Chapter 2: 2
Severus knew his first stop had to be to Dumbledore; he had no idea if the Headmaster would even allow her to live with him at Hogwarts. So much for keeping his reasons for wondering about Bellatrix's daughter private - it seemed unbelievable that it had been only yesterday that he'd gone to Dumbledore to ask about her.
Calista trailed several paces behind him, still clutching her belongings. Her head turned this way and that way, taking in the expanses of the Hogwarts grounds as they walked. When they approached the front door of the castle, she stopped in her tracks and tilted her head back, taking in the enormity of the structure.
Severus allowed a small smile. He remembered feeling much the same when he had seen Hogwarts for the first time. "We'll take a walk around the grounds some day soon," he said, looking back at her. "There's a lot to see."
Hastily, she lowered her gaze, staring straight ahead, affecting a disinterested expression.
Severus pulled open the front doors; he could hear a din of noise coming from the Great Hall, and realised it must be dinnertime. That was good, he thought, with any luck they could avoid being caught in the press of students that usually crowded the corridors between classes.
Dumbledore wasn't in his office. Severus supposed he was still eating dinner himself, and elected to wait with the little girl in the corridor outside his office door. Again, once they had come to a stop, she distanced herself from him, slumping behind the gargoyle statue, as if she expected Severus to forget she was there if he couldn't directly set his eyes on her.
Presently, Dumbledore arrived in the corridor, heading towards them. "Hello, Severus," he said pleasantly. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
Severus glanced back at the gargoyle statue, and the figure hiding behind it. "Can we discuss something in your office?"
"Of course," Dumbledore followed Severus' gaze, registered the sight of the little girl. His eyes widened slightly, briefly, but otherwise, he didn't react until they had entered his office.
He settled behind his desk, looked directly at the little girl, who stood just inside the office now, eyes darting between them warily.
"Hello again," he greeted her. "Perhaps you remember; we've met before, at James and Lily's house."
Severus felt like a fist had just wrapped around his heart, as it did every time he heard Lily's name lately. He was torn between irritation with Dumbledore for mentioning the Potters, and a whirlwind of other emotions surrounding the fact that this child that was his daughter had evidently met Lily; how long had she been there? Had he sent the Dark Lord straight to her as well, when he'd revealed Trelawny's prophecy to him?
The Headmaster might as well have saved his breath, however, if he was expecting a reply. Just as before, she maintained her silence, and cast her gaze away from him.
"I'm pleased to see you again," he continued, and then he looked at Severus. "Only a moment ago, I would have asked with some befuddlement why she's here, but I've just been struck by a remarkable resemblance. Perhaps I should have made the connection sooner, but I never would have imagined, you and Bellatrix…"
The child's eyes snapped up at him when he said her mother's name, and she stepped back a pace.
"There's not much to imagine," Severus said shortly, making it clear he wasn't about to discuss it here and now, "Albus, what happened to her?"
It was a loaded question, and Albus considered his response carefully.
"I can only tell you what I know. She was in hiding with the Potters from the night Sirius rescued her until a week before this past Halloween. She doesn't speak, as far as I know, though I suspect she could if she wanted to."
"This… this past Halloween?" Severus' face blanched at the implication.
"Severus," Albus continued, his voice suddenly heavy. "Sirius Black told me that Bellatrix had been casting Unforgivable Curses on the child the night he took her. I don't know anymore how reliable his account is, but I must admit it seems plausible."
Behind Severus, the child's face had gone blank. She studied the floor, motionless.
"He's a mass murderer," Severus pointed out, acidly. "How do we know it wasn't him that hurt her? Or perhaps they were in on it together. Why couldn't you have had her brought here, if you wanted to keep her safe?"
"It was a complicated situation. We didn't know what kind of tracking spells were placed on her, and moving her seemed too great a risk, once she had been brought to the Potters'."
Albus shook his head sadly. "Severus, if you've brought her here for answers, I'm afraid I don't have any more than what I've just told you."
"I brought her here," Severus said, "Because I have legal custody of her, now. Or I will, on Monday, when the orphanage files the paperwork."
At this, Albus looked genuinely surprised.
"I need to ask you to allow her to live with me here, at Hogwarts, during the school year. If I can do that, you have my word that my having her won't interfere with my duties here."
Albus considered the pair of them a moment. Then, he gave Severus a small smile. "I don't see that I have any choice but to allow it," he said at last, "She can stay in your quarters with you, until she is old enough to begin here as a student."
