Chapter 26: Conflicting Perspectives
"This one?"
Cyrna nodded as Harry landed beside her on the branch of a tall tree. To her relief, neither of the professors seemed to notice them. Down below, Snape towered over Quirrell who had shrunk back, quivering against a tree. And though the best she could hear was an indistinct mumble, she didn't need to hear any words to feel the tension that coiled in the air below them. Then abruptly, the tension tightened—a string taut—as Snape made a sudden move forward.
Quirrell jolted back. A loud thwack echoed as he collided with the tree behind him.
"Have you found out how to get past the beast of Hagrid yet, Quirrell?" Snape's voice rose to an icy hiss, a volume now audible to her and Harry.
"S-Severus, I—"
"You don't want me as your enemy Quirrell."
"I-I don't understand—"
Snape cut in. "Your little bit of hocus pocus," he sneered. "I'm waiting."
"B-But—"
Harry's hand tightened on her wrist even as his eyes remained peeled on the scene below.
The sky darkened, the last bits of orange and pink fading from the sky. It was then that Snape pulled his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing, leaving behind Quirrell who stood there stock still, staring at Snape as he left. They flew back in silence, holding their breath till Quirrell was but a small dot in the night.
o - o - o - o - o
"I knew it. It's Snape," Harry declared as they snuck through the main doors of the castle.
"Professor Snape?" Cyrna made a noise of confusion. "What do you mean?"
Cautiously, Harry looked around. The hallways, lit by rows of candles revealed several students. Most minded their own business as they passed by them to the Great Hall. "Would you believe me if I said that Snape was trying to steal something?" he asked in a low tone.
She pulled her brows into a small furrow. "Is that why you asked me to follow him, Harry?"
Harry nodded.
"Not that I don't believe you… but he's a professor. What would he want to steal from the school? I mean, I think the most expensive things in the school are the potions and some of the plants in the herbology greenhouses, and I doubt he'd steal his own potions or a plant."
"Well, maybe it isn't a plant or a potion."
Cyrna turned with a sigh. "Harry, I'm—"
Reaching the Great Hall, she was cut off when Harry shushed at her. Not that he needed to since she would have swallowed her own words back as well. The Great Hall was fairly empty, being far past dinner time, and while most of the students had already left, the high table still housed occupants. Dumbledore was there, his eyes twinkling when they met hers and Harry's. But it was Snape, in all his black and scowling glory, seated right beside the Headmaster that silenced them both. Unreadable—till he caught sight of them. Snape scowled then. At her. At Potter. At the both of them—Cyrna wasn't sure.
"You know? I don't think I want dinner any more," Harry said decisively.
There was a strange sinking feeling in her gut. One that she didn't think had anything to do with Harry's comment—she hissed irritably.
"What?" Harry said with a frown. "You still want to eat?"
Snape had gone back to his dinner, though Cyrna was not fooled for a moment that he was no longer paying attention to them. The man had eyes on the back of his head. "It'll be a bit weird if we walk straight back out right now."
"A quick bite then," Harry muttered, agreeing with Cyrna. "But we should hurry. We need to tell Ron and Hermione about this."
"We?" Cyrna pulled Harry back over to the Hufflepuff table, not willing to go to the Gryffindor table with Snape in the room.
Harry did not deign to reply to her question. Instead, he whispered back his own inquiry of, "Seriously?" when the Hufflepuffs at the table turned to look at them as they settled down.
Cyrna belatedly remembered that perhaps Ravenclaw might have been the better option since Harry had just beaten Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match.
"Ah… sorry," she whispered back to which Harry glanced with a hint of apprehension at the approaching Hufflepuffs. But it seemed that her apologies and his worries weren't necessary in the end since the Hufflepuffs weren't too upset at all. In fact, many came to congratulate Harry over the victory. One even thanked him for breaking Slytherin's victory streak—much to Harry's embarrassment when he remembered that Cyrna was in fact a Slytherin.
"It's just that seven years is a lot," Susan explained to Cyrna in a timid smile, still nervous after their encounter at Charms. "Many of our upper-years said that they just want the banners to not be green at the last feast for once in their year of Hogwarts."
There was silence at their end of the Hufflepuff table when she realized that they were waiting for her response. It had been Ernie, Susan's friend that had said that to Harry. Hannah—Cyrna recognized her—was watching too, eyes darting between both of her friends. Susan's expression was apologetic and Ernie's was a bit more confrontational when he stared at her.
Cyrna cleaned off her plate. "Well—" Harry was conveniently looking elsewhere when she cast a look at his direction. "The House Cup holds no impact on my grades, I believe. And so, it holds no impact on my future," she said coolly.
Hannah laughed nervously after a moment. "That's practical, I suppose."
"So you don't care if Slytherin loses the Cup?" Ernie asked disbelievingly. Harry's expression echoed Ernie's and even Susan looked a bit puzzled. McGonagall had drilled it into them when they first arrived that there was glory and pride in winning the House Cup.
