Chapter 1 – The Unexpected Guest

I couldn’t believe I had slept in, today of all days. I quickly stepped out of my room, wrapped myself in my dressing gown, but paused by the large curved window of the turret to peer at the grounds below. I smiled to myself; I doubted that many people would consider eight o’clock as a lie-in, but it was to me. It had been my way as far as I could remember. How I enjoyed getting up first in the morning as a young girl and having the spacious Muggle house to myself. How I enjoyed, from my first day in Hogwarts, the stillness and silence of the castle before dawn, a familiar atmosphere I now associated with the term breaks.

This last thought called me back from the contemplation of the grounds to my duties. A new term was starting today and students would flow in the castle from Hogsmeade station in less then twelve hours.

I first needed to send an urgent owl to a tiresome family who had sent particular requests on behalf of their to-be first-year son, practically every day since his letter was sent. Hopefully, this would be the last one! I settled at my desk and wrote as short and dry a note as I dared to tell Mrs. Winpumky that no, her son could not be allowed a pet boarhound puppy within Hogwarts… Honestly!

Knowing that the boy would show up with the animal anyway, and that I would have to settle this matter in the evening on top of everything else, I went to my tawny owl to tie the note. The owl gave me a fierce look – Fitzwilliam, unlike me, was not a morning person.

I watched him through the window until he became a small dot above the Forbidden Forest, then checked myself; I could not indulge in contemplation just now. What with Dumbledore and I having had more urging agenda on our plates this year, the preparation of this term had been hectic. I still had several pre-term briefings to conduct with Hagrid, Filch and the head House-Elf.

I would first send a note with my House-Elf to Hagrid, who had been pretty busy lately as well, saying that I would see him shortly after lunch. I sat back at my desk and was reaching for my quill when I saw a note on it that was definitely not there a minute ago. I recognized with some anxiety the large loopy handwriting and, after reading the three lines, hurried to get dressed.

‘Sherbet Lemon,’ I said as I reached the bottom of the headmaster’s office. As the staircase moved up, I could not stop wondering at the reason for this early call. The particular circumstances of this year had been gone over in several of Hogwarts’ meetings. Could any particular difficulty have arisen so few hours before the Hogwarts Express’ departure?

The door was ajar. Stepping in, my eyes fell on the handsome desk, which I found deserted. Taking in the rest of the large circular room, I found that it held some surprises. Professor Dumbledore and another wizard were standing on either side of the window. The wizard I soon recognized, with puzzlement, to be Mad-Eye Moody, an Auror and member of the Order that I had not seen since the end of the war. I believed he had retired from the Auror office but could not be sure how long ago. I would not know, because Moody was not the type of man to throw a retirement party. I amused myself a split second with the image of the dangerous looking wizard circulating among guests with a tray of canapés. However, the inner smile did not reach my lips, as I took in the dense atmosphere.

Both wizards were standing in intent contemplation of the grounds in the very same attitude I stood in, moments ago, in my own quarters. They looked serious and preoccupied. Inches behind, Professor Snape was looking at them. The expression of eager curiosity on his face told that he knew not to be seen. Although working with him around the year for the past decade, I seldom had the chance to catch such an obvious expression, making him looking positively human, on the mysterious black bat’s face. This puzzled me more than anything else. Just as I noticed, he shifted towards me. A mask of expressionless indifference instantly fell upon his face as he nodded curtly.

‘Minerva!’ cried Professor Dumbledore, ‘thank you for coming so quickly.’

‘What is going on, Albus? Is there any problems with the Hogwarts Express?’ I asked with concern.

‘Not quite,’ the headmaster responded lightly. ‘I am confident our students will arrive safely and on time tonight.’

‘Whether there will still be a Hogwarts for them to head for remains to be seen,’ Mad-Eye commented, provoking a gasp from me. To my horror, the headmaster did not part his concerned expression when retorting.

‘There is not need to be so dramatic, Alastor.’

‘Not that we would like the least to spoil your obvious enjoyment in spreading paranoid fear around you,’ added Snape in cold sarcasm.

‘Anything to do with… you know what?’ I glanced an uneasy look toward Moody, unsure if I could speak freely in front of him, and then added, ‘on the third floor?’ with raised concern in my voice.

Moody raised a curious eyebrow at that, confirming me that whatever the matter was, Mad-Eye had not been let in this particular confidence. I glanced apologetically at Dumbledore, but he did not seem to care the least about my slipping the hint. Actually, he had resumed his peering through the window, his expression more intense then ever.

‘Severus?’ I started pleading, at a loss to understand what was going on.

Snape gave a glance to his headmaster and decided to take his continuous peering through the window as a request for him to brief me.

‘Someone has broken into the grounds,’ he stated.

‘How many people?’ I asked promptly, ready for some action.

‘She’s alone, actually,’ Snape answered.

‘It,’ Mad-Eye corrected him.

‘So pray, why aren’t we down on the ground to confront… her?’ I asked sternly, ignoring the obscure intervention of the Auror. My mood was not improved by the mysterious glamour of it all.

‘Our headmaster called us in for some observation, as yet,’ Snape explained testily.

‘But, if the person broke in before you called me, they should already be… here.’ I could not explain my colleagues’ behavior, let alone Moody’s presence.

‘They are on foot,’ said Snape simply, before adding, apparently slightly amused by my bewildered expression, ‘and they are taking their time.’ Satisfying himself with the mixture of impatience and puzzlement on my face, he seemed to decide against risking an outburst of temper from me and came to the facts.

‘A young girl is coming from the south. She seems to have coincidently reached the Hogwarts’ grounds on her stroll to the north and has simply walked into the grounds, as far as observed, unknowingly and unharmed.’

My jaw dropped. It didn’t make any sense. One could not trespass Hogwarts’ gates “unknowingly� while strolling; this was simply impossible. I tried to think systematically. A Muggle would be repelled. The Muggle-repelling charm had never failed. The barrier interfered at several levels; the mind of the Muggle would oppose strongly against going in the direction. They would also experience several moments of urgent desire or need to go in the opposite direction. Physically, the Muggle’s body couldn’t penetrate the barrier at any rate. This seemed to eliminate the possibility of the girl being a Muggle.

There had been occurrences, however, of sorcerers successfully trespassing the grounds, I thought, recalling the chapter dedicated to the boundaries in Hogwarts: A History. Grindewald had done it single handedly and famously, and Death Eaters during the height of Voldemort’s power; this occurrence I could recall without the book, having been myself severely injured on this occasion. But even to the powerful Grindewald or a force of skilled Death Eaters, this had not been the work of a moment. It would take hours to even the most skilled and powerful to undo enough of the ancient barrier – unless they had inside information, of course. All of Hogwarts staff was enabled to undo the barrier for emergency way in or out. But then this girl was not hiding at all. None of this made sense.

I could not comprehend the situation at hand; I wanted to ask which of them had witnessed the girl’s trespassing. I looked up to find the three wizards back in the exact same attitude I had found them in entering the office earlier. I opened my mouth to ask the pressing questions I had in my mind.

‘Ah,’ Dumbledore uttered suddenly, his features lightening in some odd sort of satisfaction, with a hint of the amused surprise of a fair-player in the front of an opponent’s impressive move. ‘She has just crossed my personal line of barriers.’

‘It,’ Mad-Eye corrected automatically. ‘What, just like that?’

‘As airily as a grown doxyform would pass through this glass window,’ Dumbledore answered, taping gently the glass. His look of concern contradicted the lightness of his tone.

As Dumbledore withdrew, followed by Moody, I came to the window, Snape at my side. He pointed south, in the direction of the Quidditch pitch.

‘She is there’ he said quietly.

Then I spotted her, long way south behind the pitch, a small figure I could only recognize as a young girl from such a distance, because I had been given the information beforehand.

‘Indeed,’ I breathed. My head was spinning at the impossibility of what I was witnessing. I wondered for a mad moment if this was not Albus’ idea of a joke.

‘Fascinating, isn’t it?’ came the cool voice of my colleague. Our eyes locked and I registered that for once, he was doing quite a poor job at pretending to be bored.

‘Minerva, Severus, pray join us,’ came Dumbledore’s voice.

I turned back to see the headmaster sat down with Mad-Eye at the elegant round meeting table near the north windows.

‘We need to talk,’ he added in a mater-of-fact voice, as I did not make to move from the window.

‘Shouldn’t we keep a look at her, even if we do not enter into action immediately?’ I asked resentfully as I reached the table, followed by Snape. I found my headmaster’s lack of reaction simply nonsensical.

‘She is being watched outside,’ Dumbledore said simply. ‘Beside, we will observe her much better from here.’ He gesture at a large footed lens, placed as a fifth guest on the table.

‘Alastor, would you please tune the spy-glass on the girl for us?’ he requested pleasantly.

Alastor reached up for his wand and muttered a long and complex spell over the spy-glass, which image soon focused.

We peered silently at it. The young girl was walking along the hedge of the Forbidden Forest, on the smooth grass. The ground was rising in this place and would become flat again only by the Quidditch pitch ahead. She seemed to indeed be taking a stroll, walking slowly and looking up to the trees or down to the grass, turning on the spot every so often. It was the strangest thing.

I looked up and catch briefly Moody’s eyes, who looked concerned and suspicious. The girl had presently took a break and sat on a large smooth rock to enjoy the view of the castle. She looked like a first-year, I thought. I was surprised to find her to be a pretty and well groomed child. She had long silky dark brown hair floating freely, dark brown eyes and a fair skin, a faintly exotic mixture: she could have been half Turkish, or Central Asian maybe. Her face looked sweet and very childish. Her clothes were neat, and good-looking. She was wearing an airy sort of knee-length pale blue skirt. Then I gasped; just as I was about to voice that her skirt material looked suspiciously like Muggle ‘jean’, it turned deep green.

We all looked at each others wordlessly.

‘That is an interesting development,’ Dumbledore said calmly, ‘but back to our order of the day. I was waiting for you all to be here,’ he glanced at me, ‘to hear the one who witnessed our unexpected guest breaking the ancient barrier of the grounds of Hogwarts. Eslis!’

A particularly stout house-elf appeared in the office and bowed to Dumbledore.

‘Pray join us and kindly report the events of this morning, Eslis,’ Dumbledore said invitingly.

The house-elf came up to the table and fearfully accepted the chair pulled by Dumbledore. He bowed to the four of us and on an inviting gesture from the headmaster, broke into his story.

‘I were with my team, I works with the outside ground-keeping house-elf team, and this morning us were preparing the Quidditch stands, for the coming season. Half us team were attending the magically-held structure but I and my team were up at the top of the boxes to hang on the team colors back for the new term, Sirs. I is at the south to hang the Hufflepuff flags and banner when I saw it. Someone is strolling too close to the Hogwarts grounds, sirs. Must be a Muggle, I think. And I watch; I were curious to see when they will turn back or change direction, then it happened, sirs, the Muggle hit the magical barrier and… and nothing is happening! It did not stop them, Sirs. They just walked through, but they was a child, they cannot be Hogwarts staff, so I reported to the castle, Sirs… I jumped from the top box to punish myself for stopping my work to look at the Muggle, Sirs,’ he added, as an afterthought.

‘It’s all right Eslis, you did very useful observations,’ said Dumbledore kindly. ‘Do you have any questions?’ he asked us.

We were quite speechless. Dumbledore dismissed the house elf.

‘Is there any chance that this could result from a disturbance in the barriers, and could be a mere coincidence that a Muggle had happened to stroll at this very moment?’ I asked shakily, knowing the answer.

‘That’s forgetting the blatant piece of wandless magic we just witnessed, Minerva,’ Snape pointed out, referring to the girl’s skirt color changing. ‘That, and the fact that she appears to be able to see the castle.’

Moody snorted. ‘We don’t think this potentially dangerous creature is a Muggle or a wizard, now, do we?’ he rhetorically asked. ‘Let’s put our head into finding how to handle it.’

‘What?’ I cried indignantly. ‘You are certainly not set to harm a young girl?’

‘How very naive of you, Minerva; ready to protect this dangerous creature because it looks harmless and innocent. It’s obviously a disguise!’ he yelled suddenly, making me jump. ‘The creature has powers that we know not and we’d better put it under our control before finding out if it is a friend or a foe!’

‘Alastor is right,’ Dumbledore cut in unexpectedly and much to my indignation, before adding; ‘the girl, or creature she disguises, has powers that we know not. Her trespassing our barriers in the fashion she did proves it. But, Alastor, I also believe that if the ancient barriers of Hogwarts grounds, as well as the most powerful barriers I could master myself, had not had the slightest effect what so ever on her then there is little chance that our spells or bounds will.’

‘So, what are you saying?’ Snape asked curiously.

‘I have a sense that she is coming here to meet us. We must discuss how to receive her. Let’s hope that her intentions are harmless, if she is not… After all, as Minerva noticed, she does look innocent.’

‘We are not to try to defend ourselves?’ Mad-Eye asked in disbelief.

‘No. As you pointed out, we are quite at her mercy,’ Dumbledore announced calmly.

Chapter 2 – Being alike

Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing? I have no idea.

The castle seemed to flicker in the air. It looked solid, though. She was pretty sure it was real, and it was where she was heading. The sun was not very high for the end of summer, but the air was fresh. She concluded the place must have been farther north then where she was before. She did not dwell on where she was previously, as the discomfort of not being able to remember anything precise was distressing.

‘There, must be the answer,’ she thought, looking up to the castle with hope. There must be people there who will know exactly what the matter with her was. She would meet them and stay with them. Yet, the idea of the other children or adults she would be meeting in a short while made her feel self-conscious. She looked down at her clothing and gave a more decided appearance to her skirt. A brass watch appeared around her neck, but she did not check it. She jumped down the comfortable rock she had rested on and headed purposefully to the castle.

She soon passed by a large and colourful pitch. She spotted tiny fluffy sort of creatures hanging more coloured banners on the west side of the pitch, where beautiful silver and emerald green material was already half covering a structure. One on them wasn’t working, though. It was watching her intently. She felt uneasy; were these creatures what she had called for? She had hoped to find herself somewhere with humans.

As she reached the northern end of the pitch, the small creature vanished from thin air with a loud crack. Now that, at least, had something to do with what she had called for.

She now had a full breathtaking view on the castle. Following the pitch toward the castle, she had left the forest hedge which was curving west. As she looked left from the castle to appreciate its distance from the forest, a hut with a smoking chimney caught her eye. ‘That must be human,’ she thought, just as a barking came. A giant of a man appeared on the door step.

This made her smile. ‘A nice fairy tale,’ she told herself. ‘Dwarfs and giants, I should have expected that, I suppose.’ These thoughts had brought her to the very foot of the castle. She crossed a large gothic forecourt to reach what must have been the main door. Should she knock? She reflected that in such a big castle, people may not be standing behind the door, so she made the doors open themselves wide, sensing that this way she proved openness and straightforward intentions.

The doors let an impressive long cry of heavy wood and old brass as they opened slowly. A monumental staircase was facing the doors at the center of a huge hall.

‘Hello?’ she asked nervously, wondering if she should go any further. But then she realized that four grown ups were coming to welcome her and decided to wait in the hall.

Soon enough, the four adults appeared at the top of the handsome marble stairs. She couldn’t seem to remember how to smile and suddenly felt too shy to greet them. A wise-looking old man wearing half-moon spectacles and a white beard was looking kindly at her, flanked by a strict looking lady and a dark gentleman. On the right of the younger man, an ugly-looking man with a strange blue eye was staring at her with defiance and shot a word she could not understand as he threw something red at her from the top of a small stick. But it was just light; maybe he was checking her in some way. Whatever the man found out, he now looked puzzled.

She looked at her feet. She hated herself for such unexpected display of shyness. She was quite nervous to see the outcome of the meeting, though; she knew she had come here in desperation to find people like her, but it did not seem to be successful so far, and she could not remember at all where she was before that. Now, however, was not the moment for self-pity. She looked up with determination and politely greeted the inhabitants of the castle with a clear and, she was happy to hear, steady voice.

‘Good morning, Miss,’ answered the old man kindly. ‘Please come up.’

Her small steps echoed in the majestic hall. ‘Would you do me the honour of coming to my office?’ asked the white haired man, and not waiting for an answer, he took the lead.

He uttered an ice-cream name out of the blue when they reached a moody-looking gargoyle several floors upward. The young girl was pleased as she observed moving staircases and armour and heard the conversations in the moving paintings. The wall opened into a rotating staircase and they all climbed up.

The white bearded man gestured to a comfortable looking armchair in front of his desk, before sitting himself behind it. The three other adults took place on the sides. The old man looked composed and kind, but the three others were palpably tensed. The witch tried to smile at her, but the tension made it look like a smirk. The dark man’s eye had been glued at her since she entered the castle in an intense glare, neither kind nor hostile. The ugly one still looked slightly hostile. She focused into the pair of blue eyes in front of her.

‘Would you like a drink?’ offered the old man who, once again not waiting for her answer, flicked a small stick as a glass of orange-coloured juice appeared in front of her. She was thirsty. She bent toward the glass, and transformed the content into water before she grabbed it and drank. She sensed the three adults twitch but stuck to the blue eyes.

‘Do you know where you are?’ asked the blue-eyed man.

‘No.’

‘This is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, and this is our deputy headmistress, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape and Alastor Moody.’

She gave three slight bows.

‘And you are…?’ asked Dumbledore simply.

The girl looked at him as if not understanding the question.

‘Pray, what is your name and where do you come from?’ he reformulated encouragingly.

The girl recollected a short moment, as to recall some information that one knows for sure but has not been asked for a while, like one’s cousin’s birth date.

‘Cybele,’ she said as she looked up, looking relieved. ‘I come from the South,’ she added.

However fit the headmaster may have found the information, he did not press the point.

‘What did you come to Hogwarts for?’ the woman named McGonagall asked kindly.

There it was. She had prepared for this question.

‘I wanted to find a place with people like me, people who could explain me about what I do, maybe tell me… Help me.’

This had not come out as clearly as she had rehearsed at all. She looked from the witch to the dark-eyed man to the headmaster hopefully, ignoring the brutal-looking man who was pointing his light-throwing stick at her with a grimace on his face which made him look strikingly like the gargoyle downstairs.

‘What is it that you do?’ the woman asked. ‘Tell us about it.’

‘Err, things that other people can’t do. But I saw people doing it here: like the little creature outside disappearing and the giant man in his hut making it rain over his vegetable patch.’ The old man’s lips unexpectedly twitched into a smile at these words, but she continued nether the less. ‘And when I open the door; I’ve never met anyone who can open the door without touching it, unless it’s electric.’ She saw the women and her younger colleague exchange an eager look at this last word. ‘Also like you giving me a glass of juice without going to take it somewhere.’

‘…Or changing its content if you don’t like it,’ the old man finished for her.

‘You can disappear like the House-Elf?’ the younger man cut in a bit brusquely.

The young girl broke into her first real smile since she entered the castle and let out a clear little, laugh.

‘Was it really an Elf?’

‘Yes,’ the man answered with a slight smile, looking suddenly very engaging, but the smile and the impression passed as fast as light. ‘Can you do that?’

‘Yes, I can be invisible. Or I can disappear to appear in another place.’

‘Can you show us?’ he asked slowly.

As an answer, she disappeared and poked the deputy headmistress’s hand gently, who gave the smallest breath intake. She reappeared seconds later, and then disappeared again.

‘There is a lake.’ Her voice came from the northern window, behind the meeting table, where she was gazing outside. ‘I did not see it from the grounds.’

The adults exchanged looks at this further proof that Hogwarts’ magical laws were bellow the creature; no wizard could Apparate within the grounds.

She walked back to her armchair.

‘Is there anything else… unusual you can do?’ Snape continued.

She hesitated. Was she right to be so opened to these people who were obviously not as similar to her as she had hoped? Even though they were doing things like her, they also seemed surprised at a number of things.

She gave a non-committing, ‘I don’t know.’

Dumbledore gazed intensely at her, and then said, ‘You do not know exactly where you come from.’

It was not a question.

‘I don’t remember,’ she corrected. ‘Nothing precise; I just was among people unlike you, so I wished I could find other people more like me, then I found myself down these mountains other there… And I knew I could walk to this castle to find you. You are like me, right?’

‘Well,’ the headmaster answered, ‘we can be invisible, and appear in other places, open doors, summon glasses of refreshments or change glasses’ contents.’ He looked at her piercingly over the half-moon spectacle before adding, ‘But we do not do it exactly in the same way as you, so we may be of different kinds.’

‘Have you always been able to do all these things?’ McGonagall asked.

‘Yes, but I don’t remember much,’ she lied. She could not remember anything at all, actually, she thought sadly. ‘I don’t remember when I was younger,’ she added truthfully.

‘You must be hungry,’ the headmaster stated unexpectedly. ‘Eslis!’ The Elf appeared in the very second. ‘Would you please take our guest down to the kitchen for a healthy snack, and bring her back when I will call?’

‘Yes, Sir,’ the Elf squeaked.

The young girl looked positively delighted to follow the small creature. But she turned back to Dumbledore.

‘The students in your school, they are my age?’

‘How old are you?’

‘Err-’

‘Yes, they are about your age,’ McGonagall cut in. =

‘Do they do things like you or me?’

‘They can. They come here to learn it our way.’

‘Maybe I could learn your way too, then we would be alike. Wouldn’t we?’

Dumbledore smiled. ‘We will discuss it when you come back.’

The girl sighed and followed the Elf to let them deliberate over her case.

***

Dumbledore waited for the door to close behind the Elf and the girl before he looked back at each of us.

