Chapter One:
August was determined to end with a fanfare. The sun beat down incessantly, so that walking outdoors felt rather like walking into a fireplace. Perhaps this was the reason that so many people paused to stare at the two figures that cut a path down the pavements of London, one tall and one quite small, but both wearing heavy black cloaks.
The taller of the two was a grown man probably somewhere close to thirty, and the smaller of the figures was a short, scrawny girl of perhaps ten or eleven years. This was nearly where the difference between them ended, for in addition to the heavy cloaks they wore, both sported straggly black hair, pasty complexions, and noses perhaps a tad too large for their respective faces.
"I don't understand why we can't simply Apparate to Diagon Alley," the younger of the pair whined, her breath coming fast as she tried to match the man's rapid pace.
Severus Snape glanced over his shoulder at the child, managing at once to communicate disapproval in his gaze, and to snag her hand in his own. He glanced around to see if anyone had been listening before issuing a warning to his daughter.
"Please," and the word was somehow more exasperated than polite, "Mind what you say in the middle of a crowded street. We're almost there anyhow."
"But it's hot outside, and my feet are sore. And the bus was full of smelly old Mug-"
Severus whirled around to face his daughter, and the glare he directed at her was sufficient to quiet her, at least for the moment.
During the final leg of their journey, Severus considered the irony of his current situation. Five years ago, when his daughter Calista had been placed into his custody, she had been a silent and deeply damaged child, rendered selectively mute and decidedly anguished by the torturous actions of her mother, Bellatrix Lestrange.
In those days, Severus had feared that she would never speak to him. Now, he was lucky if he could get her to shut up.
Not that he minded listening to Calista – not usually. But when he was in the middle of a street crowded with Muggles and she was blathering on about wizarding affairs, he found himself wishing that she would keep quiet once in awhile.
Presently, Severus halted in front of a very inconspicuous door, and ushered his daughter through it before entering himself. It was dark and shabby inside, but it was, thankfully, quite cool.
That proved to be the Severus' solitary reprieve though, for as soon as he and Calista were inside the Leaky Cauldron, the girl scowled up at him again.
"There aren't any Muggles around anymore, so now will you tell me why we had to walk all the way to Diagon Alley?"
They had actually taken a bus a good deal of the way, but that hardly seemed worth pointing out to the pouting, dark-haired child before him. He gripped her hand more tightly even as she made to pull it free, and led her to a small table with two chairs.
Only when he had surveyed the other occupants of the pub did he let go of Calista's hand, and he nodded towards one of the chairs and ordered ice water for both of them.
When they were both seated, Severus looked across the table, his expression remarkably mild.
"I've explained this to you, Calista. You're not going to be allowed to use magic outside of class, and you're going to have to learn how to coexist with Muggles. The sooner you are accustomed to this, the better."
The involuntary sneer that crossed his face as he uttered the word "Muggles" did little to underscore his point, however. It wasn't his fault; he'd hated being jostled and packed in on the bus just as much as she did.
Calista opened her mouth, likely with another sullen response, but their waters arrived and Severus was once again spared, as Calista drank half her water in once sip.
When they had both finished drinking, Severus chanced a glance at his daughter and remarked "No one told you to wear your winter cloak, you know."
Calista only huffed, but he did notice that, by the time they had reached the walled courtyard behind the pub, she had shed the cloak and carried it over her arm.
She was wearing faded purple corduroy trousers and a green-and-white striped top with bright red trainers, and if either of them noticed how ludicrous she looked, neither of them mentioned it.
Naturally, the first place that Severus guided Calista once they had entered Diagon Alley proper was the Apothecary. Calista didn't even bother to take out her school list; within moments Severus had found and purchased everything on it, as well as several other parcels for himself.
It was one of the perks of having the Hogwarts Potions Master for her father; another was that when they had crossed the narrow lane to the cauldron shop Calista was soon equipped with the sturdiest and highest-quality size 2 pewter cauldron that the shop stocked.