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Severus' professor's quarter's consisted of a small study, a tiny kitchen that was more of an eat-in pantry, and a corridor with four doors leading off of it: one led to his basement storerooms, where he had a small work area and a supply of potions ingredients that wouldn't fit in his office. Another led to the privy, and the remaining two led to a bedroom and a room that was somewhere in size between a very large closet and a very small room. He used it as an overflow library from his study, or he had done so until the day he brought Calista to live with him.
Her first night there, he had divided the books in the little library between the shelves in his study and the shelves in his office. He furnished the little room with a narrow bed and a small wardrobe. It was good that she hadn't brought much with her, because there wouldn't have been anywhere for her to put it if she had. There was a tall candelabra in the corner of the room. He lit it with his wand, and then went to his study, where he had last seen the little girl, sitting in one of the two chairs and clutching her little book.
"Calista?"
She looked up, startled again by the use of her name.
"Come with me. I want to show you your room. You can put your things away, too."
She slid off the chair, but wouldn't step closer to him. When he backed out of the study by one step, she took exactly one step forward. It seemed that she was determined not to come within arm's reach of him.
He stopped outside the doorway of her new bedroom, stepped aside, and motioned her in. "Go on," he said.
She looked at him apprehensively, then at the doorway. For a moment, she just stood in the hallway, and then she darted past him, into the room, as if she had been expecting him to try and hex her as she went by.
The first few days, she was incredibly wary of him; when he entered a room, she would leave it swiftly, casting furtive looks behind her to make sure he wasn't going to attack her when her back was turned. He was lucky if she ate even a forkful of the dinner he had sent from the school kitchens before she fled the little kitchen table.
She settled down some after a few days, and more or less ignored him. When he addressed her, she kept her eyes carefully blank, her expression neutral; he wasn't sure which he hated more, being blindly feared, or being completely disregarded. It was a bit like sharing his quarters with a hostile ghost, although he suspected he'd have gotten more interaction from a spirit.
He was sorely tempted to use legilimency to read her memories and find out what he was dealing with, but the last thing he wanted to do was frighten her more. She didn't trust him now; she might never trust him if he pulled her memories from her against her will.
Now that he was living with her, he was beginning to understand how an unobservant eye might mistake her for being simple; the more she acclimated to her living situation, the less often she showed her fear, and the more often that careful blankness dominated her features. When he spoke to her, she often ignored him entirely. When she did respond, it was always after a delay; she'd show up moments after he called her to dinner, would look up several seconds after he said her name.
Except, he was expert at reading people, and he could see the constant tension in her nerves, the way she was in fact finely attuned to his words and actions. That blank, shuttered look in her eyes; he'd bet his wand it was a natural inclination for Occlumency at work.
There was something else, too: He knew she could read. He'd seen her perusing the titles on the shelves in his study. She'd fled when he left the room, but not before he'd been able to tell she'd been reading the lettering on the spines of the books.
He was nearly certain she could speak, too. Certainly Bellatrix had never complained that her child was mute, but he had a hunch that her silence was only another mask of protection, like her blank eyes, and the way she made sure to keep, always, just out of arm's reach.
There was more, too; he'd have sworn he'd seen flashes of intelligence in her eyes, whenever she let her mask slip. He remembered how angry she'd looked when the woman at the orphanage had implied she couldn't read, or understand their conversation. She had looked at him with an open challenge in her eyes when he'd announced his intention to adopt her. He didn't think any of these things were hallmarks of a dim-witted or oblivious child.
Severus supposed some of his assumptions about the girl were made based on arrogance. He didn't think a child of his could possibly be as simple as people seemed to believe Calista was. And the books, again; he'd caught her a few more times in his study, and he'd have sworn that she lingered on some titles longer than others, as if gauging her interest on a particular topic.
She never touched any of the books, perhaps out of the correct assumption that Severus did not like his things to be touched, but he could tell she wanted to take one off the shelf and read. Perhaps Severus had a cynical view of children, but he did not think that many other six-year-olds would be able to read the majority of the titles on his shelf.
So, even though he could see how one might, at first, think that Calista was slow, he didn't see how anyone who had spent any considerable length of time with her could possibly stand by that assumption.
Finally, after weeks of tiptoeing around each other, of steadfast silence from the child, Severus took down a volume from the shelf that he had often seen Calista's eyes lingering on. It was a book of theory, mostly concerning how potion-making differed from standard magic cast with a wand, and required a different set of skills as well as a different mindset.
