章 33: 16
Chapter Five:
While Calista had been being coaxed into brewing an advanced and forbidden potion in her wardrobe, Severus Snape had been busy with his own nuanced and possibly explosive task; he had been to Malfoy Manor.
As soon as he had received Lucius' politely-phrased request for himself and his daughter to join the Malfoys for Christmas celebrations, he had known that his time for considering the matter of disclosing the other half of Calista's parentage was at an end. Severus knew Lucius well enough to recognize what essentially amounted to an order, and it was certainly within his interests to remain friends with the Malfoys – in Calista's too, if he could play the situation out properly.
He had considered lying about the identity of Calista's mother, but in the end he had concluded that it was too great of a risk. What if Narcissa did recognise her, or what if Calista inadvertently revealed it herself? Lucius had no ostensible reason to practise Legilimency on the twelve-year-old daughter of his old school friend, but that didn't mean he wouldn't.
It would come down to his explanation for not telling them about Calista sooner. He had always thought it was best to keep her isolated from all of Bellatrix's acquaintances for as long as possible, but now, with Lucius' handwriting staring him in the face and essentially demanding to meet her, he was questioning his decision.
He had no objections, in fact, to Calista meeting the Malfoys themselves – the problem lay in the possibility that the Dark Lord would rise again some day. If he did so in Calista's lifetime, Severus was certain he would try to recruit her, given the talents she was developing. He might not have had any interest in her as an infant; but as a full-grown witch bred from two of his favoured Death Eaters? He would wager his wand-arm that Voldemort's interest would be much keener the second time around, if there was one.
Lucius, for his part, would probably never intentionally lead Calista to harm, but Severus knew that Lucius was a follower at heart, whatever pretensions he held. If the Dark Lord, returned to his former power, asked Lucius for information about Calista that might help him to recruit or overpower her, Lucius would capitulate – not necessarily due to a lack of concern for anyone else, but simply because his concern for himself always came first.
With these concerns weighing on him, Severus had decided to pay a visit to the Malfoys alone before Christmas. It would be easier if he told them beforehand who she was. He told himself that it was to spare Calista the range of their potential initial reactions, but if he were being honest with himself – and for once, he was trying not to be – he didn't relish the prospect of Calista sitting beside him and elaborating.
The less they knew about the way Bellatrix had treated her, the more protected he thought she was. It was much safer if neither of them knew the degree to which Calista – and himself, really – despised Bellatrix. She had been, after all, a particular favourite of the Dark Lord's, despite her silly stunt in trying to get him to recruit a child.
So, Severus had taken a Saturday off from mentoring Calista in Occlumency, and had travelled to Malfoy Manor instead.
After he had entered through the wrought-iron gates and walked up the drive, he had been admitted by the Malfoys' wretched-looking house-elf, Narcissa at its heels.
"Ah, Severus! Do come in. It's a pleasure to see you again."
"Narcissa. The pleasure is all mine, I am sure." He removed his cloak and hung it on a coat-rack in the hall. Bulbous green eyes followed his move from somewhere around knee-height, prompting Narcissa to look down at the servile creature.
"We'll take tea in the library today," she said crisply to the house-elf, and it was gone as quickly as Narcissa had finished speaking. Narcissa returned her gaze to Severus, where it softened considerably.
"It really is nice to see you again; Draco has been asking after you."
Severus smiled. "He is well, then? I think he looks more like his father every time I see him."
The bronze door-handle behind Narcissa turned then, and a small, pointy-faced blond boy entered the hall as if he had been summoned.
"Severus!" Draco grinned, "Hallo! Have you brought me any sweets, then?"
"Manners, Draco," Narcissa admonished him gently, "If you want to take tea with the adults today, you must behave like one."
"Sorry, Mother," Draco muttered automatically, and then: "Hello Severus, sir. It's nice to see you again. Have you got any sweets for me?"