All insubstantial things that wouldn't help her in life. So no, Cyrna really didn't care.
She opened her mouth to say just that when Harry suddenly stiffened, mouth firming into a tight line as if it was trying to guard the words that wanted to escape. The Hufflepuffs' eyes had widened comically, and when she heard a swish of robes behind her—her back to the staff table—she knew exactly who it was.
Cyrna cleared her throat. "Nothing can be expected to last forever," she answered them noncommittally. "But of course, if we were to lose, we would simply work harder to win the next."
"Indeed."
The baritone voice rolled smoothly over her though it was anything but calming.
"And a fool's luck too, will not last forever."
Cyrna turned around.
"Miss Raine. Potter. A word with the both of you. Now."
Snape strode out of the Great Hall.
It was a hasty farewell Cyrna and Harry gave to their tablemates when they left, the pitying looks of the Hufflepuff only a reminder of what awaited them.
"You don't think Snape knows… right?" Harry whispered to her as they trudged off.
Cyrna bit her lip. "You best hope he doesn't because being in the Forbidden Forest might be grounds for expulsion—for me at least." Because Snape was her Head of House. He had no say over Harry's expulsion. Though even if he did, she didn't think Harry could be expelled.
Harry turned a bit pale then furrowed his brows at the last. "For you?"
"You'll likely get away with anything short of murder, Harry," Cyrna said dryly. "Not that I recommend you to do so."
"Because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived," he said with a frown.
She cleared her throat and gave him a light pat on the shoulders. "Well they won't want to get rid of their prodigy seeker either," she joked. "Me, on the other hand." She sighed in a dramatic fashion.
Harry snorted and cracked a smile.
Cyrna relaxed a tiny bit.
There weren't many students in the hallway, and there were none at all in the shadowed alcove that Snape drew them to. A subtle motion, as if Snape was just moving his hand back to his side—but Cyrna caught the flash of his wand and the blanket of magic that then covered the three of them.
So Snape wanted to scold them out of the hearing of others. Perplexing. Since when did Snape hold back from giving Potter a public thrashing?
"Fifteen minutes before curfew and you finally decide to grace the Great Hall with your presences. A Gryffindor and Slytherin together, no less." Snape said lowly. "Now where could the both of you have been?"
Harry was almost instantly defensive, his face flushing an angry red. "We were—"
"Ah, but Potter. Be careful. Wandering about the school so close to curfew, flouting the rules—You wouldn't want to lose any points, now would you? Not when Gryffindor is for once in the lead?"
"No, sir. We were just, uh, studying in the library," Harry said.
"Just the two of you. In the library," Snape said slowly, drawing out the syllables. "Studying."
Cold black eyes bore down on him. Harry glared back.
"It's true, Professor," Cyrna interrupted, not wanting Harry to reveal anything in anger. Internally, she wondered if it was possible to save such a blatant lie. Everyone knew that where Harry was, Hermione and Ron were too! And the library? Harry? Those didn't go together. "Hermione and Ron were with us in the library. They left for dinner, but we decided to stay a bit longer."
Harry tried to look as if he had heard this before; struggled to hide his shock—Cyrna had lied for him! Against her Head of House! He held his breath when Snape gave Cyrna a piercing stare, hoping she wouldn't get in trouble. It was swift—the way Snape's brows drew together for a moment as he frowned faintly. He looked disappointed? Displeased? His expression was actually rather mild compared to what Harry usually saw on the Potions professor… he didn't look as mean. Which conversely, looked completely wrong on Snape's face.
A sharp twist of Snape's head and Harry found himself pinned under his glare again. Except, this time, the bite and the particular glint Harry associated with the bat of the dungeons was present. The usual.
"And whatever would you be studying for, Miss Raine, that would not have held Miss Granger's presence at the library—as enthralling as I'm sure studying is to her?" Snape drawled.
"Divinations, sir. Hermione thought it to be a bit too abstract for her liking. She prefers things with more structure and precision, I think."
"And such nonsense appeals to the both of you? A third-year elective, no less." Through this all Snape's beady black eyes never left him. "Potter, why don't you tell me what you now know about Divinations. Hm?"
"Well, I—" Harry started, not knowing really where to go with it.
"I was only discussing Divinations with Hermione, sir," Cyrna thankfully cut in. "Professor Sinistra had a tangent where she spoke of the link Divinations has with Astronomy—Astrology, I believe the term was. Daphne seemed to think highly of the idea, so I thought to look into it with Hermione. Harry and Ron were just talking about Quidditch. Something about his last dive for the snitch."
The dive where Harry had flown straight past Snape, almost colliding with him on course for the snitch. Cyrna was sure neither would forget that moment.
"Yeah, Ron wanted to know what had been going through my head when I pulled that stunt," Harry said, trying to match the confidence Cyrna exuded even as the lies fell smoothly from her lips. He swallowed back a bunch of other retorts he'd rather say to Snape—a simple thief! How dare he act so overbearing?