As he had anticipated, Calista took quite longer than necessary inside Flourish and Blott's. After an hour had passed, he was obliged to drag her bodily from the Magical Theory section of the bookshop.
When she had been younger, Calista had believed that she was a Squib, not realizing that her ability to keep her mother from reading her thoughts was actually a branch of magic called Occlumency.
She had been keenly interested in potions books as well as books concerning magical theory, in the hopes that she could find a branch of magic she didn't need inherent talent for, or perhaps a way to discover her own potential.
Although she had long since been convinced of her magical ability, her interest in both subjects had shown no sign of waning.
By the time Calista had been fitted for robes and equipped with all of her necessary school supplies, the daylight in Diagon Alley was fading, and when Calista begged to take the Floo Network home, he acquiesced.
o-o-o-o
The night before term started, Calista couldn't sleep at all.
She certainly wasn't the only first-year student of Hogwarts having trouble sleeping that night, but while other students tossed and turned in wakeful anticipation of the start of term, Calista was jolted awake for another reason entirely.
She had been having one of her nightmares again.
Calista sat at the head of her bed, in the small one-windowed room that had been hers ever since the beginning of the summer, when her father had thought it best that she spend some time away from Hogwarts until term started.
Until Severus had leased this flat at the beginning of the summer, Calista had lived with him in his professors' quarters at Hogwarts, with the Headmaster's permission. Now, however, that Calista was of school age herself, both the Headmaster and her father thought it best that she have a home outside of the castle.
Calista had never been to Spinner's End, and Severus had been determined to keep it that way for some time yet, so instead of taking her there, he had made arrangements to lease a flat in a nice neighbourhood in South London during the summers, so the two of them had a decent place to go home to.
Now, Calista was fiercely glad for the moonlight streaming through the window of her bedroom, a luxury she had never had while residing in the dungeons of Hogwarts Castle.
Of course, everyone has nightmares form time to time. Calista tried to tell herself this as she shivered in her bed, even though the night was warm.
At the foot of her bed she could see the outline of her new school trunk, all packed for tomorrow, and she focused on this tangible object while she willed herself not to call out for her father, with her voice or her mind.
She couldn't help but notice the crease of worry that appeared in his forehead whenever she told him she had had another nightmare, and besides she was eleven years old now and ashamed to be frightened by something as inconsequential as a dream.
Looking at the trunk caused a new fear to arise in Calista; what if she had a nightmare in her dormitory, and woke all the other girls up, and they all thought she was a dreadful baby?
Would her father take house points from them for teasing her? Would that embarrass her even more?
Calista scowled at her own thoughts, and lay resolutely down on her side again. She didn't care what anyone else at school thought of her anyway; they were all likely to be simpering fools, and she had far more important things to think about most of the time anyway. She had already decided that her tactic was going to be to hate all the other children first, before they could decide to hate her.
Calista closed her eyes, but the images from her most recent nightmare wouldn't stop assaulting her.
She had dreamed that she was walking through a hall of mirrors, and in each one of them she saw a reflection that was not her own – it was her mother's. She had been trying to run from her mother in the dream, but the mirrors had confused her and she hadn't known which way to go.
Eventually, her mother had caught up to her, had pointed her wand at her, and Calista had woken up in a cold sweat, imagining somehow that knives had flown from her mother's wand and stabbed her all over.
Calista sighed, opening her eyes and sitting up again. It was of no use, she wasn't going to get any sleep tonight, not after that dream. She slid off her bed and tiptoed over to the window instead, gazing out at the nearly-full moon.
Focusing on the bright, silvery light, she felt brave enough to allow herself to think about her mother.
Sometimes, Calista had a hard time remembering exactly what her mother looked like. It wasn't her mother's sharp, elegant cheekbones or piercing dark eyes that haunted her nightmares, but the coldness of her touch, the ferocity with which she hunted her enemies – even, sometimes, her friends.
She had spent the first four years of her life with Bellatrix, and vivid nightmares had kept most of the memories fresh. She supposed there might have been a good side to her mother, a time when she had shown some affection for her child, but if it was so, Calista could not remember it clearly.