I was quite fascinated. Never such a phenomena had presented itself to me. I knew, and Albus must have known, and assumed that I knew, too, what was the most far-stretched and yet most obvious hypothesis here. I was dying to explore the matter. The girl would stay here and nobody would be more qualified than I was to study her.

Though, I also felt uneasy; past fascination for powerful magic had cost me before, was still costing me, dearly. I thought for a second that ironically, we were likely to be two in this room to feel the very same way. But I was tempted, possibly harder than ever. I was determined to have her in Hogwarts and under my close responsibility. It was just a matter of directing these deliberations wisely. This game I could play.

Dumbledore raised an interrogative eyebrow to us and unsurprisingly, old Mad-Eye was the first to answer his silent interrogation.

‘I’ll call the Unspeakables; they’ll see the creature and bring it to the Department of Mystery.’

Dumbledore kept half as expressionless as I hoped I remained. McGonagall typically cried out indignantly.

‘We shall certainly not hand a child over to laboratory freaks! She is of school age and therefore falls under our responsibility.’

I felt like it was safe to intervene coolly at this point.

‘I am afraid Minerva is right. Considering the age of the girl, we can hardly avoid the responsibility. Still, Alastor has a point; this should be reported to the Ministry… to a certain extent,’ I added cautiously. I was already on fine ice. As on cue, Albus gave me one of his trademark piercing looks. Minerva saved it.

‘Yes, let’s not hide to the Ministry that we have a child with special abilities, but let’s not give enough away to tempt them into getting her as a guinea pig!’

Perfect! I could have kissed the old stiff owl.

Moody opened his mouth, no doubt to express some more disgusting suggestion about the girl’s future in a cell in the Magical Creature Experimentation Center, but I cut in again.

‘As Albus said, for now we are quite at her mercy and the Ministry could not prevent anything if she would turn to harm anytime soon. The wisest move is probably to give her a peaceful welcome and to keep her, as well as in good mood, under close observation.’

I did not like the look that the three of them gave me. I was being obvious. They were seeing through me and I hated that.

‘And we are to suppose that you are eager to take charge of the close scientific observation, Severus?’ Dumbledore asked plainly.

It seemed like game was over, cards on the table.

‘You would suppose well, as I am the most qualified… and yes, I do volunteer.’

Something close to sadness painted itself on the transparent face of the older Gryffindor.

‘Severus, I know, and admire, your passion for research, which has led in the recent past to major magical discoveries, but let me speak plainly; I feel that you are already under duties too heavy for one wizard, and such observation will be engrossing as well as time consuming. It is also critical that the findings remain among us in these disturbed times,’ he added cautiously. ‘As fascinating as the research is, and as tempting it is to have it rested in hands I believe to be the most skilled and efficient, I cannot but be reluctant…’

This time no expression crossed my face.

‘I am at your service, Headmaster. One would think that I could receive a rewarding task, which I may truly enjoy, as a compensation for my… less pleasant duties,’ I said icily, cursing myself for giving such a shameful attempt of a tantrum to get what I wanted. So much for the skilful poker game I was proposing myself to play five minutes ago. Never the less, it worked.

‘We should then consider that you ought to have a share in these duties. Minerva?’

‘Of course, Albus, it will be capital input. Are we then assuming that we are taking the girl in?’

Moody accepted defeat, for his standard, in an unexpectedly gentleman-like manner.

‘So let’s get through what we shall feed the Ministry, our course of magical observation steps and how to fit the girl in… Before sunset!,’ he said grumpily.

***

So we went through with it. The girl was summoned back less then two hours later.

Eslis escorted her back and she accepted to resume her place in the armchair with a look of determination.

Dumbledore locked eyes with her and started with a short speech. ‘Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was established centuries ago. The students and professors here are witches and wizards. Witches and wizards all have, with different level of power, the ability to perform magic. Magic is what we call when we perform such things as we discussed earlier. You mentioned that other people, where you were before, could not perform similar actions. That is because the vast majority of human kind does not have magical abilities. We refer to all them as Muggles and keep our doings strictly secret from them.’

The girl just nodded.

‘We perform all our magic,’ Dumbledore was pursuing, ‘by using magic wands,’ he gracefully flicked the small wooden stick at these words, ‘and verbal spells. For instance, to transform pumpkin juice in water as you did earlier,’ a new glass of pumpkin juice appeared in front of them for demonstration, ‘I need to point then twist slightly upward my wand like that and say “transubsts aqua�.’ The glass glowed a second as the spell worked and left clear water within.

The look on Cybele’s face showed she was puzzled.

‘The young wizards and witches come to this school to learn how to perform magic by using a wand and memorizing the spells in different fields of actions, to learn about animals, plants or other material which possess magical properties and how to deal with them or to use them. Unlike you, witches and wizards cannot perform much magical actions without using wands and spells. It takes five years of education in this school to master the basics. Therefore, we do not think that you are a witch, or at the very least a witch alike any other. Do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ the young girl answered, looking crestfallen.

Would you mind answering some questions to professors McGonagall and Snape, now?

She nodded.

Professor McGonagall started.

‘Can you remember anything about were you were before entering our grounds? Would you please tell us all you can remember?’ she asked kindly.

The girl seemed to ponder the question. I could tell she was not trying to remember any thing but was calculating the course of action to take. I felt confident that if she was genuine, she would trust us. As to confirm both my hypothesis, she seemed to have made a decision and spoke.

‘Barely. I must have been, wherever it was, among Muggles as you say, to have come to realize that I was different. I always used to wish things and they would just happen or appear, so I knew I could ask something a bit more complex and I made the decision to leave. So I made myself wish to find a place where people like me were staying and I found myself down the hill other there. I saw the castle and that was where I was supposed to go but I felt something was wrong. We are different but you must be the closest thing to what I am, or I would not have found myself here at all.’

‘Do you know if you have a family?’

‘No, I suppose I must have had parents. I don’t know where they would be.’

The girl appeared quite indifferent. I could tell better, though, as I was used to concealing or bottling my feelings. She was quite distressed but was putting an impressive restrain at work.

‘Do you know your last name?’

‘No, I’m sorry.’

‘Or how old you are?’

She just stared at her feet. Minerva looked at me. She wordlessly made me understand that she had decided to put an end to what we had agreed to be the first series of questions. I could not agree more; I took over.

‘Miss?’ She looked up and softened at the sound of my voice, undoubtedly guessing that the questions would take a different turn.

‘Could you try to explain us how you perform the magic, as, unlike us, you do not appear to use spells or a wand?’

‘Err, if I want to have water, like, rather then the weird juice, I… just sort of acknowledge that I really want water, not the other thing, then I sort of decide that it should really be like that… so it is.’

‘So it is… Does it require a lot of concentration, time, or energy?’

She looked up at me; she did not seem to have considered the matter.

‘Not more than breathing,’ she eventually answered. She would be a dream to work with; accurate and intelligent, just a bit cunning. And she seemed to know what she was doing; wasn’t she getting just what she had hoped for? Most of all, she seemed to always think before she spoke, which was a rare trait in a Hogwarts student... And she even had more than a hundred-word vocabulary! She would be in Slytherin, I caught myself thinking proudly.

I restrained myself from asking more questions. If they wanted my help, they would have to assign me this task at my conditions.

We were able to leave the headmaster’s office a couple of hours later. All was settled and, as far as I was concerned, satisfyingly. I had gotten exactly what I wanted, even though in a most unexpected way.

As for the one hypothesis nobody had voiced, the headmaster had given a perfect give-away that it was in his mind when it had come to the house. I will have it coming up in our next meeting, whether he liked it or not.

Sitting down at my desk, I realized that the unexpected commotion had relieved me from more pressing preoccupations. I felt grateful that I would have the exciting task of studying out Miss Cybele to regularly take my mind off another particular problem for the coming years.

As of yet however, there was no escaping any more the painfully obsessive wonders and dreads: Lily’s son was entering Hogwarts tonight, at last.

Chapter 3: Welcome to Hogwarts

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

Having been led into a low-ceilinged basement kitchen, I relaxed in the warm and comfortingly busy atmosphere. A dinner was being prepared and the smell of freshly cooked soup smelt so much like home that it was almost overwhelming.

House-Elves seemed delighted to see a child and while one pushed me into a seat, another presented me with a huge tray of sandwiches. I had found Eslis quite nervous and jumpy earlier, but I realised he was actually the calmest, as well as the largest, of his kind. He came back with yet another glass of the shockingly orange juice that the old man had summoned for me upstairs.

All in all, it was the most extraordinary thing I had come across since my I arrived by the mountain that morning. It looked like pumpkin smashed into juice. I was about to transform it but pulled over curiously. It actually smelled like pumpkin! I took a slip and fought hard not to split. It was disgusting… in a weird sweet way, somewhat, but definitely icky. I changed the glass into a large glass of fresh water and gulped it down.

‘You is not liking the pumpkin juice, Miss?’ Eslis asked with concern.

I looked at him in bewilderment and couldn’t help but cracking in laughers. ‘Pumpkin juice, really? You’re joking, right?’

Eslis did not seem to get into the fun so I stopped quickly, also realising that keeping changing contents of glasses people offered may simply be a bit rude.

‘I’m sorry, Eslis, no, I just like water.’

‘You is just having to ask, Miss,’ and he came back with another glass of water.

He waited and stared at me while I was eating the sandwiches.

‘We is to go back to the headmaster now,’ he said, and I pushed the tray back.

*-*-*-*-*

As I resumed my seat from earlier, the headmaster explained exactly where I was and who they were. And they were clearly not like me.

The female professor started a barrage of distressing questions which I could unconsciously relate to things I had heard before – Muggle questions, then. I tried to think fast. They were still the closest humans to me and even if we were doing it differently, it sounded like the same Magic to me. I had to stay here and see if they were any help. At least I would be able to act like myself, here. I bet the clever bloke in black would solve it soon enough and the wise old man seemed to know more than he was prepared to share right now. Or maybe all wise men looked that way?

I started to answer all their questions docilely and the best I could.

‘We are willing to help you,’ Dumbledore stated plainly. ‘You can enter Hogwarts as a student and we can try and help you find out more about your being a different sorcerer than the rest of us. Would you like to accept?’

‘Yes, thanks.’

‘Then, if you do stay, there are rules we must establish’.

Professor McGonagall spoke next.

‘We do not wish the other students to know that there is anything different about you. Do you agree not to tell them?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you are to enter second-year, as to justify your ability to perform magic already. You are not to perform any magic within Hogwarts without using a wand. You will learn the ways to use it and the spells together with your fellows. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Professor.’

‘You are to say that you were receiving education at home and that your parents have died last year, which will explain for your arrival here and for your advanced magical skills.’

‘I cannot tell my parents are dead!’ I cut in. ‘I will tell them they’ve disappeared, which is true, no? I mean, I have disappeared, right? It’s the same thing.’

‘Fine, you may tell them that. You must be registered under, and use, a family name. You have said that you cannot remember any?’

‘No…’

Albus Dumbledore spoke.

‘If it is all right with you, we could use Philius.’

That meant loving in Greek, which I found ridiculous. But then it did not seem like a wise move right now to cross the headmaster and as Greek did not appear anywhere in the book-list McGonagall had passed me, the other students probably wouldn’t know. I must have looked funny, though, because the headmaster asked, ‘Is there anything wrong with the name, Cybele? It is Greek, you know.’

‘Yes, I know, it means love,’ I answered, somewhat more grumpily than I intended.

The adults did not acknowledge my reluctance, however, as they were stroke by another idea.

‘I take it you understand Greek?’ Dumbledore asked. ‘Can you speak other languages?’

‘I don’t know.’ How could I know, really? ‘The inscription on the main door this morning, it was in Latin,’ I added helpfully. ‘Never tickle a sleeping dragon,’ I translated.

‘Minerva?’ Dumbledore invited.

She looked puzzled a second but soon took the hint.

‘Parlez-vous français?’

‘Oui… oui, je peux aussi parler français.’

They were not going to make me go through every language they could speak!

‘I don’t think language is a problem,’ I stated.

‘What do you mean?’ McGonagall asked.

‘Whatever I read or hear, I can understand and speak it myself.’

‘Are there other things you know without having to learn them?’ Dumbledore asked.

‘Yes, like… school stuff.’

‘You mean science, languages, history?’

‘Yes, these things. And information.’

‘Information?’

‘Yes, like...’ I felt uneasy disclosing this. What if they reacted just like lots of Muggles in front of magic and never behaved normal to me again?

‘It’s all right, nobody will scold you for what you may not help but know,’ Dumbledore said, showing kind understanding of my uneasiness.

‘Nor are we frightened by the abilities that make you who you are,’ added Snape in a cold whisper, catching even more accurately where my uneasiness lied.

Well, I just had to think a little bit about each of them and fish some harmless-looking pieces of information. I tried first with the old man and a swirl of century-long information engulfed me. I could control that, I was seeking for inconsequent small facts. Professor McGonagall was easier, facts appearing in a more appeased and chronological sort of order, it was easy to pick one or two things without feeling noisy. Professor Snape was overwhelming; I sensed powerful emotions, secrecy and privacy and concentrated hard to not decipher anything important precisely. I succeeded.

‘Your first name is Albus and you are addicted to the pumpkin thing you tried to make me drink, and she is Minerva and she lives with a grumpy creature named Fitzwilliam, and Professor Snape is Severus and he doesn’t like to ride a broom, but why would someone would ever do that anyways?’

Professor Snape slowly turned his head to me and asked.

‘Do you seek the information in our minds?’

‘Oh, no! I could, though, I think… but wouldn’t that be rude? Do you want me to try?’

‘No. So that means that you could as well give us any information about us which is in none of our minds, which we ourselves are not aware of?’ Snape went on.

I turned to Auror Moody at that, my mind set to revenge for his outright hostility. I though I caught a beginning of a smile from Snape at this but it was once again so fast I could have fancied it. I soon found something suitable.

‘When you received your “Aurorship� at the end of your training, you were not really the first of your batch. A boy who was arrested just after the examinations for “Death Eater� activities, he scored better. But the Ministry thought that this information was irrelevant and they never told any of the graduates.’ I said all this with a sweet smile.

Moody raised his Dumbledore-sided eyebrow in an interrogative glance and the headmaster nodded.

‘What does “Auror� and “Death Eater� mean, please, sir?’ I asked quickly.

‘Miss Cybele,’ McGonagall spoke, not answering directly my question, ‘you will have a lot to learn about the Wizarding society. I suggest we tell the other students that you come from another country, as to explain your ignorance.’

I nodded.

‘Which country, Professor?’ I asked.

Once again the three adults turned to the headmaster to settle this matter. Oddly enough, it almost felt comforting to have my life invented by this kindly old man, even if he did come up with a very cheesy last name.

‘It could be helpful,’ he suggested eventually, ‘to have you coming from a remote enough place. It would conveniently explain anything you may ignore about our habits. Would you mind saying you come from the East, maybe Lebanon? Simply say that your family was English speaking and wished you to be educated in English.

I simply nodded, my mind flying over the Mediterranean Sea, somewhere between Greece and Lebanon. I wondered whether the headmaster had travelled to all those places and how many languages he could speak. McGonagall resumed, unabashed.

‘You have asked for help, so we will try to work, observe and research in order to discover more about where you come from and where your abilities come from. We will need your full cooperation; you may need to train or to meet scholars very regularly.’

‘I will do as told!’ I assured eagerly.

‘Unfortunately,’ Dumbledore continued, ‘as willing as we all are to help you closely, Hogwarts’ scholars are very busy and the years coming promise to be busier than ever, due to some… reforms.’

I was trying to catch Professor Snape’s eye. If only he could volunteer to help me. Not only was he obviously more intuitive in his understanding of my situation, he was also making me fell much more at ease. He was not as sweetly kind as the others. I could tell they meant good but I had always felt uneasy around overly-kind adults. I liked Snape cold demeanour; he did not wear his feelings on his sleeve and I liked the sense of privacy it gave. He talked less but nailed more things down. I could also tell he would be second-fast to the headmaster to find some positive facts about me, and it was not likely that the headmaster would offer himself to work closely and frequently with me.

At last he turned to me and I caught his eyes. He saw the plea in my eyes and if anything, he looked surprised. We realised that Dumbledore had stopped talking and I looked back at him. The headmaster gave me a plainly sizing look before he saying with a sigh, ‘Miss Philius, do you think you could commit yourself to work with one of us on a weekly basis?’

I glanced at Snape a second time, just long enough to see him glance back at me, and quickly looked back at the headmaster who was starting to look amused. Fine, I was being obvious; I just hoped I was not offending the other professors, or worse, annoying Professor Snape. As seemed to be his habit, Dumbledore came down to it in few words.

‘Why Professor Snape, Cybele?’

‘He understands it better, doesn’t he?’ I stated, unfortunately, as if it had been obvious, forgetting that the others could hardly have been able as I had to assess his accuracy. ‘I would understand if Professor Snape is busy or disinclined. I would be grateful to work with any of you, of course,’ I added quickly, dreading to be rude.

‘I will meet you in the course of the coming weeks,’ Snape said simply, without smiling.

I made a short bow and wait to see if McGonagall would pursue with some more rules. She looked taken aback and even slightly disapproving. I must have offended her by my open preference for her colleague. I didn’t feel too well about that.

‘Hogwarts is a boarding school, Cybele,’ she eventually resumed, ‘and here the students are belonging to four different Houses.’ She described the four Houses, their colours and symbols and qualities. She was the head of Gryffindor’s house, she said, and Snape the head of Slytherin.

‘Cats and dogs,’ I thought.

‘We place students in their first-year, with the help of this ancient Hat.’

Dumbledore had stood up and was now coming back with a battered-looking black pointed hat.

‘Just wear the Hat,’ McGonagall said invitingly, ‘it will take a glimpse at the inner you and decide which House you’d do best in.’

Dumbledore then talked to the hat.

‘We have a little pre-term job for you. There will be no need to sing.’

‘To sing?’

Prof McGonagall passed me the Hat, which I wore. Nothing happened for a full minute, and then the Hat mumbled, ‘Muggle.’

Dumbledore spoke to it once more.

‘Miss Cybele Philius is not a Witch, but she is not a Muggle either and she will stay in Hogwarts this year. We will need to place her in a House.’

‘There is nothing to be seen in this mind, and I can tell a Muggle when I see one,’ the Hat replied stubbornly. I was starting to decidedly dislike it and I pulled it off not too gently.

‘Fine,’ said Dumbledore, ‘you shall keep it for tonight, Minerva. I suppose we will have to play the Hat ourselves, for we know a little about you,’ he said to me.

None spoke. They obviously considered the headmaster as the best judge of character and were willing to let him chose.

All the Houses seemed all right to me. I assumed it was just some sort of team-building institution and the same type of kids were to be found in all Houses at the end of the day. I doubted he would take me as a Hufflepuff, as I did not have occasion to display any faithfulness and my honesty could not be judged so fast. I felt a pang of regret, thinking that they must be a friendly and easy-going lot if they lived to the ideal of their House. I hoped I would not end with the brave Gryffindors; I imagined them to be a choosy group who would not accept any new friends unless they displayed some kind of spectacular bravery. I was not sure about the cunnings or the clever either, probably because I sort of liked being more cunning and cleverer than others, so what if they were all better at it than me?

The headmaster was smiling kindly at me and said, ‘I suppose you would fit fine in Slytherin or Ravenclaw. Then again, Slytherins may be more inclined to ask a lot of questions about your family, so better be Ravenclaw.’ He winked and added, ‘Besides, Slytherins do not generally befriend House-Elves.’ He went on more seriously. ‘Professor Filius Flitwick, the head of your House, will know about the particular of your arrival here. The rest of Hogwarts staff won’t.’

I nodded, puzzled at the new professor’s first name’s similarity to my brand new family name; but the headmaster did not comment and McGonagall spoke again.

‘You now need to purchase your books, as well as the other items listed here,’ she gestured at the list she had given me earlier and which I realised was still clutched in my hands. ‘I would take that you do not have any kind of money?’ she asked very kindly.

I reached my hand open and a dozen of fat Galleons appeared in my palm. McGonagall gasped, Moody’s jaw dropped as Snape and Dumbledore exchanged a quick glance. Trust adults to give their full attention when it comes to money… I broke their reverie.

‘How many of these would I need to buy a school book?’

‘Less than two,’ said McGonagall helpfully. She was frowning, though, looking suspicious, but she did not investigate.

‘A new term is starting tonight, Miss Philius,’ explained Dumbledore. ‘Students will arrive by train and gather for a feast in the Great Hall at seven. Be there. In the mean time, Eslis will escort you to do your necessary shopping in London. You will use the Floo, Eslis will explain to you. Usually, one of us would accompany new students from non-wizarding families, but I am sure you understand; we are running very late today.’

*-*-*-*-*

She had spent almost two hours shopping in Diagon Alley with Eslis.

She did not know what to make of the little Elf creatures. They all seemed to be working as servants in the school. They were so kind. But their kindness had a nervous and over-reverent way to it as not to let her consider them as equals or potential friends and it made her feel uneasy around them.

They stepped out of the kitchen’s chimney and went directly out of the painting-door to the East tower.

Cybele was left to spend the rest of the afternoon in Ravenclaw’s common-room and she was presently sitting on the common-room’s large window ledge, looking at her new tools and books. The list did not indicate any teachers’ names and she was curious to know what McGonagall, Snape and Flitwick were teaching.

She tuned a little radio she had bought in Diagon Alley, hoping to catch up on the wizarding news and trends but was unlucky so far. She turned the button to hear a loud female voice literally shout, ‘A cauldron full of love!’

She quickly turned the button again and heard a low voice on a heavy metal melody.

