Callidus hated the idea that anything Greengrass could say would affect him, but in the following days, there was no denying that he was affected by their confrontation. He had started to warm towards Granger, but now, he retreated back into coldness. In the library, he would pretend that he had failed to notice her. He also spent more and more time in the Slytherin dungeons rather than the library. Through it all, he felt terrible. His chest ached with the heavy weight of misery and guilt.

It was made worse by Greengrass's knowing smirks. He had to suffer Greengrass's presence with increased frequency because she and Nott spent more time with the other first years. She seemed to delight in trying to make him as miserable as possible. To Callidus's consternation, she succeeded in her efforts. It was one thing to combat her verbal gibes - that was easy enough. But there was no way for him to fight her unspoken words. Callidus heartily loathed the way she would raise her eyebrows, or smile maliciously. In the Great Hall, she would dart glances at Granger, and then look at Callidus, giving him a look heavy with meaning.

But what he hated most was Granger's reaction. The bushy-haired girl had noticed Callidus's coldness towards her. Her initial response had been confusion in the form of puzzled glances. This soon turned into wounded looks that made him feel like monster. Her brown eyes had held such a deep and undeserved pain, like a crup that had been abandoned in heavy rain. He longed to sit down with her in the library and explain his situation. But then, Greengrass would raise her blonde eyebrows at him, and Callidus would continue with his uncaring facade. After a week of this, her hurt looks became angry ones, and Callidus knew that the anger was well deserved.

The situation ruined his focus. In class, he barely heard a word from the professors' lectures. When he attempted to read, the words on the page were little more than meaningless scribbles. Furthermore, his appetite had vanished.

He was in the Great Hall for breakfast, listlessly picking at his food when to his surprise, an owl swooped in front of him, dropping an envelope on his plate. He blinked in bewilderment, picking up the envelope which was sealed with an intricate wax crest with an ornate 'M' while beside him, Harry had received a near-identical looking envelope. Several other Slytherins received similar envelopes as well.

"Finally," Malfoy said, drawing out the word. "I was wondering when they'd get around to sending out the invitations."

"Invitations?" Harry echoed, as he opened the envelope. He pulled out a card of beautiful embossed parchment.

"Yes, the Malfoys traditionally throw several parties in the winter," Malfoy explained. "One to celebrate Yule and the Solstice. And one before the New Year. Though the Yule celebration is usually reserved for those close to the Malfoy family. You'll come, right Harry?"

"Erm - I'm not going to be interviewed by the Prophet am I?" Harry asked uneasily.

"Merlin, no!" Malfoy replied. "Spontaneous interviews with the press are never a good idea. My father will wish to speak to you though."

"Oh - er - I s'pose I'll go," Harry said.

"What about you, Prince?" Malfoy asked.

"I'll have to think on it," Callidus replied. The idea of going to a party made him a bit anxious and he knew that he'd have to speak to Dumbledore first. Lucius Malfoy had known him from when he was still Severus. If they had gone to school together, then the elder Malfoy might recognize him, so attending the party would be an immense risk. After all, Dumbledore had stressed the importance of keeping his identity a secret.

Despite Callidus's claims that he would consider the invitation, his mind drifted back to his problems with Granger. It bothered Callidus to have upset Granger, but it also bothered him that he even cared about the whole issue. She was just one Gryffindor. Shouldn't he have let it go by now?

Callidus found his concentration faltering, evening during his sessions with Wystan.

"You really shouldn't be brewing in that state, you know," Wystan had said, green eyes warm with understanding. "I don't think you're even brewing an oculus potion anymore. If you're not careful, you'll probably mess up your little personal project as well."

"What? What are you talking about?" Callidus replied, looking down at the liquid in the cauldron. He frowned when he realized it looked more like lake sludge than like sparkling green fluid. As for his 'personal project,' Callidus had promised to modify a certain potion that Harry and Malfoy could use to prank the Gryffindors. Of course, he didn't reveal this to Wystan. He wasn't sure how the older boy would react (and whether he would be reported to Slughorn, or worse, Dumbledore), though Wystan hardly seemed like the sort that would tattle.

Wystan snorted and shook his head. "What's been bothering you, Callidus? No -" Wystan held up a hand, "Don't try and deny it. It's written all over your face. You might think you're being subtle, but you really aren't. Most first years aren't that good at masking their emotions - though you're still doing a better job than any Gryffindor, Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw."

Callidus's brow creased. It wasn't something he was comfortable talking about. And as much as he liked Wystan, it wasn't in his nature to pour his heart out. It was one thing talking to Harry or Dumbledore. Dumbledore had been a Gryffindor, and Harry had many Gryffindor-ish tendencies, and Gryffindors were generally seen as trustworthy and transparent. But as nice as Wystan was, he was still a Slytherin.

Callidus ended up equivocating, though it was clear from Wystan's expression that the older boy knew Callidus was avoiding the issue. But Callidus was glad that Wystan didn't keep pushing the matter. As Callidus cleared up the mess of his failed potion, Wystan changed the topic to something rather more interesting.

"I found out what that field of mind magic was called," Wystan informed Callidus. "That one you were inquiring about."

Callidus looked up from scrubbing his cauldron with interest. "Oh?"

Wystan flashed his white teeth in a grin.

"Are you expecting a favour for this information?" Callidus asked. It was a typical Slytherin exchange.

Wystan shook his head, still smiling. "What do you take me for? Would I ever do something so unsubtle?"

Callidus sighed. "No, you'd rather just rack up unspoken favours and let people's sense of guilt do the work. Though I'm not sure that most of the Snakes feel guilt. I guess you throw people off balance with your faux Hufflepuff personality."

