8. Books and Birds

"Harry and Ron think it's Malfoy," Hermione informed her one day in the library.

"I can believe that," Callie replied. "Malfoy hates muggle-borns. Calls 'em..." she hesitated to say it in front of Hermione, but pressed on, "...'dirty swine.'"

"Hmph," Hermione snorted. "Has he said anything? Anything at all to make you think it could be him?"

"Keeps going on about mudbloods-" she stopped in her tracks. "Sorry, muggle-borns being next."

Hermione was thoughtful for a moment. She looked as though she might've had something she wanted to say, but if so she kept it to herself.

Callie shook her head. "Merlin's beard, I hate my house," she mused. "Should've figured Salazar Slytherin was just as big a git as all the rest of them."

"Well," Hermione said with a sigh, "Professor Binns insists there's no such thing as the Chamber of Secrets. And no monster."

"He's been around how long? Two hundred, three hundred years?" Callie said. "I suppose he would know."

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Whether or not there was a chamber or a monster, Malfoy had been right about one thing - muggle-borns were next.

A first-year boy named Colin Creevey had been petrified, just like Mr. Filch's cat. Colin was a muggle-born, as was Justin Finch-Fletchley, a Hufflepuff in Callie's year who'd also been attacked. Even Nearly-Headless Nick had been petrified, and he wasn't even alive. Callie looked back on her father's last words to her at King's Cross - "Stay safe. And try not to worry. Nowhere in wizarding Britain is as safe as Hogwarts."

It certainly didn't feel that way as of late. Everyone was dying to get out of the castle for Christmas break. And rumors continued to spread about who could be the heir of Slytherin. Ironically, everyone's number one guess was a Gryffindor - Harry Potter.

"How would he know Parseltongue?" Tracey asked one day in the common room. "He was raised by muggles, for Merlin's sake!"

"I don't know," Callie said, and truthfully, she started to wonder herself whether Harry could be the heir. Salazar Slytherin himself had been a Parseltongue, and it wasn't a very common talent. She was willing to bet no one else in the castle could do that.

"But why would the heir of Slytherin be sorted into Gryffindor?" Callie argued. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Potter, the heir?" Malfoy called out as he entered the room. "Give me a break!"

"Who do you think it is, then?" Callie shot back.

"I don't know but it can't be him. Salazar Slytherin would laugh him out of this school if he were alive today."

"Then maybe it's you," Callie accused.

Malfoy rounded on her, about to argue. But then he stopped himself, smiled wickedly and said, "Maybe it is, Warbeck. Maybe I'm the one all your mudblood friends need to watch out for."

Callie rolled her eyes. "Yes, you could get into the chamber, I'm sure. Perhaps if you bought your way in like you did with the Quidditch team."

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest in defiance. "And who paid for your filthy blood to be let into this school? Your dirty muggle mum?"

Callie froze, then reached for a book on an end table beside her and whipped it at the boy. He managed to smack it away from hitting his face - unfortunately.

"Bitch!" he shouted.

"Bastard!"

Both reached for their wands before Tracey jumped between them with her arms outspread. "No!" she yelled. "Come on, now, knock it off! Before someone gets Snape involved."

Malfoy tucked his wand away, a dung-eating grin curling his lips. "As a matter of fact, that's not such a bad idea," he said, making his way toward the corridor. "Thanks, Davis."

"Damn you, Malfoy!" Callie called out. Turning to Tracey, she said, "Just great. That old prat'll take his side no matter what. He and Malfoy are like this." She crossed her middle and index fingers around each other.

"Well, you shouldn't have said anything," Tracey admonished.

Callie returned to her seat and waited for Snape to show up, but instead she was approached by Blaise Zabini, who'd stepped in from the corridor.

"Snape wants to see you," he informed her.

Callie rolled her eyes and went off to the potions master's office. Malfoy was there, rubbing the side of his face as though in pain.

"Oh, come on!" Callie said. "I didn't even get you!"

"Silence, Miss Warbeck," Snape said in his quiet but domineering voice. "Mr. Malfoy claims you threw a book at his face. Is that true?"

Callie pouted. "Would you believe me if I said no?" she asked.

"And did Mr. Malfoy do anything to provoke this attack?"

"Other than be a total prat, you mean?"

"Watch yourself, girl." If looks could kill, she'd have had to join Myrtle in the toilet. Snape went on, "After you hit him, did he retaliate?"

"No," Callie admitted sheepishly.

"Very well." To Malfoy, he nodded toward the door and said, "Get back to the common room." Malfoy stood and exited, throwing Callie a pissy look as he went.