She spent her waking hours firmly pushing everything she remembered about Bellatrix Lestrange into a hidden corner of her mind, but at night the door would fly open and there was nothing Calista could do to stop it.
It was as if, somehow, Bellatrix was trying to get in again. Calista shivered again.
Earlier that same year, Bellatrix had found a way to lodge her own presence inside her daughter's mind, even though Bellatrix could not reach her physically. Her father had told her that she was locked in Azkaban, but this did little to reassure Calista on nights like these, especially in light of what she'd already managed to accomplish, once, from there.
Calista had believed herself to be very strong, but she had not been able to withstand the force of Bellatrix's attack on her mind, and it had been Severus who had employed highly dangerous and likely illegal methods of Legilimency to rescue her.
She wondered now if Bellatrix was trying to reach her again somehow, but when she reflected, she didn't feel any different, except that she was frightened.
Before, when Bellatrix had attacked her mind, Calista had begun to feel that something was wrong long before she knew exactly what it was.
It had been rather like being in one of her nightmares, and waking up only to find that she wasn't dreaming after all, was in fact only in a different version of the same horrific dream.
But this was not what Calista felt now, and she was relieved even though the fear of her nightmare was still acute.
Calista finally abandoned her post at the window to ease open the lid of her school trunk and withdraw the first of her textbooks that her hand happened upon.
She slipped it out quickly and then snapped the lid closed, as if she was afraid that something inside the trunk would bite her hand.
That was the thing about nightmares; they made you afraid of everything, at least until the sun was shining again.
Calista curled up in the corner of her room, where the moonlight was strongest, and read The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 until the sun was up.
o-o-o-o
Severus looked down at Calista, while a porter loaded her school trunk onto the scarlet train behind them. He placed his hand on her shoulder and smiled awkwardly.
"Well," he said, "I presume you can manage from here? I won't embarrass you by taking the Hogwarts Express with you, but I'll see you at school tonight."
Calista met his gaze and nodded. She poked the toe of one of her trainers at the ground, glancing back at the train with mild trepidation. When she looked back, her father was already disappearing through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10.
Calista sighed, and headed towards the nearest door on the train. They had arrived fairly early to the station, so there were still a few empty compartments when she boarded, and Calista chose one of these at random, flinging herself onto a seat and opening the cover of The Standard Book of Spells again.
She had forgotten to put the book back in her school trunk until they were preparing to leave for the station, and she didn't want her father to notice and ask why she had taken it out in the first place, so she had simply tucked it into her robes.
She found she was glad for the distraction when the train began to fill up, and two other students joined her in the compartment.
One was short, with brown hair and the other was very thin and red-headed. Both were boys that looked to be about her age. Calista gathered from their conversation that they had just met on the platform, but beyond ascertaining this, she returned resolutely to studying her book.
The two continued to chat to each other, and as the train pulled away, Calista realised that the red-haired one was trying to get her attention. She set her book in her lap, keeping her index finger on the page she was reading.
"Er, what?" she asked, shaking her head slightly. She hadn't heard what he'd said.
"I said, 'Are you a first year as well?' Oliver and I are." He gestured to his new friend, and Calista reflected briefly before answering. She wasn't sure if she liked this boy; something in his tone of voice, confident and almost overly friendly, irked her. But then, nearly everything that was new irked her.
Calista nodded, indicating that she was a first-year as well. She picked up her book and opened it again, but the boy wasn't finished speaking to her.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, in the same too-eager and too-polite voice, "My name is Percy. Percy Weasley."
She looked at him for a moment, and then said, in rather a flat voice, "I'm Calista."
"Kind of a strange name, isn't it?" the other, brown-haired boy asked, "But then again, so's Percy, eh? Anyway, I'm Oliver Wood. Think you'll go out for Quidditch?"
"No," Calista said, picking up her book again with determination. She couldn't quite hide a slight scowl. Her name was unusual, so what? It wasn't that strange.
Percy spoke up again.