Wystan's eyes crinkled with amusement. "I try and make use of tactics that work for me in the long run. But since I can see that you're fast losing your patience, mind reading is called Legilimency. Of course, now you're wondering: How do I protect myself from such an invasion of my most sacred personal space? That particular skill would be called Occlumency. As for where one can learn about either Legilimency or Occlumency - unfortunately, I can't help you with that. You'd need to have the right connections who can lend you the right books. Or know someone who is willing to personally teach you."

Wystan's information intrigued Callidus. He was more certain than ever that the Headmaster was capable of Legilimency, and he yearned to be able to learn it himself. Who wouldn't want to have such power in their hands?

Fortunately, Callidus soon received another note to meet Dumbledore. The old man seemed to have an intuitive sense of knowing when Callidus had information to impart. That or he had other unspoken magical methods for rooting out information. Callidus wasn't sure whether the former or latter was more likely.

"You look troubled, my boy," Dumbledore said, as Callidus walked up to his immense desk.

"So I've been told," Callidus grumbled.

"Do you wish to talk about it?" the headmaster asked gently.

Callidus shook his head, his lips twisted downwards. It felt too personal. And although Dumbledore had claimed that they were friends, the headmaster felt like someone who was on a different plane than other witches and wizards. Furthermore, it was uncomfortable to talk about feelings. That was such a girl thing. Though admittedly, he used to talk to Lily about his feelings.

Callidus could have spoken to Harry. Harry was just as good of a listener as Lily, and he had an innate kindness. But there was one problem. Harry, like Lily, would have wanted to get himself involved and Callidus didn't want anyone else solving his problems. Especially not something as embarrassing as caring about a Gryffindor.

So, Callidus steered the conversation towards other matters.

"I received an invitation to one of the winter galas hosted by the Malfoys," Callidus informed Dumbledore. "Harry as well."

"I noticed," Dumbledore replied.

"I suppose you'll tell me it's best not to go?"

"Do you want to go?" The headmaster's white eyebrows raised.

"I -" Callidus began, before shutting his mouth. In truth, he hadn't given the matter much thought. He assumed that Dumbledore would tell him that for his own safety, it was best not to go and Callidus's brow furrowed as he considered how he felt about attending the party. His feelings turned out to be mixed. He wasn't keen on the idea of a fancy party, populated by the rich and influential - not as an eleven year old, with few achievements under his belt. Callidus wanted to prove himself first. Like so many others, he wanted admiration and positive regard. Attending the party would require purchasing dress robes, and figuring out what to do about his appearance (if it was even possible to improve upon his unfortunate features.) It would require being surrounded by strangers, and making sure not to give himself away.

On the other hand, he didn't want to abandon Harry, to Malfoy and his ilk. Callidus had been there, at Diagon Alley, and he had seen first hand how people reacted to the Boy Who Lived. Without help, Harry would be swallowed alive.

"I want to go," Callidus said softly. "If Harry goes, I want to go."

Callidus's black eyes met the headmaster's blue ones. Dumbledore had his elbows resting on his desk, and his straight fingers entwined in front of him.

"Unless you mean to stop Harry from going?" Callidus asked. "Will you?"

Dumbledore hummed. "I believe it would be best if neither of you went. I may not be able to assure your safety if either of you step off the grounds, and there are many who would wish to hurt Harry."

Callidus nodded. Most of the wizarding world was aware that Harry was in Slytherin - with students writing home to their parents about the Sorting back in September, there was no way to stem the flow of gossip. In some ways, this alleviated the danger - those who believed in pureblood ideology would assume that Harry was on their side, and be less likely to hurt him; but on the other hand, it created risks as well. Allies who might have stood by him would suspect him as a Slytherin.

Callidus ended leaving Dumbledore's office feeling neither better nor worse (though he later realized that he forgot to bring up Legilimency.) Assuming that the headmaster was taking care of the whole matter, Callidus tried to steer his thoughts back to his schoolwork. He attacked the subjects with a desperate intensity, reminding himself over and over of how important it was for him to reach his goals, to prove himself, to be the best.

The following day, Harry received a message from the headmaster at breakfast.

"He doesn't want me to go," Harry said, as his eyes scanned the note.

"Go to what?" Malfoy asked.

"Your party," Harry replied.

"What?" Malfoy (and Parkinson, who was listening in) exclaimed.

"Who doesn't want you to go?" Malfoy asked, looking obdurate.

"The headmaster."

"What does Dumbledore have to do with anything?" Parkinson wailed. "He can't stop you! The party wouldn't be the same without you!"

Malfoy shot her an offended look, before turning back to Harry. "What does he say? Why doesn't he want you to go?"

"I can think of several reasons why Dumbledore wouldn't want the Boy Who Lived at a Malfoy party," Zabini drawled.

It took a moment for Malfoy to comprehend Zabini's meaning. "He thinks we can't protect our guests?" Malfoy sputtered, glaring at the Head Table with a mix of offended sensibilities and anger. "Just wait until my father hears about this!"

True to his word, Malfoy wrote a letter to his father, full of sharply crossed 't's,' aggressively dotted 'i's,' and hot indignation. The letter was sent off with Hedwig (since Harry eventually agreed that yes, Hedwig needed the chance to spread her wings), even if it offended Malfoy's proud eagle owl. This led to a long exchange between the Malfoy patriarch and Dumbledore, with the result being that Dumbledore agreed to let Callidus and Harry go to the fete, so long the pair of them were accompanied by a suitable chaperone. The chaperone (they later discovered) was the dour Professor McGonagall, who looked as displeased by the notion as the trio of boys. Callidus would also need to be disguised.