Chapter Two:
Severus stared down blankly at the student's paper he was meant to be correcting for almost ten minutes before he realised that he hadn't read a word of it. He glanced at the student's name in the top corner, assessed the length of the write-up, and scrawled a letter in the corner: P for Poor.
He had a policy of grading the fifth years' assignments on the O.W.L. scale, and given how little this particular student seemed to have retained from the prior year so far, Severus thought he was probably being generous.
He set his quill down with rather more force than was necessary and allowed his scowl to deepen. Less than a week into the term, and he was already in a foul mood.
He had applied, yet again, for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position over the summer holiday, and once again, he had been passed over. Adding insult to injury, Septimus Foran, who had been assigned to the position, was at least five years his junior, so Severus found it hard to believe that he had really been judged fairly in experience.
Perhaps darkening Severus' opinion of Foran even more was the fact that the students absolutely adored the new professor. He was in his mid-twenties, and spoke more like his students than his fellow professors, and the majority of the female students were smitten with his looks and his air of youthful rebellion.
As if being passed over for the job he had aspired to practically his whole life by a candidate he considered inferior weren't bad enough, he had already been approached by Minerva McGonagall because Calista hadn't shown up for one of her lessons.
As if I actually have any control over what she does, he had thought sarcastically to himself, reflecting on his vain hopes on the first day of term that Calista wouldn't land herself in detention again this year.
All right, in fairness, he had known that she would, he had just expected it to take a bit longer than six days. When he had wearily suggested that Minerva handled Calista's discipline in the same manner he would any other student, Minerva had snapped at him that she couldn't, because the Saturdays that any other student would spend serving a detention were occupied by extra lessons with him.
Finally, completing the triumvirate events that had utterly ruined his first week back at Hogwarts, two of his Hufflepuff first-years had managed to accidentally ignite what should have been non-flammable materials and caused burn marks on one of the tables in his classroom that, so far, he had been unable to magic away.
Allowing himself only moments in which to recount his terrible week, Severus rubbed his temples and then picked up his marking-quill again, setting his attention once more to his students' papers.
His conscience had him re-reading the student's essay that he had only skimmed and, after careful consideration, he crossed off the 'P' he had scrawled and printed a clear, dark 'D' on it instead. It was shaping up to be a formidable term, not least of all for himself.
o-o-o-o
By Friday afternoon, Calista thought she had prepared herself for McGonagall's impending rage. She was wrong.
McGonagall was in the corridor as Calista left her last class for the week, or what should have been it, had her father not assigned her to his Saturday lessons. She was laughing at Olivia's impression of Professor Binns, when the sight of the Transfiguration professor standing outside the door of the classroom stopped her cold.
In less than a glance, Calista knew she was in trouble. She had seen Professor McGonagall angry plenty of times, more than a few of them at her. But now? Calista could swear her ears were actually emitting steam.
"Miss Snape," the professor's nostrils flared, her tone clipped. "I trust you can spare a few moments from your busy social life to speak with me in my office?"
"Oh, er, right now?" Calista stammered, glancing towards her classmates to see if they were watching. Some of the students had dissipated, but several remained, eyes glued to the interaction between student and professor, Olivia and Portia at the forefront of the group.
"Since Thursday afternoon was evidently a bad time for you, I'll have to insist that, yes, we have this conversation right now. We can either have it right here in the corridor, or we can move it to my office as I've suggested. It's entirely up to you."
As she spoke, Calista had to give her credit. She could see that the professor was making an effort not to shout her words to the whole crowd of students. The effort failed, but it was still a decent gesture, she supposed.
It didn't make her feel any less like disappearing into thin air, however. Calista set her jaw and ducked her head, nodding stiffly to McGonagall, and then the pair set off in the direction of the professor's office, McGonagall striding ahead and Calista struggling to keep up while pretending not to hear her classmates giggling and whispering behind her back.
All too soon, they were facing each other in McGonagall's office, which now seemed impossibly claustrophobic to Calista.
"I don't know what reason you had for not attending my class," Professor McGonagall said, closing her office door firmly before turning her gaze fully to Calista's face, "I do know that you weren't ill or injured, because when you failed to show up, the first place I checked was the Hospital Wing."
The professor met Calista's gaze, her lips pressed into a tight line. When Calista didn't reply right away, McGonagall spoke again.
"Quite frankly, you're the last student I'd expect this from. I've spoken to your other professors, and they all tell me what a diligent and inquisitive student you are, and yet I haven't seen that in my classroom since about a month after you first set foot in it. All this time, I've attributed it to difficulty with the subject matter, and then you insult my judgement by not even bothering to show up to extra lessons so I can attempt to help you grasp it better."
