Chapter 12: Slytherin

A small raven-haired child sat huddled in the corner of a dark room. There were no windows. No light. Loud, joyous laughter along with the occasional conversation could be heard from above. The thumps on the ceiling of the room indicated that there were people walking around.

There was a time when the child had tried to leave the dark room. Tapping on the walls. Crying. Screaming. However, soon she learnt that it was all in vain. The door that she found after dragging her body up four flights of stairs never opened no matter how many times she threw herself against it. It was completely sealed shut without allowing a single stream of light to shine through.

Still. She remembered.

She remembered the time when she had first opened her eyes and had seen the world.

She remembered the circle of elders that huddled around her with expressions of panic.

She remembered gazing at the endless blue sky in the arms of a black-haired man who carried her roughly across lush green fields, before arriving at a beautiful mansion.

She remembered the beauty of the day, and the majesty of the night as the stars glimmered quietly.

She remembered the light. The world.

She remembered.

The child remained huddled for a moment longer before she flexed her wrist, causing a spark of flame to appear shimmering just above her palm. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks as she gazed, hypnotized by her only source of light, and made a wish.

"Just once more. I wish to see the world."


With every passing moment, the harder it became to breathe. Her breath quickened gradually and eventually her mind began to surface into consciousness.

'What's happening?' she thought groggily, the last vestiges of sleep leaving her.

She took a deep breath with her mouth, and instantly choked on a mouthful of hair—

—or was it fur?

Cyrna's eyes flew open, and right in front of her, was a white fluffy bush of fur that was lazily moving up and down across her face. Her arms felt heavy as she tiredly lifted them to push the bundle of fluff that was purring contentedly by her ear.

"You're lucky that school starts on Tuesday."

Cyrna shifted painfully to sit up, every muscle resisting movement.

"Good morning, Daphne," she greeted drowsily, rubbing her eyes as Prince meowed unhappily now that his source of warmth was gone. The sheets rustled as Cyrna got out of bed and blearily slipped on her shoes that had been tossed haphazardly by her bed. "What time is it?"

"Definitely not morning," came Daphne's voice from the desk by the windows. "You're thirty minutes into lunch break."

"Wait that means," said Cyrna, mind gradually coming to full alertness, "that I've slept for sixteen hours?" Her eyes widened incredulously. "I've missed History," she groaned as she thought of the class schedule that she had received during dinner last night.

"It's fine," said Daphne as she turned around to face Cyrna from her desk, "we didn't really learn much—and honestly, most of the students were also sleeping."

"Yeah, and missing the first class on the first day of school is definitely going to make a great first expression on the teachers," Cyrna muttered sarcastically.

Daphne shrugged, "well I heard from the upper years that our Head of House doesn't care too much about History and Astronomy. Of course, he'll never verbally give us permission to skip it, but he won't rebuke us either for skipping, and—"

"—and that is basically him giving us a pass to skip the class," finished Cyrna.

"Or at least every so often," said Daphne with a grin, "actually, I'm surprised you're even awake right now. I thought you'd be much more exhausted from your performance yesterday."

Cyrna smiled sheepishly as she gingerly made her way to the bathroom. "Well if awake means feeling like death washed over you, then—" she shrugged—"I guess you can say I'm awake."

Daphne snorted in amusement, and for the next few moments, only the sounds of writing and the occasional sound of water pouring out from the tap could be heard.

"I told the other girls that you slept in because you didn't really care about going to History when they asked," Daphne suddenly spoke from the silence.

"Oh."

'I should have tried to stay awake to a decent time to avoid suspicion,' thought Cyrna regretfully, 'the explanation Daphne made is not bad, but it is flawed… still, it's better than answering honestly and telling them that I was exhausted from controlling my magic.'

Cyrna sighed. "I hope they won't examine the explanation in detail."

"Do you really think Pansy and Millicent have the intelligence to do that?" Daphne snorted, voice dripping with scorn.

"It's unprobable, but possible."

