Year 3: Chapter 2
In the morning, everyone's timetables were on the floor, having evidently been slipped underneath their door while they slept. Since the second day of term that year happened to be a Saturday, most of the students were taking the opportunity to sleep in. Calista woke first, knowing she likely had Occlumency lessons with her father. She walked quietly to the door and picked her own timetable from the stack before Portia or Olivia could get their hands on it.
She scanned it carefully; it was quite full. On Mondays, she had Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Astronomy at midnight. Then, on Tuesdays, she was scheduled for Remedial Transfiguration early in the mornings, where she suspected everyone else had a period off to recover from the late night class the prior day. After that, she had History of Magic, and a block set aside in the evening to study Transfiguration with a peer tutor. Wednesdays, she had Potions in the morning, a double session with the Gryffindors again, and Study of Ancient Runes in the afternoon. She felt her heart settle a little when she saw that she still had that particular class scheduled, and she hadn't even known it had been racing until then. Thursdays, she was scheduled for third-year Transfiguration and Arithmancy, which was a double session as well. On Fridays, she had Care of Magical Creatures, which lasted for the morning, and Charms in the afternoon. There was an additional notation on her timetable, which stated that she had Flying lessons after this, for at least the first six weeks of term. Calista knew that the lessons would go on longer, if Madam Hooch thought she hadn't learned enough.
She had a lesson on Saturday mornings, again, which was listed on her timetable only as "Elective Studies - Prof. Severus Snape". She wondered, as she had last year, if this was her father's idea of a joke. 'Elective' studies on a Saturday morning? Hardly.
But as she looked over her timetable again, and again, she realised that all of the classes she wanted were there. The only thing missing were her extra Potions lessons, which she normally would have had directly following her regular Potions class. It looked like her father had done as he had promised, and let her off those lessons so she could take Ancient Runes.
Then she noticed a notation in the bottom corner of her schedule. It said "Provisional Timetable - Please see Professor McGonagall before twelve noon on Saturday, 2 September." She checked the clock on Emily's bedside table; it was just before 8:00 am. She had Occlumency lessons from nine until noon, so she supposed she had just enough time to eat a quick breakfast before she went to find Professor McGonagall.
She felt her stomach knot; she knew what the meeting was about. McGonagall wanted test her, to make sure she was able to Transfigure something. If she wasn't she'd be put back in first year Transfiguration. Not only would that be mortifying, but Calista didn't know which block the first years had this year, and it was quite likely that it occurred during another of her classes. If she couldn't convince McGonagall that she'd be able to catch up to a third year level sometimes this year, she might very well have to drop one or more of her classes anyway, despite all the finagling her father had evidently managed to do.
She went to the Great Hall, even though she felt too nervous to eat now, and was immediately sorry she had done so. Not only was Professor McGonagall sitting at the High Table, but Sofia and Evangeline, the first year girls who had attached themselves to Calista the prior evening, were sitting at the Slytherin table, and they both looked up when she entered. Sofia smiled brightly, and waved Calista over to them.
She glanced around the rest of the table. Not many other students were out of bed yet, and of the ones that were, she didn't know any of them very well. She had no choice but to sit with the first years, unless she wanted to be deliberately rude - which wasn't out of the question, certainly - but then she felt that familiar twinge of guilt, when she glanced over at the Gryffindor table, and saw Percy helpfully chattering at a group of first years.
"Good morning," she managed to say, as she sat down next to them, and reached for some toast.
"Good morning, Calista!" Sofia said, "I couldn't sleep this morning, I was so excited to get up and walk around the castle. Eva and I were going to try exploring after breakfast, but Gemma - she's one of the Prefects -"
"I know who Gemma is," Calista said, suddenly tired. How did this girl find so many words to use in the morning?
"Right, of course you do," Sofia continued, oblivious to Calista's weariness, "She said first years shouldn't go wandering by themselves, and then I remembered what you'd said about the Bloody Baron, and I thought maybe she was right, so I've been terribly disappointed since then - but now you're here, so we were thinking, Eva and I-"
She nudged Evangeline, who smiled at Calista, looking nearly as tired as Calista suddenly felt, "That maybe you could show us around."
"Oh," Calista said, and suddenly, three hours of Occlumency lessons didn't seem like such a terrible thing to have to do on a Saturday morning, after all, "I'm sorry, I can't. I have lessons on Saturdays. Elective studies." She smirked to herself. She couldn't even say that with a straight face.
Sofia's face fell, and Evangeline looked a bit sad, too.
From across the room, she heard Percy laughing heartily. She glanced up. He was still talking to the first years, gesturing grandly.
"Maybe in the afternoon, though," Calista said, and then wondered why those words had spilled out of her mouth.
"Really?" Both girls perked up visibly. "That would be brilliant. Shall we meet you here, at lunch time, then?"