Snape stood before his desk, running a tired hand over his face, and said, "When are you going to learn to get along with others, Warbeck?"

When they start acting like decent human beings. But that answer would've landed her in hot water - more so than she was already in. "Sir," she said, trying hard to keep herself calm, "I can't just sit there and say nothing when..." she paused, swallowing her anger "...when people keep on getting hurt. Muggle-borns. Colin and Justin. Somebody's harming muggle-borns, and Malfoy would feed 'em to the monster if he could. He's prejudiced."

Snape studied her a long moment, before he finally responded, "How very noble of you. I remember when the Dark Lord rose to power. He too held rather low opinions on muggle-born wizards and witches. Thank goodness we had people like you throwing books to help fight the cause. He may never have been stopped otherwise."

She just couldn't help herself. "Would you rather I'd hexed him, Professor?"

"Don't sass me, girl. You ought to learn how to hold your tongue. Perhaps try that Zippermouth curse on yourself one of these days."

She noted the threat in his tone and kept quiet.

"One week's detention, after the Christmas break," he said. "And the next time I hear of you assaulting one of your housemates, I'll see to it your time at this castle is over. Now get out."

Callie turned and left, but she didn't go back to the common room. She didn't want to face any of them - Malfoy, Pansy... even Tracey so rarely stood up for her, and they were supposed to be friends. She wandered around the dungeons and eventually went up to the ground floor, making her way into the Great Hall and taking a seat at the Gryffindor table.

If only, she thought. Why in Merlin's name had she ended up in the house of arseholes and blood purity? She was a half-blood, and nothing like her housemates.

She was pulled from her miserable thoughts when a raspy old voice called out, "What're you doing 'ere?"

She looked up to see Filch scowling at her. "Student out of bed!" he shouted, running off. "Student out of bed!"

"Oh, Merlin's beard!" she exclaimed. Who really cared at this point? She was already in for a week's detention. Wandering about the castle couldn't bring much more than that, she figured.

A few minutes later, Filch reappeared with Professor McGonagall at his side. "There she is!" Filch said, pointing.

"Professor McGonagall," Callie began, "I-"

But the woman held up a hand to silence her, before turning to Filch. "That'll be all, Argus," she said. "Thank you."

Filch eyed Callie disdainfully before leaving them. McGonagall took a seat beside her. "Good evening, Miss Warbeck," she greeted calmly.

"Good evening," Callie replied. "I didn't mean to cause trouble, I just..."

"Needed some time to yourself?" McGonagall guessed.

"Right."

The woman nodded. "I remember my days as a student. Never a moment to oneself. Privacy is so hard to come by in this place, despite its size."

"Am I in trouble?" Callie asked.

"I don't suppose so. After all, who among us hasn't snuck out of our common room for a nighttime stroll?"

Callie smiled, appreciative of her leniency. The woman was usually quite strict. Kind enough, but strict.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" McGonagall asked after a moment.

"More like a galleon," Callie joked humorlessly. "I just can't stop thinking about... all this." She waved her hand in a gesturing manner. "Colin Creevey and now Justin. How many more will there be?"

McGonagall sighed, looking just as troubled as Callie felt, if not more. "We can only hope it stops with them," she said. "But I worry."

"What's going to happen if it keeps up?"

"Well," McGonagall began hesitantly, "there's been talk, amongst the board of governors, about possibly shutting down the castle if attacks continue. Though Professor Dumbledore isn't so keen on the idea."

Callie pondered that and sighed. "I would've been happy to go home early," she said, "but not because of this."

McGonagall looked at her curiously. "Are you unhappy at Hogwarts, Miss Warbeck?"

Callie wished she hadn't said anything. Telling a teacher how miserable she was in school wouldn't go over so easy, but now she was backed into a corner.

"Classes are fine," she said after a pause. "It's not anything like that, it's just..."

"Yes?" the woman prodded.

"Ugh!" Callie groaned, burying her face in her hands. Then suddenly, she was pouring it all out for her teacher. How her housemates were awful, prejudiced people. How they made her life hell any chance they could get. How surprised and disappointed she had been to get sorted into Slytherin, and that she didn't feel she belonged in that house. All the while, the woman listened patiently.

Callie was struck with an idea, and said, "Please, Professor, isn't there any way I could be put into another house?"

McGonagall looked at her, surprised. "I... don't believe there's ever been a switch," she said.

"But couldn't there be? Any other house, I don't care. It's only a matter of moving my stuff into another dormitory."

Shaking her head slightly, she said, "Miss Warbeck, I don't think..." but trailed off. Suddenly she stood and said, "Come with me."