He was familiar with the text, and knew it was quite a lofty read, with few illustrations, but perhaps that didn't matter.
He doubted that Calista would understand any of it yet, bright or not, but he was at a loss as to how to engage the child; they couldn't continue like this forever, each living in their own little sphere, utterly disconnected from the other.
Severus sat down in of the chairs in his study, and called Calista's name. A moment later, the child arrived as requested, but her gaze was trained on the rough stone floor.
He held the book up, so she could see title on the cover.
"You're too young to read this by yourself," he said awkwardly, "But I thought perhaps I could read some of it to you…"
He could see the slight girl hesitating, before she stepped closer, still just out of arm's reach. Severus frowned at her, but she couldn't see it, with her eyes still cast down.
"Sit down," he said, motioning towards the other chair in the study.
Calista stayed exactly where she was for a few seconds, before slowly doing as she was told, and settling on the room's only other chair.
Her delayed response could be read one of two ways; perhaps some would think that she'd taken several seconds to process what he'd said. He had a strong suspicion that it was an act of defiance, a statement that she'd obey when she felt like it. He hoped he was right; it would mean she wasn't broken, had a will of her own.
Severus opened the heavy volume at random, and started to read aloud. Calista stared resolutely at her lap, and almost anyone would have thought she wasn't listening. Except, he could see that her ears were perked, alert.
He read to her for the better part of an hour; as the minutes passed, and her posture remained precisely the same, he found that he had been hoping, somehow, that this could be some kind of breakthrough. He didn't know what he had expected, exactly; that she would look up, a new light in her eyes? That she would creep closer, wanting to see the words on the page for herself? Or perhaps, that she would open her mouth, ask him a question?
Well, none of those things had happened, and his throat was getting dry. This had been utterly fruitless. He sighed, snapping the book shut.
"You may go now, if you wish," he said, tiredly.
In an instant, she was gone, as if she had never been in the office with him.
He stood and replaced the book, feeling defeated. He didn't understand; he'd been playing by her rules for weeks, allowing her to keep her distance and hold her silence. He'd kept his demeanour calm, always, when he spoke to her, and he tried not to make sudden movements in her vicinity. Why then, was she still afraid of him? What could have possibly happened to her, that she couldn't see his kindness, his concern, for what it was?
It was in fact exceedingly difficult for him to be so careful around her; he wasn't a particularly placid man by nature, and he certainly wasn't one to walk on eggshells around a mere child. He didn't possess infinite amounts of patience, and this standoffish, flighty child was rapidly draining his last reserves.
He hadn't bothered to try reading to her again, since it had had about as much effect as anything else he'd tried to do to connect with her. Then, perhaps two weeks after that night, he stepped quietly into his study and saw Calista kneeling on the cold stone floor in front of the bookshelves, the heavy red volume he had been reading to her open and cradled carefully in her arms.
He opened his mouth with the intention of scolding her for touching his books without permission, but closed it again and decided not to announce his presence just yet.
He watched as her dark eyes roved rapidly across the pages, and it was clear that she was deeply absorbed in the volume. When he saw her turn a page, it was done so carefully that he could hardly fault her for not properly respecting his books.
He watched her for several minutes before turning and leaving the room silently.
Let her read, he thought to himself, Perhaps it will give us something to communicate about.
So far, Severus had had precious little to bother making rules about, since Calista was in her room most of the time, and in in plain sight in his study the rest of the time. There weren't many places in the small flat for her to hide, though she did try, most of the time, to be in a separate room from the one he was in.
He did insist upon them eating dinner together, mostly because she was startlingly thin and he doubted she would eat at all if there weren't someone watching her and making sure she did.
As they sat down for dinner on the night he'd caught her reading in his study, and Calista stared blankly and emotionlessly at her plate once more, he looked across the table at her and spoke.
"I saw you reading my book earlier," he said, and watched her head snap up more quickly than he had seen her do anything in weeks. He was startled by the look in her eyes, which was one of abject terror. It was as if he'd lifted his wand, pointed it directly at her.
And then, as quickly as he had time to see her expression, her dark eyes had been masked with a blank expression once more. Something in the way the expression slid across her features jolted him.
It is Occlumency, he thought, I'm certain of it.
To see any exhibition of a skill this specialized in a child was very unusual, but children often expressed their magical ability in surprisingly strong ways when they were young. If his childhood had drawn out his own ability for Occlumency, then certainly hers could do the same.