Beady eyes narrowed at him. "The stunt," Snape hissed. "Ah yes, perhaps next time, it would do you well to use those two eyes of yours to look at where you were going, lest you run over someone on your way—but no doubt, Potter, you wouldn't care if you did would you? You only had your eyes peeled on the glory."
A heated wave. A boiling rush—"And I enjoyed every bit of it when we won," Harry said.
Something recoiled in Snape's eyes. "As your saint of a father would have done, I'm sure," he sneered.
Harry bristled with anger, not knowing much about his father, but knowing that Snape wasn't insinuating anything good about him. Beside him, he felt Cyrna's hand brush against his in a warning. He struggled, managing only barely to pull back his words because it was true that he didn't want to lose any more points for Gryffindor—they had just inched by Slytherin. He glared mutinously at Snape.
The silence was tenuous at best; one word from either of them was likely to set the other off. Cyrna pressed her lips tightly together, determined not to make a single sound. Perhaps her plan to divert Snape's attention had worked a bit too well.
A bell rang somewhere in the castle. Curfew.
Snape's eyes glinted.
Then in that moment of silence, before Snape could, no doubt, deduct points from Gryffindor and maybe from Slytherin, she heard a whisper of fabric. A sound of tinkling bells and a gentle clearing of a throat. She turned to look at the entrance of the alcove, stiffening when she saw the twinkle of light blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles.
"Good evening, Mister Potter. Miss Raine. Professor Snape," said Dumbledore. A pleasant smile was on his face.
"Headmaster," Snape said stiffly.
Harry let out a little sigh of relief from beside her. "Good evening, Professor Dumbledore."
"Good evening, sir," Cyrna echoed behind him.
The headmaster nodded genially at them, his hand patting his long white beard. Up close, Cyrna finally saw that the tiny little bells she heard were braided into the beard.
Dumbledore beamed when he caught her looking. "Ah yes," he said, sounding delighted. The wizened fingers reached up to tinkle a bell. "I thought it a great way to carry a bit of Christmas cheer around with me for a while longer. Clever, isn't it?"
Cyrna wasn't quite sure what to say.
The headmaster hummed a little tune when no one replied. "Well," he said with one last pat of his beard. The bells tinkled again. "Harry, dear boy, I imagine that Mister Weasley and Miss Granger will have been worrying Professor McGonagall for a while now. No doubt she's about to go hunting the halls for you. Let's bring you back up before that happens—if you're finished here, Professor Snape?"
Snape nodded tersely.
"Then Professor Snape, Miss Raine, I wish you both a very good night," Dumbledore said.
Harry turned to her. "Let's meet tomorrow at the library again. After lunch? Hermione and Ron will be there too!"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled some more, and Cyrna could feel the burn of Snape's eyes at the back of her head as she replied, "That works for me."
They left.
Black eyes, hard as granite, gave her a measuring stare. Then, his lips curled into a sneer and he swept away without a word.
Cyrna remained frozen in her position for a moment longer. Because though he had not spoken, his rebuke was crystal clear. She hadn't thought she could lie to him, not with Harry's awful acting. She had only wanted to distract him enough to not tell him the truth. She hadn't wanted to be expelled, but more importantly, Snape couldn't know what Harry had been up to.
Conflicting emotions.
Should she be happy or sad about this?
Alone, she found her way back to her dormitory.
o - o - o - o - o
There were few people in the Great Hall when Cyrna and Prince arrived for breakfast the next day. It was the weekend, after all. And most like Daphne and Theodore preferred not to wake at the crack of dawn—which to them, was anything before nine in the morning. Cyrna had no such inclinations, so when she had finished her breakfast, she headed off to the library to get her day started.
Her feet navigated the now familiar path with ease. Honestly, the library was basically a second dorm for her. Looking back retrospectively at her time at Hogwarts so far, she had arguably spent more time there than in her actual Slytherin dorm—studying in the green-lit dungeons wasn't the most conducive to her focus, after all.
Settling in her favourite spot, she took out the instructions for the essay Snape had assigned to them yesterday.
Cyrna's brows rose with surprise.
Hypothesize the role of aconite in the Wiggenweld Potion.
Wow, Snape was definitely upping the difficulty. It was the first essay topic in all their classes that couldn't be answered from their textbook. Only three… five, if she was being generous, could she imagine getting an EE or above… Snape was pushing them to learn how to use the library. Or he was just trying to make life harder for them. She smiled wryly as she began to pen some of her ideas down. Well, there was probably a bit of both, to be fair.
But it wasn't just Potions that had gotten harder recently. Everything had, in some way or another. More complex wandwork; more complex theories; the same length of essay expected to be written in less time. All this made sense since the year was ending; the exams coming in a bit more than two months. Still, this essay was easily one of the hardest assignments they would be receiving this year.
Did she know the answer then? She did, of course. Nicolas had made certain of things like this.
