Stella dropped her goblet.
It hit the table with a dull clang before toppling sideways, pumpkin juice spilling across her sleeve and soaking into the cuff of her robes.
She didn't even seem to notice.
"Stella?" Lucy looked up immediately.
"What is it?"
Stella didn't answer.
Her eyes remained fixed on the newspaper trembling slightly in her hands.
Very slowly, she lowered it onto the table.
Calli looked down.
Her heart skipped several beats.
Across the front page, in enormous black letters, read:
MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN
MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS 'RALLYING POINT' FOR OLD DEATH EATERS
Below the headline were ten moving photographs.
Nine men.
One woman.
Calli felt as though the sounds of the Great Hall had been muffled underwater.
Her eyes moved from face to face.
Antonin Dolohov.
His caption read:
Imprisoned for the murder of Fabian and Gideon Prewett.
Calli's heart lurched.
Molly Weasley's brothers.
Her gaze drifted instinctively towards the Gryffindor table.
Fred.
George.
They hadn't seen the paper yet.
She forced herself to keep reading.
Bellatrix Lestrange.
Rodolphus Lestrange.
Rabastan Lestrange.
The words beneath their photographs blurred for a moment before Calli forced herself to focus.
Convicted for the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom.
Calli frowned.
Permanent incapacitation...
She read the sentence again.
Then a third time.
Her stomach dropped.
Not dead.
She had always assumed.
Neville lived with his grandmother.
Her chest tightened painfully.
They were alive.
Something cold settled over her.
Much worse than death, she thought before immediately feeling guilty for thinking it.
Her eyes lifted instinctively.
Across the Great Hall, Neville was laughing at something Ginny had just said.
Completely unaware.
Calli couldn't bear to look at him for long.
Her gaze fell back to the photographs.
Lestrange.
Three of them.
Her skin prickled.
She didn't know how Corvus related to them. She didn't want to know.
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...