A brow arched in response, "you give them too much credit, but I guess being careful has never cost anyone."


Blue eyes blinked open, and Prince ruffled his fur before jumping gracefully off the bed and strolling up to Cyrna who was brushing her teeth. His stomach growled as he sidled up to Cyrna's leg, purring loudly.

Finished rinsing her mouth, Cyrna knelt down and scooped Prince up. "Time for food, hm?" she murmured quietly against his ears.

Prince's ears twitched, and he hopped out of her arms and sprinted out the dormitory.

"Heading for lunch?" asked Daphne, who had turned back to face the stack of papers lying on her desk.

"Yes."

Cyrna hurriedly checked for her wand and attempted to straighten her robes.

"Then you had better hurry because class starts in twenty minutes," said Daphne amusedly.

Cyrna glanced once at the clock that sat on top of the fireplace before she rushed to grab her Transfiguration textbook and notebooks.

"I'll find you later then!" Cyrna called as she dashed out of the Slytherin common room.

Daphne smiled in response before she turned her attention back to the paper lying on her desk. She continued to write, occasionally changing some parts before she appeared to be satisfied.

A while later, a shrill whistle was heard followed by a blur hurtling through the air a few seconds later.

"Regulus," said Daphne as the owl landed lightly on the perch that hung above her desk. It gazed steadily at her; its golden feathers flecked with black shimmered softly under the firelight. Daphne took one last look at the letter she had written before signing her name at the bottom of the page.

Five more minutes left till class showed the clock.

The quiet rustling of paper accompanied by the crackling of the flames filled the room as Daphne quickly sealed the envelope. She waited for the wax to cool down slightly before stamping her family insignia on the envelope.

"To tell father I've met someone interesting," Daphne murmured softly to her owl as she fastened the letter on its leg. Its charcoal-coloured beak opened as it trilled quietly in response before it spread its wings and soared away.


"Prince, Prince!" called Cyrna as she exited the common room. "Where has he gone?" she muttered as she slowly made her way up the stairs.

Despite being in the middle of the day, the darkness of the dungeons remained, and now that she could see slightly better, she noted that the walls, in some areas, seemed to be damp, though there were never any puddles on the ground.

All in all, along with the occasional dripping sounds, the dungeon was not the cheeriest place in Hogwarts. She picked up her pace when she heard a bell ring, signifying, what she assumed to be, the last fifteen minutes of lunch break. Within a few moments she was out, and just as she exited near the Entrance Hall, she spotted a white streak turning into the Great Hall.

Cyrna sighed and followed in.

The Great Hall, unlike the time at the dinner feast, was fairly empty. Most of the students had eaten and were either heading to their next class or to the library or common room for studying and socializing; still, there were a few students from each of the houses chattering amicably or studying quietly by themselves. She headed towards the Slytherin table and sat down on an empty spot, and instantly a few plates filled with an assortment of foods appeared before her.

She had been helping herself to a second spoon of mash potatoes when she heard a persistent meow from behind her.

"Finally here, Prince?" asked Cyrna with a mouthful of food.

She expected to either hear a meow in response or feel the usual brush of fur as Prince sidled up to her, asking to be fed. Instead—

—"Prince?"

Her hand which had been outstretched to scoop more potatoes paused mid-action. Her grip on the spoon tightened before it relaxed. She finished the action, and once she had her mash potatoes resting on her plate, she turned around with a beguilingly neutral expression.

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape," she greeted carefully.

His face remained impassive, his gaze cold as he slowly raised an eyebrow in impatience.

The depthless eyes boring into hers seemed to be capable of reading her every thought and secret—which, Cyrna realized, could be happening.

Quickly, she shifted her gaze so that she was looking just below his eyes.

"Oh Prince is the name of my cat," she said, her mouth dry as she stared at Prince in trepidation who continued to sniff and paw at the hem of the Professor's black robes, leaving trails of white hair in his wake.

The eyebrow arched further. Unimpressed.

Cyrna laughed nervously.