"I'm not angry with you," Severus said slowly, "You were treating it well, although I would like you to ask before you read any of my books. Some of them are priceless, and most of them are not at all appropriate for you."
He paused, watching for some sign of expression on the girl's face, but there was none, so he continued.
"I can read more of that book with you, if you wish."
Calista stared at him for several seconds, before slowly shaking her head, No. Then she rose from the table and disappeared from the room once more.
Well; it was only the second time she'd given him a direct response, and even that tally was only valid if he considered her gripping his wrist when he'd asked if she'd ever been apparated. True, she'd only wanted to avoid being splinched that time, and this time she'd promptly fled, but it had to be some sort of progress, didn't it?
At any rate, after that attempt at communicating, he didn't see her anywhere near his bookshelf again. He did not know if she was respecting his wishes not to touch the books, or if she was avoiding anything that might allow them to start a conversation.
As she continued to avoid him, day after day, he began to seriously suspect the latter, and wondered what else he could possibly do to get the child to communicate with him, to take even the tiniest step towards trusting him.
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Perhaps a month after catching her reading his book, and his disastrous attempt to start a conversation with her, there came a day where he didn't see her at all during the day, and she didn't come when he called her for dinner, either.
He checked his study, checked the knob to the stairs to be sure she wouldn't have been able to get down there. Her bedroom door was shut. He tapped at it.
"Calista?" He hadn't meant to but a note of irritation had crept into his voice. He let her avoid him nearly every minute of the day; he insisted only that she actually eat dinner each night, so that she would stay alive. It seemed more than reasonable for him to expect that she followed this one rule.
When he heard nothing from within the room, he eased the door open. It was dark; he lifted his wand.
"Lumos," he muttered, and peered into the semi-lightened room.
He made out a tiny form crouched at the far end of her bed, her back against the headboard. His frustration quickly changed to alarm as he heard the tiny whimpering sounds coming from where she sat curled tightly into a fetal position. It was the first time he had heard her make a sound, but he didn't have time to register the fact as he strode across the room, crouching down over her.
"Calista," he said urgently, "What happened? Are you hurt? What…?" he trailed off as he realized the small girl was asleep.
Her eyes were closed, though her hands were clenched tightly into fists. Beneath the papery eyelids, he could see her eyes moving rapidly back and forth. She was dreaming.
He reached out and touched her shoulder, and the girl started awake, her eyes snapping open to meet his gaze.
She was so distraught and still half-asleep, that he had access to her feelings and memories without even consciously trying to. He was swept along with her wild emotions by accident, a writhing mix of anger and hurt; there was an icy rage, far too cold to belong to a normal child, and there was an animal sense of fear, an ever-present instinct to run, run, run.
He tried to focus on her memories, but they were tangled up in the nightmare she had been having, and her emotions were so wild and strong that he could not focus on anything else.
Only seconds after he had begun to feel her tumultuous emotions, her eyes went blank and he could feel nothing, not without deliberately trying, and he knew she would feel the intrusion, and likely be even more afraid.
Instinctually, Severus pulled the child close to him, and held her there. He could feel her trembling, and as soon as he had pulled her into the embrace, her entire body stiffened, her nerves taut. He felt she was about to wrench away from him and bolt at any moment.
"Calista," he whispered urgently, "I will not hurt you."
She did wrench herself away then, pulled her knees around herself, and buried her head in them. Her shoulders shook; he wasn't sure if she was crying or just trembling.
Carefully, lightly, he put his hand on her shoulder.
"You were having a dream. Whatever you're afraid of, it can't reach you here." he said.
But she wouldn't lift her head again, wouldn't look at him; for more than an hour, she only shook. Breathy gasps told him that she was indeed crying. He felt completely inadequate in that moment, not knowing how to make her stop, how to comfort her, how he could convince her that she was safe. He kept his hand on her shoulder; she seemed to tolerate that, or perhaps not to notice it, for quite some time.
Finally, her tears evidently spent, she sucked in a great breath, pulled away from him, and lay down with her back to him.
He stayed there until he could tell that she'd fallen asleep, until the even rhythm of her breathing made him suddenly very tired himself.
He left her bedroom door ajar, so she might see light from the corridor if she woke up while it was still dark.
It wasn't the first time Severus had felt helpless to aid someone he cared about, and he hadn't grown any fonder of the feeling. His own sleep was troubled that night, as he wondered what he could possibly do to help a child who didn't want the help she so clearly needed, or at least didn't want it from him.
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