"Uhm," Calista said, wishing she had just kept her mouth shut, and wondering why she hadn't. "Yeah, all right."
She glanced up at the High Table again; Professor McGonagall was rising, and stepping away from the table. Calista supposed she might as well get this over with. She swallowed one last mouthful of toast, then brushed any crumbs away from her mouth, and got up to follow the professor.
"Good morning, Miss Snape," McGonagall said, when she drew near. "I presume you were on your way to see me?"
Calista nodded. "I guess so. I have lessons after this, and the note said I had to see you before noon, so…"
"We'll meet in my office," she said, 'I don't expect it to take very long. Professor Snape told me that you've improved over the summer, and that he believes the issue you were having before is resolved. I just need to verify that, and then your timetable will become official, and you can be on your way."
She followed the professor to her office, and pulled the door closed behind her when they arrived. There was no need to let anyone who might be passing by witness her humiliation.
Professor McGonagall placed a match on her desk, and Calista felt relieved. This, she was fairly certain she could do. She drew her wand from her pocket, and waved it at the match, murmuring the incantation.
Nothing happened.
"Hang on," Calista said hurriedly, "I forgot something…"
Come on, you useless piece of crud. Turn into a needle, a nice, sharp needle. Don't forget the eye.
She waved her wand again, cast the spell.
A perfect sewing needle rattled delicately against the surface of the desk as it landed.
"Excellent work," Professor McGonagall said, "I can see that your father was correct, when he told me you had improved. Shall we try this one again?"
Calista's stomach had started to unclench, but it went right back when McGonagall withdrew a pencil from her desk, and placed it on top.
Calista hated this spell, and even though she had gotten it to work quite a few times over the summer, there had also been plenty of times when the transformation had failed.
"Right," she said, and she cast the spell, silently willing the pencil to change.
Grow longer, flatten out, you stupid thing, and don't forget to lose your rubber. Oh, and measurement marks, be sure you have those.
The pencil rattled, and slowly began to shift. She could tell right off that something had gone wrong; the transition was always slower when it was going to be incomplete.
"No, that's not right," she said, "Let me try again."
Professor McGonagall returned the pencil to its original form, and Calista tried again concentrating harder. Twice more, the transformation was incomplete, but she didn't want to give up until the professor had seen her do it, just in case this was the difference between going back to first year and not.
The fourth time, the spell worked, and a ruler clattered down onto the professor's desk.
She looked up, afraid of what she would read on her teacher's face, that perhaps she hadn't done well enough, that she'd be going back to first year, after all.
"Well, I'd say that's a marked improvement," McGonagall said, "And I can see that you are committed to improving further. I'm prepared to allow you to stay in my third year class, as long as you continue to improve in remedial lessons."
"Thank you," Calista said, releasing a breath that she hadn't realised she was holding. "I'll make sure I catch up quickly."
"Well, it isn't always wise to rush these things," Professor McGonagall cautioned, "I think it's best that you continue to learn the way you have been, by practising one spell at a time until you can get it to consistently work correctly. We'll discuss this more in your remedial lesson. Speaking of which," she added, a note of concern entering her voice, "I had originally scheduled the remedial class on Friday mornings, but Professor Snape asked me if I might be able to move it. I'm afraid the only place I could possibly move it to was Tuesday morning, which I'd avoided because of your Astronomy class the night before. Are you certain you will be alert enough, after your long day Monday? I don't need to remind you that Transfiguration can be very dangerous if the caster is not sufficiently focused."
"I know," Calista said, earnestly. "And I will be alert enough, I promise. It's the only way I could fit all the classes I wanted."
"Very well," she said, "See that you are. Now, I believe you have a lesson to attend?"
Calista nodded, and took her leave. She couldn't quite stop a smile from spreading across her face as she left the office. She was still far behind, that was true, but she had done well enough to keep her timetable the way it was, and she wouldn't have to drop any classes, after all.
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When Calista slipped into Severus' office a few minutes past nine, he knew she must have gone to see Minerva before coming for her lesson.
"Did it go well?" he asked her, though he knew it must have, because there was nothing in her features to suggest otherwise.
She didn't seem surprised that he'd guessed where she was. "I got the needle nearly right away," she said, "And the ruler, after a few tries. She said I can keep my timetable."
"I'm glad."
"Thanks," she said, "For… you know, for figuring out a way for me to take all my classes."
He nodded. "Don't make me regret cancelling your extra Potions lessons - you are not, under any circumstances, to brew even a single potion outside of my classroom, no matter how compelling your, or your friends', reasons may seem."
Calista rolled her eyes. "I know, Dad."
"Well, less than a year ago, you didn't, so you can see why I'm concerned."
She looked like she had another response ready, but she wisely kept her mouth closed.