A response came quick to Calista's lips, but she stopped it at the last second. She wanted to point out that when she had begun making progress in lessons, the professor had unfairly accused her of cheating, but she doubted anything she said would change McGonagall's mind about her. As far as Calista could see, the professor just didn't like her, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Calista's silence didn't sit well with McGonagall after all, though.
"This would be a good time for you to explain yourself, Miss Snape," she snapped impatiently. "Perhaps you think that you can pick and choose which classes you attend because your father is a professor here, but let me assure you that you cannot lay claim to any such luxury, nor will it keep me from assigning you three detentions for every one of my classes that you fail to attend."
"When have I ever tried to hide behind my dad being a professor?" Calista demanded hotly, able but not quite willing to hold her tongue, "He's given me more detentions than anyone else, and if you think he's going easy on me then I must have imagined scraping eyeball slime and salamander guts out from under my fingernails, oh, half a dozen times last year."
McGonagall opened her mouth, her expression faltering, but Calista decided she'd already gotten herself in trouble by arguing with her professor; and there was no point in holding her words in anymore.
"And you know what the other thing I've never done is?" she continued, her gaze shooting upward to meet the professor's eyes, "I've never cheated in your class, I swear I haven't, and if you don't believe me you can borrow some Veritaserum from my dad."
McGonagall's expression was briefly unreadable. "I'm hardly about to resort to using illegal potions on a student," she began, "But if you didn't cheat, why didn't you tell me so before?"
"I tried," Calista said, scowling, "You didn't believe me. And anyway, it didn't seem to matter. I'm not allowed to look at an example of whatever I'm trying to transfigure an object into for the exams, and that's the only way I can make the incantation work. If I couldn't pass the exam either way, did it really matter why?"
"If that's truly the case, Miss Snape, then I can't fathom why you didn't come to remedial lessons and explain this to me there, so I could help you."
"I guess I don't see the point," Calista said baldly, "I go to every regular class and listen to everything you say, and I've read the whole textbook three times and I still can't do it. Maybe I just can't transfigure anything properly, ever."
"I see," McGonagall said, eyes narrowing. "And how have you progressed since your second and third time through the book?"
"I've only gotten worse at it, if that's possible," Calista mumbled, "I'm telling you, I just can't do it. And I don't say that easily, about anything, but I swear I've tried so hard. I hate being the worst student in the class, and the only thing I can think of that would be worse is being the worst student in a remedial class."
"I'm hardly surprised that reading ahead of your ability is only confusing you more," the professor said, her gaze softening somewhat, even though her tone was still firm. "There's a reason the lessons are in the order they are, and you shouldn't move on if you haven't grasped the prior lessons. As for being unable to ever transfigure anything, well…"
McGonagall smiled then, completely catching Calista by surprise.
"The only students I can't teach are the ones who don't want to learn. If you're not one of those students, then I can help you. You'll attend remedial lessons as scheduled on Thursday afternoons, and if you're willing to work at it, I wouldn't be surprised if you no longer need them by the winter holidays."
Calista blinked, and then surprised herself even further by responding appropriately for once in her life. "I don't feel much like I'll ever catch up with the rest of the class," she admitted, "But I'll keep trying, Professor. I… I'm sorry I skived off yesterday. It won't happen again."
"It had better not," Professor McGonagall said, in a tone that brooked no argument, "Or I will follow through on those detentions. In the meantime, you're free to go."
Calista nodded. "Thanks," she murmured, and slunk towards the door. As she turned the knob, McGonagall called a parting sentiment to her.
"I'd like to see the same student in my classes that all of your other professors are reporting. I have a feeling I'd quite like her."
o-o-o-o
On Saturday, Calista hadn't even reached her father's office before her Occlumency lesson began. She was eating breakfast when she felt a familiar prickling in her mind that told her someone was trying to get in. She cast a look at the staff table and scowled at the long-haired figure that sat almost halfway down it.
Severus, for his part, didn't even look at Calista, nor did he withdraw his presence from her mind. Instead, she had to concentrate so hard on keeping her thoughts hidden that she no longer even tasted what she was eating. The occasional glare across the Great Hall at her father was, as usual, ineffectual.
At nine, when her lessons were set to begin, she placed her utensils down on the table and glanced pointedly towards the staff table again, but Severus was already gone. Annoyed that she hadn't noticed him leaving, yet still able to feel his presence in her mind, she stalked along the familiar path to his dungeon office, where he waited for her behind his desk.
"You're late," Severus said, glancing up at a blank wall that didn't even hold a clock.