‘Magic creeps, underneath You cast a spell under your breath You know it’s useless… When you’re wandless…

Magic remains in your hands When you’re wandless…

When you’re wandless…

When you’re…’

She turned the radio off. The wand… She picked it up from its thin box and turned it in her hands. Eslis had gotten it for her earlier. He had mentioned the wood but she couldn’t remember now. It had cost more than all the books put together.

McGonagall had said to keep it with her all the time. That was what wizards did. They would not perform any magic without these twigs, as the song had lyrically stated. She made a side pocket fit her green skirt and let the wand disappear in it, for now.

She had not bought any animal. Eslis had explained her that owls were used for the post. How many things will she discover tomorrow? First the last name story and now all of that… she was going to be a laughing stock.

She would have an owl! Eslis said a lot of students did. The ones in Diagon Alley where he had brought her just all looked so majestic, not like pets at all, she had not bought any.

So an owl appeared on the top of her knees. It was a bright auburn sort of brown, on the tiny side and perfectly round with a tiny sharp yellow beck. It hooted softly and peered its round dark eyes in the girl’s face.

She smiled. It was perfect. She explained to him that a lot more owls would be coming that evening, together with so many children.

The owl hooted sympathetically. She spoke to him with determination in her voice.

‘They don’t know it yet, but they are going to be my friends.’

Chapter 4 – Lee’s Little Hairy Problem

Your friend, he is your neighbor,
he is next to your wall

Fred and George descended noisily from the first carriage with Lee, talking animatedly.

‘Ready for another year of mischief?’ Lee joked.

‘Now, now, Mister Jordan, you would not assume that we actually enjoy the wrongdoing?’ George asked seriously.

‘Yes,’ Fred continued, ‘we did have the misfortune to get caught in series of, er… misunderstandings last term but we do hope to be better understood in the future…’

Lee turned back and saw what he was expecting; Percy Weasley was standing just behind him, looking sternly at the three of them. They hurried to the main entrance, cracking into loud laughs, and headed straight to the Great Hall. They were the first to enter it - except for the one person who was already at their table. They drew closer, but they couldn’t recognize the girl. They took seats near her and Fred extended his hand genially.

‘Hi, I’m Fred, and this is George and Lee. I don’t think I know you.’

‘Hi, I’m Cybele,’ she said beaming. ‘Er, I’m a new-comer actually, second-year.’

‘We’re third-years, nice to meet you. You come from another school, then? Have you been Sorted yet?’

Now, what the heck does he mean by that? Cybele thought frantically, wondering wildly if she should be offended. She looked at them stupidly. The Lee boy had already left her as a bad job and was peering into a large box he had carried in with him.

Great, she thought, I didn’t even manage to make it one minute into a civilized conversation. This is going to be painful…’

‘The Sorting Hat,’ George said helpfully, ‘has it placed you in a House yet?’ She could tell he was wondering if she had a brain problem or something, but it helped nevertheless.

‘Oh, yeah, the Hat. Yes, I’m in Ravenclaw.’

The boys exchanged a look that did not seem good, and George kindly gave the final blow.

‘Then you’re a bit lost; the Ravenclaw table is two tables down, see, with the blue and bronze decorations.’

Cybele was resigned to make a total idiot of herself in front of three senior students and readily stood up, determined to save face and to leave to her table with a brave smile and a thanks, when the Fred boy decided that the situation was not quite embarrassing enough. He offered his arm in an overly gentleman-like manner and pompously declared, ‘I shall escort you back to your table, then, if you are determined to deprive our House of your charming company,’ with a comical flourish.

Well, it was actually quite nice, and she didn’t have a choice rather than to play along at that point. She took his arm bowing slightly and answered, ‘Yes, thank you,’ in the most dignified way she could.

But before they could leave the table, Lee purposefully tipped his box in her direction and a huge hairy spider fell out and tried to re-establish its balance, slipping on the waxed wood, inches from her.

‘Wait, you haven’t meet Phil yet,’ he said with a mocking grin.

Cybele could tell he was hoping her to yell or jump or disgrace herself even further, and she thought nastily, Well, too bad for you, Lee-boy, but this won’t work.

‘Beautiful,’ she said, propping a delicate finger under the beast to help it re-establish its balance.

She bent to let her face much closer to the giant spider.

‘Good evening, Phil.’

She then turned to Fred, whose arm she was still holding coolly. The three boys looked impressed, even Lee, after he looked just a bit disappointed for a second.

‘This way, please.’ Fred resumed in his pompous way, this time genuinely smiling at Cybele.

‘See you around!’ George called enthusiastically. She smiled back at the two boys, thrilled to have won them over after such a pathetic beginning.

‘We may need your help with the monster, Cybele, it’s totally out of control,’ Fred whispered urgently in her ear on their way.

‘Anytime!’ She could not help but grin.

The Great Hall had quickly filled with students and the Ravenclaw table was quite full except for one end, just as were the three other tables. Fred seemed to know some of the youngest students and he bowed to them before taking leave of Cybele with flourishes, helping her to take seat among them.

Now, that was quite an entrance, she thought.

*-*-*-*-*

Cybele put on her full uniform and a Hogwarts robes in the morning, as she had noticed that Cho, Lucia and Marietta had theirs ready.

The evening had not gone bad at all after Fred had escorted her to her table. The small group of Ravenclaw second-years had proven to be nice and open. They had asked a number of questions but, even if she did answer quite vaguely to some of them, she had managed not to sound too awkward.

The Sorting, as they obviously called it, had started after the Hat sung a ridiculous song, and a handful of first-years took their places at the end of their table. She had been happy to welcome them just like the older students had. They all walked back to the Ravenclaw Tower together and the three girls who would share her dormitory had been really nice.

They were almost ready now, and she did not know if she should wait for them or if that would be just pushy. She decided to casually leave first with a, ‘See you at breakfast!’

‘Hey, Cybele!’

She turned back at the door, hopeful.

‘You’re leaving without your wand!’ Lucia was pointing at her bedside table.

‘Oh… thanks.’

She grabbed the wand and ran out.

On her way down, she thought about the previous afternoon’s song lyrics. She was still holding her wand. Every single student she had seen so far were holding their wands or kept them in a pocket and popped them out every so often, checking them, shaking them at each other. When you’re wandless, you’re useless, was that what the song said? There were so many things she would like to learn more about, but she couldn’t ask her new friends without raising suspicions or looking stupid. She would meet Professor Snape, but she doubted he would waste his time answering questions about the Wizarding world. If only Eslis were a bit free.

She was the first in the Great Hall. No, there were three boys at the far end table; Lee, Fred and George, actually. She wondered if she should pass by their table to say hello, or just go for hers and sit down and just wave if she could catch their eyes, but then what if they thought she was snubbing them? She cursed herself. Why did she have to be so awkwardly shy sometimes?

As she was stuck at the entrance, George spotted her and waved her to come, which she gratefully did.

‘So, how’s Ravenclaw? Any hope to see you come over after all?’

‘They’re cool, my roommates are really nice. How’s cohabitation with Phil?’

‘A nightmare. Care to join us for breakfast? We need help. Badly,’ Lee said.

‘Yes, almost as much as the pleasure of your delightful company,’ Fred added pointedly, resuming his gentleman game and actually giving his friend a scolding look.

She sat down next to Lee.

‘So, where did Phil come from?’ she started.

But the boys were keen to ask her more about herself and they sat there getting to know each other better until their breakfast appeared on the table. She waved at the girls when they entered the Hall and she thought they gave her a curious look. I hope they’re not on bad term with these boys, she thought, dreading the answer. Then she was introduced to some Gryffindors, who she found gave her the same curious look… not hostile, but...

She decided to try the boys. Fred and Lee were deep in some joke.

‘George,’ she called, ‘I don’t mean to be paranoid or what, but coming from abroad and all… You would tell me if I did or ate something I shouldn’t have, right? Because people look, what, taken aback… or…’

Now Fred, Lee and George also looked taken aback… ‘God,’ she thought. But it was something else.

‘How do you know he’s George?’ Fred asked.

‘Well, he is,’ she answered sternly.

‘No, I’m George, actually, but never mind,’ Fred tried.

‘No, you’re not,’ she confirmed calmly.

‘How do you do that?’ Lee asked. ‘It took me months to start distinguishing them and if they want they can still confuse me any day.’

‘Are you gonna answer my question or not?’ she asked.

‘Miss Philius,’ McGonagall called at this point. She had walked up behind her. Fred, George and Lee suddenly became engrossed by their cereal. ‘Professor Flitwick was looking for you, how come you are not at your House’s table, is anything wrong?’ She did not leave time to answer and handled a piece of parchment. ‘This is your time table for the term, Miss Philius. I suggest you join your fellow Ravenclaws, they will be familiar with the classroom locations.’

‘Thanks, Professor.’

The boys now looked up from their bowls.

‘Are you related to Flitwick?’ George asked, referring to her family name.

‘What? No. It’s his first name isn’t it?’ She looked down at the parchment and spotted it.

‘Besides, the spelling’s not the same, his has been Latinized.’ The boys assumed a vacant look at this last statement.

‘I’d better join the girls,’ Cybele said, rising from her chair.

‘Hey, mind coming over to us to look into the Phil problem?’ Lee called. ‘What about Friday? Nine at the Gryffindor’s common room.’

‘He means nine in the Great Hall,’ George corrected. ‘I’ll pick you up. Honestly, be practical,’ he hissed to Lee.

She rushed to her table and sat down next to the six other Ravenclaw second-years. The girls seemed in deep private conversation, and giggling. Ben was talking with his elder brother and other older boys further. Archie and Pete, though, were peering over their time tables.

‘This is the Monday from hell!’ Pete was complaining.

She looked down at her timetable. Monday was packed with double classes.

‘How’re the teachers?’ she asked conversationally.

‘Well, the Potions master is an absolute nightmare. Mind you, the guy knows his stuff and you can learn in his class, but he’s just disagreeable for the fun of it, apparently. Quite nasty, really,’ Pete provided.

She looked down at her time table. Professor Snape. Well, she would see for herself.

‘Then Defence Against the Dark Arts,’ Pete continued, ‘impossible to know, right? It just changes every year. Last year’s girl was an Auror from the Ministry, just on a one year replacement. She was all right’

Here she was lost again. Auror? Wait, Auror, like yesterday’s maniac…

‘We just have one hour for lunch,’ she noticed.

‘Yeah, and then two more double classes in the afternoon, deep in mud outside,’ Archie added depressingly.

‘Let’s go, we’ll be late and get changed into bats by Snape.’ Pete took the lead.


*-*-*-*-*


She had made acquaintances easier than she thought she would. Obviously it would take time to ever become really close to anybody as the groups were already formed for one year and she persisted at being shy and awkward. However, the real integration challenge had turn out to be the magic and the classes.

She had relished in being able to act herself, but then there had been this all wand and spell business. Sure magic was part of witches and wizards, but they weren’t magic; they were performing it. They were wearing it on the outside, in their wands. She simply was growing to hate the little wooden stick. She was finding herself playing pretend in all her courses.

Potions had been all right. For sure, Professor Snape proved to be very disagreeable in class, especially to the soft Hufflepuffs they were sharing class with. He obviously loved potion brewing but she was not sure about the teaching. And he was ignoring her so well that she could have wondered if she was real! But she immediately liked the topic because it did not use wands, except for stirring, which was a real, not fake, action.

She would not tell it to Archie and Pete, or anybody as it was, but she was very likely to consider Monday her favourite day, as most classes were not focused on wand work. She was actually learning things in Potions and Herbology. Defence Against the Dark Arts, though, consisted mainly in performing very easy things but having to memorize a movement and a spell in Latin to go with it in order to fit in… Besides, the teacher was jumpy and smelled weird.

Most teachers had already set homework the very first week and the Ravenclaw second-years had made a group and settled together in the library after lunch. Cybele gratefully hung out with her new Gryffindor acquaintances in the Great Hall instead, but most of the Ravenclaws went back to the same library table after dinner too, and she went to join them then. She felt already so much in a routine; it was a very comforting sensation.

On Friday evening, Cybele and Ben were the first ones to get back from the library, around eight. Ben pestered her about the Potions essay all the way up and then left her to join his brother and his friends. She sat in a comfy armchair near the fire and started feeling, as usual, very self-conscious. Nobody she knew was around and she felt awkward sitting alone and purposeless in her armchair. She should have taken a book from the library.

As she could really not stand it, she took out her three essays and read them again. That took about ten minutes. So she stood and brought back her bag up from the dormitory; she would go and borrow a book from the library on her way to the Great Hall, where she would meet George. She magically changed into dark blue docker trousers and a soft grey woolen sweater as her brass watch appeared back around her neck, before she went down. All second-years were back in the common room now, but Cho, Lucia, Marietta, Archie and Pete did not see her pass and she reached the door dreading that they would find her rude to have left like that. She had not manage to bring herself to come to them and interrupt their lively chat just to tell them where she was going… she felt the familiar burning sensation in her stomach that followed an access of shyness.

Madame Pince, the librarian, was not the most helpful person. It was more like she was guarding a jail, really; the fewer books that left the shelves, the better, in her point of view. She was presently scolding an older student for asking for a title she could not find. She was the third adult she had seen here yet who was not quite fit for her job, with Professors Snape and Quirrel. Obviously magic did not simply save the day. On witnessing that, she decided she would try to wander in the library by herself instead of asking.

It was a beautiful place: a huge room, all the length opened on tall delicate arched windows and the arched ceiling painted with famous historical magical scenes. Behind Madame Pince’s large counter was also an encaged restricted section, as to reflect the librarian’s own interpretation of the place.

Cybele went left and started to stroll among the shelves, reading the brass tags. She found it right at the bottom: literature. There was a handsome display of two shelves. She wondered if this would be wizarding literature or Muggle classics. Picking up some of the unfamiliar volumes and reading the back covers, she realized it was a mix, in alphabetical order, regardless of the Muggle or wizarding origin of the book. Muggle literature was in a wizarding edition, though, with lengthy introductions to enable sorcerers to understand the context of the Muggle classics. She picked up two wizarding volumes: a novel about the adventures of a potion brewer hero in the sixteenth century which was rated on the back cover as “impressively documented – will take you in the depths of Muggle’s alchemists mysteries� and a compilation of tales, entitled Legends of the Wandering Wands.

*-*-*-*-*

Cybele ran out of the library, it was past nine already. She ran all the way to the Great Hall, which was closed, but still waited for five minutes before George appeared and led her to the Gryffindor Tower, where she was again copiously stared at with what looked like curious disbelief upon her entering. They immediately made for the corner where Fred and Lee were discussing over the large brown box. Both boys beamed up at them.

‘How was your first day, Tourist?’

‘Fine...’ Cybele had not seated yet and a lot of Gryffindors were still looking at her. She through of trying and ask again the question left without answer the first morning by McGonagall’s interruption.

‘About the other day…’ Cybele gestured to a group of staring older Gryffindors who quickly looked away when the boys spotted them. Understanding drew down the three boys’ faces.

‘Oh, that, the Houses,’ George started.

‘You did not have Houses in your old school, did you?’ Fred asked.

‘I was taught at home.’

‘I see,’ George continued, ‘well, it’s not too usual that people from other Houses come to our common room,’ he explained.

‘Or sit at our table,’ Fred added.

‘We’re happy you do it, mind you!’ George added quickly.

‘But it’s unusual enough to make Ravenclaws and Gryffindors do a bit of staring. Just don’t take it personally,’ Fred concluded.

Cybele felt relieved that even though she had done something against the norm, she at least knew what. It did not sound that bad anyway; therefore she could take the slight attention it was drawing. She sat down among the boys, near Lee’s famous box.

‘It’s getting frantic,’ Lee was explaining. ‘Now if we open the box it just fights its way out as fast as it can.’

‘Well, then I suppose we’ll just have to let it loose outside, no?’ Cybele answered. ‘Let me look.’

Lee opened the box just enough to make out the shape of the spider. Its numerous eyes were glittering and it passed a shaking hairy leg out. Cybele pushed it gently back and closed the box.

‘The problem is,’ George started hesitantly.

‘What?’

‘Well, we don’t know if it’s really safe,’ Lee finished.

‘How did you even get it? Found it?’

‘In a way of speaking…’ Lee started.

‘Lee’s parents are zoologists,’ Fred explained.

‘Lee tries to live up to the family tradition,’ George went on.

‘And fails miserably,’ Fred completed.

‘Thanks,’ Lee said gloomily.

‘Anyways, half of the books in the magical creature section are written by his family members or ancestors, actually,’ Fred resumed.

‘Lee’s mother is a Scamander, they’re famous here,’ George added.

‘So, you stole poor Phil from your parents’ lab?’ Cybele asked in disbelief.

‘Er… technically… yes… There were so many of them at the time, I guessed my parents wouldn’t see the difference; and as far as I know, they didn’t.’

‘Wow, they were many like this one?’

‘Well, that’s the other problem: when I stole it a week before term started, it was really tiny, you see.’ Lee was making a ring with his thumb and finger.

Fred chuckled when he saw Cybele’s horrified face. .

‘It’s a baby!’ Cybele cried.

George started to chuckle too.

‘And it’s growing… fast!’ she stuttered.

They nonsensically burst into laughter, soon followed by Lee.

‘I really don’t see what’s so funny!’ But Cybele was soon laughing too. It felt good. The Ravenclaw second-years were nice and bright, but not really fun. Archie and Pete were nice and engaging but just too polite, the girls were charming but too much on the girly giggling side and Ben was downright distant. None of them were as warm as Lee, Fred and George. Communicating with them was easy and fun, guaranteed as long as one was not haughty about being teased.

‘Seriously,’ Cybele resumed later, ‘I don’t think it’s feeling all right closed in this box. We’d better find out more about it and how to get rid of it. Any ideas?’

‘Well,’ Jordan started, ‘the fact is, we’ve been doing some reading…’

‘… Which has resulted in a monstrous find,’ Fred admitted.

George summoned a thick library book and handed it to Cybele.

‘Monstrous Creatures and Some Whose Existences Have not yet Been Proven,’ she read.

‘Page seven, if you please,’ Lee invited.

‘Acromantula?’ she read.

‘Seems it could be that, yeah,’ Lee confirmed.

‘Right, it doesn’t sound like anything we cannot handle! Says a nest of them can reduce a Hippogriff to bones in less than five minutes. We just need to find a nice fat Hippogriff, whatever is that, to distract it while we let it loose on the school grounds!’ Fred and George laughed at that, but Lee looked a bit sick.

‘A Hippogriff is larger than a horse, I saw one once,’ he said.

‘Oh! And I assume Acromantulas are in the “existence already proven� category?’ Cybele asked.

‘Well, yes, it is, what do you think?’

‘They say here that Acromantulas can talk,’ she advanced.

‘We could test that!’ Lee said enthusiastically.

‘I don’t know, it may be too young,’ George reminded the group.

‘But we may check if it understands! Look, what does it eat?’ Cybele asked.

‘Well, we’ve been feeding it owl treats for a while now and it takes it…’

‘Right, give one here,’ she ordered.

She placed the hermetically sealed owl treat in her back pocket and slightly opened the box.

‘Hey, Phil, we got something to eat for you, here. I have an owl treat for you; it’s in my back pocket.’ She opened the box more. ‘Come and take it, would you?’

The large spider jumped on her lap and quickly reached a long hairy leg to her back pocket to drag back the owl treat. It was eaten with the paper in a split second and Cybele pushed Phil a bit roughly back into its box, fearing it would make for one of their limbs next. She peered back through the book.

‘It says that only two magical spiders can understand human languages,’ she recited from the book, ‘Acromantula and Histiomantula. Histio is a legendary vampire spider, existence not proven. I don’t think it would relish on owl treats, anyway. That leaves Acro…’

‘That leaves how we get rid of it,’ Lee corrected.

‘What about coming clean to your parents?’

Lee looked at her with an air of disgust.

‘All right… Do you know anywhere we could go and ask about where the animal could be safely released, without being immediately reported to Hogwarts?’

Fred and George caught each other’s eyes and started grinning.

‘Knockturn Alley,’ they said together.

Lee gave a wide smile.

‘Hello, I’m a foreigner!’

‘Well, it’s a Wizarding street in London where most shops would occasionally deal with illegal stuff, so they don’t ask too many questions. We’d better pretend we are interested in buying or selling, though, as they are not exactly the helpful lot otherwise,’ George provided. He turned to Fred and Lee.

‘How do we get there without our parents ever finding out?’

‘Well, can’t we sneak out this weekend?’ Cybele asked.

‘Wow, kids can do that back in your country? Wicked!’ Lee exclaimed. His face fell, however. ‘Couldn’t dream of it, here. The only way to get out is with a note from the family, if we go back to them during the weekend, for example.’

‘So, you guys could ask your parents to go back and we would sneak out for an hour or two…’

‘That’s gonna look fishy; we’ve been here only one week; why should we want to get back so soon?’ Fred was mused. But then Lee jumped up.

‘The Wuthering Wands!’

‘What about them?’ Fred asked.

‘The Wuthering Wands! They have this concert in what, two or three weeks? We could pretend we won tickets from the radio! We haven’t been in detention yet, so no reason our parents would say no, we’ll just pretend to go and have a full two hours of violent heavy metal to investigate Acromantulas in Knockturn Alley!’

‘Brilliant!’ the twins exclaimed.

‘Let’s just hope they keep Phil under control until then…’ Cybele thought.

Chapter 5 – Some Slytherins

Flee from me, away from trouble;
take the path of safety, far from this danger.

The Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years left the dungeons in a hurry. There he was… The Potter boy was just like his father, every bit as self-centred and arrogant… There was no doubt that in no time, I wouldn’t be able to bump into him in the corridors without having to stop him doing something wrong …

I had entertained hopes, I realized, in spite of myself. The son of Lily Evans! I could remember her bent figure over the cauldrons in Slughorn’s classes! But there was no Lily in this boy. Lily was very much dead, while James Potter seemed to have been blessed with a reincarnation.

