Rewritten: 8/7/2020

Chapter 24: The First Christmas (1/2)

Then in the Pyrenees,
I stumbled upon a clearing green
And beheld a beauty serene.
Locks of sun's glory, a drape down her back.
Reflections of noon's heavens, laid downcast.
"I will care for your Soulflower."
A whicker in answer.
"Slumber peacefully."
The world glowed brightly,
Vanishing like a dream.

The book snapped shut, her feet tapping in a slow rhythm as she thought of what had been the only paragraph that mentioned the flower. Clearly the wanderer had met someone who, like her, had been given a Soulflower from a unicorn. Terribly similar experience, including the burst of light from when the unicorn had died.

But useless.

The information in the book was ultimately useless to her—she had wanted to know what she was supposed to do with the flower once it had been given.

With a muttered curse for wasting all those hours reading and deciphering the book for nothing, she slouched resignedly on the chair. Perhaps hearing her sigh, Prince's ears pricked up, and after glancing up at her, left the spot near the window and padded towards her. It was Prince's favourite spot in the library, the spot by the window. There was always a little pool of light there, but by now, the light had shifted to a more muted tone as dusk neared.

Cyrna shifted again on her chair as she moved the book to the table beside her, not reacting when Prince gracefully leapt into her lap.

"Well I guess that was a dead end," she said to her cat.

Prince meowed in response. Sometimes, Cyrna thought it could truly understand her words.

The evening sky dimmed again, the shadows lengthening in the room. The Flamels still hadn't come to find her, so she supposed that they were really giving her this evening off. Glancing at the cold fireplace beside her, she remembered Perenelle's lecture on wandless, non-verbal magic from a few days ago. Perenelle had made it look so easy. Her brows scrunched in concentration as she began to focus on the image, of the feeling of the hearty warmth of the fire as it roared to life. It was not hard to do, however, despite the further narrowing of her eyes, accompanied by a growing frown, only a tiny spark of orange flickered to life before it was quickly snuffed out by the slight breeze coming in through the crack of the windows.

Resigned, she gave in and took out her wand. With a quick flick and incendio chanted silently in her mind, she watched as the fire sprung to life, blazing harshly before settling to a calmer flame. The hint of pleasure at her success in non-verbal magic came sharply, and she savored the sensation of satisfaction for a moment longer before reality reminded her of the whole list of things that had not gone as smoothly.

Lumos, she thought, watching her wand light up. Nox. She watched as the light disappeared.

For all that was said and done in the books, she had thought that non-verbal magic would have been harder to learn. But then again, it had been in the sixth-year curriculum, so she supposed that it wasn't so hard that students wouldn't be able to accomplish it. Besides, she suspected that her previous experience in life of being raised not hearing spells shouted in her day-to-day life had predisposed her preference to chanting the spells in her mind.

Wandless magic, on the other hand, was far harder than she expected. Wandwork helped her concentrate on her spells, like how it was more effective to point and say "over there" to direct focus to a particular object than it was to only say the words without the gesture.

She sat quietly for a moment longer in contemplative silence before she held open her palms, and the needle she summoned flew smack into its center. As always, strangely, she neither needed her wand or the spell to cast accio. She didn't know why. Not when she thought it was as equally easy to imagine incendio as it was for accio. Why could she do one wandless but not the other? She had cast enough incendios to have the image of the spell burned into her mind.

Mindlessly, her fingers sought the spot just under Prince's ears, gently stroking as a quiet purr rumbled from the cat's chest as he continued to sleep on. Then, her hand paused as she glanced at her wand, both hope and dread quickly building before she fought to quiet her emotions. Hesitantly, almost with a sort of irrational fear, she picked up her wand once more and pointed the wand to the needle, murmuring the transfiguration spell.

The needle lay gleaming on her palm; it lay there innocently as if it had not, once again, caused her heart to plummet ever so slightly. No matter how many times she had rehearsed the expected result in her mind, she could not quite escape the disappointment that followed. Still, after the lessons she'd had with Perenelle, the steady improvement of her control over her magic, and the ease at which she picked up non-verbal magic, she thought things might finally be different.

Her fingers twitched when she felt a rough, wet swipe across her curled knuckles—Prince. He stared silently at her before he yawned and lowered himself back on her lap. She opened her grip and laughed lightly for Prince, petting him as he gradually relaxed back onto her lap. But truthfully—she flexed her hand once, twice, feeling the shift in her magic as it bristled restlessly around her—she was irritated.