Having a general idea of which direction she'd like to take her essay, she left to the Potions aisle which was located directly across the Herbology section on the first floor of the library. She found the books she needed with ease, and an hour later, Cyrna had her final draft.
Like all her other Potions essay, it would likely land perfectly in the EE grade. After all, that would be all that was needed to get into sixth year Potions once Slughorn came to teach.
Black. A hard sneer. Rebuking silence.
Her lies.
Her grip on the quill tightened briefly. A sigh.
Cyrna gave a sharp shake of her head and read over the draft again. But try as she might, she could not forget the sudden still she experienced when he had swept away. Had she hurt him last night with her decision to lie?
But it was Snape! He didn't care about such minor things like that! Half the student population called him names behind his back, and it didn't faze him. And she was just another student—another child—what did he care?
She wouldn't have. They were insignificant.
Another hour and she had completed the other assignments that would be due the upcoming week. Cyrna left her seat to tuck the books she had used back on their shelves. No longer working, her mind wandered back. She sighed again. Such silly notions. Such futile and pointless thoughts. Still, not guilt but disappointment of sorts ate at her. Every time she did something that brought her a tiny step closer to his recognition, she'd go back and rip the blocks away by arousing his suspicion or disapproval. It felt like she had played herself, wasted her own time, even if she did not regret her choice. Snape was, after all, not the priority.
"Psst! Hey, Cyrna! Good morning!"
A voice stopped her in her tracks. There Susan was, an aisle ahead. She was waving at her with a hesitant smile. What could she want? Her brows furrowed, and with a small nod, Cyrna greeted her back.
"It's just—are you working on the Potions essay too? Let's work together!" Susan exclaimed when she was just a step away from her.
"Ah… but I'm mostly finished with my essay already," Cyrna said apologetically. Uncertainty hovered. What had she done that would make the Hufflepuff want to approach her? Then Cyrna remembered the promise she had made at Charms a while ago. Huh, how strange that the Hufflepuff was actually calling in her favour. Not that it mattered, she had meant to pay the favour back sooner or later. "Actually—"
"Really!?" There was a bit of a pause when Susan realized she had interrupted. Cyrna waved her on to continue, and Susan gave a small awkward laugh. "I was just surprised. You're so fast! I mean, it was assigned yesterday! And my friends thought I was hardworking—oh Ernie and Hannah haven't started yet. They're still sleeping. Honestly…" she let out a deflated sigh. "I guess I'll just work alone till they get here then."
Half the ramble flew over her head. "Right," Cyrna cleared her throat. "Actually, um, I could still help you with yours if you'd like—I don't mind."
Susan looked surprised before she beamed at her, a lot less nervous than before. "Yes! Oh, wow. I was so sad when I thought I'd have to work alone in the library this morning when Ernie and Hannah wouldn't wake up! Are you free till noon? That's when they promised they'd be at the library."
Not having any other urgent things to do, Cyrna gave a small nod. Either way, she'd have to be at the library since she was meeting with Harry and his friends after.
Susan gave another delighted smile. Then she just stood there, vibrating with a sort of excitement.
How strange, Cyrna thought. She pasted a polite smile in response. "So how far have you gotten with your essay?"
The Hufflepuff flushed a rosy pink. She twiddled the strands of blonde hair that reached past her shoulders. "Well," she gave a tiny laugh. "I've read the textbook chapter for the potion, but then I couldn't find anything, so then I made up something—just a paragraph or so."
"You made up something," Cyrna said with disbelief.
"Y-yeah. Well, um, I wrote down the stuff that I thought was a bit relevant from the textbook and sort of… uh… tried to fill in the gaps?"
Cyrna bit her lip, trying to fight the snort that wanted to rise. Those essays would be comedy gold. What she wouldn't give to read one or two of them—but never to mark; oh. She didn't envy Snape in this. That was just a headache in the making.
"And well, half-way through my second paragraph, I sort of realized that we were supposed to look for other books to answer the question," Susan continued. She grimaced. "But there are so many books here. I don't even know where to start looking."
Cyrna nodded along. "Then how about you give these three a try?" She gave Susan the stack of books that she had yet to return to the shelves. "I've found them useful. And if you need help navigating the library, maybe you can ask one of your friends in upper-year. Or Madame Pince, if she doesn't intimidate you."
By the Hufflepuff's shiver, Cyrna knew what she'd choose.
"Thanks!" Susan smiled gratefully, leafing through the books. After a moment, she handed one of the books back to Cyrna.
Neutralization of Biological Toxins: The Antitoxins of Potions
Really? Well that was fine… though personally, Cyrna had found that one in particular to be rather informative. It had played a pretty large role in her essay. She lifted a brow in question.
"I-er. That was too complicated." Susan flushed. "You used that book in yours?"
Cyrna denied that notion with a firm shake of her head. "Most of it was too difficult for me too," she said, placing the book back onto the shelf. "I just used the parts that I could understand a bit."