The Gryffindor first-years promised to be a nightmare. There was yet another Weasley, leaving me wondering when the endless stream of red-haired oddities was going to dry up, a jumpy, over-enthusiastic Muggle-born know-it-all, a pair of giggling girls and two of your average, mediocre Hogwarts boys. But all that was nothing, nothing. To top it all off, the son of the Longbottoms, one the bravest and most highly skilled couples I had ever been disgraced to fight against, was acting like a pathetic stuttering clown!

To tell the truth, the Slytherins were not that much more engaging. Draco seemed to be the only promising child in the class, with the Parkinson’s offspring, whom I was disappointed to find quite giggly, too. It was a pity Cybele did not join my House.

I was looking forward to beginning my research, still thankful for the welcome and powerful distraction the girl was bringing.

I went up to my meeting with the headmaster, realizing how strange, in a refreshing way, it was to head to his office on pure scientific business for a change.

He smiled up at me from his desk when I entered his office and I had a feeling that he too may have been thinking along the same lines.

‘Ah, Severus, have you already set your first meeting with Miss Philius?’

‘I have, we are to meet at the end of the third week.’

‘Let me know what you have planned,’ he invited.

We went through my tentative strategy and agreed to meet again during the weekend following the meeting. I was unwilling to leave, though, without confronting the headmaster about the unspoken theory I suspected we were sharing. Luckily, he did not seem in a hurry to let me go.

‘Very good, very good… Minerva and Filius reported that she was acting most mildly and in respect to the established rules so far. What have you observed?’

‘She hates her wand,’ I answered, somewhat besides the question. I had been watching her during Potions, pretending to use her wand to summon ingredients and light the fire, holding it in a hostile way. ‘And it’s a good thing we’ve introduced her as a foreigner; she has no care whatsoever for Hogwarts’ Houses, she has already been seen in two different common rooms and keeps taking meals at whichever table. The fact that she has not been Sorted properly, of course…’

‘Ah, how I wish Houses would less often be a barrier to friendships…who knows, she may set an example.’

‘Well, talking about her Sorting, I have been wondering…Ravenclaw?’

‘Dear Severus, you know as well as I do that the girl would hardly have fit in Slytherin.’

I could not but agree just after seeing the latest bunch of trolls for myself, but I wished Dumbledore had not chosen to misunderstand my question.

‘No, but it is not what I meant: the House, and her name, too,’ I elaborated.

The headmaster seemed to be lost in deep contemplation of his own wand. I was on the verge to erupt in direct confrontation. At this point, however, Albus, still playing with his wand, spoke.

‘It is ironic, isn’t it? That one of the most legendary heirlooms of the Ravenclaw founder shall be her wand… when rumour has it that she might never had needed one…’

Now we were getting there.

‘So you think it is a plausible theory?’

‘As far as my knowledge extends, Severus, and we may want to consider that it covers some grounds; it is the only one theory. And I want you to keep this in mind when you go through your work with Cybele, as impossible as it seems.’

‘That would mean that she shall never remember where she came from. Are we setting up to discover it?’

‘I suppose we are, Severus, but how? Even if legend was true, and Rowena Ravenclaw had been one, that would set to nearly a thousand years since the last appearance of a Magian…’

*-*-*-*-*

Cybele was right on time Friday evening and did not waste smiles on me as she came in. She seemed to have a feeling of anticipation rather than apprehension, though, because the smile was just behind her lips a she looked up at me after sitting down.

I had come to understand that Cybele’s slight expressions were purposeful, even if lost on most people. From her ghost of a smile, I gathered that we were celebrating our little victory to be settled as a research team and I let a smile come close to my lips as well in a response which was not lost on the girl. Although I was confident she wasn’t inclined to it, I cut any possibility of small talk immediately.

‘The method of investigation at first will be through interviews and experiments. We will go through a descriptive stage as to list all the differences and similitude you may present with both Muggles and wizards. Of course any experiment will be decided on between us, you shall not be forced into anything. Does that suit you?’

‘Of course. Thank you.’

‘We will also do separate work. You shall write down any feeling or memory of your past you may come across. It is possible that you suffer from some kind of amnesia.’

‘Yes. Sir, do people ever come out of amnesia with such a sense of purpose as I did? I mean, one would think someone who does not know where they come from would not either know were to head, right? And I headed right for Hogwarts.’

As much as I appreciated a clever student, I had been wondering how interviews with a cunning girl as Cybele would go and, as I feared, it was becoming evident that I would have to be more open with her than I had planned.

‘Yes, and that is the reason why I personally do not think you suffer from amnesia. However, we should not let any possibility aside, and such work may prove useful in time, don’t you think?’

‘I will try.’

‘On my side, I shall do theoretical research in a wide variety of fields to try and figure out the origin of your particularity.’

‘Sir, do you have any ideas?’

‘Well, there is much I can look in: your situation may result from a spell or a charm but if it is the case it is likely to be extremely complex magic, possibly whether ancient and forgotten or newly invented, as your case is contemporarily unique. It could also be a magic-creature related occurrence we are unaware of. It could be your nature, unknown…’

She did not react to this as we looked at each other for a short while. I understood she had known the last bit to be the main hypothesis but she did not react. I felt an easiness and comfort, in spite of the unknown powers and intentions of the girl in front of me, that I had simply never experienced before. Cybele had said she did not peer into people’s minds. Actually, she had said that she had the feeling that she could but would not try because – it was quite an elegantly modest way of putting it when one came to think of it – it would be rude .And I knew there were no use trying to perform Legilimency on her because Cybele was out of the reach of any traditional magic. But it was quite unnecessary, as I simply believed her.

‘We will have only an interview today. Next Friday I would like to observe you performing basic wizarding magic and take notes. The following week, I would like to observe performances that are not usual magical skills, if we can identify any today.’

Over two hours of interview went smoothly, Cybele answering accurately and in her relaxed, pondering way to all of my questions.

‘Miss Philius, there is a topic on which I did not ask any questions today. It is, however, as important as the others but I do not think interview is the best way to put it together, so I am going to give you some homework. Could you try to organize a list of the knowledge you can master? It is still not clear to me to what extent you’ve reached in personal, magical or general knowledge. Do you understand?’

‘I think, but I could pass you a draft during Monday’s class; you will tell me if I’m on the right way or if it needs changes before next meeting.’

‘Yes, thank you. You may go now, it is very late.’

‘Thank you, Professor.’

And with that she was gone. I decided to focus my research directly on the Magian hypothesis as soon as Dumbledore would pass me some reading material.

I was starting to appreciate that Cybele did not take offence or make any fuss at being called a subject or even referred to in third person. The more I got to know the girl, the more it puzzled me that a girl with such characteristics could have gotten along with those horrid Gryffindor boys, even if in a way of speaking they were quite cunning and light-hearted Gryffindors. I suppose, that just proved that she was very much complex and contradictory; a human being to put it in one word.

*-*-*-*-*

Leaving Professor Snape’s dungeon near midnight, Cybele could not feel more grateful to have some friends and an adventure to look forward to on the following day and change her mind from the distressing duty of finding out who she was. Pondering over the meeting, she nearly bumped into a boy who was going down to the dungeons – a Slytherin, an aggressive Slytherin.

‘What are you doing sneaking down here?’

She looked up to see a tall blond boy with a sharp face and on the thin side, looking so hostile that she almost laughed out loud at the ridicule of it.

‘What? This is a corridor! I’m coming out of Professor Snape’s office.’

Malfoy was about to sneer and make a nasty comment about her getting a detention so soon, when he noticed the ‘Professor’ bit. He had unhappily came to notice in this last three weeks that most non-Slytherin students hated his godfather and always just called him Snape, at best. He looked down the girl’s chest to spot the blazon on the robe. A Ravenclaw. Had he seen her in Herbology? Intrigued and a bit calmed down, he asked in a more neutral tone, ‘Well, it’s late. Got detention?’

‘No, just tutoring.’ And she made to leave.

‘Are you that bad at Potions?’ he said mockingly. Wrong question to ask a Ravenclaw, though.

‘No, I’m not!’ she responded indignantly. ‘I just like the subject.’

Now she remembered the bloke - he was a Slytherin first-year she had heard Fred and George talking about nastily. She remembered seeing him with two large dumpy fellows, who seemed to have as much conversation abilities as Phil, but less brains. He was haughty and had also said something insulting to Archie in the corridor once… an unpleasant fellow. She went on before he could decide that he had been polite long enough, but was surprise to hear,

‘It’s my favourite subject, too,’ the boy tried, ‘the teacher is really good.’

‘Yeah, he’s brilliant,’ Cybele said spontaneously, beaming. Honestly, she had referred to the Potions Master and researcher more than the teacher, but the boy was won over with that.

‘You’re in second-year, aren’t you? How come I can’t remember seeing you before?’

‘I’m new in Hogwarts. I was living abroad before. I’m Cybele, Cybele Philius.’

She extended a hand. Malfoy hesitated a split second but decided that his godfather would not give tutorials to a Mudblood; they shook hands.

‘Draco Malfoy, nice to meet you…’

There was an awkward moment where they smiled weakly at each other.

‘Well, I’ll see you around!’ Cybele tried.

‘Sure, I mean… I’ll see you on the weekend?’

Cybele looked at him and felt a tiny pang of pity. Sure, he seemed to be a disagreeable fellow, possibly a bully as far as she could tell, but there was eagerness in his voice and she was keen to interpret it as a plea for a higher quality of acquaintances. On the other hand, if the boy was prejudiced and aggressive with everybody, it was his own fault that he ended up stuck with a pair of trolls… Well, there was only one way to know more about the person behind the rudeness.

‘Tomorrow my friends and I have a, er… concert, you know, The Wuthering Wands.’

‘Ugh… you like this group?’ he grimaced.

She smiled. ‘No idea, my friends won tickets, so I figured I’d just give it a go. I take you don’t like them?’

‘Tuneless, violent, crap…’

‘I see… Care about a chat on Sunday? By then we’ll know if we have the same musical tastes…’

Cybele’s goodwill and attempt at what she viewed as a generous display of tolerance was rewarded by a broad smile.

‘Sure, see you after breakfast?’

They shook hands again.

*-*-*-*-*

When Snape got out of his office moments after the meeting, he was pleasantly surprised to see Cybele and Draco shaking hands smilingly, further up the corridor. All of a sudden it did not bother him at all that Cybele knew the Gryffindor Tower passwords better than Longbottom; he was all for inter-House friendship.

Malfoy was coming down his way to the Slytherin common-room and when he spotted him, he anxiously jumped on his godfather to check his new friend’s blood status.

Snape kept expressionless as a disagreeable sort of regret crept within; he often wished he could actually teach his godson a bit of what he had most cruelly learned in life about the real values of blood. But considering his role as a double agent, it was absolutely out of question… unless…

‘No idea.’

‘What?’

‘Cybele is an orphan. Her parents disappeared in mysterious circumstances last year and the girl must have experienced some sort of shock because she suffers of partial amnesia. Her ease with magic leads us to think that she is not Muggle-born, but her blood status cannot be established in any positive way.’

Malfoy looked confused.

‘Draco, this is not common knowledge, please do not tell Cybele or anyone else that I have let you know such things!’

‘All right, but Severus, do you mean there is no way to establish one’s blood status other than with a family tree?’ This made it sound like there was nothing special at all with Muggle blood and Draco did not like the idea.

Severus was starting to think that this was not the best idea after all and instead of making Draco’s mindset evolve, was more likely to expose Cybele to his godson’s very worst side… However, it was too late to go back.

‘No, none at all. Cybele is a brilliant girl, that’s all I know. If it’s not enough for you, by all mean do not seek her company. And I have to warn you; whether due to her amnesia or to her education, Cybele has no concept of blood status or prejudices of any kind, so she may have difficulties understanding your views if you chose to share them… And remember to call me Sir or Professor while we are at Hogwarts.’

And so he left Draco, looking confused, in the middle of the corridor.

Chapter 6 – An Adventure

Fred’s fake ticket idea had worked wonders. Fred, George and Lee had been granted the permission to go to the concert. Hearing them boasting about it, Cybele was left wondering why fooling their parents into allowing them to attend a simple concert was such an accomplishment. However, all was well and an invitation had been extended to the Ravenclaw girl to attend it too.

The boys would spend the weekend with their families. Fred and George’s parents had kindly offered Cybele to stay over the weekend as well but she had had her meeting with Snape on Friday evening, so she would join them on Saturday.

She was up early to catch the Express in Hogsmeade in the morning and started on her list for Professor Snape on the train, until Lee would pick her up with his parents from King’s Cross.

She would not have liked to have been in Lee’s place if they ever found out about half of the mischief they were planning for that day. They were kind but extremely strict, wearing smart-looking Muggle clothes and driving an expensive-looking metallic grey car. They addressed Cybele in a very courteous, yet distant manner.

They headed through the town to a remote suburb and through a chalk field in sight of an abandoned rusting storage in front of which a crowd was assembled. Mrs Jordan stopped the car at a distance and turned back apologetically to the children.

‘We will let you here if you don’t mind; I don’t think a Muggle car could make it through this field. You have your tickets with you?’

‘The Weasleys have them,’ Lee answered promptly.

They found Fred and George near by the entrance. The concert was about to start and the last teenagers were making their way inside, toward the numerous and barely older organizers. Fred, George, Lee and Cybele, however, walked to the side. Following Fred and George who had studied the Muggle transport network, they walked back to the main road and down a mile to a bus stop. The bus drove them back to the suburb where they took the tube to Muggle London and to the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. They tried to go through as inconspicuously as they could.

Lee peered through the arch doorway into the shopping street.

‘Anybody we know?’ asked the twins.

‘Doesn’t look like it. Not too crowded either. Let’s go.’

Walking down the street, they realized how foolish their plan was. They were four Hogwarts students in their Muggle best, including two very recognizable red-haired Weasleys, hurrying down England’s principal shopping street on a Saturday afternoon. The Muggle transport had taken ages and they barely had any time left at all to investigate.

Stressed but lucky, they slipped down the corner of Knockturn Alley a few minutes later. Lee was out of himself.

‘I am so not walking back up there! Help me find a place to rent in Knockturn Alley!’

‘Wicked!’ Fred and George exclaimed looking up at the tall dark old buildings on either side of the Alley.

‘Let’s go.’ Cybele was already on the move.

‘You know, you really have a bad influence on us, Cybele,’ Fred pronounced with a mock stern look. ‘We wouldn’t have even dreamt to come down here.’

They all followed her lead.

Knockturn Alley offered a lot of shops but a quantity of indeterminate service offices and blind doors. One or two witches were selling from small stalls directly on the pavement, items which none of them were willing to give a second glance.

They went quietly down the Alley before they spotted a shop where they might ask about Phil. Cybele was peering through a dusty shop window displaying a number of magical creatures, none of them alive, though, when George waved from the other side of what looked like the biggest shop on the street, Borgin & Burkes. They joined him standing in front of the weirdest magical creature shop they had ever seen. They could not recognize any of the brightly coloured magical creatures encaged in the window.

It was agreed that Fred and George would try to remain inconspicuous, while Lee would accompany Cybele, who, as the only one likely to pass for remotely innocent, was to do the talking.

The inside of the shop was dark and messy, the ground covered in escaped hair and feathers. Grunts and cries and even flames were coming from all corners of the room. The door banged back unclenching an airy bell sound coming from nowhere in particular and a tall lanky man with jet black hair came from behind a row of cages on their right. Fred and George walked to the left, apparently, or really, fascinated by a small glossy red badger in a cage.

‘Good morning! How may I help you?’ asked the young man with a broad smile.

Cybele answered to the greeting together with Lee and felt puzzled. The boys had been filling up her mind with stories of dark wizards and black magic and her impression of Knockturn Alley far now had validated their stories. But there was only one word to describe the owner of this shop: engaging.

While Cybele and Lee were too taken aback to introduce their query, the young man had spotted Fred and George and had joined them in two steps of his lengthy legs.

‘Ah I see you have spotted my biting badger!’ he claimed with a satisfied smile.

George took out his finger from the cage and jumped back.

‘Sorry, couldn’t resist! My latest invention!’ he chuckled as he opened the cage and let a much tamed badger hanging from his large palm. ‘The baby care badger!’ he exclaimed as he brandished the red fury ball.

Simultaneously Fred and Lee as well as Cybele and George looked at each other and quickly looked away, suppressing giggles. The shop owner had paused, clearly waiting for them to throw a barrage of questions about the fascinating functions of the badger. A silence followed. Unabashed, the man resumed his pleasant babbling, as he lowered back the badger in its cage.

‘Phineas Philiocornus, magical creature creations since, er, last year, actually. How may I help you? We do all sort of customization on your magical creatures or new creatures to match exactly your needs! Enlargements, reductions, special functions, accessorizing… Or you may like to see what we have in store; everything is colour coded! Red is for house care related creatures.’ He looked expectantly at them.

The four students avoided carefully looking at each other this time round and Cybele was breathing slowly to avoid a burst of laughter. A change of tactic was in order.

‘Hem, actually, we were, er, we are doing a project for school on magical creatures and we thought this was the best place to ask some questions, um, to a specialist?’

Cybele looked up, sure that she had made a very bad job of it, but Phineas looked flattered.

‘Of course, Hogwarts students, correct? It will be my pleasure to help you. I studied at Hogwarts, too, a Ravenclaw, I was.’ Cybele heard Fred swallow a laugh as he gave her the slightest elbow push. ‘Tell me about your project.’

Cybele went on as if rehearsed.

‘Well, we have to make a presentation on a really rare magical creature and their natural habitat, that is, and our group,’ she waved to the boys, ‘has chosen the Acromantula spider. We are trying to get more information on it and particularly on where it lives.’

Phineas’ face fell at that.

‘Oh,’ he started, looking sincerely disappointed, ‘I am afraid I will not be able to help you so much with this one. You see, I am specialized in native or endemic creatures only, and Acromantula is not. It comes from Borneo, you see, its natural habitat is the jungle.’

Now it was the kids’ turn to look crestfallen.

‘Well, I’ll tell you everything I know anyway!’ Phineas added quickly, misinterpreting their expression. He kept them a long time, as Lee pretended to take notes on the Acromantula’s habits; about which Phineas knew a great deal more than his modesty had allowed him to admit.

‘So have Acromantula ever been exported to other countries?’ Cybele managed to ask.

‘Not that I know. They may be able to survive in other rainforests or jungles, though, maybe in Central Africa or South America, but I do not think they have ever been exported. I have never seen a real one myself.’

‘They wouldn’t survive in Britain?’

‘I cannot imagine they would, no, unless they were born here, maybe, but even…’

Eventually he insisted on lending them a thick book, Magical Creatures and Traditional Witchcraft of Borneo and the Chersonèse d’Or, they were to return by owl after they presented their “project�.

Back in the street, Fred and George turned back to face Lee and Cybele and they all said together.

‘Tropical rainforest…’

‘Phil’s going to die,’ said Lee, looking sincerely pained.

‘Wait!’ Fred actually stopped. Lee crashed into him. ‘What about the other ones?’

‘What?’

‘The other spiders!’ Cybele jumped in. ‘You said your parents had tens of them, didn’t you? They must have been working on acclimating them in Britain, no? We got to ask them!’

‘No way, it will sound way too suspicious.’

‘Look, we got to try; I’ll do it back after the concert. You want Phil alive or not?’

‘Well, if we want Lee alive,’ George cut in, ‘we’d better think of a good excuse, we’re running late; we spent more than an hour in here.’

They were half-running up the Alley when the boys saw a large figure emerging down a curve, already very close. They recognized it faster than Cybele and dived sideway under a shady porch. By the time Cybele realized what they had done and took in their hissing frantically her name, she was nose to nose with the gigantic Hogwarts’ gamekeeper.

‘Hello there,’ he started not unkindly, ‘what are you doin’ down here? This is no place for a Hogwarts student! Got lost?’ Cybele could tell it was not the unlikely excuse he wanted to hear.

‘No, I was… I was… looking for information.’

‘In Knockturn Alley? What kind of information would a second-year look for here?’ He had recognized the new second-year Ravenclaw intake.

‘Well,’ Cybele pursued, already at ease with her lie, ‘they would not tell me anything about Acromantula in this magical creature shop in Diagon Alley! So I through I would go on looking here.’

The half-truth worked wonders on Hagrid.

‘Acromantula! Beautiful creatures! I bet you went to ol’ Philiocornus, didn’t you? He was a student at Hogwarts too, yeh know? A Ravenclaw, like you! Only decent shop in this street, if you ask me! Learn what you wanted?’

‘Ah, yes, Mr Philiocornus has never seen an Acromantula himself, though, but he knew a lot. I am going, now,’ she added quickly.

‘Ah, I should invite him to see the nest back in the Forbidden Forest one of these days, he would like that, Phineas would,’ Hagrid was musing, more to himself.

‘What? You, you have Acromantula in Hogwarts, adult ones?’ Cybele had turned back.

‘Well, yes, a full nest by now. Sorry, but I can’t invite you to see ‘em for your research, young lady, they live deep down in the Forbidden Forest, and not very approachable.’

‘Oh, well, I just did not imagine they would cope with British climate…’

‘Amazing creatures, aren’t they?’

‘Ah, yes, well, thank you, I shall go back, now.’

‘You shouldn’t venture here all by yourself, I’ll walk you back to Diagon Alley.’

***

‘Did you hear that? He can live!’ Lee said enthusiastically as soon as Hagrid was out of sight.