Irritated at her inadequacy, and equally irritated at the knowledge that she might just have to seek help. The idea that this problem might be outside her abilities to solve scalded her. It was that little voice in her mind, laughing as it mocked her intelligence. Her pride.

Prince slept on as she picked him up in a swift motion, stepping out the room with a loud exhale.

o - o - o - o - o

"Of course. Have fun, my dear," Perenelle said the same time Nicolas gave an indifferent shrug.

That was… easier than expected?

"Really?" Cyrna asked.

"Certainly," Perenelle said with a soft smile, "If anything, I was a bit worried that you were working yourself too hard—it's the holidays! You should enjoy yourself."

There were two more days till Christmas, and whenever she spoke to the Flamels, her issues with Transfigurations and the Soulflower lay at the tip of her tongue, never quite spilling out.

I'll do it tomorrow, she'd tell herself. And of course, tomorrow, never seemed to be quite right either. There was always one reason or another in the way—too tired, after her sessions with Perenelle that were coming along nicely; too busy, once Nicolas had begun a more hands-on teaching for potions.

As for today, she would also chalk it up to being a tad bit too busy. She had one taxing thing she had to accomplish today: buying Christmas presents.

"As long as you are back before dinner, and you don't wander around Knockturn Alley, I don't see any issue," Nicolas added in his characteristically gruff voice. "You're an adult up in that head of yours, aren't you? If your idiocy gets you into any trouble, it is all on you."

Perenelle cuffed her husband lightly, a fond twinkle in her eyes. "I'm sure you'll be able to blend in with the others."

Cyrna nodded as she focused on the magic surrounding her, tucking in a handful of strands.

"That's my student," Perenelle said with a strangely smug grin as she patted Cyrna on her head, grin only widening when Nicolas shot a small scowl at her.

With a sharp cough, Nicolas drew Cyrna's attention back. He stuck his hand into the pocket of his robes and withdrew a small pouch, unceremoniously dumping it on her hand. "A bit of change for your outing—for snacks or the like, I suppose."

Her hand dipped when she took the pouch. "I'll be careful not to spend too much," Cyrna said, warily eying the pouch.

The rough fabric of Nicolas' robes lifted as he brought his weathered hand up to rub his jaw in an abrupt motion. He scowled again. "It's just change. Do what you want with it. Whatever is left is yours to keep."

Cyrna's eyes widened, then glanced at Perenelle who nodded affirmatively with a smile that crinkled the edges of her eyes. "Don't think too much, my dear. Just have some fun."

And soon, after one last wave, she found herself back in the familiar streets of Diagon Alley. But unlike the first time she had visited, today, a thick carpet of white lay on the top of the roofs and lampposts. Snow crunched beneath her shoes as she strolled through the packed crowd, an ever-shifting sea of blurred colours filled with joyful chatter. The shops were all lit in a warm yellow tone with inviting carols playing in good cheer. She took her time, carefully browsing through several shops before she settled on the presents for her friends.

"Thank you for your help. Merry Christmas," she said with a sharp smile as she left Flourish and Blotts with her purchase. Magical Muggles—Hermione's present. A gold-coloured pen, sculpted to look like a Nimbus 2000—Ron's present.

She didn't ask why the familiar shopkeeper, who had trembled the moment she smoothly mentioned that she would be meeting up with Daphne after, had given her more than half-off on her items and had thrown in a leather case for the pen for free. What had surprised her in the bookstore had been the small gleaming mounds of gold she had seen when she had opened the pouch Nicolas had given her. A bit of change, he had said. Of course the Flamels would be filthy rich. She didn't know why she had expected a mixture of sickles and knuts the pouch.

She almost felt bad for paying the discounted price. Almost.

Humming a quiet tune under her breath, she stepped back into the biting cold and rounded the corner to a smaller store which sold enchanted items and picked up a small cloth pouch – much like the pouch Nicolas had given her, except it had been charmed to be able to store up to fifty items of any size. Its red was a rustic red, a tone down from the garish red she had come to associate with Gryffindors, and the golden embroidery was of the sun rather than of a lion. Well, it was an undeniably Gryffindor piece. A Slytherin wouldn't be caught dead with this.

Now all that was left were the presents for her Slytherin friends and the Flamels.