"Not today, Draco. Haven't you had enough Chocolate Frogs to last you a lifetime by now?"
"I don't eat them all," the young boy said impatiently, "But I still haven't got all the cards yet."
"What an unfortunate circumstance." He met Narcissa's gaze over the boy's head; Narcissa rolled her eyes just slightly, but set her hand on Draco's shoulder, an affectionate smile touching her lips.
"Go and fetch your father for tea, Draco," she said, "Tell him we are in the library today."
When the four of them were situated on antique armchairs in the library (Draco looking as if he were nearly drowning in his), and they had exhausted small talk, Severus met Lucius' gaze and understood that Lucius knew his visit hadn't been merely a social call.
"There is a reason I wanted to speak with you both before the holiday."
"Draco," Lucius drawled, evidently picking up on the hint within Severus' words, "You may play in your room now."
Draco scowled, having just recently reached an age where he disliked being excluded from adult company on the basis of his age; there was something in his expression that indicated he was positive he was being sent away from an imminent, child-free party. Nevertheless, he obeyed his father. He closed the library door softly, but they all heard a muffled slam from somewhere beyond a few seconds later.
Narcissa sighed. "You see, Lucius," she said, "He doesn't even like to leave us after tea. Imagine how lonely he would be if we sent him all the way to Durmstrang."
Lucius waved his hand dismissively. "He would make friends there; it's full of our sort of people. Besides, he's only eight; we've time to decide yet. But for now," and here he turned his head in Severus' direction, "You said there was something you wished to discuss, Severus?"
"Yes, in regards to my daughter, Calista. I feel there is something I need to tell you about her before you meet her, so that you are not surprised."
Lucius chuckled, "What could possibly be so… surprising… about a twelve-year-old girl? Aren't they more or less all the same?"
"If I once suffered under that delusion, becoming a professor has alleviated it, believe me. They each find their own trouble to become embroiled in – and in that regard, let me assure you, my daughter is no exception."
This earned a smile from Narcissa; Lucius still regarded him with a curiosity that was never completely devoid of his characteristic haughtiness.
"I know I've avoided the question of her mother in the past," Severus continued, "For reasons that will soon become clear. There is… ah, shall we say, a stigma surrounding it that might diminish my favour with Dumbledore and his ilk were it to become widely known."
"Is that so?" He seemed to have genuinely captured Lucius' interest now.
"It is," Severus said, placing a resigned gravity in his words, "You may recall that we sustained many losses from the Order shortly before the Dark Lord's untimely demise – but there was one that stuck out as particularly grave. They kidnapped and kept hostage a child they suspected might lead them to the Dark Lord's closest supporters; after the incident in Godric's Hollow, when no one could find her, we all thought she had been killed."
There was a space of silence, during which Severus watched the faces of his hosts very carefully. Lucius wore a look of interested, open curiosity, as though he were waiting to hear the punch line of a joke. Narcissa looked pensive, and then troubled; and then, a blossom of something else unfurled behind her eyes.
"Surely you don't mean Bellatrix's little girl?" she breathed, hopeful, "Wasn't she… wasn't she also called Calista?"
"This is preposterous," Lucius interrupted, leaning forward and regarding Severus intently. His hand absently reached over to where Narcissa's sat on the arm of her chair, and he patted it with a comforting gesture.
"Are you trying to tell us that not only have you managed to track down Bellatrix's girl, when none of us could, but that you've raised her, too? Why you, and not Narcissa, who was more likely than not her nearest blood relative after her mother?"
"Narcissa wasn't – isn't – her nearest relative," Severus clarified, his own expression now as intent as Lucius' had been seconds before, "It's true that Calista is Bellatrix's daughter; but she is also mine."
Now Lucius and Narcissa both looked surprised. Shocked by a twelve-year-old after all, Severus thought sourly.