"As that's settled," he said, "Let's have your Occlumency lesson in my quarters. I've had breakfast sent down, and I suspect you were too nervous to eat much before you came here?"
"I had some toast," she said. How did he know?
"Well, you can eat something else, then. It will give us an opportunity to further test your skills in maintaining a barrier while you're concentrating on something else."
"Gee, that sounds just lovely," she said, sarcastically, but followed him into his quarters anyway. Feeling that she had, in fact, recovered her appetite, she helped herself to a variety of things from the little kitchen table.
She was only on her second bite when she felt him brush against her barriers. He always did this first, testing them before trying to push through.
Except, this time, he didn't; she felt his mind pushing against hers, and she hastily concentrated on strengthening her first barrier.
"You've stopped eating," he reminded her, and she scowled and went for a slice of bacon. It was something she was still having some trouble with, holding him back while engaged in some other activity.
What Severus suspected Calista didn't know was that he had been steadily increasing the strength of his own infiltrations, for months now. She struggled some, especially in instances like this where her attention was divided, but she had been answering his incrementally stronger attacks with a very nearly equal increase in defensive strength.
He pushed past her first barrier, ignored the eddying swirl of thoughts beneath it for now. It was enough for him to see that she had contained a large number of memories between her first two barriers, and to feel that there were emotions connected to them. He was wary, after their disagreement at the end of the school year, to examine her thoughts too closely, in case she saw it as an unwelcome intrusion.
Instead, he waded through the memories, found the second barrier. It was every bit as strong as the first one, and he kept his eyes on her as he pushed through it. She paused for a few seconds, as he felt her try mount her defences, but then continued to chew the mouthful of food that she had.
He reached for the third and final barrier, saw her physically tense as he began to push through it. "You're showing me your distress," he said quietly, and she relaxed her shoulders, concentrated on keeping her face blank. "Better," he murmured.
He could feel her gathering the last reserves of her strength to supplement the third barrier, and as he tried to push through, she pushed back. Then, suddenly, he could feel the first two barriers, the ones he had already passed through, begin to dissolve behind him, and her third barrier strengthened considerably, as she redirected the mental resources she had used to erect them. It was a tactic that he had not really seen her use before, at least not effectively - she had, once or twice, attempted it, but that was back when it took her much longer to create or add to a barrier, and he had broken through before she'd managed to strengthen her defences.
This time, he saw the process happen in a matter of seconds, and although he could have forced himself through the final barrier in that time, if he increased his attack, he was curious to see how well this tactic would work for her, now, so he continued trying to push through at the same strength he had been.
Rapidly, threads unravelled from the first two barriers, and wove themselves into the structure of her innermost barrier. When he pushed against it, it was quite strong. He examined the length of the wall, feeling for weak spots, places where she might have forgotten to bolster it. There were a few patches that were a bit thinner, easier to break through than the main structure of the wall, but he wanted to know how strong the main barrier was, so he elected to force his way through, rather than try and slip cunningly through one of the weaker spots.
He found that he could not break through without increasing the mental effort he was expending; he poured more of his own resources into the onslaught, and managed, at last, to break through with a considerable effort. He judged himself to be operating at nearly half his potential strength when he finally pushed through it.
In front of him, Calista had abandoned all pretense of eating or doing anything; her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and it was blindingly obvious that she was fighting off an attack; but Severus thought it almost didn't matter, in that instant.
Once he had broken through, he withdrew. Calista opened her eyes, and let out a breath. "Sorry," she said, realising she had not been attempting to do anything but block him, "I forgot to keep eating."
"That was the best you've ever done," he told her, quietly.
"It was?"
"By a considerable amount," he said, "I'm not given to empty praise, Calista. Your third barrier, once you reinforced it from the reserves of the other two, was quite strong."
Her face lit up. "I thought… I thought I could do it fast enough, add to it, so I decided to try. Of course, you still broke through it nearly as quickly as always…"
"I did," he told her, "But not without using more strength against you than I ever have before."
"Really?"
He nodded. "Now, let's see if you can do it again," he said, "Don't worry about trying to keep occupied, just try your hardest to keep me out."
She nodded, and he allowed her a few seconds to clear her mind, before he pushed at the outermost of her mental walls. He increased his strength this time, making it more than he had begun with on the prior attempt, but still considerably less than what he had ultimately used to breach her final barrier.
He passed through the first one quickly, but this time, as soon as he had done so and was reaching towards the next barrier, he felt the first one dissolve behind him. He pushed through the second one, and that one promptly dissolved as well, in his wake.
Once again, Calista had closed her eyes, was concentrating fully on his presence in her mind.