"No I'm not," Calista replied, "You were early. Since I wasn't even done eating when you started testing me, I figured I at least had the right to finish breakfast before moving the lesson here."
"That was an example," he said, "of what your lessons are going to be like from now on. I'm going to train you to multitask while fighting an intrusion. We'll start small, guarding yourself while otherwise engaged in simple activities, like eating or walking."
Severus didn't even have to glance at the scowl dawning on his daughter's features to know how to continue.
"I think you've shown me that you're capable of progressing to this level of Occlumency now."
Pride at the compliment warred with her earlier irritation, and she settled for a neutral expression. "Okay. I'm not hungry anymore, though, so I guess we can't try that anymore today."
Severus smirked. "Nice try. We'll go for a walk, then. It's warm outside; you won't even need your cloak."
Calista, suspicious after his earlier test during breakfast, kept herself on high alert as they walked to the entrance hall, but they had gone outside and a respectable distance from the castle before she felt him pry at her outermost mental barriers.
She couldn't say exactly how, but she knew that he was passing through them with an alarming speed. She stopped walking and closed her eyes, concentrating on pushing him back out of her mind.
"Keep walking," he reminded her, and she wasn't even sure if he had spoken aloud or had spoken the words in her mind. Either way, she stepped forward once, twice, and then stopped again, this time trying to draw strength to her defences.
"Walk," he reminded her again, and she felt his hand between her shoulder blades, gently prodding her forward. She took a few steps and then stumbled before remembering that her eyes were still closed. She opened them in time to see bright green grass hurtling towards her face, but a hand at her elbow steadied her.
"It's usually a lot easier to walk with your eyes open," he couldn't quite keep the mirth out of his voice, and she couldn't quite keep a neutral expression on her face as she glanced up at him, irritation showing in her eyes and a tiny crease in her forehead.
"Is anyone really going to take me for a walk while they try to invade my mind?" she queried, pausing yet again, and feeling him slip further into her mind as she preoccupied herself with arguing.
Probably not, his voice echoed in her head, But they might catch you when you're mid-flight on a broomstick, or halfway through Apparating. Or, perhaps, you'll be questioned and will need to carry on a convincing conversation with a Legilimens.
It was the gruesome image that his words conjured in her mind at the mention of being mentally invaded while Apparating that convinced her to take up her pace again, redoubling her efforts. She had heard enough tales, mostly from Kimberly Avery and her friends, about what happened to someone that was somehow distracted mid-Apparition. Definitely not something she wanted to experience first-hand. "It will never happen while I'm on a broomstick," she muttered anyway, "Since I'm never going to fly on one."
With an effort that actually made her head ache, Calista mentally pushed against his intrusion, attempting to simultaneously push him further towards the surface of her mind, and to strengthen the barriers that lay beyond where his influence lingered.
She felt him recede some, and was proud of her efforts until she looked down to see that her feet had stopped moving again.
This is really difficult. She hadn't even fully formed her thought when she felt his mental reply: Yes, it is. When you finally master it though, it will open the door for Occlumency very wide for you. Your skills will always be severely limited until you can block an intrusion without outwardly appearing even to have noticed it.
After several more false starts, Severus slowed his own steps, allowing Calista to choose a slower pace that suited her. For the first hour or so, she kept stopping, even closing her eyes sometimes, and each time he gently prodded her on, both physically and mentally. When she managed an uninterrupted walk, albeit at a snail's pace, for fifty paces without him breaching her second set of mental barriers, he pushed a little harder.
Once again, she stopped, but this time he weakened his inward attack on her slightly. Snug between her first and second protective barriers, Severus could sense her growing seriously discouraged, and that wasn't his intention. He waited for her to resume her slow walk, and applied just enough mental pressure for her to struggle with keeping him from descending further without collapsing under the effort.
By the time their lesson ended at noon, she had matched her earlier fifty-pace streak, and then doubled it. Still, he couldn't approach her with the same level of concentration and force that he normally did during a sit-down lesson in his office without causing her to stop walking, close her eyes, or completely fold her defences.
All in all, she hadn't progressed quite as well as he'd hoped, but the thought made him wonder, not for the first time, if he expected too much of her abilities simply because she was his daughter. She was remarkably outperforming anything he could reasonably expect of a twelve-year-old; just not everything he had come to expect of her.
Was he pushing her into this level of training too soon because of his own arrogance, or was she truly ready? He couldn't say for certain, but he vowed inwardly to let Calista set the pace of the next few lessons, lest he discourage her and cause her to regress.
Fear for her safety urged him to push her to her limits during lessons, but he had to remind himself that he still wasn't quite sure how far her limits stretched, and if he threw her beyond them, she might feel too overwhelmed to truly take anything more from his lessons.