"That is… certainly unexpected news," Lucius said finally, "Of course, we all knew that Bellatrix wasn't —ah—fully satisfied with her marriage to Rodolphus, but I, at least, assumed the child was in fact his, or perhaps his brother's."
"We all looked for her," Narcissa said softly, "Before the Dark Lord fell, and after. She had every Tracking spell you could name on her, and Bellatrix should have been able to find her anywhere, unless she was under very strong charms. And yet, even when the charms were presumed broken, there was no sign of the girl."
"I know that; I looked for years before I found her. Bellatrix never told me she was mine," his lip curled, "But I began to suspect, given… the timing of things. I couldn't explain to myself at the time why I was still looking when all sensible parties had abandoned hope; I suppose it must have been the enchantments Bellatrix placed on her. I must have felt the pull of the traces on her because of our shared blood. When I did finally find her, nearly three years had passed and she was living in some dunghill of a Muggle orphanage. They had her registered under a ridiculous false name, but I found her real records at the Ministry – Bellatrix tried to burn my name off her birth certificate, but it's still there."
Narcissa was dabbing at tear-filled blue eyes with the edge of a lace handkerchief, but Lucius eyed Severus with suspicion still.
"And how do you know," he asked softly, "That the girl you found actually was the daughter you say the Ministry has records of you and Bella producing, and not some Mudblood brat pretending to be whomever you were looking for, just to get out of the orphanage?"
Severus laughed at that. "You'll know too, when you meet her. Trust me on that, Lucius."
"Even accepting that, I fail to understand why you didn't tell us when you found her. You must know how dreadfully Narcissa mourned her loss."
"A lapse in judgement which I regret," Severus said, "But I couldn't be sure – at first, anyway – who it would be safe to tell. You know Dumbledore would never trust me quite as much if he knew I had such strong ties to the Dark Lord's purported favourite, and then what use would I be if He ever does return?"
There was a terrible moment during which Severus feared Lucius wouldn't accept his explanation of the story of how he had found Calista and why he had chosen not to tell them; both were an altered version of the truth, and the notion that Dumbledore didn't know about her parentage was an outright lie; still, it made the most plausible cover.
Then a small sob escaped from Narcissa. "I can't believe that she's alive, after all this time. I wanted – we looked for her, Lucius and I – we wanted to take her to live with us, after Bella was captured. She never told any of us she really wasn't Rodolphus', although I suppose we should have guessed. We always assumed that we were the only acceptable family she would have left outside of Azkaban."
"I have to confide in you that when I found her, she was suffering from a lack of suitable acquaintances," Severus said, "Surrounded by Muggle filth, and still traumatised from being largely neglected by the Order, I can only assume."
Here, Narcissa ducked her head, almost as if she were ashamed. "It… it might not only have been the Order," she said hesitantly, "I shouldn't say – but you must have some idea – Bella was often wretched to that poor girl. She's my sister, and we all know she has some fantastic strengths, but I always felt awful for the way she was raising her child."
"I know of that to some extent," he said carefully, "She never had the same capacity for nurturing that you do, Narcissa."
"No," Lucius agreed with amusement, "I would not consider that motherhood would ever suit Bellatrix. Wasn't she trying to offer the girl to the Dark Lord's service before it was even out of her womb?"
"I like to think that she wasn't quite serious," Narcissa offered, "Or at least, that if she was, she changed her mind after the girl was born. I can't know for certain; I think I saw Bella's girl more than anyone else, and it was only a handful of times at best."
"I'm afraid I can't attest to have any better notion of her intents than you do. Bellatrix suffered only a brief lapse during which she enjoyed my company," Severus said dryly, "Months before Calista was born, she had apparently regained to her wits, and I my relative invisibility."
Narcissa's mouth twisted into a sad half-smile; Lucius nodded once and then rose to his feet. "Thank you for finally disclosing this to us, Severus," he said, and a less observant man than Severus might have missed the slight emphasis on his words.
