect timing.
Perfect defense.
But Moody's magical eye saw it.
Saw her empty hand.
Saw the magic form anyway.
The spell rebounded.
Hard.
It shot back across the room and hit Moody square in the chest.
The impact sent him flying backward, slamming into the stone wall with a crack that echoed through the classroom.
Silence.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Calli stayed crouched for half a second longer, breath uneven, fingers finally closing around her wand on the floor.
She rose slowly.
The room still frozen around her.
Fred staring.
Everyone staring.
Moody lay where he'd fallen then groaned, pushing himself up.
His magical eye spun, locking onto her.
Sharp.
Focused.
Not angry.
Not impressed.
YOU ARE READING
Callidora ☆ Fred Weasley
FanfictionCallidora 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...