"I won't be wasting my time with Quidditch. Flying around on broomsticks is fine for a hobby, I suppose, but I have far more serious ambitions for my time at Hogwarts. I expect to be made a Prefect in my fifth year, of course, and I aim for Head Boy, but I shan't get too sure of myself just yet. Are you hoping to be a Prefect too, Calista?"
She tilted her head, eyeing Percy over the top of her book. It hadn't even occurred to her, actually. She agreed with him about the Quidditch bit, at least.
"Maybe," she said hesitantly. She felt uncomfortable talking to the two boys, because she was afraid she'd accidentally say something stupid and they'd begin to tease her.
Calista hated feeling inferior, so she decided in that instant that she didn't like either of the two boys, and didn't really care what they thought.
It was much easier to stop caring what she said or did once she had decided not to like either of them. While Percy kept blathering on about his ambitions, and Oliver interjected now and then with Quidditch trivia, Calista ignored them both and focused on her book.
She had gotten through nearly an entire chapter when she felt Percy staring at her again. She tried to ignore it, but both boys had grown quiet, so she lowered the book again, and looked at them.
"What?" she asked, a touch of irritation in her voice.
"What House are you hoping for?" Oliver asked in a tone that suggested it wasn't the first time he'd asked her.
"Oh," she said intelligently, "Um."
"I'm hoping for Gryffindor. It's a family tradition. My parents were in it, and both my older brothers are as well," Percy said proudly, "Although I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be terrible. You must be going for Ravenclaw yourself, the way you've already got your nose buried in a textbook."
"Actually," Calista said, "I'm hoping for Slytherin." She wasn't even certain if it was true; she just wanted to be contrary.
She picked up her book and hid her face in it, a clear indication that she didn't want to be bothered anymore.
Neither of the boys spoke to her again for the duration of the train ride.
o-o-o-o
Calista wasn't actually certain which House she wanted to be sorted into. As she stood in the Entrance Hall with the rest of the first years, she contemplated. She looked around at the other students, trying to guess which House they'd be sorted into.
She knew a fair amount about each House, having lived at Hogwarts for four years or so, but she hadn't really given much thought to which one she'd prefer to be a part of.
If she hadn't already gathered from her father's attitude that Gryffindor would be the worst one to be sorted into, sharing a train compartment with Gryffindor-hopeful Percy Weasley had illustrated the point.
Calista had thought him tiresome and insufferable (and conveniently, she forgot that her father sometimes called her both of those things), and besides, her father had told her that members of that House had a reputation for being quite bone-headed.
He had said more than once that the only reason their reputation tended towards the brave was because they were a lot of fools, rushing headfirst into any and every situation, rather than actually thinking things through.
Calista knew her father had been in Slytherin, but she knew her mother had been as well, so she wasn't certain how she felt about it. Perhaps Ravenclaw would be best.
She didn't have any time left to wonder though, because the students were being led into the Great Hall by a woman Calista had seen in Hogwarts, but could not recall the name of. She thought she was Head of Gryffindor House.
The students had been lined up in alphabetical order for the Sorting, and Calista was quite small for her age, so even standing on tiptoe she couldn't really make out the Sorting Hat. She knew what the Sorting Ceremony was like, knew what she was supposed to do, but she was still curious to get a glimpse of the hat.
Even though she couldn't actually see the hat, she could definitely hear it.
Her father hadn't mentioned the Hat was going to sing, and yet sing it did, belting out a clever little song that echoed throughout the Great Hall.
"You might not expect too much from me,
Just an ancient, floppy hat,
But if you put me on, you'll see,
I'm so much more than that!
The four founders of Hogwarts knew,
They could not live forever,
So each one placed his point of view,
In a hat that tells you whether:
You'll belong in Gryffindor,
With the bravest of the brave,
The knights in shining armour,
Fighting with sword and stave!
You'll belong in Hufflepuff,
With that kind and loyal band,
Even when the seas get rough,
There will always be a hand!
You'll belong in Ravenclaw,
With the cleverest of minds,
Where those who are enlightened are,
Most prized and treasured finds!