Should she rewrite her essay? She was sure that she had dumbed it down enough to be believably written by a student around her age… besides, Snape kind of already knew. Knew of her strange inconsistences of intelligence; knew and discouraged it.
Susan gave her a curious stare, and soon, once Cyrna had gathered her things, they headed over to the second floor of the library where Susan's stuff lay on a large study table in direct view from the stairwell. Through this, Susan chattered brightly, looking to her every few sentences to which Cyrna would then respond with a thoughtful hum and a nod of her head. It was at her tenth hum that they finally made it to the study table, and as she settled down beside the Hufflepuff, Cyrna resigned herself to a long few hours.
o - o - o - o - o
"If an acceptable is all you want, then I'd rewrite the introduction to frame your arguments better—oh, and think about cutting out the points that are repetitive too. If you have nothing more to add, it is better to say nothing at all than to write things that make the essay appear longer. Besides, you have more than enough to fit the length requirement," Cyrna suggested after a moment to Susan's shock—how had she read her essay so fast?
Susan took back her paper with a small sigh after thanking Cyrna. Going over her draft yet again, she crossed out some parts. Beside her, the Slytherin gave a muffled yawn as she flipped another page of a hefty looking book on Magical Creatures—wasn't that third-year problems? Susan snuck a look at the Slytherin's essay. Was she done already? Comparing her draft to that of the Slytherin was like comparing the moon and the sun. Hers was a shiny pristine white while hers was a mess of black ink. She grimaced as she stretched her fingers, her hand cramped from the writing. "Wonder what you'd need to do to get an EE." Susan heaved a deep sigh as she muttered to herself.
Cyrna suddenly lowered her huge book to the table, turning to her with a small frown. "Would you like me to help you get one? I thought you just told me you wanted to pass."
Susan startled at the question. "Er—no, not really since it's not possible. Just passing is enough."
"But you want it—the EE?"
What sort of question was that? Susan gave a tentative nod.
"And an Outstanding?"
Susan now felt really confused but nodded anyways. "Well, maybe not that," she said after thinking about it for another moment. "I mean, it'd be weird if I was doing really poorly then suddenly got a perfect grade on the hardest essay to date. It would be nice though, if I could get it eventually for Potions."
Cyrna looked at her with a hint of exasperation. The calm placidity she usually wore breaking for a moment. Susan wondered what she had done.
"Then an EE it is. Let me see you essay again?" Cyrna took her essay from her hands when she held it to her. Without a second glance, she dipped her quill into an inkpot and blue marks quickly flew across the page.
Susan leaned closer, and saw comments—written in a small precise hand, littered on the margins of her draft with arrows pointing to underlined sections. Things like, "but how does the aconite relieve pain?" or "you haven't explained why aconite isn't toxic in the Wiggenweld potion" and "but what is the general conclusion that the Professor wants us to draw from this example? Must toxins always be harmful?" among other comments had Susan's mind spinning. Never had she thought of any of those things to write about.
"Depending on how well you answer some of these comments, you might get an EE. Maybe even an O," Cyrna said calmly as if she hadn't done something absolutely brilliant in a matter of moments. The Slytherin tucked her quill away. "I would give you the answers to that, but I didn't think you'd want that."
Speechlessly, Susan shook her head.
"Then if that is all—" Cyrna's eyes narrowed to the distance, spotting two Hufflepuffs at the base of the tall stairwell. "I think your friends are coming, so I'll be heading out now."
"Ah—"
Cyrna was already stuffing things in her bag.
"Thank you so much for your help," Susan rushed out before Cyrna could leave.
Cyrna nodded. "And for yours at Charms. Good luck with your essay."
"I'd say good luck with yours as well but…" Susan laughed at that thought, causing a few of the other students to stare. She slapped her hand across her mouth, to muffle the sound then sent them an apologetic smile. The Slytherin—Cyrna really hadn't needed her help at all, hadn't needed to work "together" with her, nor did she need any luck. No doubt she was the best Potions student in their year. "I'm sure you'll get an outstanding, Cyrna," Susan said genuinely.
Cyrna gave that tiny tilt of her head again. "I could," she agreed.
Susan pouted a bit at the ambiguous response. How confusing! She sighed, switching to stare at her friends that were coming up the stairs. "Man, Professor Snape must at least be a bit proud of you. I mean a member of his own House being so good at his subject? I know that if I was as good at Herbology as you were in Potions, Professor Sprout would be super pleased—not that she isn't!" Susan exclaimed looking back at Cyrna, hoping she hadn't made her think poorly of her Head of House. "She's always proud of us, but if one of us does super, super well in her subject, she's extra happy."
"Professor Sprout would adore each of you regardless," Cyrna thought of Perenelle, "If she is anything like someone else I know, she'd just want you to try your best."
Susan smiled when Cyrna began to look faintly uncomfortable at her own words. Oh! She'd have to tell her friends all about this—especially Ernie. Ernie would definitely be surprised! When her friends arrived, she gave them a cheerful wave.
"Hey! Guess what? I'm almost done my essay!" Susan called.