The professor's narrowed eyes seemed to analyze her for a moment longer before being replaced by an unnaturally empty gaze as he looked down impassively at Prince. His lips twisted down unpleasantly in displeasure at the sight of his robes slowly being covered with white.

He gave a sharp yank on the robe, sending the ball of fur tumbling back towards Cyrna's feet. His eyes snapped towards Cyrna, noting the expression of surprise that crossed her face before she fell back to a blank expression.

"You would do well to look after your cat," Snape drawled, "before he ends up with the... misfortune of participating as an ingredient in one of my potions."

Prince meowed piteously as he made to move towards the black-clad Professor.

Suddenly, he felt himself being lifted off from the ground into familiar arms. His human whispered gently to him, all the while scratching the back of his ears just the way he liked it. He purred contentedly and relaxed into the arms.

"Yes sir," answered Cyrna deferentially, "my apologies."

Don't pick unnecessary fights, Cyrna—especially one that'll make your school life ten times more taxing.

She felt the probing gaze roam over her face. The Professor's thin lips twisted into a thoughtful frown for a moment before smoothing out. "And I do hope your class-skipping tendencies will not persist till Friday," he said, voice dripping in sarcasm, before he swept off towards the exit of the Great Hall.

Cyrna made a mental note to never miss her Potions class, no matter what the cost.

Still, she frowned, staring at Prince as she walked to class, "Why were you bothering him, Prince?" she asked her cat, who appeared to be sleeping, "You're never friendly with strangers."

A content purr rumbling through the cat was the only response.


"Transfigurations," Professor McGonagall started when all the students had arrived, "is an art—a branch of magic that can change the form and appearance of an object… or person."

Sounds of quills scratching the paper filled the room as the Ravenclaws rushed to copy down the speech word for word.

"However," she paused, taking the time to meet each student's gaze sternly, "it is also some of the most complex and dangerous magic—"

"Sick," whispered Malfoy with a smile to Goyle, who grunted in response.

"I've heard it's one of the hardest classes in Hogwarts," muttered Daphne quietly to Cyrna who was copying down the Professor's introduction.

"Mhm," answered Cyrna distractedly, "There is a lot of science and calculations needed for Transfigurations—especially in the upper levels…" Cyrna flipped open the textbook to the pages that, based on the outline, would be covered in today's lesson and scanned them, "... extremely specific conditions have to be met for the transformation formula to be applied successfully for the more complex stuff."

"Very good, Ms. Raine."

Cyrna looked up from the textbook to see Professor McGonagall looking at her with a curious expression before she continued pacing across the classroom.

"As your classmate said, Transfigurations can become quite complex, and thus, quite dangerous. Anyone," she stressed, "anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Professor McGonagall levelled one last severe glance at the class collectively before she turned to the board and began the lecture. She spoke in a normal volume, yet her voice seemed to echo throughout the room, commanding attention.

There were all sorts of students in the class. Some began dozing off after the first 20 minutes of lecture, while others were frantically writing everything down. Some just sat and listened attentively to the Professor, and others stared blankly at the board, not understanding what was being taught.

"Sure you shouldn't have been placed in Ravenclaw, Raine?" sneered Malfoy as he watched her take notes from the lecture. "There is no need for Slytherins to lower themselves down to do such tasks," he bragged, "my father has already arranged an agreement with a top student from Ravenclaw, second year, to give me his notes and work—oh, but then again, you're just a common Half-blood." He smirked, "You've got no connections with any of the upper years."

"True," said Cyrna absentmindedly as she continued to focus on the lecture, ignoring the perceived insult, "but I'll remember and understand the material better if I make my own notes."

Malfoy snorted, "Like I said. Ravenclaw. I just need to pass with a high score—I'm sure father will figure something out for the exam."

"I thought you were interested in Transfigurations," noted Cyrna with a bit of surprise.