‘Never mind that now,’ Fred cut, ‘We’re in trouble, we should be there in less then fifteen minutes, we’re never going to make it! Those Muggle trains and buses took forty minutes to get here!’

The twins looked quite panicked.

‘We’ll have to break into a shop and use the Floo, I can’t see any other solution,’ George offered eventually.

‘Sure, remind me the Floo code for the concert? It’s written on… the real tickets!’ Fred answered, dripping with sarcasm.

Cybele was wondering whether she should offer a more practical way to get back to the concert hall. She was not keen to break anymore rules in the same day, especially when it came to McGonagall’s express rules of Magic making, but the situation came under desperate.

‘Well, let’s just appear there, then,’ she risked, unsure at which level of “extraordinarily� the proposal would be rated. She at least knew that wizards could appear in other places but it sounded extremely regulated and complex to perform for them.

The three boys were looking at her, apparently wondering if that was her idea of a joke. But seeing her earnest look, George just asked, ‘What, you can Apparate?’

Cybele smiled. Typical wizarding; use the most complicated names to describe the most basic things. She opted for straightforwardness in her answer.

‘Well, yes. Shall we?’ And she reached her hands to Fred and George, who each grabbed one of Lee’s, all looking unconvinced. They immediately found themselves at the side of the concert hall, the concert not over, parents not there yet. They walked to the front and sat down on the sand, backs lying on the metallic structure of the shed.

‘Wow, Cybele, how can you do that?’ asked Lee.

‘Yeah, when ever did you learn to Apparate? Do they teach you as kids, in your country?’ added George.

‘And how can you do that without being caught by the Underage Magic Control Board?’ Fred concluded.

Ignoring the two first questions, Cybele looked at Fred.

‘Well, I’m not British…’

The twins started to smile.

‘You mean…’

Cybele did not answer but carefully took out her wand before she made big ice creams floating in front of each of them.

‘Until they remember to register me,’ she commented.

The boys looked thrilled but they could hardly feel as she did. She had found a way out. She would be able to act herself in front of those three now, without betraying the headmaster or Professors McGonagall and Snape.

A familiar tune was coming out of the hall as they finished their ice creams; the last song.

‘… Magic remains in your hands
When you’re wandless…’

In a final of heavy guitar, applauses and cries burst out as the first parent’s cars and brooms were appearing.

Cybele looked at her palms and smiled. Magic was there to stay.

Chapter 7 – The Unexpected friend

Woken early on Sunday morning, Cybele decided to go down for breakfast at eight. She had just realized that Draco Malfoy had not specified any time for their meeting, and with breakfast being available from seven to ten on Sundays, she began to wonder whether or not she would have to stay at the Ravenclaw table for half of the morning.

She bumped into Ben in the common room. He was not his usual overconfident and distant self that morning, and he was not with his older brother for once.

They were both going through the door and ended up in the corridor together, both headed for the same place. Ben however, did not seem inclined to talk; he looked preoccupied.

‘Are you going down to the Hall, Ben?’ Cybele enquired out of her pure dislike of silence.

Ben looked up and seemed to only realize then that he was not alone.

‘What? Oh, right. Good morning Cybele, how are you?’

‘I’m fine, you’re not,’ she tried in a joking tone.

Ben smiled weakly.

‘Yeah, no, I’m all right.’ He seemed to realize that she may think something serious was wrong. ‘I really am. Just nervous,’ he explained.

‘What could make you nervous on a sunny Sunday morning?’

‘Quidditch trials,’ he stated simply.

‘Oh. You want to join Ravenclaw team.’

Ben looked at her, stricken by the obvious lack of interest in her voice.

‘You don’t like Quidditch.’ It was not a question.

Cybele thought it was an unfair presumption.

‘No, well, it’s just, I don’t know Quidditch. I’ve never even seen a match.’

To her surprise, Ben did not look the least taken aback, on the contrary, he immediately relaxed and smiled.

‘Oh… Of course! How stupid of me! Mediterranean, you barely have Quidditch over there! It’s all about Bumqwu, isn’t it?’

‘Ah, yeah,’ Cybele answered, bamboozled. ‘So tell me about Quidditch!’ she added quickly, lest he start asking her about her favourite Bum-whatever team.

Ben happily distracted himself by explaining Quidditch to Cybele through breakfast. Entering the Hall, Cybele spotted Draco already having breakfast with his two large friends at the Slytherin table.

Half an hour later, Ben rose from the table. The Hall was still empty except for a pair of fourth-year Ravenclaws, a small group of Hufflepuffs and three Gryffindor first-years.

‘The tryouts start at nine. I’d better go and warm up.’

‘Good luck! I’ll try to pass by to support you!’

‘Thanks… Hey, thanks for the company, I don’t think I would have been able to take any solid food, if I was alone!’

‘Any time!’

Cybele poured herself some more tea and gave a quick glance to the Slytherin table, wondering if she should join or wait. Draco, however, had noticed Ben taking leave and they made eye contact. With a smile and a small gesture, he made her understand that he was coming.

*-*-*-*-*

Crabbe and Goyle were twisting their fat necks to see who I was gesturing to.

‘I’m leaving.’

Their necks flipped back so fast I heard them crack.

‘What? Where are you going?’ Vincent blurted.

‘My friend, there, the pretty one,’ I stated, standing up. I left them before they could make a proper English sentence out of the tangled questions in their minds.

I sat in front of Cybele at the Ravenclaw table. She smiled at me ear to ear. It was possibly the first time a non-Slytherin looked happy to see me, and the first time I seated at any other House table, too. Something foreign lurked in my stomach. It was going to be an unusual day and I did not know yet if I really wanted that or not. Being a Malfoy and a Slytherin came with a reputation and as far as I was concerned it was an advantageous one. I had never made a fuss over unworthy non-Slytherins looking at me with hostility.

Then I spotted Crabbe and Goyle, who had not moved an inch since I left and were looking blankly at each other. Yes, different that was exactly what I wanted.

‘So, do we have the same tastes in music?’ I tried to engage conversation.

‘What? Oh… well we sneaked out of the concert, actually, it was cover-up for some shopping in Diagon Alley…’

I felt pleased that Cybele was ready for a bit of rule breaking and that she trusted me too. I had been afraid she would abide strictly to the rules, as it was a Ravenclaw trait.

‘So, we will have to figure out that another time!’ She was continuing. ‘There is this song which is following me everywhere, though.’

‘Which one?’

‘They were playing it at the concert when we went back. Wandless.’

‘Oh, that’s not so bad, actually, softer. Let’s go out, shall we?’

We ended up on stands while the Ravenclaw trials were going on. Cybele wanted to see if her second-year friend would be chosen. The tall boy was as at ease on a broomstick as a Niffler in salted waters, but he was selected anyways as a Chaser.

‘I’m going to try for the Slytherin team, next year, you know.’

She beamed again. What made her beam like that every time I said something? It once again gave me the now familiar cocktail of pleasure, surprise and a stomach pinch.

‘What position would you go for? Ben just explained the entire game!’

‘Chaser if I can.’ She beamed again. I was starting to come up with a theory on the beaming phenomena. One, it was her way of being nervous - maybe she was afraid we would run out conversation topic and reacted overenthusiastically at any successful exchange. Two, she was jus a beaming person - I had noticed a lot of people who would just beam all day. Three, she fancied me - it must have been that.

I smirked. She noticed.

‘A pretentious Chaser… Ben warned me; apparently it’s a common Quidditch player trait.’ She winked.

She now had a mocking twist on her lips. I was already regretting smirking.
It then struck me that she had learnt all about Quidditch from this Ravenclaw boy. He could not possibly have explained as well as I could – I’ve been playing since I was a kid!
I started explaining better.

We discussed an awful lot. I can’t remember ever spending so long talking with someone intelligent. It made a nice change from the two trolls. Actually it was a different from being friend with all the Slytherins at large. All were childhood friends, our parents knew each other and we virtually all attended the same private primary school the Zabinis ran. We were close friends. But somehow, being together all the time and knowing each others for so long prevented us from having much to share, in an ironic sort of way.

I soon realized there were topics she was avoiding, though; her family, the circumstances of her arrival, her Sorting - even the Potions tutorials, for some reason.

The Quidditch trials that we hadn’t really been following were long over and the pitch was deserted when we came down for lunch.

It was weird to have spent several hours chatting happily. I wondered if it meant that we were officially friends and if I should offer to see her again, but when we reached the now crowded Great Hall, Cybele just said, ‘see you around,’ with one last beam as she walked to the Ravenclaw table.

Only when I spotted my friends at the Slytherin table did I realize that I had not tried to figure out if Cybele was a pureblood. She knew nothing about her family and Severus had forbid me to say anything on the subject, but I could easily have tested her opinion on basic topics such as Muggleborns. But after all, it had been part of the break. Mudbloods were best least talked about and I was growing tired of the obsessive conversations on the topic within the Slytherins. As on cue, Pansy asked.

‘Pretty girl… Draco’s found himself a Ravenclaw girlfriend! Pureblood, is she?’

‘Would she be hanging around with me if she wasn’t? I answered coolly.

Chapter 8 – A Tale

Cybele spotted the girls at the Ravenclaw table and joined them happily. If she had learned something in the course of the morning, it was that hanging around with boys involved too much Quidditch talk.

Lucia and Marietta were giggling furiously, pointing at a Hufflepuff boy wearing a ridiculous yellow hat. She smiled weakly, eventually joining Cho in her congratulations to Ben, and yet another Quidditch conversation.

They all spent the afternoon at their usual table in the library, Cybele quickly catching up on her homework.

There was a lot of hanging around in the library with the Ravenclaws, but the late evenings had become really cozy. The second-years had taken the habit of all sitting together to chat or read near one of the fires. As much as the girl gang was quite exclusive during the day, Archie and Pete quite the pair and Ben always with his brother, the evenings were becoming a group thing. Even Ben had joined in that evening; they were celebrating his and Cho’s recruitment onto the Quidditch team, with supplies of Butterbeer and snacks which Cybele had provided through Eslis.

Ben was the one to bring the subject on that Sunday night, perhaps on behalf of their new acquaintance of the morning and to distract the attention from him.

‘So, will we have the honour of your presence more often, then, Ben?’ Cho was teasing.

Ben looked sheepish. He had spent most of his time with his older brother until now.

‘Yeah, will we have all the Ravenclaw second-years together now?’ Pete added.

‘I don’t know if we will, what with Cybele tending to escape to other Houses.’ Ben was looking at her and now the six of them seemed uneasy.

‘What if I do?’ Cybele asked clumsily.

‘How did you meet those Gryffindor third-years?’ asked Lucia, in a pacifying way.

‘Well, they were the very first people I met and who talked to me when I arrived here, so we became friends. That’s all.’

The Ravenclaws did not look hostile at all; they just seemed pleased that Cybele’s unusual wandering between Houses had finally been discussed.

Ben, though, was still looking at her, as if hesitating to ask the next question for fear of destroying their newly acquired easiness. Cho, however, popped it boldly.

‘And the Malfoy boy? He’s a friend, too?’ She was not trying to hide a certain amount of hostility on this topic.

‘I can’t say. He can be a bit nasty, can’t he?’

‘Sure he can! He’s a real bully! How could you ever hang out with him?’

‘Well, for now, he was all right around me. I only talked with him for the first time today.’

‘Oh, you just happen to come to the trial at the same time, is it?’ Ben asked genuinely.

‘No, actually. Well, I knew him through Professor Snape. To tell the truth, I also thought he was quite a bully but I sort of took pity on him. Maybe I did the right thing because he was really nice to me. Who knows? I may have a good influence on him.’ She smiled.

‘You’re fighting a lost battle, Cybele,’ Cho stated. But they all seemed satisfied with her side of the story and did not question her friendships any more.

As the conversation took, for what seemed like the hundredth time this day, a turn toward Quidditch, Cybele summoned, with a fake wand flourish, her tale book from the dorms.

There were thirteen tales. She looked at the table content to find a title which might tempt her and one did catch her eyes.

“The Wandless and the Willow�

The word wandless caught her eye, like it had caught her attention in the song. Because that was what she was, wandless. One who cannot use a wand to convey magic. She started reading.

Once upon a time, in a small house in a forest, there was a great witch and a great wizard. They were both gifted beyond measure. The witch could make any sort of magical plants and herbs grow out of the wildest, driest soil, and she could brew powerful potions of unknown kinds. The wizard was such a powerful sorcerer that nothing was known to resist the spells he cast.

But there they were, living in poverty, for this wizard was the younger brother of the king, a weak sovereign, who was jealous of his brother’s power. The wicked king had treacherously sent him away and had made it known that his spells could not be performed, and his wife, the witch, could not sell her potions.

Kept and guarded they were in this secluded forest, reduced to living on what they could scrap. But always good humoured and happy to have each other, they took the best of each day. They lived a poor but honest life as did their seven children.

Soon the day came when the oldest son reached the age when magic shows. Magic flew out of his hands for he had such sorcerers for parents. But the witch and the wizard did not have any means to provide him with a wand. Honest and proud, his parents had refused over the years many requests for a potion or for a spell, which they were, by the king, forbidden to trade. But for the sake of her older son, the witch made it known that she would sell a cauldron of one of her secret potions. Only one, and for payment, she would accept nothing but a wand. So she sold a cauldron of her finest brew and her first son received a wand of yew. Never did the king come to know this betrayal, and the first son was happy and all was well.

When a year had passed and the second came to an age to work his magic, the father let it be known that he would, in secret, cast one of his spells. Only one, for whoever would pay him with a wand. The father cast a spell and the son received a wand of elm. Never did the jealous king hear of such a thing, the son was happy and all was well.

One more year later, when the third son reached the same age, the mother parted with a full cauldron. And peacefully the years passed away and the sons grew up, to receive wands of ash, oak and holly, and nobody knew. When their sixth son was grown, the father let know that he would cast a spell, just one spell, for anyone who would for payment give another wand. But two rival families, led by their hatred for each other, both wanted the great spell. The father, who took no interest in such a rivalry, helped the first who had asked and his son received a wand of cherry.

But the rejected wizard took offence and saw a chance to have revenge and to bring his rival down. He denounced both the client and the seller. The king, when he received word of his brother’s treachery, cast the poor wizard into the deepest cell of his castle, where he soon forgot him completely. Now alone, the witch did not dare sell any more brew, any potion, any stew. With great sadness, she saw her youngest son grow wandless.

She found consolation in seeing all her older sons grow into powerful wizards. Her youngest, her wandless, good at heart, always wanted to help. He worked hard with his bare hands, at home, on the fields, and in the forest. His brothers, as their mother made them promise, watched over him. But they were often cruel, mocking his bent figure, his sweaty face, his muddy hands, calling him Muggle, calling him Squib.

In this forest, there was a willow, a big fierce tree, full of magic, which would not let anyone close. The brothers always kept far away from it, and never cultivated the ground beneath.

But on a morning, after a raging storm the youngest brother, always the first at work, saw the willow weakened and damaged, having fought all night with a wooden shack blown by the violent wind and caught in its strong branches. The young wizard took pity and wandlessly worked hard to liberate the tree. When his elder brothers came, they were astonished to find their wandless brother working right under the tree. From this day on the wandless alone was admitted by the fierce tree. He could always seek protection under its shadow and for the first time in many years his brothers grew jealous of him. His life was not made any easier for that and more often than ever did the powerful brothers called him a Muggle, called him a Squib.

But the youngest did not care; he always followed his heart and worked hard with his bare hands to help his mother.

He was always the one the elders sent to do less pleasant work. That is why one cold autumn evening he was sent to the swamp to collect Plimpies. He did not argue, he went out and straight to the cold damp swamp and put his bare legs deep in water and started collecting. He was almost done and ready to go when he saw, stuck under a fallen branch, the ugliest bird he could imagine. It was old and patched and was giving pitiful croaks of pain. Listening only to his good heart, the young man let go of all of his Plimpies to go and liberate the weak animal, who took off with a cry. He then restarted his laborious fishing, wet and cold, came back late and was scolded.

Years passed and one day, the wicked king passed away. But such news did not come alone, as they were grieved the same day by the knowledge that their father too, alone in his cell had passed.

As the king had no son of his, the nobles of the court soon voted an edict: a tournament would be organized and the wizard who could disarm all others would reign.

All seven brothers declared themselves ready to fight and conquer, as a token to their father’s memory.

When the nobles came to a town close to their retreat in the forest, all brothers departed and registered. The youngest brother did not have any wand to register. All mocked him and his brothers tried to discourage him. But he replied simply, ‘All my life, wandless, I did my share and wandless too I will seek glory.’

Back at home however, seeing his brothers training fiercely, the wandless realized that this time patience, strength and perseverance would not be enough. To fight and win he needed to work his magic, he needed a wand.

He went to see his mother, now free from the king’s ban, to ask her to brew a potion in exchange of a wand. The poor old lady was very sorry but unable to help her son; she was far too old, she could brew no more.

Swallowing his pride, the youngest went to his older brothers. He first asked the older one, who answered, ‘Why would you like a wand, you are a Muggle, you are fitter to fight with this stone.’

The youngest did not reply, pocketed the stone and went to see the second brother who answered, ‘Why would you like a wand, you are a Squib and a wand would not do more in your hand than this stone.’

Silently, the youngest pocketed the second stone. The third brother, that he went to see next, answered, ‘Why would I trust you with my precious wand, you would surely not know better than a troll how to handle it. You can make better use of this stone.’

At the end of the day, the youngest brother’s heart was heavy, and so were his pockets, burdened with six stones. Feeling very sad, he took the path down to the willow, to which he had taken over the years the habit to confess to and seek comfort. But he was not halfway down when he witnessed a scene likely to make his good heart raise. A poor old man, weak and slow, was being pursued down the hill by a gang of wizards from the village. Seeing the unfairness of the fight and listening only to his bravery, the young brother ran down to join the old wizard under a rain of angry spells. He took off his pockets the heavy stones and threw them angrily at the chasers. He did so well that the gang was soon too far to cast their spells. But the stones were gone and the opponents were fast gaining ground again. So the wandless dragged the old man and started to run toward the shelter of the magical tree. The old wizard, panic-stricken, refused to run toward the dangerous tree, but the brother, determined to save them, picked him up simply and soon they were both protected, their assailant violently rejected by murderous swinging branches.

The assailants retreated and danger was gone. The old wizard expressed his thanks. ‘You are a very good young man,’ he said, ‘and brave too, you have saved me without even getting your wand out!’ The young man admitted that he did not, had never had, any wand.

‘If I had,’ he said bitterly, ‘I would be on my way to town to compete in the tournament, for I am of royal blood.’

The old man looked very grieved to hear that. ‘It is very sad,’ he said, ‘that I cannot help you. You see, I am a wandmaker, in exile. I was chased from my country and fled empty-handed. Had I know the situation in this kingdom, never would I have made the mistake to state my profession. Everybody here wants a more powerful wand, to win this tournament. You saw how angry they get when they find out that I cannot help.’

They sat in silence, the sad, grieved, young man and the sorry wandmaker, then the latter asked, ‘What magic did you use to stile this powerful magical tree? I, who deal with wandmaking, have never seen such thing done.’

‘I helped it once,’ answered the boy, ‘after a storm; it was damaging itself against a shack, I liberated it.’

At these words, in the quiet summer air, the willow shook its leaves as if it was blown by an absent wind. The branches shacked and banged louder and louder until a small twig felt on the young man’s laps and everything became still.

The young man picked up the twig, which felt warm in his hand. The wandmaker smiled broadly and said, ‘In gratitude, the tree offers you his wand material! One, who possesses such a tree’s wand, must be expected to do great things. But I still miss an ingredient to make it into a wand,’ he added sadly.

The young boy waved his willow twig dreamily and a silent tear came down his eye. As the tear touched his flesh, a beautiful bird’s song filed the air and soon a great handsome and yet terrific coloured bird landed softly on the wandless’ lap. In his melancholy, the young man felt no surprise and stroke softly the great bird, who soon took off, leaving in his hand a long coloured feather.

Incredulous but elated, the old wandmaker reached his hands and received the bird’s and the tree’s token and without wasting a second, started performing his complex and skilful magic.

The young man waited, not daring to understand the meaning of the old man’s craft. But indeed justice was done, and as the sun set down, a deserving young man for saving a bird and a tree from great sorrow, received a wand of willow.

He set to town and in front of his disbelieving brothers, joyful mother and admirers, performed all the magic he had all these years kept. To such thing, none of the opponents resisted.

This is how the story ends, of a once wandless wizard, a song bird and a grateful tree. Remember: No one’s fate is spelled, until they have cast their spells.

Cybele snapped the book shut, disappointed. What about a wizard who wandlessly managed to do magic? She longed to know more, she could not wait to work all these mysteries out with the Hogwarts’ professors.

She went up to her dormitory to get Snape’s special research homework on her abilities and in a rage to understand, tried to improve it and eventually rewrote it entirely, going to bed long after the rest of the merry Ravenclaw group had dispersed.

Chapter 9 – Of Wisdom in Friendship


The next meetings with Professor Snape were full of simple experiments. She had performed a quantity of simple things, including some that wizards apparently couldn’t do, like disappearing and reappearing without Apparating, making food appear out of thin air, and becoming perfectly invisible.

‘Your essay was very instructive and precise,’ Snape had said. ‘I would now like you to keep a journal in which you will write notes detailing what you know about the wizarding world, any interesting observations about the magic you perform in class, how it affects you, and if you have to make particular efforts to replicate wizarding magic.’

That Friday, Professor Snape had met Cybele early to try out spells on her. Magic had generally no effect whatsoever on Cybele, seeming to pass simply through her. Snape had aimed a few well-meaning spells at Cybele with no effect.