When he reached the third barrier, she was still feeding some of the strength from the other two in. This time, he didn't give her precious seconds to finish reinforcing it, but just pushed through. She couldn't seem to continue increasing the strength of the third barrier while it was directly under attack, but she redirected that energy into pushing, forcefully, against his intrusion. He increased his strength marginally, and sidestepped this defensive force, attacking the wall directly again. He slipped through, easier than he had the time before.
He withdrew, and she opened her eyes again. Her face was pale with the effort of trying to repel him from her mind.
"That was more difficult, wasn't it?" he prompted.
She nodded, and rubbed her temples.
"Why do you think that is?"
"Were you using more strength?"
"No," he said, "Not at the end. I didn't need to, this time. Do you know why?"
She frowned. She knew by now that she was expected to try to answer the question on her own, before he would tell her.
"I couldn't quite strengthen my last defence before you were there," she said, "But I tried to push you back, and it didn't really work."
"Your mind has only a finite well of resources," he told her, "So it stands to reason that you used the same amount of strength on both attempts, and yet one was more effective than the other. Can you figure out why?"
"Well, the wall," she said, "It seems to work better than just trying to force you back."
"Precisely," he said, "And the reason for that is the nature of what you're trying to do. A barrier, an arrangement of memories in a particular way, an intentional clouding of one or more thoughts, those are all things that fall under the description of occlumency. However, when you attempt to take action, to… to create an entity of sorts, from your thoughts, what do you suppose that is?"
She pushed her hair behind her ears; the new haircut that Narcissa had taken her for made it so that the shorter pieces were constantly falling forward, into her face. "Well, obviously, it's not occlumency, or you wouldn't have framed the question like that," she said. "Is it… is that part of legilimency, then?"
"It is."
"So that's less effective as a protection, then?"
"For you it is, because you are not properly trained in the art. If you were, then perhaps it would have worked better. One who was truly mastered both legilimency and occlumency achieves best results by using the disciplines side-by-side, but you're not nearly there, yet."
"Then I should have just kept trying to make the wall stronger?"
He nodded. "Or, barring that, build another one behind it. Even if it is weaker, it's still preferable to wasting those potential resources by applying them in a manner that won't help you."
"Can you teach me more legilimency, too?"
"I'll tell you what. When you can consistently guard your mind with the strength you did a few moments ago, even while occupied with other tasks, then I will begin teaching you legilimency, as well. We'll divide your lessons into two parts, when that happens."
She nodded, and he could see determination light her eyes. He'd estimated, this time last year, that she would need another two or three years to reach the strength she'd just displayed. He supposed it was possible that freeing up the tangled thread in her mind had allowed her to become a strong occlumens, but he didn't think that was the reason she was progressing so rapidly - he thought it was sheer stubbornness, and her own pride.
He supposed he might have encouraged those two character traits in her, when he had pushed her, in each and every lesson, as far as he thought she could, and had expected her to meet his challenge with her best efforts, every time. And for the most part, she always did - today was only the best example of that, but certainly not the first.
"Okay. I'm ready to try again," she said, exhaling and squaring her shoulders.
He tested her again, moving quickly through her first barrier; he was using a fair amount of his own strength, to see how quickly she could work when pushed. The first barrier dissolved behind him as he attacked the second. When he pushed through that one, it began to recede nearly as soon as he had done so. He stretched his mind out towards her third barrier, knowing that she was still trying to strengthen it. He had been impressed by her attempts today, but as always, that only meant that he pushed her just a bit further, and so this time he allowed her no pause to finish adding resources from the first two barriers into the third.
And then, there was a heavy, pulsing anger, a tidal wave of fierce emotion, streaming around him. Instinctively, for a second, he latched onto it - but when he did he found that it was attached to no particular memory. As a distraction, it wasn't very good, because it kept him occupied for only the couple of seconds it took to realise it was precisely that. As it turned out, though, a couple of seconds was enough for Calista to finish redirecting the resources from her first two barriers into the fabric of the third. When he pushed against the barrier, it was solid, strong, much as it had been on her first attempt today.
This time, instead of forcing his way through, he searched along the wall for weak spots. He found a place that was thinner, less defined than the rest of the barrier, and slipped through it. Once he had gotten through, he reached a tendril of his thoughts out, drew her attention to she spot he had gotten through, and a few more like it.
The strength of the barrier doesn't matter if it's not consistent, he reminded her.
In response, she tried to redirect some of her mental resources to filling the gaps, evening out the strength of the wall, but this was far more nuanced than simply erecting the barrier in the first place, and it took her longer.
They tried a few more times, but by the fifth go, Calista's strength was drained; all three of her walls were significantly weaker, and she couldn't reinforce the third one quick enough. It was nearly noon at that point, so he released her from the lesson.
"We'll practise again next week," he said, "Try and think of how you might prevent weakness from occurring in your defences."
"If I knew how, obviously I would have done it," she said, defensively, rising from her chair.
