Chapter Four: Hogwarts Year One, Second Term

Severus Snape entered the staff room for a post holiday staff meeting. He expected the usual "Keep your students in line" nonsense. And of course, his house would be under the most scrutiny. He took his seat at the long table and pulled out a copy of the Evening Prophet. He was required to be here, he didn't have to like it.

"Severus," Minerva said, seating herself to his right. "I really feel I have to speak to you about one of your students."

Sighing, he put the paper down. Of course, one of "his students". "Which one and what did they do?" He asked in a bored tone.

"It's not that what she did was so bad," Filius offered, climbing into the chair to his left.

"It's just that," Minerva offered, "she scares the other children."

She? Of course, he thought, Calligenia Lestrange. He couldn't see where she'd done anything to scare any child, at least nothing above simply existing. He raised an eyebrow to his colleague, waiting for her to continue.

"Neville Longbottom," she started, but he stopped her with a raised hand.

"Should learn that it was Miss Lestrange's parents, not Miss Lestrange that put his parents in St. Mungo's." He glared at Minerva, wondering if this was all that she had to offer about his charge. From what he'd seen she kept to herself, not imposing her presence on anyone, let alone Neville Longbottom.

"It's not only that," Filius broke in. "She performs magic without using her wand or the incantations."

"So I should punish her for being more advanced than the other First Years?" Severus was losing his patience. He knew of Miss Lestrange's talents. He'd seen her first hand in his own class, but seeing as he'd only said not to use wands, he hadn't felt punishment was necessary. Besides, she wasn't as likely to explode a caldron like Longbottom was.

"No, we're not saying she should be punished, Severus." Minerva said, dismissing the notion. "Perhaps if you spoke to her, told her how uncomfortable it makes the other children."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. He barely stopped himself from telling the two meddling professors that things would be seen in a different light had Miss Lestrange been put into one of their houses, but was stopped by the arrival of the Headmaster. The meeting started and he was released from the discussion. He thoughts, however, fell to Miss Lestrange and how alone she must feel with even the teachers seeing her in such a negative light.

Calligenia, unaware of the discussions about her in the staff meeting, was settling back into her dorm. Holidays at Malfoy Manor were trying at the best of times. This year, her and Draco's first at Hogwarts, seemed even more so than usual. Her uncle had interrogated both of them about Harry Potter, his friends, his power. He seemed appeased when Draco assured him that Harry was nothing more than a lucky. Calli kept her thoughts to herself, merely agreeing with Draco so her uncle wouldn't force her to make a fool out of herself.

Personally she felt that Harry was a very courageous individual. He entered a world where he was so known, without having the same knowledge of it. He'd made friends, the Granger girl who was by far one of the most clever people Calli had ever seen and the Weasley boy whose family was looked down upon by her own. Unpacking her trunk she considered the Weasleys. There were plenty of children, that was certain, but there was more. T he children weren't simply doted upon like precious possessions. She'd noticed at the beginning of the year, when they were all being herded onto the Hogwarts Express, Mrs. Weasley loved her children. Not because of their fantastic power, not because of their beauty. Simply because they were hers. She envied Ron Weasley and his brothers and sister.

Oh her uncle and aunt had doted on her, that was a given. But did they love her, simply because she was Calli and not because she had abilities that most children didn't? Did they want to know her, know what she thought, know who she was under the parentage she was cursed with? No, they didn't. They "loved" that she was powerful, that she was proof that their Pureblood fanaticism was right. They could care less what boiled beneath the cold beauty at the surface.

She finished unpacking and forced down the knot threatening her throat. She would not cry, they didn't deserve her tears. She looked around her dorm, watched the other girls unpacking and giggling about their holidays, watched them stay as far away from her as possible. Good, she thought, stay away. The less she had to pretend to be interested in their vapid conversations the better. She couldn't wait for classes, couldn't wait for her life to return to the normalcy Hogwarts offered. Calli was home.

A few days after she returned to Hogwarts, after being so happy to be home, Calli was rethinking her love for the school. She was in Professor Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts class and feeling rather uncomfortable. It wasn't the class itself that made her feel so odd, no it was the professor teaching it.

He showed an almost unnatural attention to her. Not in a pervy sense, or even in the sense that he was waiting for her mother to coming slithering out of her. No, he just seemed to want to be near her, to talk to her, ask her questions, almost paternally. And to make matters worse, whenever he was near her, her blood felt hotter, like it was boiling in her veins. It wasn't overpowering, only mildly uncomfortable, but it certainly didn't endear him to her.

She considered talking to her Head of House about the unwanted attention being shown her by his fellow teacher, but it hardly seemed worth it. What would she say, anyway? "Excuse me, Professor Snape, but I think Professor Quirrell is a tad too attentive to me and I'd like you to stop him from trying to get to know me." She scowled and bit her lip. Sure, that wouldn't make her sound paranoid or fearful of human contact. And, considering the gossiping, whispering, and pointing was dying down, did she really want to give them new fodder to run with?

No, she'd simply deal with it in her own way. She'd be cooly polite, and keep her distance. It worked with the other professors and surely the stuttering buffoon would get the hint and leave her to her own devices.

Severus was irritated. He knew that Quirrell was up to something, knew that he was after the Sorcerer's Stone, but couldn't for the life of him understand why. What could the incompetent teacher want with immortality? After cornering him during the holidays, he'd thought an end would come to his sneaking about, but he could almost swear it doubled. And the reports that Potter and Malfoy had seen something drinking unicorn blood in the Forbidden Forest? He sighed. Something was definitely afoot, but what.

Calligenia couldn't believe the rumors going around. The Sorcerer's Stone had been here, in the castle, all year long. And Professor Quirrell, the man who made her so uncomfortable, had been a host for the near death Lord Voldemort. Her head was spinning. She wondered if that had been why her blood seemed to boil when she'd been near him. Her mother's fanatic worship of the wizard coming out of her, perhaps. She wished she could talk to someone about it, but who? She considered Professor Snape again, but dismissed it. There was no reason to have anyone think her odder than they already considered her.

Harry Potter had proven what she'd thought all along. He really was more talented than her cousin gave him credit for. Using his friends' strengths to help him once again defeat the Dark Lord, he proved there was more to his survival than a fluke. She thought of his use of Granger and Weasley and considered it very Slytherin of him to associate with those who could empower him. She wondered if he did it intentionally, but seeing Granger rush into the Great Hall during the Leaving Feast and the greeting she and Harry shared, knew it wasn't a conscious decision. No, they were his family, not his followers. She envied them.

Severus watched Miss Lestrange watching Granger and Potter making a spectacle of themselves in the Great Hall. For a moment he thought he saw a spark of something and prayed she didn't worship Potter like the other harebrained followers. It disappeared as soon as he noticed it, replaced by the void he was so used to seeing when her eyes met his. He'd never seen a child so gifted at Occulmency, but this girl certainly was. She closed herself tighter than any witch or wizard he'd ever met.

He wondered why she did this, why she felt it necessary and realized he almost cared. Bloody hell, was he turning into McGonagall, forever worrying about her students. He tried to shake his questions about the Lestrange girl out of his mind, but he couldn't help but think about how difficult coming here must be for her. How she must feel so ostracized, so alone. He noticed that not even her own cousin stood by her, but he also noticed that she didn't seem to care. Just how much of her mother was there inside the tiny beauty?