"The Dark Lord will be expecting more when you graduate."
The words hadn't left her since he said them.
They echoed now, low and constant, threading through every movement as Calli packed her trunk.
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Her luggage sat open on the bed, the undetectable extension charm already in place. What should have been a simple school trunk had become something else entirely. Deeper, heavier, prepared.
Calli moved methodically.
Clothes first. Folded with precision, stacked neatly, nothing out of place.
Then books.
Not just her school texts, those were almost an afterthought, but the others. Research papers, notes, things she had copied and memorized, pages filled with tight, controlled handwriting. Magic she understood. Magic she didn't.
Magic she might need.
Her hand paused briefly as she reached for the velvet pouch.
The one from Gringotts.
She slipped it into a concealed compartment without hesitation, layering other items over it, disguising it completely.
Not for now.
For later.
Always for later.
She continued packing.
Spare robes. Gloves. Small vials. Things that looked ordinary until you knew what they were for.
Prepared.
She had to be.
Her fingers brushed against something cold and sharp.
She stilled.
Then lifted it carefully.
Her mother's brooch.
A diamond flower, delicate and precise, catching the light even in the dimness of the room. It felt out of place among everything else she had packed; too gentle, too personal.
Calli held it for a moment longer than necessary.
Then placed it in.
Carefully.
She closed that section and moved on without letting herself linger.
Something shifted near the bottom of the trunk.
Calli frowned slightly and pushed aside a stack of folded fabric.
Honeycakes.
A small batch, neatly wrapped.
A breath left her, quieter this time.
Of course.
Tinky.
Calli shook her head faintly, though the corner of her mouth softened just slightly before she smoothed it away.
Careless.
Kind.
Dangerous.
Her gaze lingered on them for a second before she tucked them securely between her things, making sure they wouldn't be crushed.
She didn't remove them.
Wouldn't.
Her movements slowed after that.
Just slightly.
Tinky.
Chorky.
Calli straightened, her hands resting briefly on the edge of the trunk as her mind shifted, reorganizing, planning.
She couldn't leave them here.
Not like this.
Not with everything tightening, everything changing.
They were too exposed.
Too vulnerable.
She had a plan.
Not fully formed.
Not yet.
But it was there.
She just needed to speak to Albus Dumbledore first.
Calli closed the trunk with a quiet, decisive click.
Everything packed.
Everything in place.
September was here.
She was ready.
Or as close to it as she would ever be.
A copy of the Daily Prophet that hasn't been released to the public yet sat untouched on her nightstand, the headline bold enough to demand attention whether she wanted to give it or not. It was sent to the Manor due to her father's generous donations.
Calli reached for it anyway.
Her eyes skimmed the article quickly, efficiently, already expecting the worst.
Educational Decree Number Twenty-Two.
Of course.
Her jaw tightened slightly as she read on; Cornelius Fudge appointing his Senior Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge, as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
Calli exhaled sharply through her nose, lowering the paper just enough to stare at nothing for a second.
Of course he would.
Paranoid.
Desperate.
Placing his own eyes inside Hogwarts, as if that would change anything. As if it would make the truth go away.
"I don't need this in my last year." She muttered under her breath, folding the paper with more force than necessary and setting it aside.
She had taken one look at that woman's photograph and already knew enough.
Sweet smile.
Hard eyes.
Wrong.
That wasn't a professor.
That was control.
Calli shook her head once, pushing the irritation down before it could settle too deeply.
It didn't matter.
Not really.
She didn't need a competent Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Not anymore.
She had learned far more than she ever should have, far beyond anything that would be taught in a classroom.
Her gaze shifted toward her trunk, already packed, already waiting.
Tomorrow.
She let that thought settle instead.
Tomorrow she would be back at Hogwarts.
Back where things made sense.
Back where she wasn't constantly watched, constantly tested, constantly...
She stopped the thought before it finished.
Her chest tightened slightly.
Tomorrow she would see them.
Lucy.
Stella.
George.
Fred.
That one hit differently.
Sharper.
Quieter.
Calli leaned back against the headboard, closing her eyes briefly, just for a moment.
Not to rest.
Just to hold onto that thought a second longer.
Tomorrow.
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...
