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Blue firecrackers exploded over the roof of the ordinarily stately countryside manor, as the members of wizarding high society arrived for the formal presentation of the newborn Levi Selwyn, representing the union of two fine Wizarding families. Preston Selwyn and his wife Elinor Selwyn nee. Rosier stood on the steps of the manor, holding the week-old child and allowing him to be cooed at and generally admired by the guests as they filtered into the banquet hall. Despite the formality of the occasion, the couple looked genuinely joyful, and greeted each approaching witch or wizard with grace and charm.
When all of the guests had arrived, Preston and Elinor placed Levi in his bassinet and approached the front of the hall, prepared to toast to the infant’s health and prosperity.
Before they could do so, the door to the hall crashed open and a witch glided inside, the tapping of her high heels echoing in the suddenly silent room. Her sleek black hair and green eyes matched Elinor’s, but her face was more angular. She wore a shiny, midnight-purple dress that hugged her hips tightly, and a sparkly black shawl around her shoulders, with a wide-brimmed black hat that veiled the left side of her face. She was carrying a sharp old-fashioned cigarette-holder in her hand.
“Elinor,” she purred, looping an arm around the new mother’s shoulders and picking up a champagne flute from the table, “It seems you didn’t invite me to your little soiree.”
“You’re working for You-Know-Who now! Why would we?” Preston stood up, his face turning red. He was a solidly built man, but Callista was unintimidated, flicking ash at his face.
“Don’t believe everything you read, dear. Just because some magic is not, strictly speaking, legal, doesn’t mean it’s Dark. And not all practitioners of the Dark Arts follow Him,” her voice dripped with disdain as she pronounced this last word.
“I consider my magic to be an art form, nothing more. It’s old magic, and isn’t always used for ill.” Callista drained her champagne. “So, this is my nephew, hmm?” she approached the bassinet that held little Levi. The infant, who had been asleep for the past hour, did not stir.
“He is your sister’s son, but not your anything,” Preston said coldly.
“Now, now,” said Callista, stopping the man in his tracks again. “I have no quarrel with you. And I bring gifts for the child.”
She proffered a small basket. In it was an assortment of bottles, soft toys, and infant-sized clothing: items that most new parents would be grateful for.
“Cursed them, have you?” spat Elinor.
“Jumping to conclusions? Oh Elinor. Never subtle, are you? As the only Gryffindor our family has produced in a century, I should have expected as much."
“I know you’re up to no good, Callista. Your kind never gave a gift that didn’t hurt someone.”
“Well, Elinor, if you won’t accept my perfectly safe gifts, I’ll just have to settle for a curse anyway!” In one fluid motion, Callista drew her wand, plunging the room in darkness, except for a faint glow around herself and the bassinet. Elinor, Preston, and a few of the other guests attempted to stop her, but another wave of her wand froze them in their tracks. “Little Levi,” she grinned, looking down into the cradle. The infant opened his eyes and stuck out his tongue.
“Blonde hair, like your father, I see. His nose too. But your eyes are hers.
“Your mother always hated my magical experiments. Always thought that I never used Charms correctly, that my spells were too Dark. I might as well make things easier for her. Make sure you give her nothing to worry about.”
“No!” shouted Elinor.
Callista silenced her with a wave, then tucked her wand into her hair and placed her hands on the child’s face. “Don’t worry, sister- I won’t harm the boy, merely inconvenience him.”
The glow around them deepened, and the shawl Callista wore gradually began to look like crow’s wings. “While I do nothing to change your innate magical talent, and while you may be skilled in Transfigurations, or Potions, or Quidditch, perhaps, you will never get past the first Charm you learn. Every day of your magical education, you will be stymied by simple, first-year spells, and neither the tutelage of your professors nor peers shall help. You’ll be known to your peers simply as ‘the kid who is rubbish at Charms’
“In fact,” she grinned, with a wicked gleam in her eye, “Since your mother forgot to invite her only sister to your christening, perhaps I should teach her about forgetting. No one will remember your name, Levi.” A flash of dry light split the air above her.
“People will recognize your face, still. And they’ll know who you are, if they get to know you. But even if you tell them your name, or if your mother tells them, repeatedly, they won’t remember!”
The glow around them flashed once and disappeared, and light returned to the hall.
Callista looked bemusedly at the stunned guests. “Of course, call me a romantic, or old-fashioned, but of course the curse can be broken in the traditional way.
No one responded.
“Oh, of course I’ve silenced you all.” She waved her wand, looking disdainfully at the length of wood. “No creativity in this modern magic.”
“What have you done?” Elinor and Preston shouted simultaneously.
Callista chuckled and prepared to disapparate. “Have you never read a Muggle fairy tale, Elinor?”
Her sister tilted her head. “Why—“
“Most were written before the Statute of Secrecy, you know. There were… traditions followed at important births in those days. If you want to break your son’s curse? I suggest you start reading.”
Callista puffed on her cigarette and was gone when the smoke cleared.