She pondered upon them as she wove her way through the crowds, tucking herself deeper into her night blue cloak whenever a stronger gust of winter wind rushed through the streets or when she caught adult wizards staring curiously or speculatively at her, probably thinking that she was lost or separated from her parents that had brought her. After all, she had spent hours in Diagon Alley, and had wandered past the same couple of shops more than three times in her uncertainty.

This was her fourth time past a candy shop—if you didn't know the person well enough, chocolate was always a good bet—when she caught wind of wary mutterings ahead. She stiffened, thinking someone would approach her, but when no one did, she carefully pushed onwards. The crowd gave way, becoming sparser as the mutterings became louder. She chanced a glance at the wizards and caught a quick glimpse of the scowls and sneers on some, of the pursed lips on others as they hurried past her in a brisk stride.

The people hadn't seemed frightened. Disdain and contempt the more apparent emotion they expressed. Nothing dangerous then, she thought, as she strolled onwards at a steady pace with the songs of Christmas playing in the background, a jarring contrast to the faces of the crowd. Finally, she made it to the front of what appeared to be an empty space on the streets as people gave wide berth to a dark figure who strode on, seemingly uncaring of the disturbance he caused.

Instinctively, her mouth fell open. Half in surprise, half for the greeting ready on her lips. Her body had turned towards him, when a hand clamped on her wrist.

Cyrna gave a startled cry when she was tugged back. "Let go!" She wrenched her arm out of the grasp, backing away while keeping the man, who she was sure was Snape, in her peripheral vision.

Said figure had come to an abrupt stop at her commotion, and had turned to face her direction.

Stance settled into the familiar dueling position that Perenelle taught her—illegal use of magic outside of Hogwarts be damned—her wand was in her hand when the woman quickly placed her hands up in a calming gesture.

She hesitated, heart racing as she remained tense.

"I mean you no harm, child," the woman said briskly.

A ripple in the woman's robes, and she saw a child shyly poke his head from behind them. With a grimace, she hastily lowered her wand.

"Sorry, ma'am," Cyrna apologized, though she kept her distance. "You startled me."

The woman's laugh was gentle as she coaxed her child back out.

"It's alright. No harm was done," the witch said, running her hand down her child's arm in a comforting motion. "I was just worried you were heading in the wrong direction. Where are your parents?" she asked, her expression concerned. "There are some mean people out here, and you shouldn't be out alone."

She did not want the woman volunteering to help find her parents. "Mean people?" she asked instead.

The woman nodded gravely towards the dark figure who was still standing in the same spot. Cyrna looked, and though Snape was still a distance away, it appeared that he was looking directly at her.

"Used to be a Death Eater, that one. A dangerous man your parents should have warned you to steer far away from."

Cyrna watched as Snape tensed before spinning away sharply, striding away. She made an aborted step towards him, instinctively again, before she was halted by the woman's gentle hand.

"Stay away," the woman warned.

Cyrna bit back a retort, then blinked with confusion. Why was she so annoyed anyways? It had nothing to do with her. She relaxed. "Well regardless of the past, he is still my professor, ma'am," she said evenly. Noticing that the figure had suddenly stilled again, she withdrew her arm from the woman. "And I have learnt a lot about Potions from him."

She gave what she hoped to be a friendly smile to the woman before she hurried towards her professor. No other wizards stopped her, though few eyed her with concern and speculation. As she neared him, she found his lips curled with disdain, eyes inscrutable as he stared at her. She wondered what god forsaken idea had prompted her to approach him.

"Come to pay respects to a Death Eater, Miss Raine?" Snape said snidely, the vitriol in his voice not one that was often directed at her or any other Slytherins.

Well, if she had wondered if Snape had heard them, this was her answer.

"I wasn't aware that was a secret, Professor Snape," Cyrna answered with a small smile, hoping to diffuse the tension on the set of his shoulders.

Snape took one look at the wizards listening in before he scowled and strode away. Cyrna almost had to run to catch up. "Rumors in the House, and all the students with their parents who are identified as Death Eaters seem to respect you. A lot," she added as they turned down a more secluded alley way.

But Snape kept them visible to the open public, standing only at the entrance of the alley as he turned to stare at her. "And you?" he demanded stiffly; inflection hidden in his tone.

"For me?" Cyrna chewed on her lip for a moment before she caught herself. She wondered how she should answer this, then decided to stick to partial honesty. "You've encouraged and allowed me to learn far more than what is a necessity," she said hesitantly, "You have protected me, and you have not been needlessly cruel to me. Despite other things, it would be hard for me not to hold any respect for you."