Severus waved his wand, and cleared the remains of their now-abandoned breakfast away. Then he stood as well, and reached for his daughter, landed one hand on her shoulder, and put the other to the side of her face, locking eyes with her.
"Calista," he said, with rare sincerity, "I'm only asking you to think about it. I don't want you to think I'm disappointed. You made excellent progress today, and I'm proud of you."
She dropped her gaze, but he could see a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Thanks," she said softly. He could hear the note of pride in her voice, the one he wanted her to have, and he smiled too, and stepped back, letting go of her.
"I'm going to be brewing a few things for the hospital wing this afternoon. Would you like to join me?"
She frowned. "I… actually, I really would," she said, "But I sort of promised a couple of first years that I'd show them around the castle after lunch."
Severus blinked, and furrowed his brow. "You did?"
His daughter was full of surprises today. Pleasant ones, actually. This school year was off to a much better start than the last one, that was for certain.
"Yeah. I don't know why, really. They asked me, and I just…" she shrugged. "Agreed, I guess."
"Well," he said wryly, "It's awfully helpful of you, so you can see why I'm surprised, but I think it's a good thing. I'm pleased you're doing it."
She nodded, encouraged. "Right, I guess I'll go meet them, then."
He smirked. "When you show them my classroom," he said, "Remind them how much I detest tardiness, will you?"
She grinned. "I may have already scared them off you a bit," she said, "I told them they didn't even want to know what would happen if they were goofing off in your class."
"Good. Let's hope they remember it."
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Showing the first years around hadn't been as bad as she'd anticipated, actually. Sofia was very talkative, but at least she was friendly, and she seemed, for some inexplicable reason, to regard Calista as something of an authority. It reminded her a bit of being with her cousin Draco, actually, except Sofia had also wanted to know where she had gotten her robes made. Calista had shrugged off that question, embarrassed, but she'd answered the rest of the girls' questions as best she could.
It turned out Evangeline, or Eva, as she liked to be called, was inquisitive too, though she was quieter about it, preferring to glean as much as she could through observing before she asked for more information. When they were in the library - and Madam Pince, for one, did not seem to approve of Sofia's litany of chatter - Eva had glanced sharply at the Restricted section, and asked Calista how one got permission to go in there.
Professor Flitwick's office door had been open, and when they'd walked by, Calista pointing out the Charms classroom next door to Sofia and Eva, the tiny professor had come out to greet them.
"Hello, hello," he had said cheerfully, "Welcome back to another school year. Excellent results on your exam last year, Miss Snape, congratulations again." He lowered his voice. "You know, I'd thought to ask you if you had any interest in being a peer tutor this year, for remedial students, but the Headmaster tells me your timetable is already full. Tell me, at least, that you are taking up The Study of Ancient Runes?"
"Uhm" Calista said, glancing at the first years, who had retreated behind her a bit, and feeling a blush rise to her cheeks. "Yes. I'm taking it."
"Ah, excellent," he said, in his squeaky voice, "I think it will deepen your understanding of Charms a good deal. I always recommend it to my students, particularly those that show a lot of promise."
"Thanks, Professor," she said, and then hastily, "Uhm, these are some new Slytherins, Evangeline Selwyn and Sofia… Sofia…" she had forgotten Sofia's surname, but Sofia stepped forward boldly.
"Sofia Lima," she said, "And you're Professor Flitwick, of course. My father was in your N.E.W.T. class, when he was at Hogwarts."
"Eduardo Lima," Flitwick said, "I remember him. Very gifted with a Summoning Charm, as I recall."
Sofia glowed, more than Calista had at being complimented herself.
"Well, allow me to welcome both of you to Hogwarts," he said, "I hope you're getting acclimated." He shifted his attention to Calista again, briefly. "It's good to see one of our older students taking the time to familiarise new students with the castle," he said, and then, "I'll let you carry on. Do let me know if you find yourself with a free time slot and an appetite for tutoring, yes?"
Calista nodded. "I think I'd like to, if I can make time for it. I guess… uhm, probably I would have time if I finished my… er, extra lessons with Professor McGonagall."
"Excellent, just keep me informed. Good afternoon, then. I look forward to seeing all of you in class this year."
When they had gotten out of earshot of Flitwick's office, Eva had smiled slyly at Calista. "A lot of the professors like you, then?"
Calista felt her blush return. "Hardly. I mean, Professor Flitwick does now, but I got our whole class assigned extra homework on my first day, by mouthing off. I've had more than my fair share of detentions, too, but…" she shrugged. "I… one of my friends has been encouraging me to be… well, to be less of a prat, and I'm trying."
Sofia turned her smile on again. "Well," she said, "You don't seem like much of a prat to me."