"What! No!" Hannah whined as Ernie laughed in response.
Typically, her friends would have much more to say, but typically, it was just the three of them. Ernie and Hannah stared curiously at the Slytherin, wondering why she was here.
But the Slytherin seemed impervious to their stares, not even bothering to acknowledge them. And while her friends were staring at the Slytherin, Susan found herself under the intensity of blue eyes—a very pretty shade. The unreadable blankness; the cool politeness that had remained on the Slytherin for most of the duration of their time together was gone to be replaced with a sharp, piercing focus. It was almost like she was speaking to a different person altogether.
"—But do you really think that of Professor Snape of all people?" asked Cyrna.
It took a while for Susan to figure out what she was referring to. The change was that startling. "Er—yes? You don't think so?"
Not really. No. Cyrna pursed her lips into a faint frown. "He might give recognition, but not pride. Because you can recognize someone without feeling anything for them."
Recognition? Pride? What was she going on about? And why would you ever not feel something for anyone? Susan fidgeted with the quill in her hand trying to figure out how to answer. "Um, I guess Professor Snape is kinda different… well, maybe a lot more different from Professor Sprout, but I think he would be at least a bit pleased. He was smug about the Slytherin House Cups wasn't he, Ernie?"
"Yeah, Cedric thought so." Ernie agreed, glancing curiously at the Slytherin.
Susan nodded. "So I think he's proud of his Slytherins. But honestly, I think all the Head of Houses are like that—proud of their members."
A noise of understanding came from Cyrna. Susan hoped she had explained it well enough, however strange the question was.
"He's competitive!" Cyrna suddenly exclaimed, clearly excited which shocked Susan into silence. The Slytherin left then with a smile more vibrant than any other she had seen from her. Blue eyes glowing with a particular sparkle in them.
It was a few minutes after she had left that Hannah cleared her throat. "Uh, what did that have to do with Professor Snape being competitive?"
Ernie shook his head in bafflement.
"Don't look at me!" Susan exclaimed when they both turned their stares on her. "I'm not sure either." She too was completely at a lost of how the Slytherin had gotten that from her words.
o - o - o - o - o
Cyrna was pleased that at least something had come from her rather loud morning. Obviously, Snape wanted Slytherin to be better than Gryffindor! He was competitive with Professor McGonagall and he had that grudge against James Potter. Cyrna gave herself another nod at that thought. So when she had lied, he must have been upset with her since he had lost his chance to take off major points from Gryffindor to place Slytherin back in the lead. It made sense.
She shook her head with a chuckle, laughing at her previous thought that Snape—cold as ice, Ex-Death Eater—might have been hurt by a child's lie. A child's! Even if there was a chance that he was hurt by the lie, it more likely had to do with the fact that she had blatantly sided with Harry in the encounter. Nothing else.
"Harry, Hermione, Ron! Over here!" Cyrna said with a wave when she saw the Gryffindors.
"Well, you seem terribly happy today," Harry observed as he sat down. There was a rare sparkle in her eyes that matched the brightness of her smile as she had greeted them. "Something good happened?"
"I solved one of my problems," Cyrna said, the pleased smile still had yet to disappear from her face.
"Oh, what's that?" Hermione asked. Her bag made a quiet thud as she set it on the ground, and Ron stared at the bag with apprehension.
Cyrna grinned. "A secret," she trilled.
All three Gryffindors lifted their brows in a manner that was hauntingly Slytherin.
"Well, it's great you've figured it out," Hermione said with a smile.
Cyrna's brows knit together as she studied the Gryffindor girl. There was something wrong… Hermione seemed a bit… out of it. Her smile was not as large as usual, eyes were not as bright, and worst of all, she didn't poke her nose into the issue. "And how are you doing, Hermione?" Cyrna asked.
Ron winced and Harry seemed to mentally prepare himself for something. For a while, Hermione was silent before words exploded from her mouth.
"How well am I doing? Oh, Cyrna," Hermione moaned, her hands clutching her head. "Exams are coming, and I haven't even started studying yet! Oh, if it wasn't for Harry yesterday, I would have been done my essay by now!"
"There's more than two months till the exams," Ron pointed out again for the sake of the Slytherin.
"And I should have started studying a week ago! Oh Merlin, I can't fail them." Hermione dug through her bag to take out a very thick notebook. A sigh. "I'm going to need to revise my studying schedule."
Said studying schedule, Cyrna privately thought, could compare to the rigour she had needed to survive in medical school.
"You'll be fine Hermione," Harry said with a bit of exasperation that told Cyrna this had happened before. Multiple times.
"More than fine," Ron muttered.
Hermione glared at the both of them. "And now that you remind me, I think I've got to make a schedule for the two of you as well."
"Uh, so Snape," said Harry, quickly turning the conversation before Hermione could write them any schedule. "I just thought we might go over what we know—"
"Woah. Hold up there, Harry," Cyrna interrupted. "I don't think I want to know too much, remember?"