‘I don’t understand,’ complained Cybele. ‘That magic can’t be so different… I mean there are just the wizards, me and the rest of the world… I…’

‘Yes, I think the same,’ Snape cut in simply. ‘Actually, I would like you to practice casting spells, not just to pretend as you perform your magic, but to focus with all your might to flow the magic through the wand, using it as a tool.’

‘Perform my magic, instead of just letting it be, right?’

‘Yes, and I would like you to practice it regularly, as often as your friends do. The whole year. Let me know if you feel anything special.’

Cybele reflected on the last instructions as she headed back to the Hall. She realised she could see magic around her. The powerful aura surrounding sorcerers like McGonagall, Dumbledore or Snape, the way incontrollable power bursts happened out of her fellows’ wands in class when they practiced new spells.

She could see the magic radiate, grow, and then burst out of students through their wands. But she could not relate to that. Things that Professor Snape called advanced magic like becoming invisible did not feel like anything special to her. Magic was not something she felt. Before she had met wizards, magic had been nothing at all. She was just herself and she did these things just as she walked or breathed or ate. The wand was just a disconnected wooden stick.

She joined a very subdued Lee, Fred and George at dinner. The twins and Cybele were due in detention every evening after dinner until the end of November. Lee was left to struggle alone with an ill, but still growing, giant spider.

On the Sunday evening after the concert, Fred and George had grabbed their brooms and sneaked out of the castle at night to fly over the Forbidden Forest in an attempt to find the Acromantula nests. Fred had soon been caught by a Thestral preying in the night, and fell, apparently wounded, on the hard ground deep in the forest. George had lost the spot as he tried to escape the invisible Thestral himself and had been left with no other choice than to run to the castle for help. Fred had been found unscratched, but the whole west wing of the castle had been woken up by McGonagall’s yelling.

While Fred and George were doing detention under the fierce supervision of the Gryffindor head of House, Cybele and Draco were doing theirs under Hagrid’s watchful eye.

The following week, Draco had offered to see Cybele on Sunday. She had been oddly happy about it. She was really taking on the “making a good man out of the git� thing, as Cho had put it. And she had yet to really witness for herself the evil side everyone was warning her about.

What Draco had in mind for Sunday was a ride on brooms. As he was a first-year and not allowed to fly, they had to walk quite a long way round the lake to be out of view of the castle. Cybele had never ridden a broom and was thinking she would share Professor Snape’s view on the matter.

Cybele could fly without a broom. But it was something else to assume the adequate position Malfoy had shown her patiently how to grasp the broom firmly and lift it with her, as obviously brooms would not work their magic for her, which she had to conceal from her friend. It was disagreeable and frustrating. Draco was enjoying himself in the fresh air but kept close to Cybele who had confessed it was her first time on a broom.

‘You don’t like flying,’ Draco said.

‘This is so totally unfair. If only he knew…’ Cybele looked crestfallen.

‘Would you try and come on my broom, first?’ Draco offered kindly.

And she had mounted the broom behind him and truly enjoyed the ride, now that she had nothing to think about else than holding her friend and let herself fly otherwise.

‘Could we fly over the Forbidden Forest?’ she asked excitedly. ‘I heard you can see giant spiders! Wicked, no?’

‘Giant spiders?’ Malfoy asked uncertainly. ‘Um… sure, let’s try.’

Cybele could tell he had not envisioned the ride this way but she was stubborn. What had mattered at the moment was saving Phil.

They had only been flying over the forest for two minutes when Hagrid caught them. Draco had positively shrieked when the gamekeeper had dogged to catch them mounted on a gigantic Hippogriff.

‘We had been quite stupid, really, thinking we could head for the forest in the light like that,’ Cybele mused, letting her thoughts linger, remembering her friend’s light, blond hair in face…

‘Cybele! Fred is talking to you!’ Lee was waving energetically in front of Cybele.

‘What? Sorry, I was not listening.’

‘Really?’ George asked, amused. Then he noticed Cybele was turning gradually a crimson red. He smiled. ‘Well, we wouldn’t want to interrupt any daydream…’

‘Oh, please, just don’t comment… Merlin, I hate blushing, why do I do it all the time?’

‘You like impersonating the Gryffindor colours,’ George joked lightly.

‘Well, would you bother repeating whatever you were about when I was er, not listening?’

‘I was wondering how you could still call this Malfoy git a friend, actually,’ Fred said simply, without smiling. ‘You see, I’ve grown to like to think that you call me a friend and I don’t enjoy the feeling of sharing the same category as this slimy git.’

Cybele looked down.

‘Fred, come on, you know it’s not the same. I know you act thousand times better, I… Look, Draco…’

‘Would you mind not using his first name in front of us, seriously?’ Fred interrupted.

George and Lee exchanged uncomfortable looks.

‘Yes, I would!’ Cybele protested. ‘Look, I know he can be really nasty and all, but he had never been so with me, not even in front of me and maybe, maybe that’s a sign that he wants to have better acquaintances or…’

‘You’re kidding yourself. Don’t you see the way he’s talking to Hagrid? And about him too, even worst?’

‘Yeah, I know, he doesn’t like him…’ Cybele defended feebly.

‘That’s not here nor there; the problem is why he doesn’t like him. Have you ever wondered or did he tell you and you chose to give him excuses?’

‘Fred, don’t…’ George said weakly.

‘No, I-’ Cybele started, but Fred had obviously something precise in his mind he wanted to pour out.

‘Makes you laugh, when he makes nasty jokes about Hagrid?’ he continued.

‘He-’

‘Don’t deny it! I know you laughed at one of Draco’s sick jokes the other day, right in front of Hagrid. Hagrid is really getting to consider you not much more worthy than Malfoy!’

‘Fred!’ Lee exclaimed.

‘Well, I noticed! Now what? Do you think me more worthy than Malfoy or shall I go waste space elsewhere?’ Cybele shouted.

Several heads turned from the other end of Gryffindor table.

‘Look,’ Cybele resumed more heatedly but in a lower voice, ‘being good is not always about helping good, selfless and well-minded people! I believe it is also about helping nastier types to have second chances, like flesh-eating giant spiders for instance.’

To this Fred did not immediately find something to answer. George took his chance.

‘I don’t have a problem with Cybele trying to be friend with Malfoy,’ he stated simply.

‘Me neither,’ said Lee. But he added pointedly, ‘as long as the final result is him becoming like her and not the other way round.’

This last made Cybele feel guilty more efficiently than Fred’s anger.

‘I’m sorry for laughing in front of Hagrid. It was nothing funny, you’re right. And Lee is right too, I got badly influenced…’ Cybele looked up at Fred. ‘Thanks for telling me off…’

Fred broke in a smile and hugged her tight. ‘That’s what friends are made for!’ He ruffled her hair just a bit too hard.

‘You had better be off to detention… and me to Phil’s side,’ Lee said.

And they went their ways gloomily, promising for the hundredth time that they would try something for Phil between the end of the record-long detentions and the beginning of Christmas holidays.

*-*-*-*-*

‘I think pumpkins are lighter than they look,’ Cybele said as Draco stared at a large pumpkin as if he had been asked to eat it raw.

‘Oh yeah? It’s going to take the night before we lift even one.’

‘Just try, would you? Come, help me,’ insisted Cybele, who had magically lightened the vegetable.

But Draco had seated on a smaller pumpkin as is an armchair and put his arms behind his neck.

‘Look, for the same result, why don’t we relax and enjoy the last hours of our lives?’

Draco was more difficult to manipulate than anybody Cybele had ever met. With him, Cybele understood what the headmaster had meant when he had chosen not to put her in Slytherin lest they asked endless questions. She made a wand-like stick appearing in her pocket.

‘It may be worth trying, if, let say, I had managed to smuggle that!’

Malfoy half opened an eye and jumped down his pumpkin when he spotted the wand.

‘Why didn’t you give me that before?’ he said, reaching for the wand.

‘I’m not even giving you that now!’ she teased, pulling the wand away from his stretched hand. ‘Legero!’ she invented, pointing the stick at the largest pumpkin. ‘I’ll let you try and play with the wand if this one didn’t work,’ she offered sarcastically.

They lifted the pumpkin effortlessly up to the front door.

‘You’re a genius, Cybele!’ exclaimed Draco.

‘Worthy letting me try to handle a spell by myself, is it?’ asked Cybele resentfully.

Draco smiled, which was worth a knee down apology, to his standards.

They brought the pumpkin in front of Hagrid’s door, as requested by the gamekeeper as today’s detention.

They went through all easily and approached the last pumpkin, pretending tremendous efforts, both pulling on a side of the fat squash, as they had spotted Hagrid watching them through his window. Draco did so well pretending to pull on the last pumpkin that he actually fell over on his back. Cybele burst in laughter. Draco was not used to been laughed at and it was not exactly playfully that he grabbed Cybele’s jumper to make her fall too. But she chose to act as if it was and laughed even louder. Then only Draco started to laugh too, deep in mud. As Cybele saw Hagrid behind his window dismiss them with a shake of his head, she lost the mood and step to the other side of the pumpkin to lift it with the others.

‘Let’s go, the stupid oaf said we could leave when they were all pilled up, right?’ invited Malfoy.

Cybele was looking at him thoughtfully as he started to climb up the path.

‘Coming or not?’

Cybele did not answer as she started to walk up too. When Draco looked way, on a strange impulse, she looked back at the pile of giant pumpkins and left them all perfectly Halloween carved, their evil grins facing Hagrid’s door. She did not know if it was a token of apology or just grimaces to him. Probably both.

‘Why do you hate him so much, though?’ she asked Draco, joining him.

Draco looked taken aback.

‘What, the oaf? I don’t waste hate on him, he’s despicable, not even human.’

‘Even if you don’t hate him, you sound like it… I mean, those are strong words.’

‘He is, Cybele, it’s not a way of speaking… Honestly, one would never believe you’re my senior. You’re so naïve sometimes. He’s half giant, only partly human, for real! That’s why he is violent, and clumsy, can barely express himself in any human language…’

‘Giant…’

‘Yeah, and I don’t understand why they even let him close to students. My father had been trying to get him the sack for years. He’s on the Hogwarts board, you know. When he knew I was doing detention with him, he was furious. But this foolish headmaster always protects him, so we’re stuck with him, until things change for the better…’

Cybele was digesting all the information. It was the first time she ever heard speaking ill of the headmaster, who was pleasant and whom everybody seemed to like. She didn’t know how to go on.

‘Well, we’ve been serving detention with him for almost one month now and he’s never been violent with us,’ she tried.

‘You’re kidding? He could have had us killed! The time he let us go alone in the Forbidden Forest? And all the flesh-eating creatures we had to feed?’

It was true that Cybele would not have liked to be a wandless wizard in some of the assignments they had gone through. The pumpkins were a recreation. She had felt afraid more than once during other detention evenings and she resented Hagrid for that.

However, the gamekeeper did not seem to be vicious. He simply did not realise these things, and now Cybele understood why.

‘Well, it’s true he doesn’t measure danger or other people strengths, probably because of his origins; and he sure expresses himself as an uneducated man. But he still doesn’t seem violent or even remotely nasty to me,’ she resumed.

Draco didn’t snap back, he just said, ‘You’re just like your Gryffindor friends, too noble to refuse to mingle with the unworthy… You’d better check your acquaintances, Cybele.’

Cybele did snap back.

‘You could take a leaf out of your own book, Draco. I heard what your friends Zabini and Parkinson did last week with the help of your two best friends. It was disgusting, and I saw you speak to them and laugh with them since.’

Draco did not reply anything. They had reached the front door of the castle. They had usually always come back from their detention laughing at one or the other’s jokes or chatting happily, but all was wrong today and to Draco, Cybele was starting to talk just like her filthy blood traitor friends.

Draco wanted to snap her to go with them and not bother wasting his time with her lenient speeches but the will to keep the only friend with whom he could enjoy a nice conversation was stronger.

‘Let’s not talk about these matters, then, if we can’t agree,’ he offered with a half smile.

‘See you tomorrow, Draco,’ Cybele answered, forcing a beginning of a smile too.

‘Night, Cybele.’

*-*-*-*-*

Detentions came to their end two weeks before the Christmas holidays. Draco and Cybele had been true to their word and never mentioned any subjects relating to Hagrid, Cybele’s, or Draco’s friends again. But even though they still spoke easily and laughed, things had changed between them as the gloom of their argument was lurking at every conversation’s corner.

Draco wanted to invite Cybele for the holidays, but feared that his parents’ constant political conversations and noisy family ancestry investigation would be inconvenient. Cybele had hoped Draco would invite her but was not sure whether she did not half fear it too. She was relived to accept Lee’s kind invitation to spend Christmas with his family.

As planed, they tried a last desperate attempt to free Phil before the holidays. They sneaked to the edge of the Forbidden Forest one night, resigned to let Phil go and try to find the Acromantula’s community by himself if he could, thinking that he had better died lost in the forest then trapped in a dark box anyway.

‘We have one hour before curfew,’ Fred reminded. ‘We don’t want to end up in detention until July…’

‘Let’s go behind those trees.’ Cybele was opening the way, followed by Lee carrying the box.

‘Here,’ said Lee lowering the box to the forest ground and kneeling beside. Cybele kneeled down too and sat on her heels. Fred and George stood behind them. Lee opened the box a slight amount.

‘You go Phil. Go find the others …’

Phil made a frantic escape out of view in a spit second.

‘So much for the tearful goodbyes,’ chuckled Fred.

‘You think he’s gonna be all right?’ Lee asked.

‘Sure, he’ll find them… his… er, instincts will guide him, right?’ cheered George weakly.

Cybele turned back to face Fred and she pointed toward a near by tree, from behind which Phil was slowly coming back. He seemed frightened of the forest and made it quite directly for Cybele’s lap, where it stood, long after he finished rummaging the back pocket where he had once found an owl treat. The spider was clicking feebly and suddenly they realized it was talking.

‘Cybele. Cybele.’

‘His first word,’ said George, half amused, half touched.

‘Oh, Phil…’

‘Now, this is getting emotional,’ Fred commented, but he gave a sorry smile.

‘What are we going to do with you?’ asked Lee.

‘I’m taking you for holidays to the Jordans,’ Cybele announced to Phil. She turned to Lee. ‘We can’t just leave him. And we might find out what your parents did with the other ones!’

‘Yeah, and if my parents find out about it, we won’t have to worry about it any more… because we’ll be dead.’

Chapter 10 – A very long winter


My worst habit is I get so tired of winter
I become a torture to those I’m with

‘Gross!’ grimaced Fred.

‘Shhh! Lee’s coming, don’t mention it in front of him!’ Cybele hissed.

‘What shouldn’t he mention in front of me?’

‘That was subtle, Cybele.’

‘Oh shut up! Sorry Lee, I was updating the boys about, er-’

‘Your holidays,’ George tried.

Lee raised an eyebrow.

‘Phil’s siblings’ fates,’ Fred provided.

Lee crashed near George on the Ravenclaw’s table bench where the boys had found Cybele, her travelling cloak still covered in snow thrown aside. They were just back from Christmas holidays for dinner time and classes were starting back the following day.

‘Well, at least I’ve saved one,’ Lee eventually answered.

‘How is he?’ asked George.

‘Not good,’ Lee answered gloomily.

‘So how were holidays at the Jordan’s, Cybele?’ Fred tried.

‘Nice, they were great. I loved Cambridge! How was it at Hogwarts?’ Cybele provided happily.

‘There weren’t many of us here, but it was merry!’

They couldn’t manage to make the forced conversation last. Lee was looking down at his plate, playing with broccoli on his untouched plate and their conversation died away. Fred broke the silence.

‘We’ve got to do something. Never mind if we got in detention for the rest of the year or expelled, I’d better hand him over to McGonagall than just let him die.’

Lee looked up at his friend gratefully and they all looked at each other, ready to do anything. But what?

Cybele’s eyes were caught by a glimpse of gold in the corner of her eyes. Funny how she seemed to be noticing her friend’s golden hair so much, lately. Draco caught her eyes from the Hall’s entrance and they smiled at each other. Fred and George looked back, expecting to see some Ravenclaw girls, and turned to their plates quickly without comments.

‘Miss Philius.’

‘Professor Snape! Good evening,’ Cybele said with a smile.

Snape had discreetly walked up between the Ravenclaw and the Slytherin tables on his way to the teachers’ table. As he spotted the Gryffindors flanking Cybele, he immediately regretted stopping by. He bended to his student’s level and almost whispered.

‘I would like to meet you as soon as coming Friday. I have some ideas to put in practice.’

Cybele, however, felt delighted that her favourite professor had come to give the appointment at her table in his enthusiasm to work on new ideas. She beamed gratefully.

‘Yes, Professor, thank you!’

Snape went on quickly without further reply.

When the boys felt safe to look up from their plates to face a still delightedly beaming Cybele following Snape with her eyes, they looked like they had been fed Flobberworms. Lee jokingly broke the tension.

‘I’ll never understand your social life, Cybele.’

*-*-*-*-*

Winter passed gloomily into spring. Things felt strange and unstable to Cybele while she was around the boys. What with Draco and her trying to build a friendship based on censorship, both refusing to let go of the attempt for some reason. What with Lee and the twins’ anguishes about Phil and their friendship gloomed by the shadow of disapproval toward Cybele’s respect of Snape and obvious liking of Malfoy.

Cybele was appreciating more than ever the familiar comfort of the evenings in the Ravenclaw common room, where the second-years always gathered.

She had also taken to spend more time in the literature section of the library. The double literature row was the last of the west aisle and a couch and two comfortable armchairs were to be found behind, where she had virtually never came across anybody.

That’s where, however, she had found Caroline on a freezing January Monday morning. Cybele used to spend her first double period, History of Magic, here. The attendance was not checked in this course and it was the most boring experience she had ever been through, including the four hours Christmas mass with the Jordans. She had been only once in Professor Binn’s class, on her first day, and since had consciously spent the hour memorizing the chapter comfortably sitting on an armchair in the library.

‘Hi.’

The tall skinny girl with curly light brown hair was taking a seat in the opposite armchair.

‘Hi.’

‘Hey, you are studying History of Magic too!’ cried the girl, spotting the book in Cybele’s hands.

‘Oh, yeah, I can’t take Professor Binn’s classes; they make me feel sleepy for the rest of the day. Well, I only went once in September; since then I’m catching up here, instead.’

‘No way! You mean you should be in History of Magic right now?’

‘Er, yeah,’ said Cybele, wondering if the girl would report her.

‘Ah! We had the same idea! Well, you had it way first, apparently. We must be in the same class. I’m Caroline, second-year Hufflepuff; our houses are having the class together right now. I couldn’t take it anymore either!’

‘Wow, you did try, though. Four months! I’m Cybele, by the way.’

‘Nice to meet you, I’m Caroline; maybe we’ll study History together here?’

‘Yeah, I’d like that!’

She had since often enjoyed the company of the girl, whether in the library or in the Hufflepuff common room. They mostly talked about literature or Caroline’s Muggle background and had good fun together. But moreover, Cybele appreciated Caroline’s complete lack of differentiation between Cybele’s being friends with Draco, Ben or Lee, liking Professors Flitwick or Snape. Caroline was not a girl of prejudices. She was in second-year like Cybele and personally disliked Snape and had heard only bad things about Draco but she never hold it against Cybele, who she assumed must have good reasons to appreciate them. Hufflepuffs at large seemed to share this comfortable indifference. She had never been stared at in their common-room or at their table.



Though Professor Snape was never running out of ideas, it was also becoming distressing for Cybele to see the months passing without a shadow of an answer or a positive theory coming up about why she was how she was. In the past month, Cybele had been through interviews with Professor Burbage on the Muggle environment, about which she appeared to know absolutely everything in a freaky way. The Muggle Studies teacher could ask her for any historical or scientific fact randomly, and Cybele simply knew. She had even asked her the address or itinerary to some remote small shops and Cybele would just come up with it.

Snape kept saying that the fact she couldn’t do that with magic-related facts, sciences or locations just proved once more that her magic was definitely not foreign to his. But Cybele could not figure how he was coming out with this.

‘It means magic does something to you. I cast spells which pass right through you, charms are nothing to you, and still, when you can account for any detail of Muggle wars, you need to read it from our books, if only once, to know anything about the goblins’ revolutions.’

‘So, what do we make of that, Professor?’ asked a slightly flustered Cybele.

‘It means there is an interaction. Magic is putting resistance to you,’ Snape had answered, ignoring Cybele’s disrespect, in his eagerness to explain.

‘Is that your theory?’ Cybele asked more politely.

‘What do you think?’

‘Well, why should magic resist me? And if it does, how does it happen that it can only counter me in this field and not resist my own magic?’

‘Maybe wizarding knowledge is not the only thing. I would like to do a quick experiment. See the stool, and this book. One has magical property, the other not. Could you tell which one?’

Cybele approached the two artefacts, her interest picked. She looked at them, she caressed them, and she listened to them. She understood that sorcerers had a special feeling for magic. She had never felt magic. If what she could do was magic, it was fully her, so much her that she could not feel it more than she could feel her blood running in her veins. She eventually looked up at Snape and shook her head.

‘In this case,’ he suggested, ‘could you banish them, one after the other?’

Cybele aimed to throw the artefacts a good twenty feet away. The book flew and landed exactly where she had pictured; but the stool did not go as neatly.

‘The stool resisted!’

‘Yes, and it is the one with magic property; an extendable stool. What does that mean, Miss Philius?’

‘You are right! I am not simply foreign to magic, it’s reacting to me, it’s resisting. Why?’

‘Have you been trying what I asked you?’

‘Yes, all the time, I never forget to concentrate and try when I do things, but I never felt anything. I cannot do magic. It just happens, it’s me.’

