Chapter 11

(*remember… Cyrus' physical features resembles that of a Black, as he does not look very much like a Potter anymore)

As dawn approached an arrestingly resplendent castle nestled in the depths of northern Scotland, a few beams of light crept into the Slytherin dungeons like a thief; intent upon stealing the much needed rest from the exhausted souls in dorm chamber number seven. However, before the sun could gently rouse the chamber mates, an ear-piercing 'crack' echoed throughout the room. At once, the haughty first year aristocrats shot upright from their beds to catch the culprit who dared to wake them five minutes early, Draco Malfoy with a murderous expression plastered onto his face.

To everyone's bewilderment though, it was their unsanctioned chieftain Cyrus Black, who had seemingly been up all night studying in his new collapsed trunk and had carelessly slammed his door in what appeared to be exasperation.

Draco, who had instantly contorted his dignified features back into their somewhat usual pleasantries, was clearly no longer bothered by the rude awakening, shouting after Cyrus as he left the dormitory, "Everything all right, mate?!"

"Fine," he replied indifferently as he waltzed out the door with a wicked grimace lingering on his lips, somehow already bathed and groomed for the day.

Having skipped class the last few days under the alibi of illness, Cyrus had been mostly locked away in the Dark Lord's trunk in complete seclusion ever since discovering the text that lay in his middle drawer. Originally, he had thought that there must have been some kind of mistake in seeing his name written in the back Lord Tyranicus' tale, or perhaps a mere coincidence. Nevertheless, the more he tried to push the evident truth out of his mind the faster it came racing back to him, screaming of incontrovertible validity. Because of this, Cyrus had read through dozens of Lord Voldemort's own academic works by now in an attempt to discredit him in his mind as a mad man who had a loose grip on factuality. Unfortunately, what he had found was that while Tom Riddle had inarguably gone mad at some point before his downfall, he was also undeniably brilliant.

Cyrus was now seething in acrimony, fortuitously concealing his righteous indignation from others as he headed for the main dining hall. His life simply wasn't fair, he thought to himself. He did genuinely believe that he was indebted to the dark's cause of course, but ever since he was born unfathomable expectations had been heaped upon him as if he were some kind of god meant to rescue humanity from their own sheer asininity and folly. In reality though, he was simply a child that wanted what any other young wizard his age might want – friends, family, and freedom. Yet, fate seemed to have robbed him of any liberty to enjoy the friends and family he did have, always having other designs for him at every turn. Once expected to one day fulfill his destiny as then new lord of the dark's cause, fate was now asking of him a much larger responsibility, one that he had no plans of pursuing and one that he felt he had absolutely no obligation or duty to carry out. Besides, reaching Lord Voldemort's potential was daunting enough – often believing he would never be able to match his abilities. To think he would ever be able to contest with Lord Tyranicus was foolish in the extreme, as he felt his ancient abilities far surpassed his own.

Finally reaching the main dining hall, he found himself to be the very first Slytherin to arrive. Thanking god that he was, he decided to forget all about Lord Tyranicus' tale and refocus on his school work, and more importantly his families' wishes for him – as intimidating as they were. Just as he began to calm down and reach for a platter of spiced goose meat though, a school owl came swooping overhead to drop a piece of mail on his plate.

Not even bothering to see who it was from, Cyrus immediately tore the envelope open and began perusing the letter. It read –

Dear Cyrus-

I hope all is going well at school dear, Lucius and I miss you very much already. I know it's early but we were thinking that we might go to Switzerland over the holidays. How do you think you and Draco would feel about that? It's some time from now, so you'll have plenty of time to decide, of course. Anyway…I thought you might be interested to know how your father's rabbit is doing (…makes me laugh every time seeing those two together, such an odd couple they are), as there have been some remarkable developments ever since you left for Hogwarts. There are already a dozen rabbits in the garden…well I shouldn't say garden anymore… The manor is now surrounded by what appears to be the beginnings of a jungle, and as an expert in herbology I can say that I am truly in fascination… not having even heard of some of the plants currently growing. Don't tell your father I said so but it's actually quite humorous as well… as your father is required to go through a series of formalities with the rabbits just to enter the house coming home from work. Not to say that he isn't pleased…he surely is, but I can tell he gets quite irritated at times. At any rate, I hope you and Draco write us back soon and let us know how school is going. We love you both very much.

-Your mother

Allowing a hint of a smile to grace his lips for the first time in days, Cyrus folded the letter and put it in his silk emerald robes, planning to show Draco later on.

Hoping he would hear from Aunt Bella sooner rather than later, he finished his breakfast in a hurry before heading off to his first class of the day…

BREAK….

"Well Mr. Black…I'm waiting," Professor McGonagall chirped in a rather vexatious tenor, almost as if she were trying to provoke am impudent response.