"Even after what you heard yesterday?" Harry asked in disbelief.
Cyrna nodded, her posture radiating a level calm. "He's my Head of House, and it's too risky for me to do stuff like this behind his back. I'm not sure how Professor McGonagall is for the three of you, but I feel like he… well, like he sort of just knows when I'm doing something I'm not supposed to be doing."
"Snape does have an unnaturally large nose," Ron agreed affably.
Hermione looked torn between scolding Ron for his disrespect and subsiding since she believed that Snape was a thief—not something that demanded respect.
"Then maybe we can just talk about what happened yesterday," Harry decided at long last. "What did you think about it, Cyrna?" He had wanted to know her thoughts on it, already having heard both Hermione's and Ron's on this matter.
Her fingers drummed briefly against the table as she thought of her response, parsing out what they had told her—what she was supposed to know, what she wasn't, and how she should best answer the question. She shifted into a more comfortable sitting position. "Well, Harry," Cyrna said at last, throwing a wry glance at his direction, "You've already told me that my Head of House is stealing something. And yesterday he mentioned that there are… hurdles? I guess? That one must pass if they are to steal whatever it is." She ticked off the list with her fingers. "A beast of Hagrid, for one." Another finger went down as the three Gryffindors exchanged a blatant stare. "A piece of enchantment from Quirrell." Harry nodded in agreement, having came to the same conclusion, "and probably enchantments of other natures that are not from Quirrell."
Harry paused at that. "Other?"
His questioned echoed with Hermione's voice.
"He said 'your little bit of hocus pocus' to Quirrell," Cyrna reminded them.
"Your little bit," Ron muttered, "as if it was part of a whole!"
"And if it's a part of a whole, it means that there are other enchantments by other professors that are protecting it!" Hermione exclaimed brightly, but not before she had given Ron a curious look. She wasn't surprised that Cyrna had picked up on that, but Ron? Hermione hummed in surprise, giving Ron another cursory glance.
The four froze and buried their nose into the nearest book when they heard the rapping step of Madame Pince's heels, clicking and clacking past them. The witch poked her head in and lifted a brow when she saw them together at a very secluded corner of the library.
"Good afternoon, Madame Pince!" Hermione greeted promptly.
Cyrna looked up from her book and gave a small polite nod to the librarian before relaxing back against her chair, pretending to be absorbed with the book. She flipped a page, listening as Hermione chattered to the witch for a brief moment. They seemed to be on fairly friendly terms.
A while later, the clicking heels faded away.
Harry set his book down. "I think Snape's just stuck on Quirrell's piece of enchantment. That and how to get past Fluf—er; how to get past Hagrid's beast. Otherwise, he'd have asked Quirrell about the other enchantments too, wouldn't he? I mean, he wasn't going for subtlety exactly when he was asking Quirrell those questions."
Cyrna made one of those evasive non-committal sounds that Harry had come to associate with his Slytherin friend. Then she leaned closer; the three answered by huddling closer as well. "Quirrell," she simply said, the uncertainty in her tone telling them what she thought would happen if Harry's suspicions were the truth.
Hermione fidgeted with her quill. Clockwise then counter-clockwise it went. A moment's pause. "So, Harry, you're saying," Hermione checked to see if Madame Pince was lurking, "that Quirrell is all that stands in Snape's way?"
Cyrna furrowed her brows, arranging her expression into one of concern when Harry glanced at her. He seemed to have come to the same conclusion as Ron who said bleakly, "then it'll be gone by the next week."
Harry was the first to break from their mini-brainstorm session. He looked at Cyrna who had copied his motions and was now leaned back comfortably on her seat. He had thought she would be interested in digging a bit deeper into this with them—she had even heard that Snape was stealing! Yet, even that apparently didn't seem to spark enough interest to act. Only concern. Maybe it was because she didn't know what Snape was trying to steal. Harry sighed again, and at Cyrna's quirk of her brows, he asked, "We can still come to you if we want ideas, right?"
"General ideas—nothing implicit that would get you caught by your Head of House," Hermione said quickly. Then suddenly she smirked. "I mean, two heads are always better than one."
"Four is better than three, you mean," Harry said.
Cyrna snorted in laughter, anticipating Hermione's response. Ron groaned as the two girls shared a smile, Hermione answering with a roll of her eyes. "No, Harry, two is better than one," she said teasingly. "Because I'm the only one who does any actual thinking in our group when Cyrna isn't here."
Madame Pince scowled at them from afar as laughter rang briefly in the library before it was choked off. The four—which included two typically well-behaved students—quickly went back to their work. Madame Pince approached, giving them a stern eye. Potions, she caught all four of them working on. She clicked her tongue again and swept away.
Ron stuck his tongue out the departing librarian. "She's as bad as Snape, she is. Sucks the joy straight out of my soul."
"Oh, come off of it Ron," Hermione scolded. "She's not as bad as Snape."
"Professor Snape, Hermione," Harry mimicked in Hermione's tone.