"I suppose all that remains now is for us to meet her and welcome her back into her rightful family," he continued, "Which we look forward to at Christmastime. In fact, Narcissa and I insist that you both spend the entirety of the Christmas break with us. It will be good for Draco to become better acquainted with his older cousin, and I'm sure Narcissa would like to make up for lost time."
"We would be delighted," Severus said, as though he were being given a choice.
(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)
After her final class of the fall term, Calista made her way to the dungeon corridor that housed the Potions classroom as well as her father's office and quarters. Calista paused outside the door to her father's office, and tried to push her lingering pride, and the reason for it, deep beneath several layers of barriers. It was difficult, because what she really wanted more than anything was to share her achievement with him, but of course that was out of the question.
She hoped today's lesson wouldn't be too exhausting; she wasn't sure if she could keep it successfully hidden from him if he was testing her barriers today.
Exhaling, she set a triple barrier, leaving increasing space behind each layer. Hopefully, he wouldn't delve much deeper than that. She turned the knob of his office door and entered.
"How were you classes?" Severus looked at her; for once, there wasn't a pile of papers on his desk awaiting correction. It looked rather as though he had been waiting for her.
"Oh – they were okay."
"Transfiguration?"
Calista grimaced. "I'd rather not talk about that right now."
"Very well, very well. I have something to tell you anyway, and then we'll practise once more what you've been working on this month."
"Are you finally going to tell me where we're going for Christmas?"
Severus considered her, and gestured to the seat across from his desk.
Calista sat, and Severus regarded her an instant longer before speaking.
"Do you remember any – relatives of yours from your early childhood, besides your mother?"
"What? No, not really," She was startled by the question; they weren't really going to visit Bellatrix's family, were they?
As soon as she had considered this, she discarded it; he wouldn't ask her to see any of them, she was sure of it. It must be some family member of his he was referring to, then; but Bellatrix had never really acknowledged who her father was, so how could she have been expected to know any of his kin?
"Well," Severus sighed, "We've been invited to visit friends of mine for Christmas. I attended Hogwarts with them, and we've been keeping in touch. I've spoken to them about you from time to time, and they're eager to meet you. They have a son, a few years younger than you."
Calista stiffened. "You know them from school? Were they – were they friends of hers, too?"
"I'm not sure that Bellatrix ever had – friends, as it were," he answered carefully, "But the fact is that the majority of my acquaintances were familiar with her as well. Calista, I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't think that you were capable of handling it."
Well. That was almost true. He didn't have much choice, anymore.
Calista thought for the space of a minute, and then said, "But you asked if I remembered any relatives, not any of my mother's friends."
"The Malfoys are friends of mine from school," he repeated, "Narcissa Malfoy is also your mother's sister, and their son Draco is your cousin."
"Her sister?" Calista's jaw dropped. "I'm not going."
"Let's start by establishing that you are indeed going," Severus said, and put up his hand when Calista inhaled sharply and opened her mouth to protest again. "So we can move on to reassurances that you need not fear Narcissa. She may be Bellatrix's sister, but they are not the same woman."
"Did they get on well before my mother went to Azkaban?" she challenged.
Severus considered his words carefully. "Sometimes," he finally said, "Although I can tell you that Narcissa disapproved of the way that Bellatrix was raising you."
"She… this Narcissa," Calista rolled the name around on her tongue, "She knew me? When I lived with – when I was small?"
"She saw you a handful of times. Enough to cause her to question Bellatrix's parenting ability."
Calista laughed. The sound was harsh and short, and it echoed off the stone walls. "She questioned her parenting ability? There wasn't a question at all."
Severus felt the familiar pushing, rolling sensation of Calista's emotions bubbling up like an overheated cauldron; felt a dim awareness of her feelings in his own mind, and sensed that she was seconds away from one of her vicious outbursts.
"Why are you angry?" he asked her quietly, and then before her rage could build, "I'm telling you that you have another adult in your life who cares for you, who wanted to help you when you were small."