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With the new year came a new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, a stern, middle-aged woman called Professor Mulhorn. She had sandy blond hair, a sturdy, taller than average frame, and a no-nonsense attitude that Calista actually sort of admired. At any rate, she was glad to see young, attractive Professor Foran go, if only to stop the girls in her class from fawning ridiculously over him for half the lesson. They were to be studying Dark creatures this year, which Calista supposed might possibly overlap with Care of Magical Creatures, and should at least be interesting. She wondered if they would get to actually try fighting some off.
Herbology class was different, now that she had a fledgling of an alliance with Penelope and Amelia. It would have been nice to get through Herbology class without shooting glares across the greenhouse at someone, but unfortunately, Olivia had decided to fill in for Amelia on this front. Calista hadn't been able to bite back a grin when Amelia had asked, loudly, if there was something wrong with Olivia's face, the way she kept narrowing her eyes and scrunching her mouth up.
She hadn't been able to escape Olivia in Astronomy, though. Under cover of night, the blonde girl sidled close to her.
"I suppose you think you're so special now, with your new robes, and all your new little friends," Olivia had whispered, snidely.
"Go away," Calista had replied, "I'm trying to see Mars, and your fat head is getting in my way."
"What do you think you're playing at, anyway?" Olivia pushed, "Hanging around with Mudbloods like that Slater girl, and that Muggle-loving Weasley?"
Calista knew the question was meant to anger her, but she didn't want to let it, didn't want to invest that much emotion in someone she knew wasn't worth it. If this past Saturday had taught her anything, it was that she didn't need Olivia, had been right to separate herself from her toxic housemate. She felt, for the first time, that she could make her own way at Hogwarts. And, for the first time, she felt like she knew how to make friends that would like her for who she really was, not for who they wanted her to be.
"I guess that must mean I have a really low opinion of you," Calista whispered back, calmly, "If I think they're better company."
"It means you're an idiot," Olivia snarled, in Calista's ear. Professor Sinistra was not far away, helping George Spratt align his telescope properly. "You don't know what you threw away. My mother is a very influential person in the Ministry, you know."
Calista snorted, and Professor Sinistra glanced over at them. There was a moment of blessed silence, before the teacher strode away to help another boy in their class, and Olivia leaned towards Calista again.
"How long do you think the rest of Slytherin House is going to let you get away with hanging around with a bunch of scum?" she hissed, "I'm not going to be there for you when they turn you out for spending all your time with a smarmy little Gryffindor."
"I expect I'll get away with hanging around whoever I want," Calista said testily, "As my dad is Head of House. Or did you forget that? Should I tell him what you called Amelia?"
"I called her what she is," Olivia said, "And you'd do well to remember it. My mother's going to be very concerned, when I tell her the sort of company you're keeping, these days…"
"Did I miss something? Like the day I started to care what your mother thinks of me?"
"She-" Olivia began, but Calista cut her off, not caring that her voice was rising above a whisper.
"Anyway, what kind of adult woman even cares about who some schoolmate of her daughter's is hanging around with, anyway? Doesn't that sound just a bit creepy to you?"
She'd thought this would shut Olivia up, and there was a moment of silence while Professor Sinistra strutted by, and shushed them with her finger to her lips.
"Constellations, young ladies, find them and cease your chatter." the teacher said, a note of irritation creeping into her deep voice.
When the coast was clear again, Olivia leaned in, a sinister little smile playing about her lips.
"I wonder," she whispered, right by Calista's ear again, so there was no way she could miss it, "What your mother would think."
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Calista rolled out of bed groggily on Tuesday morning. She knew she had to get to remedial Transfiguration, because if she didn't, she'd prove to McGonagall and her father that she couldn't handle such a heavy course load, and she knew they'd make her drop something she really wanted to take.
Well, she was dead tired, and certainly not very alert, but perhaps a shower would fix that. At any rate, she didn't think she could possibly eat anything, so she might as well use the few minutes she had to spare for something useful.
She hadn't been able to get much sleep, and she'd felt nauseous ever since Olivia's comment in Astronomy the night before. She'd been too afraid to ask her what she meant by it, tried to keep her face blank, disinterested, so Olivia wouldn't see how much it had unnerved her. She must have just been grasping at straws, Calista hoped fervently, and had happened to hit upon that. Calista had never told anyone at school who her mother was, so how could Olivia really know?
As far as she knew, the only ones who did know were her father and Professor Dumbledore, and she certainly didn't think either one of them had told Olivia. But she remembered, and this was the part that had made her feel sick, something she had said to Olivia back in first year, in an uncontrolled fury. My mother's not a Muggle. She's not even dead. She's in Azkaban, for torturing a couple of Aurors until they completely lost it. Don't worry, though - her blood is probably purer than yours.