Hermione turned bright red even as the three Gryffindors laughed at their own antics. Cyrna watched them, smiling, because like three adorable little puppies, they were beginning to grow on her a bit.
Eventually they quieted down, and Hermione dragged Harry off to go over their yesterday's Potions lesson, claiming that Ron was Cyrna's problem this week.
"And perhaps this too is common sense, Miss Raine. But a known secret is no secret at all."
Cyrna looked back at her essay, knowing where the room for improvements were. Should she change it?
Across from her, Ron had, in less than an hour, slumped across his parchment, looking very much like he had given up on the essay. "This is rubbish," he said indignantly when he saw her looking. "He can't possibly expect us to read other books!"
Hermione snorted from behind her, Cyrna echoing her amused exasperation with a raised brow.
"Yeah, why bother teaching us if we have to go and figure it out ourselves," Harry said glumly with a put-upon sigh as he slowly scratched out another sentence of his essay—a sentence that Harry wasn't quite sure made sense. But it filled up the space, didn't it?
Cyrna left to the Potions aisle and came back with the book that the Hufflepuff from the morning had ended up using for her essay. "Here," she said to Ron. "Try this."
He stared at the thick tome. "You're kidding."
Cyrna plunked the tome on his essay with a roll of her eyes before going back to her own.
Privately, she knew that there had been no need to keep her written work at an EE. But she had been stubborn; wanted to prove to Snape that she really was mediocre, even though she knew that it was a lost cause. She had messed up on Halloween, and he had noticed immediately. Noticed and had never forgotten. She sighed. What was she even trying to win by keeping up this pretense? This lie?
A hard sneer. Rebuking silence. Harry Potter. Her lies.
"I guess Professor Snape is kinda different… but I think he would be at least a bit pleased."
She exhaled sharply.
"Are we heading off already?" Ron looked up hopefully, his cheek had been resting on the tome.
Hermione gave him another sharp look but, caught up in her own essay, said nothing.
"No, I'll be back," Cyrna said wryly when Harry looked to her as well. "Do try to finish at least half of the required length today."
Ron groaned and slumped down on the table. "Stupid Potions essay," he muttered to himself. Louder he said, "Where are you going then?"
"To the Medical section of the library."
"Medical? We have one?"
"It's on the fifth floor. Honestly, Ron," Hermione said from across them with a sigh. She set down her quill with a huff and crossed her arms. "You'd think you'd know after almost a year at Hogwarts."
Ron spluttered. "What? It's not like Harry knew either!"
"Uh—sure I did," Harry said quickly.
No one bought that, and seeing an inevitable lecture coming from Hermione, Ron quickly joined Cyrna. "I think I have some stuff I want to look at there too," he said, shooting a semi-apologetic look at Harry.
Harry scowled as they left.
At the Medical section, she went straight to the section on toxins. Finding a book on the different way toxins could be used in the medical field, she had been so caught up with her reading that she hadn't even noticed that Ron was beside her till he started speaking.
"You're understanding this stuff?"
Cyrna looked up from the book and blinked owlishly at him. She nodded. "I was thinking about adding a bit more to my essay."
He whistled quietly under his breath. "You and Hermione both…"
"I use my brain on occasions," she said with humour.
Ron chuckled ruefully. "And she's glad about it, that's for sure." He waited patiently till Cyrna finally finished the book, the silence between them not quite comfortable, yet not uncomfortable either. He shifted his weight to his other foot when Cyrna hummed, quickly jotting down some bullet points in her notepad before returning the book. "Do you think we're going about this too… passively?" he asked when she looked questioningly at him.
It had been bothering him. He felt that they should do something instead of just sitting here waiting for the Stone to be stolen. But what could they do? He wouldn't lie when he said he was a bit frustrated with their predicament.
"But what can you do, even if you wanted to be more aggressive about this? Surely you don't think you can beat my Head of House in a confrontation?"
So she shared the same thoughts as he did. Ron sighed. "It's just that—I can't help but think that if this whole thing was a game of chess that we are playing far too defensively. We should stop him before he steals anything, not react once it's stolen!"
She hummed. "But playing defensively doesn't mean that you don't plan ahead, Ron. Just that you don't attack unless provoked," she said vaguely. "And when you are… well… ideally, all your little pieces fall together to rid the threat in one felled swoop."
"Like how you tried to beat me in that last round of chess?" Ron teased, a smug grin on his face at his victory, thoughts on Snape and the Stone placed on momentary halt. "Offence is always better than defence."
Cyrna laughed. "Maybe in chess."
"What else could there be?" Ron rolled his eyes as they walked back to where Harry was now diligently working on his essay, casting the occasional nervous glance at the bushy-haired Gryffindor beside him.
A faint smile. "Who knows? But well defensively… reactionary … it's how I've always played my games."
Ron would ponder, later on that day when Cyrna bid the three of them a good evening before leaving for dinner, just what it was that she was referring to. Chess? Or was it something more?