The inscrutable stare was back once again. She had never been able to read him well, and she just hoped she had not offended him. Had she been too careful with her words? Too selective? She stilled when she heard a low hum from Snape. Then in the next moment, he had stridden back out to the open street. Snape paused when she did not follow.

"Well hurry up," he snapped. "Tell me what you came to ask from me so I can get back to my peace. My time is precious, Miss Raine, and there are far better things for me to spend it on than speaking to you."

Cyrna hid the grin that would betray her feeling of satisfaction as she stepped beside the wizard and followed closely behind him. Quickly she realized that she did, in fact, have a question she'd very much like to ask.

"Sir, what would be an appropriate gift for Daphne and Theodore?"

"You came to me to ask me for gift ideas?" Snape responded icily without looking back at her. He kept his gaze forward, blank and impassive as he ignored the disdain that surrounded him.

"For Purebloods, sir," she corrected, bristling slightly when she caught some of the stares that were thrown at her professor. At her, she corrected herself. Yes. That was why she was more irritable. Taking a deep breath, she forced her tone to lighten. "What would be an appropriate first gift to show them that I would like to further the relationship?"

The only show of surprise on the professor's face was a quick raise of his brow. "So eager to entangle yourself in the mess of politics, Miss Raine?" His tone held a hint of darkness and derision that surprised Cyrna.

She held her silence, waiting patiently for his answer.

A sigh that vocalized how stupid he thought she was for wanting to know. "Matching accessories of some sort if you are certain the other party also wants to further the relationship," he finally said with a sneer. "Though it would be to your embarrassment if they chose not to wear it. If you must, start out slow—give them something that is easily hidden before choosing items that are more pronounced."

That sounded way to formal. Too constraining socially and politically, and she wasn't sure she wanted to commit anything. "How about something that's a bit more… casual?" Cyrna asked. "More for friends and less for politics?"

Snape actually paused in his stride to give her a long dispassionate stare. "Those things are interchangeable in Slytherin, Miss Raine. If you did not know that, I pity your friends." His brows drew together ever so slightly. "And if you had half a brain, you'd try to stay away from House politics. You don't need it. You have all the power you need to make it in the world, and it is only misfortune that awaits those who seek for more that they can handle."

She was silent as snow crunched loudly beneath both their shoes. Isolated from the crowd, walking through the streets were a lot faster than it would have been if she had tried to push her way through the crowd. The bitterness in Snape's voice was not lost on her, and she felt strangely touched that he had tried, in his own way, to warn her. But—

"But I'm already playing their game, sir. I think it's a bit too late now to exit." She liked the support she got from Daphne. It gave her a lot of leeway when it came to defending herself from other members of the house. "What gifts would you give if you just wanted to maintain the status quo? I'm satisfied with what I have with them," she asked quietly.

"Wine," he said coldly at long last, shoulders stiffening once more. "But since you are all tiny dunderheads with minds addled enough without alcohol to do so for you, perhaps a box of fine chocolates or potions that they would find of value. Felix Felicis, for your far future, would be a good example, though it is difficult enough to get your hands on a vial even if you have the funds to purchase it."

She wilted a bit at his tone. But he didn't know what would happen. As things got more hectic in the future, she would not be safe at all if she was alone in a den of mini Death Eaters.

"Then I guess I should head to the potions store," Cyrna said when the professor did not speak again. As she passed him, Snape suddenly spoke.

"Miss Raine, where are your parents?"

She stiffened but relaxed quickly. "They're close," she answered, hoping that he would not pry any further. "Good day, professor."

Away from him, she alone bore the glances of the wizards who had seen her with Snape. Forcing her posture to remain relaxed, she had only taken a few more steps before she heard a stifled sigh. A moment later, Snape had caught up to her in three long strides. Cyrna glanced up at the professor who had a thunderous scowl on his face, twisting the harsh lines on his face to something even harsher. She gulped nervously, wondering what she had done to irritate the man this time.

"I find myself heading to Slug & Jiggers Apothecary as well," Snape said tersely. "Follow quickly, Miss Raine. I will show you the potions the Purebloods would welcome as a gift because no doubt, you would make terrible choices that would offend Miss Greengrass and Mr. Nott if I do not."

Cyrna eyed the man beside her warily. "Then thank you, Professor Snape."

But Snape only scowled more, expression darkening. Cyrna wondered just what went through that mind of his. Maybe he had wanted her to turn down his offer? Ah well. Too late now. She winced and hurried after the man.