Callie followed McGonagall to the third floor, where they stopped in front of a stone gargoyle. "Lemon drop!" the woman called out, and the gargoyle stepped aside while the wall behind it split in two.

Callie was amazed as a moving spiral staircase appeared behind the wall; McGonagall stepped on and gestured for Callie to follow. They came to a big oak door and McGonagall knocked. A voice on the other side called out, "Come in."

McGonagall entered with Callie at her heel. "Good evening, Albus," she greeted.

The tall, bearded headmaster stood across the room, smiling to his colleague as she approached him. "Minerva," he said with a nod of acknowledgement. Then he glanced over at Callie. "And Miss Warbeck! What a surprise!"

He had such a warm smile and kind eyes. Though she couldn't understand what she was doing here, Callie felt rather soothed by Dumbledore's presence. "Good evening, Headmaster," she said.

He gave them his full attention and asked, "To what do I owe this great honor?"

McGonagall looked over at Callie, then back to Dumbledore. "Miss Warbeck has confided some things to me this evening," she said. "I thought perhaps you ought to hear it too."

Dumbledore nodded and turned to Callie, waiting for her to explain.

"I'll let you two alone," McGonagall said to the girl, turning to leave.

When the door was shut, Dumbledore sat on his desk, gesturing for Callie to have a seat across from him. "How may I be of service to you, Miss Warbeck?"

"Um..." Callie wasn't quite sure how to start. "I guess I..." She twiddled her fingers and cleared her throat. "I was wondering if, maybe... if I could..." Taking a deep breath, she finally spit it out. "I'd like to change houses, Professor."

Dumbledore studied her for a moment, then said, "I see. Why on earth would you want to do that, may I ask?"

"Well... sir... I don't think I was sorted right."

The man glanced up to a shelf behind his desk, where the old Sorting Hat sat motionless and silent.

"Such a clever item," Dumbledore mused. "Seems to know us better than we know ourselves."

"I don't think it did know me," Callie argued. "Sir, I'm a half-blood. And Salazar Slytherin favored pure-bloods."

"That he did," Dumbledore agreed. "But every rule has its exceptions."

"I'm not like the rest of them, sir. I don't... I'm not..."

"Bad?"

She stared at him. It was as though he had read her mind. "Arrogant," she added. "Vicious. Prejudiced. Just plain nasty."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, many of your housemates can be rather... cruel." He paused, before adding, "So can a fair lot of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and even Hufflepuffs."

"Yes but Slytherins seem to have cornered the market, sir. And besides, I just don't feel like a Slytherin."

"Hmm." Dumbledore looked pensive. "How do you a suppose a true Slytherin feels?" he asked.

Callie couldn't really answer that. How did someone like Pansy or Malfoy feel and think?

"Tell me something, Miss Warbeck," Dumbledore said, "Do you feel confident in your abilities, both as a witch and in a general sense?"

Callie thought about it. "Yeah," she nodded. "I think so."

"Do you believe that you are capable of achieving your goals?"

"Yes."

"Would you do anything to make your dreams come true?"

"I... suppose I would, sir."

Dumbledore smiled. "That sounds like a Slytherin to me," he said. "Self-assured. Determined. Even a little aggressive. Professor Snape has told me you've a tendency to fight."

"I don't start fights, Professor, I just-"

"End them?" he said with a grin.

Callie shrugged. "Some people... deserve a good hex or two."

"Or a book to the face."

Callie paused, brow furrowed. "Wait, how did you...?" That had only just happened a couple of hours ago.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I have my ways, Miss Warbeck. But a magician never reveals his secrets."

She glanced around the room, wondering if there was a crystal ball somewhere.

"Now tell me," Dumbledore went on, "are you the type to be driven out of your own house by a handful of arrogant, prejudiced-" he leaned in closer and dropped his voice to a whisper "-arseholes?"

Callie grinned sheepishly at the old man's curse. She thought about how, if she could leave Slytherin, she would only look weak, and they'd know that they'd gotten the better of her. How could she give them the satisfaction? "No," she replied. "No, sir, I'm not."

Once again, Dumbledore smiled. "Good. I do have my ways, Miss Warbeck, and despite the fact that we've only just met - officially - I see a great amount of promise in you, and I think you'll come to appreciate your house, in time."

Callie doubted that but said, "I hope so, sir. And thank you." She stood to leave, pausing to admire a little baby bird perched by the door. "What species is this, sir?" Callie asked.

"Fawkes over there is a phoenix," Dumbledore replied. "Well known for its cycle of death and rebirth. 'Rising from the ashes,' as they say."

Callie gave the bird a pet, smiling back at the headmaster before bidding him good night.