It had been an incredibly stupid thing to say, she now realised, something she'd never say now, and wished she could take back. But was it enough information for Olivia to somehow find out precisely who her mother was? She didn't know, really, how many female Azkaban had, or how many of them had been imprisoned for similar crimes to those her mother had committed, but surely, her mother couldn't be the only one? Calista didn't even know how to find out, so how had Olivia done it?
Unless she hadn't, really. Calista supposed it was possible that Olivia hadn't believed her outburst, that she still thought Calista's mother was dead. Maybe Olivia's mention of her had only been meant to make Calista sad over her supposedly dead mother. It was possible, wasn't it?
There was something though, about the pointed way she had asked the question, about the smug look on her face when she did, that made Calista fear otherwise. And this, the knowledge of who her mother was - it was not a weapon that Calista wanted Olivia to have for use against her.
Plagued by these thoughts, she half-heartedly ran a comb through her hair, charmed it dry, and dressed quickly in a set of her new robes, before grabbing her textbook and walking quickly to the Transfiguration classroom.
It looked like Marcus was indeed in the same remedial lessons as her, because he was already sitting at one of the tables, book open. At another table was a girl Calista knew only by sight, a Hufflepuff second year named Emma or Ellen, or something like that.
Calista crossed the room, and sat down at an empty table. Ordinarily, she'd probably have joined Marcus, but today, she was tired and preoccupied, and she was afraid she'd snap at him unfairly if she sat by him.
Professor McGonagall strode in right after she had sat down, and directed each of them to open their books to the spell they were stuck on currently. For Marcus, it was badgering. For the Hufflepuff girl, it was Avifors, the spell that Percy had once professed to having a bit of trouble grasping at first.
For Calista, it was still the pencil into ruler transformation; she bit back a heavy sigh as Professor McGonagall set a pencil in front of her for her to practise with. She hated this spell, and by extension, she found that she now felt irritation well up in her whenever she saw a pencil or a ruler.
She saw the Hufflepuff girl crane her neck to see which spell Marcus was on, and then turn to see which spell Calista was. Calista couldn't help but scowl when she saw relief flood the Hufflepuff girl's face, when she realised she wasn't the furthest behind.
She glared at her pencil, willed it to turn into a ruler, and of course, it did not obey. Worse still, she couldn't get it to go back, either. She felt her face heat up as Professor McGonagall came over to her, and reset the pencil.
"Clear your mind, Miss Snape," the professor said, and she said something else too, some instruction on precisely how to wave her wand, but Calista didn't hear her.
Clear your mind, she repeated to herself, and once the professor had said it, it seemed blindingly obvious. Of course; it was something Calista practised three hours a week at, something her father had just told her she was becoming quite good at. She nodded distractedly at her professor, and then she concentrated on the contents of her own mind.
She gathered her fears about Olivia discovering her mother's identity, fears of her mother herself, frustration at still being stuck on this wretched spell, and even her apprehension about being in this remedial class, not catching up to her own grade level on time, and she swept it all behind the second barrier in her mind. She cleared, as well, her plans for the rest of the day, the star chart she needed to draw up for Astronomy, the conversation she had had the other day with Professor Flitwick about tutoring. All of it, all the minutiae of her day-to-day life, and her fears, greatest to smallest, she forced out of the outermost portion of her mind, crammed it behind her second mental wall.
When she had succeeded in emptying, as well she could, the first layer of her mind, she allowed it to fill again with one thing, and one thing only: the image of a perfect wooden ruler, with a rich wood grain, and sharp, black little numbers painted on it, measurement marks set at precisely the correct distances. She pictured it so well that she thought she could almost feel the woodgrain under her fingertips.
She waved her wand, cast the spell. For safe measure, she added a thought: Change, stupid, into a perfect wooden ruler, just like the one I'm picturing.
There was a clattering sound as the subject of her incantation landed on her desk. It was just as she had pictured it, a perfect, brand-new ruler.
"Ah, that's it, Miss Snape. Let's see if you can do it again." Professor McGonagall waved her wand, and turned the ruler back into a pencil.
She brushed aside a few errant thoughts that had seeped back in, underneath her barrier; she found that now that she had grown accustomed to dividing her thoughts in certain ways into certain layers of her mind, it was quite difficult to redirect them; they always seemed to want to bounce back to where they had come from.
In the few seconds while the forefront of her mind was blissfully clear, she cast the spell again. Again, she pictured the ruler in minute detail, directed the pencil to change, insulted it just in case that really was part of the spell, for her.
Again came the satisfying clatter of a ruler hitting the surface of her desk.
"See if you can change it back yourself, now."
Again, with considerable effort, she pushed her mundane, everyday thoughts, her surface concerns and fear, behind her second barrier, allowed the first layer of her mind to house virtually nothing but an image: this time, of a newly-sharpened, bright yellow-painted pencil, with a perfect pink rubber.