The aging witch had singled Cyrus out promptly upon entering her classroom, evidently none too pleased with his unpardoned absence throughout the week. Supposedly, every Friday was an examination day for first year transfiguration students in order to prove whether or not they were able to complete their given task throughout the week. The first week's assignment, to Cyrus' surprise, was turning matchsticks into needles.

Never in his life had he been asked to accomplish a chore of such utter simplicity. Then again, only on rare occasions in his life had he the opportunity of pursuing his education in the midst of other young witches and wizards, as he was nearly always tutored in private by his famed tutor, Nestor Kozlov. Glancing around the classroom, he noticed that every other student was attempting to salvage some practice time with their matchstick before their upcoming examination, all unsuccessful in their fruitless endeavors. Even Hermoine Granger hadn't been able to transform her matchstick into a perfect needle, which was slightly flawed in one way or another. It came as a shock to him that only Draco appeared to have mastered the assignment, who had also previously endured extensive tutoring at home.

How everyone else around him could be so ordinary was an enigma to him. But then… quite suddenly, as if Merlin had struck him with a magical bolt of confidence, he thought that maybe it wasn't his peers after all…but him. He knew he was talented, and perhaps even a prodigy, but this….it was something he had never expected in all his life. The fact that others around him were unable to simply transform a matchstick into a needle was flabbergasting to him.

Seeing an opportunity to prove himself at once, the first step in becoming the wizard his family wished him to be, he looked up at Professor McGonagall's beady eyes with a slight smirk curling on his lips.

"All you want is a needle?" he asked amusingly, "That's no fun. Why don't we start with a more comfortable chair for you to sit in or perhaps a snake or something and just go from there?"

Professor McGonagall's stern countenance, one that reminded Cyrus of a muggle nun, immediately faded to one of an entertainedsuperior, chuckling in a condescending manner as she prepared herself for a tirade of the boys' childish and ill-conceived notions regarding the delicate art called transfiguration.

"My dear boy…" she began in superficial merriness, "I think that you will find the subtle nuances required to master this branch of magic to be far out of your reach at the moment. If you had ever –"

At once, there was an audible spark as Cyrus casually flicked his wand towards his matchstick, transforming it into a six foot cobra, one that almost perfectly resembled his familiar.

There were gasps everywhere as the snake started to hiss madly in a startled fashion. Quickly finding this as another perfect opportunity,Cyrus started speaking to the snake in parseltounge.

"I command you…do not harm anyone...Come to me."

Backing away slowly from Professor McGonagall's ghastly expression, the cobra slithered up Cyrus' arm and rested itself around his shoulders in a protective manner, which instantly provoked Sevins to come out beneath his master's robes and do the same.

Quickly gazing around the classroom, he saw that every single student save Draco and Pansy were either on their feet looking at one another in hysteria to confirm what they had just seen, or sitting in their chair wearing horrific faces, seemingly afraid to move an inch.

"Ssshall we eat her, master?" Sevins hissed almost pleadingly, as if he were tempted to spring forward and devour the old bat right then and there.

Before Cyrus could respond though, there was a loud thud. At turning his head away from his frightened peers and back towards Professor McGonagall in the matter of a heartbeat, he saw their teacher lying on the floor with her limbs sprawled.

Professor McGonagall had just fainted.

BREAK…

After the Gryffindors had left to carry Professor McGonagall's unconscious body down to the hospital wing, all the Slytherins began to follow Cyrus to their next class in awe, all whispering and chattering in the back of the crowd as if he were not able to hear them.

Cyrus, who had certainly not planned on causing his professor to faint, was now smiling inwardly to himself as Draco ran to the front of the herd.

"Well…if that cotton ball trick wasn't an introduction, then this certainly was, eh?" he asked excitedly, obviously proud that he was able to be in front of the crowd with his brother.

Revealing his smile a bit, Cyrus only nodded his head before adopting a more sincere disposition. "Yes…yes it is. But we aren't done yet," he said casually, making sure to include Draco as if he had actually played a role. "Our family wants Slytherin united, if that means we must lead them….then we must first prove ourselves…..to everyone."

Draco noticed the rare air of supreme confidence in his brother's voice and the look of intense focus. He was marching with a sense of purpose now and conducting himself in a manner he never had before. Deciding to stay silent and allow his brother to concentrate on whatever it was he was thinking of, as did Theodore and Pansy who followed closely behind, Draco only watched as his brother began to transform right in front of him. Of course, it wasn't that Cyrus had never been confident, but he had never really been a leader in the entirety of the word. The fact that he was now leading an entire class of Slytherins like ducks in line, all looking at him like he was a prophet that had just preformed miracles, was most certainly a first.