"Yeah. It sounds wicked," Malfoy replied carelessly, "If I end up being good at it, then great. If I don't, it's no huge loss—after all, I'll inherit the Malfoy estate. I'm not going to waste time stressing over school when I'm already destined to be one of the richest in Wizarding Britain."

Parkinson giggled quietly by Malfoy's side, "Yes, Raine, if we truly wanted to learn, we wouldn't come to Hogwarts. We'd stay at home. It's not hard getting private tutors that are just as good, if not more famous than some of the Professors here."

Cyrna paused in her writing. She frowned.

"Surely not every Slytherin thinks that."

She subtly shifted her gaze to Daphne who appeared to have written only one or two sentences down on her page. Daphne caught her gaze before she looked away and began fiddling with her quill.

"Well," Daphne cleared her throat, "Most of the Pureblood family heirs have already been tutored on the core subjects, or at least the practical parts of it." Daphne's gaze darted briefly towards Cyrna. "What Pansy said is true for most Slytherins," she whispered awkwardly, "we—myself included—didn't come here to learn." Her focus returned to the Professor who was now moving onto a practical demonstration of Transfigurations by changing her desk to a pig, then back again. "Can you guess why we are here, Cyrna?"

…well I heard from the upper years…

…an agreement with a top student…

…no connections…

"To form connections…" Cyrna murmured thoughtfully, "with the upper students, but also with your peers. You're looking for potential business partners—people that may be useful to you in the future."

"Mm, yeah," said Parkinson, idly twirling a strand of her hair, "that does sound similar to what my parents told me to do."

A valid line of thinking, Cyrna mused as she scribbled down the diagram on the chalkboard onto her notebook, but for me, knowledge and information could be the difference between life and death.


Daphne stretched leisurely on the couch by the windows in the common room. "And that's one day down," she yawned.

"Whoever had the idea of giving us a double period of Transfigurations needs to be fired," muttered Draco as he sat down with a huff.

Theodore smirked, "Upset that the first lesson wasn't as easy as you expected?"

"Well, I may have struggled, but at least my match turned somewhat silver… unlike someone's," smirked Malfoy, gazing at Cyrna who had holed herself in the study corner of the room ever since they had left Transfigurations.

Pansy giggled while Daphne shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

"You keep forgetting, Draco dear, that her blood is different from ours," said Pansy gaily, "you can't expect her to perform as well as us."

Draco snickered.

"Maybe she just needs time," said Theodore with a bored voice, "I know I wasn't able to do it immediately the first time."

Shrill laughter was heard followed by soft snickering, "Yeah, but it's the first time that someone has been unable to cause any change on the match. You should have seen McGonagall's expression when she watched Raine attempt to transfigure it into a needle, and nothing—not even a twitch—happened," said Pansy.

"Yes, that must have been the highlight of my day—"

"Actually," Daphne interjected Draco pensively, "what is strange is that out of all of us, I think Cyrna was the one who truly understood the formula and the purpose for each step."

"Did she?" asked Pansy with a smirk.

"Yes. She broke down the components of each step for me when we were practising, and after she explained the formula and the reasons, I was able to fully transfigure my match."

"Daphne was the only one with a perfect needle at the end," added Blaise as he strolled into the room, "and can I add—thank Merlin our astronomy lab doesn't start today?"

"It'll start next week once we have our lecture," answered Daphne distractedly.

"I'm not going to deal with it," Draco drawled as he relaxed on the couch, "I'll just pay a Ravenclaw to do my lab for me—it's not like Sinistra supervises the labs…"

The aimless conversation continued on for a few hours, and during this time, Daphne contemplated on the strangeness that was her new companion:

She's intelligent and powerful—even if she can't control all of it yet… she understood the theory behind the formula as if it was nothing but simple math to her…

Why wasn't she able to transfigure the match?

Eyebrows slightly furrowed, Daphne politely excused herself from the group of Slytherins that had clustered around the couches and made her way over to the small study lounge.

"Hey Cyrna," she greeted as she walked towards the raven-haired girl who was frantically flipping through several books and jotting down notes every so and then, "how's the studying going?"