All right, you git, change yourself back, into a nice, pointy pencil, just like the one I'm imagining.
A lighter clatter, and then a pencil began to roll across her desk towards her. She blinked, surprised, as her thoughts began to filter back into the main part of her consciousness, the first layer of her mind. She had done it, she had managed the transformation twice in a row, and even reversed it perfectly.
Professor McGonagall had had her practise the spell, back and forth, for the remainder of the lesson, to be sure she had it.
Ten, twelve, fifteen more times, Calista got the spell to work, in both directions. It had not come without cost, though; she was exhausted. Clearing her mind, while on the surface appearing to be a stroke of genius, was in fact an awful lot like an Occlumency lesson. She didn't know if this was even what the professor had meant, or why it did not appear to be a necessary step for her to complete the spell, but only an exceedingly helpful one. Still, she thought it didn't matter. She'd leave each lesson shaking with fatigue if she had to, as long as she managed to catch up to the rest of her class soon enough to avoid being held back a year or more.
Partway through the class, Marcus had tried to catch her eye, offering a grin of encouragement, but she had been too focused on clearing her mind, on picturing, by turns, the ideal ruler and the perfect pencil, to pay him any mind. She'd meant to try and catch up with him after class, but Professor McGonagall had called out to her, as she prepared to follow him.
"Miss Snape, a quick word, please."
Calista felt her heart speed up; somehow, whenever McGonagall wanted to speak with her, she felt as if she was about to be in trouble. She wondered if this was how other students felt about her father, and realised that it probably was, at least for poor students like Oliver Wood and Portia MacNair.
She approached the professor, who was sitting at her desk with a short list of names in front of her.
"I take it you haven't forgotten about the peer tutor requirement we set out at the end of last year, for you to remain in my third year class?"
"I remember. I was thinking maybe I could study with Marcus."
"Ah, well, the point, Miss Snape, is to learn from one of your peers who has demonstrated a thorough understanding of the material you're struggling with, and that makes it inadvisable for you to work with another remedial student, though of course you are free to study with Mr. Flint in addition to the peer tutor requirement. I have a list of students whom I have approved to tutor other students in the same year or below."
She glanced down at the list, as if to confirm something, and then looked back up at Calista.
"If you wish to work with a fellow Slytherin, I can arrange for you to study with Miss Avril. She is a friend of yours, I believe?"
"Not… not really, Professor. I'd rather… is Percy on your list?"
Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "Percy Weasley?"
Calista nodded. "I'd rather work with him than with Olivia, if that's okay."
"Well," Professor McGonagall shifted in her seat, looking both surprised and somewhat pleased. "Mr. Weasley is indeed on my list of approved tutors, so as long as he is amenable, you may study with him. I'll have to give you both a pass to be in the library after hours, since you're in different houses and can't use the common room. Come to my office after your classes are finished for the day."
"I will."
She left, and though she had time to eat lunch before History of Magic, she was afraid of running into Olivia in the Great Hall, so she decided to skip lunch. She remembered that her father had told her last year that she was welcome to hide in his office, if she needed time alone, so she headed there instead. She rather hoped he'd be there, but when she drew close to the Potions classroom, she could hear him lecturing on Sleeping Draughts. She thought she could rather use one, herself, as she slipped quietly into his office.
Immediately, she felt marginally calmer. She sat down in the chair across from his desk, and opened her Transfiguration book, attempting to read it until it was time to get her things for her next class. She couldn't quite keep Olivia's voice from echoing in her mind, so exhausted was she from clearing her mind repeatedly to complete her transfiguration properly, and so she sat there, in the room where her father had helped her solve so many dilemmas, and tried to imagine that she was talking to him now.
I think Olivia's figured out who my mother is, she would say.
She knew that he would probably ask her a question in reply, something that would require her to think, and find the answer she needed herself. Something like, In what way does that change things? or How do you think she might try to use that against you?, or perhaps How long did you think to keep it secret?
None of those things were particularly helpful in allaying her fears right now, though, so she decided to imagine him saying something else entirely.
That sodding cow, she imagined him saying, as he looked up from marking a stack of essays. Calista's was on the top, and had already been given top marks. That bit of her fantasy, she knew, was the only piece likely to come true. I'll give her detention sorting reptile innards for six hours a day, every day, until she decides to quit Hogwarts forever. And, I think, to soothe your nerves, you should have another pet cat, to keep the one you have company while you're in class.
Calista smirked to herself. She actually did feel a little bit better. She gathered her things, and prepared to leave his office. And then, on a sudden whim, she tore off a small square of parchment from the roll she kept in her school bag, took out her quill, and sketched a quick picture of a cat. She went over to her father's desk, opened the drawer where he kept his marking quills, and set her little picture on top of them, where he'd be sure to see it later.
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