As they reached a rather impressive log cabin just outside the forbidden forest, where Sirius Black now taught the care of magical creatures, everyone stopped walking the exact moment Cyrus did.

It was only a few moments later when the Gryffindors came hurrying along, who were led by Seamus Finnegan and the outspoken Ron Weasley. It looked as if every Gryffindor desperately wanted to say something cutting to Cyrus and the rest of the Slytherins, and yet had somehow managed to restrain themselves – an uncharacteristic moment for them, to be sure.

Still, as if on que, it was only a few minutes longer before Ron burst out in Cyrus' direction.

"So… the great Cyrus Black," Ron began sarcastically. "You're the heir of Slytherin everyone has been talking about, aren't you? I don't know why Dumbledore hasn't banned your house…a bunch of slimy gits, the lot of you! If it were me in charge –"

"Silence!" Cyrus voiced with a casual force in his tenor, almost acting as if Ron were a house elf as he waived his hand nonchalantly in Ron's direction - wandlessly casting a silencing spell he had learned from Nestor. Again, Draco noticed his air of confidence was growing larger by the second.

Ron, whose lips kept moving until he noticed that his voice had abandoned him, looked absolutely furious as he covered his mouth in embarrassment.

Everyone in the class, both Slytherins and the startled Gryffindors, were now speechless as they looked at Cyrus in total shock. He was casually commanding the respect of his fellow Slytherins while instilling fear in all first year Gryffindors.

Before anyone else dared to utter a word, Professor Black waltzed out of his cabin in his usual cheerful self; arms spread wide open as if he wanted to embrace the entire class at once.

"First years! First years! My favorite bunch of students! Welcome to Care and Defense of Magical Creatures!" he began warmly with a slight chuckle. "Well…I added that second part on my own, but being the former defense teacher….it's quite true. I should tell you now, Dumbledore wishes me to not only teach you how to care for magical creatures, but also defend yourself. So don't let the title of this class fool you …..Anyway, let us not waste any time, the class is too short as it is! Today…you will be learning to defend yourself against a boggart."

As Sirius started to explain the nature of a boggart to the entire class, Cyrus could feel his blood trickle with anger throughout his veins. As far as he was concerned, this was the man who had recklessly caused the death of his mother. They only shared a few awkward glances throughout his speech, yet he never stumbled once, acting as if Regulus' son meant nothing to him.

Trying to take his mind off of Sirius so that he didn't cause another magical outburst like he had in Dumbledore's presence, Cyrus took leisure in seeing how Draco was holding up. His brother, however, didn't seem fazed at all by the man and was listening to his speech on the boggart quite intently, which he supposed wasn't too odd as they had no real history together.

Just as Cyrus was about to turn his attention back to Sirius though, he noticed a ray of light shed from the trees above shine on Draco for a few seconds. His mangled blonde hair was speckled with dirt, though its radiance seemed ever sustaining – a light golden crown with hints of rubies that faded back to honey blonde during the longer summer days of the year. His hair had always been a secret pride of Draco's – much to Cyrus' humor – and it was peculiar that he had left it in such a disorderly state. Taking a mental note of this, Cyrus turned back to Sirius to hear what he had to say.

"Now…go ahead and form a line and we'll begin immediately!" Sirius directed excitedly, having already finished his speech on the boggart.

It was no surprise to Cyrus at this point when the Slytherins immediately formed a single file line behind him, whose actions were then reluctantly followed by the Gryffindors. However, Cyrus suddenly wished that his peers had gotten in line in front of him, as he had never faced a boggart before and was afraid of what the results might be. The only two things he was afraid of was a disappointed look on his father's face or the impossible reincarnation of Lord Voldemort, neither of which he wanted the class to see… particularly Sirius regarding the latter. Yet, here he was as the first one in line with absolutely no choice whatsoever.

"Aw…Cyrus! Right? Good of you to volunteer!" Sirius congratulated, obviously attempting to make their student – teacher relationship seem less awkward than it was. "When I open this trunk next to me I want you to do exactly as I said. Understand? It is vital that you pronounce correctly. Now….on three."

Cyrus, who didn't really hear Sirius' instructions at all, was now starting to panic as the count began.

"…two….three!" Sirius bellowed in excitement as he opened the trunk.

Right away a jet black mist came rushing out of the trunk and began to whirl in unimaginable speeds. Cyrus, as well as the entire class, was waiting for something appallingly horrid to appear before him. However, the black figure did not stop whirling as it approached Cyrus. Instead, it began to decelerate and lose shape as it neared closer and closer to him.

The entire classroom's anticipation grew into dying curiosity as the black figure halted within feet of Cyrus, and rather than morphing, stopped whirling entirely and appeared as a shrouded black mist absent of any real shape. It was here and now that the very first boggot was seen by wizarding eyes in its original form, right at the nose of Cyrus Black.