The scrawling stopped abruptly. The hand holding the quill shook for a second before it relaxed and placed the quill down on the table.

Daphne heard a quiet release of breath before Cyrna turned around.

The pale green light which lit up the Slytherin room glowed softly across Cyrna's features, and the play of aqua-coloured light from the lake water outside the windows along with her companion's pitch-black hair and pale skin only seemed to accentuate those blue eyes.

She watched her companion's mouth move, but her only focus was on the eyes that seemed to glow brighter and brighter as Cyrna continued to talk on. The way they reflected the light… they shone like gems… crystals. It was unnatural. Offsetting. They glowed eerily in the darkness, painting an ephemeral look on Cyrna.

But…

They were also utterly captivating, and for a moment, under the blue-green light, she believed she was no longer talking to a human—rather, she was talking to a faerie, a creature of legends.

Suddenly

A small, thin stick was thrust into her vision, breaking whatever spell she felt she had been under.

"See," she heard the frustrated voice of her companion, "it doesn't matter what I do, it still remains the same!"

Daphne blinked a couple of times to clear her mind. She subtly shifted her gaze back on Cyrna's, and strangely enough, the eyes, which she swore had been glowing, were back to their normal crystal blue hue.

Daphne cleared her throat awkwardly, having realized that she had been silent for a while. "Well, maybe you're still exhausted from yesterday?"

Cyrna pursed her lips and let out an irritated sigh. "Perhaps," she said, her gaze taking on a faraway expression as she ran through the theories, calculations, and the formulas that she just read from the stack of Transfiguration books she had borrowed from the library.

There's no way I executed the wandwork incorrectly… my methods should have been perfect. She flipped to a page filled with scrawls of calculations and reviewed them mentally. Nope, nothing wrong here. I even adjusted the formula for the wandwork and incantation to accommodate my magical strength.

No… there is no way my theory is wrong…

"I'm not wrong," Cyrna muttered quietly to herself.

Daphne warily regarded her.

What did I just see… were her eyes really glowing?—Merlin, did I even actually see anything? She frowned lightly in confusion.

She glanced at Cyrna who seemed to be waiting for her response.

I'll think about that later.

"Well, you've got to be doing something wrong, otherwise you'd be able to transfigure the matchstick."

"And that," exclaimed Cyrna as she abruptly got up from her seat, grabbed the books, and made her out the common room, "is the issue."

Daphne hurried to catch up with her companion who was still muttering furiously to herself.

"I am not wrong, but it's true that I can't transfigure the matchstick. She was able to perform it perfectly when I helped her—so my theory and method of approach should be correct—"

"—I'll have you know, Cyrna," said Daphne with a slight frown as she followed Cyrna out the side entrance that led to the steep hill overlooking the Black Lake, "that I've always been good at Transfigurations."

The way Daphne's eyes had widened… the flash of surprise before her expression morphed into one of casual disinterest.

No, Cyrna thought with a hidden smile, today was the first time Daphne transfigured it so perfectly. She's not dull, so she must know that her results today were due to my instructions. She could have let my statement go… she didn't have much to gain from defending her abilities… which means…

… that she doesn't want me to know that I've helped her… and that to some extent, perhaps subconsciously, she has pride in her ability in Transfigurations.

"Of course," Cyrna said, "I didn't mean to imply anything like that—"

I'm not going to call her out on this until I have a better understanding of her reaction… perhaps I can use this information in the future for some sort of benefit.

"—what I mean is that since my instructions didn't seem to hinder your ability, perhaps the issue for me does actually lie in me myself."

A pause.

"Alright," Daphne answered.

Another pause.

Daphne looked around warily.

"So why are we heading to the hill?"

Cyrna's smile brightened.

"You aren't allowed to practice magic in the halls of Hogwarts—but here—" her eyes glittered with excitement as her hair whipped crazily in the wind. She gestured to the castle which was quite a distance away, "… I would like you to test some theories for me."