"Then why didn't she?" Calista challenged.
"If Narcissa is guilty of overlooking the extent of Bellatrix's cruelty, then so am I," he told her softly, rising to pace the length of the room. "You are probably correct to think that both of us acted selfishly in failing to realise how abysmal your situation was, because action for either of us would have been at great personal risk, given the political climate at the time."
He glanced at his daughter, her emotions caught between rage and despair, her face struggling to conceal the evidence of both. Yet again, he felt confronted with the fact of her youth, wondered for the hundredth time if he expected too much from her or not enough.
"You cannot possibly understand the atmosphere of the time," he told her as he continued to pace, "I hope you never can. Every word, every action – they had to be perfect, no matter which side of the war you were fighting on. It was as though the entire wizarding world was polarised, serving either the Dark Lord or Dumbledore, and if you'd earned the trust of one, then the other surely wanted your head. Meanwhile, the Ministry of Magic was killing first and asking questions later. For some, the only safe place was under the shadow of the Dark Lord's cloak – or Dumbledore's. Bellatrix was always his favourite. Only she possessed the… the utter blindness to consequence, to morality, even to herself that the Dark Lord so yearned to inscribe in all of his followers along with the Dark Mark. He saw it as loyalty; really, I think it was madness, but perhaps that was the only way one could be as loyal to him as she always was."
Calista had folded her arms across her chest and was following her father's pacing with eyes wide and dark; he could no longer feel her emotions, and her face was blank. Severus had to believe that Bellatrix was sufficiently blocked from Calista's mind, because he was treading a dangerous path with his words.
"Had anyone spoken or acted against Bellatrix, it would ultimately have amounted to acting against the Dark Lord himself. At best, he was indifferent to violence; at worst, he might have gained a keen interest in her methods, curious if they would work to turn you into a lifelong follower. Still, given this, I would have acted if I had truly known. I believe that Narcissa would have, too. The question is, could we both have done more to find out? Possibly, in her case. I know I certainly could have, and the regret that I did not…"
"Dad, stop it," Calista interrupted, "I don't – It's not your fault. You couldn't have known."
"I will never cease blaming myself," he said, "But if you don't blame me, then you cannot blame Narcissa, either."
"She knew more than you did," Calista said, her inflamed emotions salved by a sudden heavy, overwhelming apathy. "Anyway, fine. I don't care. If you want me to go there for Christmas, I will."
"Good. As I said, you don't need to fear Narcissa. However, I would advise you to be cautious with her husband. He can be… rather like your friend Olivia, I think."
"Oh, an arrogant prat then," she said hollowly with false cheeriness, "Excellent."
"He differs from your friend in that he is a reasonably competent Legilimens," Severus warned sternly, "So I must impress upon you the importance of guarding your mind diligently. Don't make it obvious that's what you're doing; just don't let him get beyond your first layer of protection."
Calista's already light complexion paled further. "Are you mental? I can't block a fully-trained Legilimens!"
"I didn't say he was fully trained, I said he was reasonably competent. Very few wizards are ever actually trained, which gives you an advantage – one which I doubt you will need, since he is unlikely to have a reason to suspect you would be hiding anything. Maintaining your normal barriers is likely to be sufficient."
"What if it's not?" she persisted, "What if he can tell I'm blocking him and he tries to dig deeper?"
Severus smiled wryly. "Don't you recall I told you we would be practising today?"
"Seriously, I don't think I can –,"
She stopped speaking at his sudden prodding of her mind; automatically, the forefront of her consciousness was flooded with an eddying current of disjointed images and tendrils of emotion. The internal wall separating this part of her mind from the inner levels was like a castle glimpsed far away, and through a thick fog; it might have been there, but what place would it have as the backdrop of such a modern carnival? It was only reasonable to conclude that it wasn't there at all.
"Yes you can," Severus murmured.
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