‘Do not give up, though, keep on trying. I mean that it could take years. It is the key.’

‘The key to your theory, Professor?’

‘Yes, to one of my theories.’

Cybele let the silence lingered, determinate not to ask but to let to Snape the initiative to change the subject. Her teacher did not avoid her gaze.

‘We shall, of course, discuss theories. I have no wish to leave you in the dark, Miss Philius. But I would like us to go through more research and experiments before, this year. Do you understand?’

‘I trust you, Sir,’ Cybele said simply, and she was sincere. She knew that her professor would tell her everything eventually; that he probably considered she was too young to deal with her own identity. She did not agree. But she did trust him.

*-*-*-*-*

It was well into spring and the third Quidditch game of the season had come. Cybele was going down with the rest of the school to the Quidditch pitch when it happened.

Ben, out of the sort of superstition game players sometime developed, had taken a habit to always walk down to the Quidditch Pitch with Cybele, owning her the nickname Mascot among Quidditch players. He said she had brought him luck for the trials and since, she seemed to be the only person in front of whom he could open his mouth – whether to put food in or to talk words out – before a match.

He was distracting his nerve this morning by explaining a complex Quidditch move, as he generally did. Cybele spotted Draco and his friends going down and approaching in their way to the pitch until they were almost walking side by side with Ben and Cybele. Cybele never properly listened to Ben’s pre-game babbling and she caught Pansy crying.

‘Oh no, that’s a joke!’

‘What?’ drawled Draco lazily.

‘I didn’t know they were coming in size extra-extra-large! Look at that!’ Parkinson exclaimed.

Cybele gave a glance and her heart missed a beat when she spotted the unmistakably large bottom of Eslis coming their way. Eslis was walking backward, leaning on a heavy Quidditch ball practice set box he was dragging out of the pitch and back to the castle.

She heard Draco laugh.

‘These animals here really don’t have the slightest dignity. I would like to see the Malfoys’ servants let themselves go this way.’

‘Like it would happen!’ said Pansy earnestly.

‘This place is really going to the dogs. You bet the old man over-feeds them out of guilt of not being able to give them wages!’

Pansy burst into evil laughter at that. They had reached the Elf’s level.

‘You need some help, maybe?’ Draco asked in a mocking kind tone. The Elf missed the sarcasm and answered politely.

‘Master is too kind, Master, you is going to the match and us is doing the job, thank you master.’ Draco, Pansy and the others burst into laugher, Pansy repeating the sentence in a cruel imitation. Ben had stopped too, as well as a number of students, watching the scene with distaste but unsure how to react.

Cybele had frozen on the spot, her head almost spinning, unable to act right. Then Eslis spotted her and beamed in pleasure.

‘Mistress Cybele! I is so pleased to see you again. I is hope you is been well…’

Cybele was suddenly sized by panic. She could not think right, about her friend Eslis being humiliated, about her friend Draco eventually showing the ugly face everybody had been warning her about. All she could think about was herself, caught in the stare of a crowd of people, embarrassed by Draco, embarrassed by poor Eslis. She grabbed Ben and hurriedly went forward, letting Eslis to his fate without answering his greeting, burning with shame.

‘Cybele?’ tried Ben; but she eventually ran for it, letting Ben behind as she hurried to the stands. She already hated herself for going away but as she looked back, Draco and his friends were approaching, having no doubt being brushed away by braver students than herself. Indeed when she looked further back she saw Caroline kneeling near by Eslis and none others than Fred and George looking back at her. She felt an urge to run back there but it was too late, she could not turn back now and face the four of them. She ran forward to the stands and bumped into Lee.

‘Hey, Mascot! Fancy sitting with me on the VIP box today when I comment?’

Cybele desperately wanted to be alone and disappear somewhere for ever.

‘Cybele, are you crying? What’s wrong?’ asked Lee.

She looked up.

‘Believe me; you don’t want to be seen with me now, or anytime soon.’ She broke into sobs and ran away again. She ended up hiding underneath the boxes until all the school was in and once the path was cleared, Cybele went back to hide in her favourite spot in the library, burning with shame.

Chapter 11 – What Eslis Knew

Cybele was sobbing silently in her armchair in the library, replaying the scene from the afternoon in her mind, not believing it had really happened. How could she have panicked like that? What was wrong with her? She replayed it in her head once more, thinking of what she could have done, what she should have said, to Eslis, to Draco, and how she should have stood up for her friend.

She would never be able to face anybody now. She needed to leave Hogwarts. She had lost all of her friends; Caroline, Fred, George, and she would lose Lee too when he found out; they would never forgive her. Eslis would be willing to forgive her, probably, but she did not deserve it. How could she have done that? She punched the armchair with her tiny fists, her face burning hotter with shame and angry tears as she recalled her stupid reaction. And how could Draco, her ever-charming friend, be so mean? But she could not think long about him without feeling more desperately ashamed of herself.

When the lights went off and the library door snapped shut, she did not move. She cried herself to sleep under the moonlight on the couch.

The library was open when she woke up on Monday morning. Everything came back in a rush when she realised that it had all not been a nightmare. Anger at herself filled her stomach like poisonous acid and desperation came back at once. She felt exhausted and hungry. Not feeling that she deserved food, she hugged herself and started thinking about her options. She could not erase what had been done; she could not erase people’s memories or travel in time, so she was left with flying away, she concluded dramatically.

She stayed like that for hours until a flicker in the light made her look up. Professor Snape was standing between the two literature rows. Her first thought was gratitude. Professor Snape had come for her. It couldn’t be a coincidence. He knew it was her spot; he must have been watching over her much more closely then she had imagined.

‘You have missed my class this morning, Miss Philius,’ he said in a cold voice. ‘Are you under the impression that you are allowed to miss classes and linger in the library instead?’

‘No, Professor.’

‘Everybody is looking for you. You have seriously disturbed the school.’

‘I’m sorry, Professor. Tell them I am here and that I will be gone soon.’

‘Gone?’

‘Yes, I will leave Hogwarts, Sir. Thank you for your help.’

‘If you think this is the best course of action,’ Snape stated simply and he turned on his heels and left.

Cybele realised, however, that he had simply let another person take his place. Caroline had come.

‘Cybele, thank Merlin you’re here! We were all so worried!’

‘You were?’ asked Cybele, puzzled.

‘Cybele, the moment I saw you disappear I knew it meant you were really ashamed of what you had done… Oh my, you’ve been crying all this time, you look dreadful.’

‘I am dreadful! The exterior is just starting to reflect the inner me!’

Caroline actually smiled and Cybele looked at her, puzzled.

‘You really are regretting it, poor you. I’m not saying you don’t deserve it, mark my words! But I was afraid you’d turned into some sort of monster. So what happened?’

‘I don’t know. I panicked. It was pathetic and nasty, I don’t know. Sometimes it just happens like that, I’m evil, I can’t control it. Everybody must hate me.’

‘Well, I did when I saw what you did, but I don’t anymore when I see how sorry you are. And you are not evil; evil people don’t spend their night crying because they hurt a House-Elf’s feelings.’

‘I was not even crying for that – not only – mostly because I’ve lost all my friends now.’

‘It’s the same thing. Look, you will just have to explain to the others.’

‘Oh, to all of Hogwarts!’

‘Come on, Cybele, all Hogwarts doesn’t even know or care what happened.’

‘Yes, but Ben does, so all the second-year Ravenclaws must know, and Fred, George and Lee… And Eslis, he must be so disappointed!’

‘Well, yes, I suppose you will have to speak to all of them. But would you rather do that, or get lost in the Muggle world?’

‘Can’t I just stay on this couch for the rest of my life?’

‘Why don’t you start with Ben and the others, they will be at their usual table soon.’

‘Will you come with me?’

‘I think not, you ought to do that yourself. But I’ll tell you what. In the meantime, I will go and try to convince Eslis to listen to you.’


Cybele groomed her appearance vaguely and walked up to the usual Ravenclaw table where she sat awkwardly. The second-years arrived a quarter an hour later for their pre-dinner session.

‘Well, it looks like we’ll have to find another table,’ she heard Cho declare loudly.

It took all of Cybele’s will not to panic again and shrink in her chair.

‘No, please would you hear me? I’m sorry,’ she said facing them all standing up.

‘Well, have you said that to the poor creature?’ asked Ben.

‘I will. My friend is looking for him; I wanted to explain to you first. Please?’

Her classmates took their usual chairs around her, in a tense atmosphere.

‘I don’t know what took me and I have no excuse at all for what I did. Eslis, this House-Elf is my friend. He was my first friend at Hogwarts, he was the first, well, he’s been there for me in difficult times. He should be the first person I stand for.’

Her friend’s expressions softened slightly as they remembered Cybele’s arrival circumstances. Her parents, after all, were supposed to have disappeared.

‘And I have no excuses whatsoever for running away from him, it was a mad moment. But I am deeply sorry and I’m going to make it up to him.’

Now her House-mates looked sorry and sort of ashamed for her, she thought.

‘I would understand if you don’t want me around anymore.’

‘Hey, we’re a House,’ Pete came weakly.

‘Yeah and I can tell you were upset, I was there’ said Ben in a self-convincing tone.

‘I told you that Malfoy boy was no good,’ Cho added with dark satisfaction.

‘Yeah, he’s going to hear about it. I know I acted just as bad as him but I’m afraid he doesn’t regret it at all. He is going to hear me, loud and for the last time.’

‘Bravo!’ cried Cho, ‘I thought you’d never see the light!’

‘I really feel dreadful. Thank you for not shutting me out, guys.’

‘Hey, everybody can make a mistake. I suppose it’s hanging around with this Malfoy boy has tainted you. You’re going to go back to normal now,’ Archie said kindly.

‘Yeah, and you will never abandon me before a match again, Mascot!’ Ben added.

‘How did it go?’

‘I was a total failure. Cho saved the day though; Slytherin won, but by only ten points, thanks to her catch. This girl is Ravenclaw’s hero today!’ he said giving a one arm squeeze to Cho. ‘See, we need our mascot!’

‘Cybele!’ Caroline had return. ‘You can see Eslis in our common room now if you want to.’

‘Of course I want to,’ cried Cybele, feeling boosted by her fellow Ravenclaw’s prompt forgiveness. They gave her an approving look.

‘Don’t mess it up! We’ll have a victory to celebrate this summer and we’ll want Butterbeer!’ Ben joked.

Cybele gave a weak smile to the weak joke but felt grateful. Maybe it was not all such a drama after all.

*-*-*-*-*

Cybele always felt comfortable in the Hufflepuff common room. The place was warm and welcoming.

She felt a burning rush of shame, acid filling her stomach all over again when she spotted Eslis near by a fire. She was crimson red when she approached him.

‘Eslis.’ But as the stout Elf turned to see her, she started crying, hiccupping pathetic apologies.

‘Miss Cybele must not cry, please you stop!’ cried the Elf, frightened.

‘E-e-slis, I was so horrible, can you ever forgive me? I went away; I left you with these horrible boys.’

‘Please you not cry Miss Cybele, Eslis understands, you is shy.’

‘That’s not an excuse!’

‘But Miss would not have known what to do, Miss, the Slytherin boy is your friend, Miss.’

‘Was, Eslis, how could I still think of him as a friend! I should have defended you, Eslis, you are my friend.’

‘Yes,’ came Eslis, seeming to want Cybele to grab some obvious fact. Cybele had expected anything but for Eslis to be so… pedagogical. ‘That is it. Eslis is Cybele’s friend. And Mr Malfoy is Cybele’s friend.’

‘No, he is not!’

‘Yes, Miss doesn’t have a choice. That is why Miss run away, because you cannot say was.’

‘Was?’

‘You cannot say he was my friend, Miss Cybele, you is unable to choose, yesterday, between your two friends. It is difficult, for your kind.’

‘Eslis, you are trying to give me excuses, but you don’t make sense and I don’t deserve them. Tell me you hate me! I will do anything for you to forgive me. You have welcomed me to Hogwarts, Eslis, and I have not been grateful.’

‘You is grateful, Miss, you cannot choose, yesterday.’ The elf repeated stubbornly with the same professorial tone. Cybele, who still felt dreadful, was also starting to feel desperately frustrated. Given his kind, Cybele had expected Eslis to forgive too easily but she had not foreseen that he would insist to see her all misconduct as something she was not responsible for.

‘I have acted horribly with you Eslis, and whatever my feelings at the moment, there are no excuses for that. Please accept my apologies.’

‘Eslis doesn’t want apologies, Miss, He knows you Magi cannot help.’

‘What?’

‘You cannot help it. It really is not Miss’ fault. Eslis understands. Eslis is not upset, Miss. I still is Cybele’s friend.’

Cybele pushed away the tears on her cheeks.

‘Thank you, Eslis, you are very kind. It means a lot to me to hear you call me your friend now. But please don’t find me excuses: I have acted badly. I am just a friend who has acted badly-’

Eslis had come closer to Cybele and locked eyes with her.

‘Once a Magian gives love or friendship and receives it back, you is bound. You cannot say was…’ he explained slowly.

‘What are you talking about, Eslis?’ Cybele was lost. These excuses Eslis was giving her, she had first dismissed because she did not deserve them, but now that she was listening properly, they sounded very strange.

‘About you kind, about Magian, about the bounds you is having with other humans. If they come close to you, if they love you, they are binding you. Cybele must be careful.’

‘My kind? What is Magian?’

‘Magi is your kind, miss, because you are a Magian, no?’

Cybele was lost in Eslis’ large, deep eyes. Could he possibly know something that wizards did not?

‘Magian. I never heard about Magi, Eslis.’

‘Maybe because Magian is very old magic, Miss. I was thinking Magi is finished, now. But you are here. You are a Magian, Cybele.’

‘A Magian,’ Cybele repeated blankly. She had not expected anything like that when she had come down the Hufflepuff common room. What with the emotions and the shame, the dread, the tears, her night in the library and the explanations with Snape, Caroline, and the Ravenclaws, Cybele was feeling completely overwhelmed. Her head was starting to spin.

‘You is not feeling good,’ she heard her friend declare. ‘Miss Caroline should walk you to the hospital wing.’

Indeed Cybele was feeling quite sick by now. She had also not eaten anything in over twenty-four hours and it was in the hospital wing that she spent her next night.


*-*-*-*-*


Lee stood up and came to meet Cybele when she turned up for dinner the next day. He did not look too pleased. Cybele still felt grateful that he was not ignoring her simply.

‘Lee…’ she started. He merely looked at her. ‘I cannot explain, but I am sorry. I have talked to Eslis, the Elf; I have apologized to him.’

‘And to Malfoy?’ Lee asked flatly.

‘I’m avoiding him but if I do come across him, I’ll tell him what I think.’

‘So he is no friend of yours anymore this time, is he?’ he checked.

Cybele thought briefly about what Eslis had said, but it made little sense.

‘No, he cannot be; I don’t think he even feels sorry… Do you hate me?’

‘It’s all right, Cybele, I saw you cry yesterday, remember? I know you really were, sorry. But the twins…’ He jerked his head in the direction of Fred and George.

‘I’ll talk to them!’

‘That’s why I came to see you; I don’t know if it’s a good idea. The twins really stand straight when it comes to respecting House-Elves, any servants, different creatures or sorcerers; they cannot understand what took you. They think you may share Malfoy’s views on some things after all.’

‘They know I don’t! I was Eslis’ friend in the first place, I myself come from nobody knows where,’ Cybele checked herself too late.

‘What are you talking about, Cybele? Your parents were wizards, you come from Lebanon.’

Cybele took a big breath.

‘Nobody knows who my parents were and I was found in Britain, amnesiac the first day of Hogwarts term,’ she uttered in a breath. She had always intended to give her best friends a more accurate version of the truth, but now she felt that the moment was all wrong; it sounded like she was using it to reverse their anger into pity.

Lee indeed looked shocked and sorry. Before he could react, she added hurriedly, ‘Don’t tell the twins, though! I mean not now, I’ll tell them later, if they still want to be my friends. Agreed?’

‘Merlin, Cybele, I had no idea… why didn’t you tell?’

‘I don’t want them to pity me; I want them to forgive me first!’

‘No, I mean, why didn’t you tell anybody before?’

‘It was the staff’s idea, when they found me. They found I already knew a bit of magic, so they came up with theories and they through I would feel better without the attention.’

‘You don’t know who you are?’

‘No.’

‘But your name?’

‘I seemed to remember just that. But they were unable to connect it with any wizarding family or school,’ said Cybele, who was not willing to admit yet that her own family name was Dumbledore’s invention.

‘Come with me,’ Lee said with determination, grabbing her hand. He took the lead to the now virtually deserted house tables.

‘Fred, George, please just listen to Cybele, please.’

But the boys stood up and went away. Cybele and Lee were left to collapse at the Gryffindor’s table.

‘Thanks for forgiving me, Lee.’

‘I told you, it’s all right. You’re all right! I’ll talk to them, don’t you worry!’ he said encouragingly.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t mention earlier about my family, it’s just…’

‘I understand too, it must not feel easy to talk about. So, you reckon you may be a Muggle-born?’

‘I have no idea. I could do magic when they found me, but I never attended any schools… It may be more complicated than that,’ she added, willing to keep close to the truth.

‘Maybe you remembered the wrong name,’ Lee suggested.

‘Ah, yeah… let’s not talk about that! How is Phil today?’

‘Er… Let’s not talk about that.’

Chapter 12 – Detention With Snape

Cybele had not been able to find a single book mentioning Magi in the Hogwarts library and Mrs Pince had snapped at her when she’d asked for help. She was still wondering, on her way down to the dungeons, if she should bring the matter up with Professor Snape.

He had, after all, said that he did not wish to discuss theories yet. Maybe she should just wait until he saw fit before she mentioned Eslis’ declaration - but then, what if Professor Snape himself had not thought or known about Magi and could use Eslis’ hint?

Lost in thoughts, Cybele almost reached Professor Snape office without looking up once. Almost.

‘Hi.’

She recognized the voice before she looked up.

‘Draco.’

‘Trying to bump into someone again?’ he asked with a half smile, clearly testing the waters.

‘Why did you talk to the Elf like that?’ She attacked him directly.

‘What does it matter to you? You didn’t answer to it, either, when it talked to you!’

‘It was mean of me not to. And it matters to me because you are my friends. You, Draco, are my friend,’ said Cybele without thinking, ‘and I don’t like to see you act like a sad arse and he, Eslis, is my friend and I will never again let him be insulted in front of me without reacting.’

Draco put on a face.

‘That Elf is your friend?’ A nasty sneer crossed his face. ‘You’re mental!’

‘He welcomed me to Hogwarts when I first came, alone with no family. He brought me to Diagon Alley; he bought me my wand, checked on me since as friends do. Why shouldn’t I call him my friend? Pray, tell me.’

‘You went to Diagon Alley with an Elf? You know what? Maybe you should call him a friend, if you really think he is your match. Maybe it’s me who shouldn’t be your friend!’

‘Maybe you’re right. I cannot expect you to be as powerful as an Elf or to know as many things. Maybe Eslis and I are out of your league.’

Draco took his wand out at this point but Cybele did not even bother to pretend. Draco uttered a determined, ‘Stupefy!’ which would have worked wonder on anybody else, but Cybele watched Draco’s face smugly as he obviously thought that his spell had been too weak. He looked abashed, but shook his head next and changed tactics.

‘Look, Cybele, you’re a powerful witch, you’re clever. Why waste your time with Mudbloods, Elves and that Caroline I saw you with, she’s a Hufflepuff! Cybele, did you know that house is for stupid people with barely any magical abilities?’

‘It certainly is not, or your friends Crabbe and Goyle would be in it, wouldn’t they? And Caroline wouldn’t, so you’re just plain wrong. It seems to me that they are a couple of things on which you could use to open your eyes. You’re brainwashed!’

‘You’re the blind one! You won’t hear me when I tell you the truth about these people!’ said Draco, infuriated. He aimed another spell which passed right through her. She didn’t bother to take out her wand as she aimed to fight, Muggle style, pushing Draco down in the corridor. Cybele was very much a first-year in size, though, and Draco was taller than her. She did not use her magic; she wanted an even fight, which Draco was winning. She was trying to grab, scratch and punch every bit of him while he, not aiming at her, merely pinned her down the floor below him.

‘Confinio!’

Professor Snape’s separating spell didn’t work on Cybele, but Draco was violently jerked away from her into the opposite wall.

‘Making a demonstration of Muggle duelling in front of my door? I will take that as a plea for punishment. Ten points from Ravenclaw and Slytherin! You will both serve detention with me; separately, as I’d rather keep my stores in one piece. Cybele!’ He unexpectedly barked her first name.

Cybele hurried into her teacher’s office with a last glance at Draco. They locked eyes for a second, with more sadness than anger.

Cybele heard the door closing behind her almost immediately.

‘Sit down.’ She obeyed wordlessly.

‘I accepted to work with you, Miss Philius, as you may remember, out of a mutual understanding that we were perfectly compatible for this type of cooperation.’ Snape was lecturing in his trademark low and slow voice. ‘I will not handle, Miss Philius, any outburst of temper or teenage drama. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes, Sir. Sorry.’ She could have pointed out that she had never, ever, acted so during their meetings, but did not say a word. Professor Snape had watched over her outside his office and she had sobbed nonsensical things to him in the library; he was Draco’s godfather and she had attacked his godson with her fists right on his front door. It dawned on Cybele that what Professor Snape was actually saying was that she was more than a research topic to him and what she did outside mattered. She marvelled at how she could always understand self-confidently these subtle shifts when it came to Professor Snape, while she could be so awkwardly thick with understanding others.