You'll belong in Slytherin,
Where ambition is most prized,
They're clever and conniving,
And will do anything to rise!
The students broke into applause, and Calista considered her prospects. Ravenclaw and Slytherin had both been described as having "clever" students, so she rather hoped she was sorted into one of the two.
Gryffindors were unbearable, of course, and it sounded as though Hufflepuffs were a bunch of feeble-minded pushovers.
Even as Calista was mulling this over, the professor unrolled a long sheet of parchment, and called off the first student to be sorted:
"Avril, Olivia!"
Calista had a glimpse of a girl with a long blonde ponytail darting towards the stool, and then the hat shouted:
"SLYTHERIN!"
"Baggins, John,"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Banks, Lucinda,"
"RAVENCLAW!"
The hat went on and on, and Calista gradually drew closer to the head of the line. She shivered a little as the professor called the first 'S' name, knowing it was almost her turn.
She was close enough now to the front of the room to have a good view of the staff table. She looked along it and spotted her father, who was watching the Sorting. She saw him clap as a boy named Lucas Sawyer became a Slytherin.
Severus must have felt her gaze, or perhaps he knew her name was next, for he caught her eye and offered a small, very nearly imperceptible smile. Calista knew it to be one of encouragement, and felt a tiny bit better.
"Snape, Calista!"
Calista was dimly aware of a flurry of whispers, and even a catcall from the Gryffindor table, as she approached the stool with the hat. She froze, half lifting her arm. Was she supposed to take the hat herself and put it on, or would the professor do it for her?
The professor, who Calista just now remembered was called McGonagall, nodded slightly, indicating that Calista should sit. Feeling her face heat up, she obeyed, and McGonagall settled the hat on her head.
"Ah, what have we here?"
Calista almost jumped at the little voice in her ear. She had known the hat could talk, but she was still on edge.
Anything but Gryffindor, she silently willed, wondering if the hat would pick up on it.
Apparently the hat understood, for it chuckled softly.
"Anything, eh? Well let's see what we've got here. Plenty of courage, you know, you wouldn't go completely wrong if you reconsidered your opinion of Gryffindor…"
No, Calista thought desperately, imagining her father's disappointment. Besides, what was the hat on about? She was afraid of everything, she just pretended not to be.
"Clever, too. As I see it, we have three viable options. However, if you're certain Gryffindor is out, I'll have to recommend...
SLYTHERIN!"
This last word was shouted so everyone could hear, and there was a sudden rush of noise as the hat was lifted off Calista's head.
She caught her father's eye again, and his smile was now wide enough to be considered gloating. She smiled weakly back, and walked quickly to the Slytherin table.
Never before in her life had Calista been greeted so warmly by her peers as when she sat down at the Slytherin table for the first time.
Several students patted her on the back, and nearly all of them smiled or waved or both.
"Is it true Professor Snape's your dad?" a third-year boy asked, and Calista nodded.
"Wow," remarked the girl next to her. Calista recognised her as being Olivia Avril, who had been the first student sorted that evening, "Your father is a professor? You're lucky, you'll get top marks."
Calista lifted her chin slightly.
"Potions is my best subject," she said, not at all humbly, "I would get top marks regardless of the professor."
Oliva chuckled. "Whatever you say," she said, shrugging, and Calista was prepared to dislike her too.
Just as she was deciding this, Olivia poked Calista in the ribs and pointed to the sorting hat. Percy Weasley, the boy from the train, was approaching, his nose high in the air.
"Bet you ten galleons that git is sorted into Gryffindor," Olivia said snidely, "Someone told me both his brothers are in it."
Calista looked at Olivia again, and recanted her initial assessment. Perhaps she wasn't so terrible, after all.
"Do I look like I'm going to take a losing bet?" Calista retorted, "I didn't get sorted into Gryffindor, after all. I'm not daft."
Olivia grinned.
The sorting had screamed "GRYFFINDOR!"
"Told you so," Olivia whispered.
Calista smiled slightly. Perhaps this wouldn't be so difficult after all.