After he had released Calista for the afternoon, he gave it some thought, and he knew that the only way he could ever truly gauge her limits was to push at them until she broke, and that was something that he couldn't condone subjecting her to.
He knew he was quite possibly the only person Calista truly trusted, and forcing himself into her deepest secrets and private thoughts would shatter that trust as completely as anything Bellatrix could ever have done to the girl.
o-o-o-o
After being released from her first Occlumency lesson of the term, Calista considered joining her classmates where they undoubtedly were gathered in the stands of the Quidditch pitch, watching tryouts.
Deciding that navigating the manipulative twists and turns of a conversation with Olivia was more than her Occlumency-exhausted mind could handle, she headed back into the castle instead.
She briefly tried reading her Transfiguration notes from last year, but since they didn't make any more sense to her now than they had at the time, she soon abandoned that pursuit and wandered to the library instead.
She was the only student who was willing to spend a Saturday afternoon so close to the beginning of term in the library, which suited Calista just fine. Her presence there seemed to set the librarian on edge though, because Madam Pince didn't take her eyes off Calista for the first ten minutes of her visit.
Even after selecting a book from the history section to peruse and settling down at a study table didn't seem to ease the librarian's nerves, and Calista could practically feel the woman's eyes boring into her forehead from across the room.
She ignored the prickly feeling of being watched for as long as she could, before finally resigning herself to simply checking out the book to bring back to the common room. If Madam Pince was apprehensive about a student spending the second Saturday of term in the library, it was nothing compared to her obvious unease at lending the book out.
The book was obviously quite new, its spine still stiff and the edges of the pages still bright white, and the librarian stroked it reverently before examining it closely in front of Calista, as if to demonstrate to the girl that she knew exactly what condition the book was leaving her library in, and then she glared meaningfully at Calista, a warning not to return it in any shape that was less than perfect.
"I'm always careful with library books," Calista reminded her sourly, and the truth of it didn't make her declaration any less awkward as it bounced and echoed around the otherwise silent room.
"And now would be a terrible time to break that good habit," Madam Pince declared nasally, "So it better return within two weeks' time in exactly the same pristine shape."
Calista eventually made a safe exit with the book held in the crook of her elbow, but by the time she had reached the common room, it had begun filling up with other students.
Evidently, Quidditch tryouts had ended, and Calista cursed her luck. She'd hoped to be able to curl up in the common room with the book, perhaps even before the fire, but it looked like she'd be relegated to her dorm room now, and even that would only be quiet for as long as Olivia was occupied by flirting with the new Quidditch team members, or whatever it was that had her giggling at an impossible decibel level. She decided to take the book to her dormitory room, instead.
She had barely settled in her bed with the book on her lap when the door to the girls' dorm opened. Emily entered, and offered Calista a small smile.
"I thought I saw you come in here," she said, "I thought maybe we could play a game or two of Gobstones."
"Oh," Calista said, "Are you sure it's okay? Olivia isn't watching, is she?"
She had meant to be sarcastic, but Emily had either failed to pick up on it, or had chosen to ignore it.
"No, I reckon she'll be occupied for another hour at least. She's flirting with Marcus Flint again, and you know how that goes."
"I try not to notice," Calista answered, flipping past the title page and table of contents, "And I think I've had enough of Gobstones over the summer to last me, oh, forever."
Emily looked wounded, and Calista met her gaze ruthlessly.
"Oh… I guess we did play a lot. I thought you liked to, though." Emily glanced towards the door and lowered her voice. "We could have done something else…"
Calista followed Emily's glance and then met the other girl's eyes again, in a ruthlessly direct stare.
"Well, I don't want to start a game and then have to abandon it partway through, because you're afraid Princess Slytherin is going to walk through the door and – and, I don't know, revoke your privileges of sitting next to her at dinner and doing her homework for her. It's not worth the setup to play half a round."
Emily's face drained of colour, and then flushed bright red.
"Calista, come on. That's not fair, you know it isn't."
"Yeah, whatever. Look, I just don't feel like playing right now, okay?"
Emily bit her lip, and slowly turned away. "Fine. It was just an idea. Forget I ever said anything, okay? We don't have to play ever again."
Calista wasn't sure if she should snappishly agree, or give in to the half-friendship that she knew was all Emily could offer her. She settled instead for saying nothing, and looking pointedly down at the text in her lap.
After a few moments, Emily took the hint and left, and Calista continued reading. It wasn't until she had finished the entire first chapter that she realised she had no idea what she'd been reading about, and would have to start over again.