Chapter 9: Third Year: Summer Holiday

Calli had happily begged off from attending the Quiddich World Cup. Her aunt had tried to tempt her with promises of shopping after, but Calli assured her that some time alone in the house was what she wanted. Reassuring her that she wouldn't starve and her books were all the entertainment she craved, anything would be better than the mind numbing boredom of quiddich.

Draco had blathered on for weeks about being the Minister's guests. Rolling her eyes behind her book, she wished he'd learn that when she was reading she really didn't invite conversation. She struggled against the urge to make a book fall on his head.

One fell beside him instead of on top of him and he screamed. Damn it, Calli thought, control yourself.

"Careful, Draco." She offered as she glanced at him over the top of her book. "Those shelves are overstocked and loud noises, like a boy bragging at high decibels, can shake a volume or two loose."

Naive boy, he nodded, accepting the explanation. He picked up the book and returned it to the shelf. He knew how she felt about books, and angering Calli could prove dangerous.

The day finally dawned and her family left to meet Cornelius Fudge. Seeing them off was like having a tense weight lifted. Having the house to herself was more than rare, it never happened. If she was lucky, and Draco's bragging was correct, this match could go on for days. She planned on taking full advantage of the quiet. Reading and eating meals on her schedule. Not having to make small talk with anyone. She took walks in the garden and soaked in the sun. The hours she spent alone were balm for her soul. As she turned in for the night, she felt better than she had ever felt.

In the pitch darkness of night, Calli sat up in bed drenched in sweat. Fear held her hostage and the burn she'd grown used to in her veins was exploding. She tried to calm herself. She was alone in the house. Nothing was wrong. It was a nightmare. Calm down. She laid back, pleading with her body to allow sleep to reclaim her.

It wasn't long before she heard voices. Excited voices downstairs. Giving up the idea of sleep, she got out of bed and threw on her robe and slippers. She really hoped that the excitement wasn't simply because their team had won.

"Did you see their bovine faces? Stupid animals, dangling with their underwear flashing." Draco crowed as his father smiled indulgently.

Calli stepped into view. Her aunt rushed to her to ask if they'd woke her. "Yes, I heard voices." She glanced around at their flushed faces, the excitement glowing in their eyes. "Did your team win?"

"Better, Calli my dear." Her uncle said, gesturing for her to draw near. She did, knowing her part perfectly. "Tonight we showed the wizarding world that WE are still here. That WE are still as great as before." She stared at his face, beaming with glee. She knew her confusion was clear.

"Calli," Draco drawled. "The Dark Mark glowed in the sky tonight. Deatheaters marched. They showed everyone!"

And understand dawned on Calli. Another year washed of the hope for quiet and calm. Instead strife and drama would reign again. Her few hours of peace would have to keep her because clearly this was another year at Hogwarts not being the refuge she so wished for. She faked a smile for the family that raised her. Pretending once more that she was like them. That her mother was mirrored in her.

Calli begged off breakfast, admitting she hadn't slept well. The truth, but also necessary for her sanity. If she had to sit at a table with the bragging and boasting trio, she'd be unable to control the urge to make the table flip.

Severus heard about the upheaval at the World Cup. His former cohorts blowing off steam and making a nuisance of themselves. Obviously they assumed that masks and chanting would keep them safe. Intelligence was not a requirement to join the Dark Lord's ranks, but he'd assumed that they would at least feign access to common sense. The Dark Lord, should he return as Dumbledore believed, would not take kindly to the idiotic displays.

Dumbledore had informed the staff of more complications to another year. Hogwarts would play host to the reinstated TriWizard Cup. He'd never have another year at this school with peace and quiet. He swore that the universe was plotting against him, punishing him for his past misdeeds. Why else would the torture never end?