‘Sir?’ she asked softly. ‘The things Draco says…’ She did not look up.

‘We will not talk about that now,’ Snape answered, not unkindly. ‘We have work to do,’ he added.

‘Eslis called me a Magian, Monday.’

‘We will also discuss this later.’ Professor Snape said.

‘What you would like me to do, Sir?’ Cybele asked as calmly as she could.

‘I want you to try these potions, while I observe the effects on you. None are harmful.’

‘Very well.’

Cybele reached for the first, bright green phial in front of her and swallowed a disgusting tasting potion without a grimace nor, unsurprisingly, any effect.

*-*-*-*-*

Summer had come, but it hadn’t reached Professor Snape’s windowless office.

‘Sit down.’

Cybele took a seat in front of her professor silently and waited for him to state the nature of the detention. But what he said next surprised her.

‘I will now answer your questions. We have an hour.’

Cybele’s eyes opened wide and she tried to wordlessly express her gratitude.

‘Please, explain it all to me.’

‘The Magi?’

‘No, the – all these things Draco comes up with. Explain to me what is wrong with him,’ she demanded with determination.

Cybele thought Snape concealed in a split second the beginning of a victorious smile.

‘You are not curious about the Magi?’

‘I am, Sir. Just please tell me what’s wrong with Draco first,’ she insisted.

‘Wizards,’ started Snape slowly, ‘are not numerous. The few pure wizarding ancient families are well known by name. The Malfoys are one of them, so are the recently extinguished Blacks, and your friends the Weasleys. The thing is, the Malfoys – a very ancient family, French nobility, a Muggle king’s astrologers centuries ago – have, more recently, become very proud of one thing: their family has remained pure in the sense that the ones bearing its name have never in recent history married non-pure wizarding spouses. Do you understand that?’

‘You mean his parents would refuse him to befriend someone like Caroline, for example?’

‘Yes, and he would not like it himself, because his family considers witches of her origin inferior. Draco has been taught that people like Caroline are scum, that House-Elves are no more than stupid animal-slaves and other things of the sort. He would not even look at Caroline or shake her hand.’

‘Does Draco think that I am the same kind as his family, then?’

‘He cannot possibly know that, so the fact that he is your friend could give hope to someone who would wish him to become a better person. I am very close to this family and I don’t know if Draco will ever think for himself and know better one day. It would not be easy.’

‘How have you been raised, Sir?’ Cybele asked before she could stop herself. Again the teacher’s reaction was not what Cybele expected.

‘I am very close to the Malfoy’s family. Don’t ever give anybody a hint of this private conversation,’ he requested confidently, ignoring her last, insolent, question.

Cybele caught his eyes and quickly looked away when she realized she had unintentionally caught what was in his mind. She felt embarrassed. Embarrassed and scared.

‘Sorry, I saw, I did not mean…’

‘What did you see?’ Snape asked sharply.

‘Information, as you call it. I saw it when I looked at you, I didn’t mean to. Draco’s family and others are up to serious evil, something terrible; you are spying on them for people who are trying to stop them,’ she said quickly.

If Professor Snape was surprised, or scared by Cybele’s insight, it didn’t let it show at all.

‘You cannot see what will happen, can you?’ he checked simply.

‘No, how could I? Can we prevent Draco to take part in it?’ she added, and suddenly out of pure guts she said, ‘Promise me you won’t let him get involved!’

She immediately looked down sheepishly. But yet again, the anger she dreaded from Snape did not come.

‘We will do our best, both of us. But it will mainly depend on himself, I’m afraid,’ he concluded.

*-*-*-*-*

I was looking at Draco over my office, thinking about the promise Cybele and I had somewhat made to each other. Thinking back about her insolent question, I had been raised like Draco. Or at least I had grown up like him, surrounded by the same pure-blooded maniacs, by Lucius and the gang. Yes, one could wake up from all this madness, I had. Much too late. And at what cost? But here was Draco, a mere child and already bending the rules for a Ravenclaw friend. The arrogance and self-confidence left by his family name turned up to be his ally in this.

‘Don’t! You miscounted the stirs; there is one more before you add the Valerian Roots.’

Draco was sweating with anxiety over the silver cauldron. He would be a good potion brewer one day. In many ways setting him to perform the last stage of my Veritaserum brewing was a good punishment; his anguish was total. He gave me a glance the second time before throwing the roots.

‘Perfect, now three counter clockwise, a shade quicker.’

Draco had not blinked for the last five minutes, as if the success of the potion held on his eyelashes. He counted up to five before removing his wand from the transparent brew. The potion was perfect.

‘Good. However, Cybele did not need any verbal instruction,’ I lied leisurely. ‘Now let’s try it.’ I poured a small spoon of the brew in a tiny phial and handed it to Draco.

‘I have to ask your consent to take the Potion willingly,’ I recited in a bored voice. ‘You know you can refuse – legally’ I added in a voice that left no doubt that in many other ways, Draco hadn’t a choice but to accept my request.

Draco could not have looked more distressed as he eventually understood the real nature of his detention, but said nothing and drank the potion, resigned.

I observed the shift in the grey eyes, indicating the potion had taken effect.

‘What happened outside my office when I gave you this detention?’ I asked.

‘Cybele and I had a fight.’

‘What about?’

‘She was angry after me treating a stupid House-Elf the way it deserved. She doesn’t know anything and she would not learn from me about House-Elves and Mudbloods. She compared me to the Elf, I cursed her.’

‘What curse did you use?’

‘Stupefy, twice.’

‘And did it work?’

‘No, I did not really mean it. I don’t want to hurt her.’

‘Why?’

‘She’s my friend. She’s the first person who claimed to be my friend not being like the others and she’s my friend even when we don’t agree and we fight, and I like that; it makes a nice change,’ Draco explained blankly in the Veritaserum sober way.

‘So, she was the one attacking you, Muggle way?’

‘Yes. She’s just like her other friends; she cannot take the truth about these matters.’

‘What do you think her blood status is?’

‘I don’t know. You said we could not know.’

‘So, you consider her your friend without knowing?’

‘Yes.’

‘Stay around some more time, while the potion wears off,’ I ordered simply.

I stared into the fire, as Draco did, for a while. A pinch of something unusual was playing in my chest, inflating and deflating like a second, minute heart. Hope.

‘What house are you in?’ I asked after a while.

‘Hufflepuff!’ Draco lied promptly, proving that the effect of Veritaserum had wore off

‘Out of here, then.’

We exchanged a quick grin. Draco did not seem to resent his punishment. A go at Veritaserum could be much worse and humiliating, he knew it from home. Something of the grin was still on my face long after the door banged close. Maybe we could avoid a repetition of history after all. The grin faded off my face as I heard the echo of my voice crying, ‘Mudblood!’ at my best friend Lily’s face, many years ago.

Chapter 13 – Last Chance

Things truly went back to normal in Cybele’s House. She was feeling, more than ever, a sweet feeling of belonging as the Ravenclaw second-years were proving their loyalty and their forgiveness. They had treated her a bit like someone recovering from a strange disease for a while, but everything was comfortably back to normal now.

Caroline came crashing onto the library sofa opposite Cybele.

‘Here! This must be the one and only book in the library in which the word Magi appears!’ She dropped a heavy old book on the coffee table. Cybele gave a double take.

‘What?’

‘Haven’t you searched?’

‘Searched what?’

‘About what Eslis said last week! I mean, he seemed to know something. That would explain a lot, no?’

‘A lot of what? What do you mean?’ Cybele defended clumsily.

Caroline gave one of her quizzical looks.

‘Have you searched or not?’

‘I have; but I haven’t found anything. Look, I think Eslis was just trying to be nice…’

Caroline opened her mouth to say something and seemed to change her mind.

‘Care to hear what I found?’ she said.

‘Sure.’

‘This book comes from the restricted section. Don’t ask,’ she added warningly. Cybele chuckled.

‘Anyway… In the sixteenth century, Ms Mafalda Winbury had the good idea to compile what she called Lost Antic Enchantments, extremely complex pieces of magic with tortuous outcomes. Long story short, hear what she put in her intro: “At the origins of Magic, when Magi were It, before they hit the curse and liberated It from within…� then it talks about something else.’

‘What? That’s it?’ Cybele snatched the book and read on, “…before parchment and quills, is it true what they say? Magic was wordless, Magic was wandless.�’ Cybele checked the next paragraph; the author was less lyrically attempting to date back the enchantments she had compiled.

Wandless. Cybele was thunderstruck. She had to find something to say, least Caroline would suspect something.

‘How did you even come across this?’ she asked.

Caroline grinned.

‘I used a spell, Carta Revelo “Magi,� it browses all the books for the word and as I can cast it on large amounts, I can tell you we are handling the sole Hogwarts book bearing the word.’

‘Well, it seems quite meaningless.’ Cybele attempted to dismiss the theory.

‘Elves don’t lie, Cybele.’

‘But they can be mistaken, can’t they?’

‘But you do have special powers, don’t you?’

‘What are we talking about, here?’

‘Cybele, you told me you were amnesiac, right? Well, there are some things you may not know that you should not be able to do.’

‘Like?’

‘When we work together, you keep making water appear; where does it come from?’

‘Nowhere. I just, you know – how you call it – draw it.’

‘Yes, you are concentrating on your books and you make glasses of water appear and disappear without a spell or a wand. I never saw a second-year doing magic without wand or spells. Actually, I’ve never seen any sorcerer do it, even though I’ve heard about it. But one thing is certain: the day I witness it, they won’t be making water or any type of food or drinks appearing, because that’s impossible in the magical world, Cybele. Flitwick mentioned it. And last Sunday, I think I just saw you disappear in the ground floor corridor when Malfoy came the other way, didn’t I?’

They locked eyes.

‘All right, so you think I have special abilities and that it is linked with what Eslis has said?’ Cybele gave in.

‘Well, we could ask him,’ Caroline suggested.

‘He was not talking about magic, actually, remember? He was talking about loyalty and friendship bounds…’

‘Well, that doesn’t stop us from asking him more.’

‘Right, but let’s just wait, would you? After what I did, I don’t want Eslis to think I’m seeking his company only to decipher the Magi thing. I’ll try to do some research over the summer in the mean time.’

‘All right, then. I wish I could help but I’ll be back in the Muggle world. Where do you spend the summer?’

‘Not sure yet.’


*-*-*-*-*


The last Quidditch match of the season put bit of cheerfulness into the still-cool summer. Ravenclaw remained in the third place but made up for it in a spectacular last match. Celebrations were in order and Eslis himself came from the kitchen with Cybele to bring some goodies and was applauded by the entire House.

Cybele had been too anxious, though, to pop any questions to Eslis about the Magi. She just enjoyed going down for tea in the kitchens and making selfless small talk.

The twins, on the other hand, were still refusing to hear Cybele out. She had tried – with and without Lee’s loyal help – to approach them, unsuccessfully. They were still angry after Cybele for allowing Malfoy to bully her Elf friend. Until one of the last evening of the term, when Lee gestured to her from the Gryffindors’ table and Fred and George allowed her to sit nearby without the slightest reaction. The three boys looked very sad.

‘Phil?’ she asked softly.

‘Yes, it looks like he’s dying,’ George answered kindly after Lee had tried to produce a sound and failed. Lee had the box on his lap.

Moments passed in total silence. Then Lee seemed to shake up from an awaken dream and gulped.

‘I am going to hand him over to McGonagall. She may find a way to save him! Never mind the circumstances now.’

‘Or I can bring him to Dumbledore. He could still save him if anyone can!’ Fred said, half rising from his chair.

Cybele looked at them in turn, not finding anyone’s eyes to catch. She stood up.

‘There’s only one person here who needs to know about Phil.’ She grabbed the box.

‘Hey!’ the boys cried.

‘I’m the one who got to speak to him. He has every right to get me in trouble if he sees fit. Just let me do it and don’t you come share the blame with me!’ she demanded fiercely.

With that she stormed out of the Great Hall, letting the three boys stare at each other and back at their laps in silence.

‘Any clue what she’s doing?’ Fred asked after a while.

Then it hit Lee.

‘Hagrid!’ he cried. ‘If our last choice is to turn ourselves in, Hagrid is the one, no?’ he looked in the direction of the Great Hall door. ‘Well, she’s right. She does owe him an apology, after her behaviour in his detention, doesn’t she?’ he asked the boys feebly.

‘Let’s go, we can’t let her take all the blame,’ was Fred’s answer.


*-*-*-*-*


Cybele had stormed out the castle and was soon banging at the gamekeeper’s door.

‘What is it?’ If Hagrid had looked crossed, framing his opened door, it was nothing to his expression when he saw Cybele standing on his doorstep.

‘You,’ he said with distaste. ‘What is it you want? Missing detention in the Forbidden Forest, are you?’ he growled.

‘Not exactly,’ Cybele came on automatic mode, immediately regretting the sarcasm. ‘I came to apologize; I was not always respectful during our detentions. I’m sorry about that. And I broke several other school rules, so I figured you should know about that. And I need your help; it’s a matter of life or death. Can I come in for a second?’

Hagrid rolled his eyes and turned his back on her, walking straight back in and sitting at a giant table.

‘Leaving or coming? Close the bloody door, any side of you!’ he growled.

Cybele, holding Phil’s box, slowly pushed the door closed with her back, feeling trapped. She stepped toward the table, put Phil’s box on it and talked before the impulse of the moment would pass.

‘Sir, I really am, sorry, to have let my friend speak like this in front of me, to have laughed with him. It was really bad.’

‘Your friend, hm?’

‘Yes, Sir, my friend Draco Malfoy,’ Cybele could not help herself but confirm, ‘I should never have laughed with him. I should have tried to shut him up.’

‘So now yer saying all that because you need my help?’

‘No. I really want to apologize. And I’ve been keeping and hiding an Acromantula that I obtained illegally, since the beginning of the term, in Hogwarts. There. And now it’s dying. So yes, I need your help.’ Hagrid was frowning murderously. She opened the box and extracted a feeble Phil who immediately reached for her. She sat to allow Phil to stay stable on her lap.

Hagrid forgot to frown at the sight of the weakened monster and the tender care it was receiving from the Ravenclaw girl.

‘How old is he?’

‘Nine and a half months?’ Cybele guessed.

‘He’s badly under grown.’

‘He’s been living off of owl treats. I had no idea how big of a creature it was. I was afraid to let him go just like that.’

‘Nah, woulda died. What’s his name?’

‘Phil. You said there were Acromantula in the forest. Can you save him?’ she asked with tears in her eyes.

‘They can. I’ll take ‘im right now. You wait here,’ he warned, not unkindly.

She helped put back Phil in his box, trying to lock a last time her eyes with some of his. Hagrid put his coat on and opened wide the front door to find Lee, Fred and George about to knock.

‘It was me!’ yelled Lee at the same time as Fred and George.

Hagrid shoved them impatiently in.

‘Yeh wait here too. Till I get back.’

*-*-*-*-*

Hagrid came back over two hours later to find four silent children sitting around his table looking at their knees. Lee had made four mugs of tea which had remained untouched on the table.

‘Where’s Phil?’ they all blurted together when the door opened. Hagrid took the time to take his cloak off and pour a fifth mug of tea. He sat at the table with them.

‘You guys won’t see Phil anymore, and she was a girl, by the way.’

‘Was?’ George asked with anguish.

‘She’s all righ’. I brought her to the Acromantula nest. They’ll take care of her. But I don’t want any of you to go try to visit her in there, understood?’

‘Yes,’ they sighted with relief.

‘I stole the Acromantula from my parents’ laboratory,’ Lee stated softly, looking intently at his knees.

‘Hem, no,’ Hagrid answered. ‘Phil was obtained illegally by Miss Cybele before she joined Hogwarts.’

At this the three boys simultaneously busted in ill-coordinated protests, which Hagrid simply covered by raising his loud voice.

‘Miss Cybele was not aware of the British laws and Hogwarts’ rules when she brought Phil in to our grounds and she did the right thing, er, eventually, by bringing it to the game keeper. There will be no punishment.’

The four kids burst in ill-coordinated expression of gratitude at that, which Hagrid pretended not to understand.

‘I’ll walk yeh back to the castle.’

They walked up the castle, Hagrid shooing their thanks away. He let them at the main door and winked to the boys. Cybele looked up at him and opened her mouth to speak but the gamekeeper did not let her.

‘I heard you, Cybele; apology accepted. But I want to tell you; don’t let friendship blind you. You’re young, you don’t know; it can lead to dramatic consequences, I mean, in adulthood or… in war time. Be careful.’

Cybele was reminded for a split second of the mysterious speech of Eslis and wondered if Hagrid knew more than he was saying. But the boys did not notice the peculiar parting words and when she turned back to them in the Entrance Hall, she found herself hugged tight by the twins. She could have cried with joy. They broke apart to see Lee looking at them half-exasperated.

‘Took you time!’

Fred and George had the decency to look sheepish.


*-*-*-*-*


Lee, Cybele and the twins took a long Sunday morning breakfast to talk happily over Phil’s rescue on the morrow.

‘We should have expected Hagrid to be lenient!’ Fred was joking. ‘After all, I bet he had snaked countless illegal monsters in the castle in his time.’

‘Still does, you mean!’ George added with a chuckle.

‘Values friendship, too,’ Lee suggested more seriously, ‘must have been touched by Cybele’s gesture.’

‘Don’t,’ Cybele started but Fred cut enthusiastically.

‘Speaking of what, is it true that you tried to manhandle Malfoy down the dungeons’ corridor?’ he asked with respect in his voice.

Cybele half-smiled.

‘Did you hurt him?’ George pursued with relish.

Cybele raised an eyebrow. ‘Not really, he’s stronger than me. And he didn’t even try to hurt me back. Anyway, that was before the door in front of which we were Muggle-duelling opened – and that was Professor Snape’s door.’

‘No way!’ George cried

‘How comes you weren’t in detention all this time?’

‘I was; I had an hour.’

‘One hour? For trying to beat up his filthy godson to pulp at his feet? What did he do to you?’

‘Nothing special, we are always having these tutorials, you know, it was just kind of an extra one, that’s it. Draco got one too.’

The boys were speechless for a short while.

‘I don’t know what you did to the man.’

Cybele looked sideway at the twins.

‘I enjoy Potions and working with him. Maybe that helps?’

‘Well,’ George pursued cheerfully, ‘you sure are still a sort of a social oddity to us even without being Malfoy’s friend anymore!’

Cybele looked back at Fred and Lee at that and took a calming breath in.

‘Speaking of which, well, Eslis sort of reckons... he thinks I should not give up on the Malfoy boy. I’ll see,’ she added quickly.

The boys exchanged a look.

‘Let’s not talk about that,’ Lee and George suggested together.

‘Right,’ Fred and Cybele answered at the same time.


*-*-*-*-*


Exams were an uncomfortable experience for Cybele. She felt like a fraud in most subjects and like a downright cheat in History, as she could remember anything she had read but once. However, Herbology and Potions went well and she felt proud of that.

She was sitting at the Ravenclaws’ table for the last breakfast before the train left when her owl appeared with a letter, for the first time of the term. She had never seen him in the breakfast hall before and felt proud to show it to her classmates.

‘Archie!’ she cried as the owl landed on her plate.

‘What?’ Archie jumped a seat away from her.

‘How cute!’ Lucia exclaimed at the tiny auburn owl.

‘What?’ came Archie again, more puzzled.

‘Oh, no…’ Cybele realized. ‘Archimedes! My owl’s name is Archimedes.’

‘Your owl’s name’s Archie…’ said Archie with a poker face.

‘Yeah, well, Archimedes, actually, not Archibald, obviously…’

‘You’re lucky he’s cute,’ he said in a mock-annoyed tone.

‘I need to pack!’ Cybele exclaimed as she went through the letter.

‘And about time, too, train’s living in an hour!’ Ben cried after her.

Cybele happily climbed up to the Ravenclaw tower and magicked up her possessions in a blink. She was still holding the letter when she found a compartment with Lee, Fred, George and some of their Quidditch friends. She passed it to Lee.

‘Did you know?’

‘Oh Merlin! Yes - no - it’s my fault! I… well my parents asked me if they should invite you over the summer after the Christmas holidays and I told them not to, because, well, at that time the twins intended to have you at the Burrow,’

‘The what?’

‘Their house, in the countryside. Well, I always expected they would, but then you guys weren’t speaking to each others. We just realised yesterday with the boys that neither of us invited you at the end, so I owled my parents and I can tell you I also received a letter in my room this morning – a Howler to be specific.’

Cybele smiled sympathetically; she had heard several Howlers in the Great Hall during the term and she felt sorry for Lee.

‘Deserved it anyway, we should have thought of that way long ago. So you’re coming?’

‘Sure, I did love Cambridge!’

‘Oh, Cambridge is our winter residence. We’ll spend the beginning and the end of the holidays in London, that’s what we always do, and the middle month in the estate in Derbyshire.’

‘Lee, how many residences do you have, if I can ask?’

‘No idea…’

‘Right…’ Cybele chuckled.

They happily played exploding cards all the way back to King’s Cross.

Chapter 14 – A Bit of Muggle History


Flee from me, away from trouble;
take the path of safety, far from this danger.


Snape magically locked his Spinner’s End house and Apparated to Hogsmeade. He did not plan to come back home after this meeting.

He walked slowly down to Hogwarts in the warm air of August and directly to the Headmaster’s office.

***

‘He’s preparing something,’ he summed up for the headmaster.

‘You could not make him talk?’

‘No. He was boasting about something coming up to Hogwarts thanks to him.’

‘You said you do not believe it had to do with Voldemort?’ the headmaster asked again.

‘Malfoy made it sound this way, but I do not think it can be. He would have to put more people in the confidence if it were. Knowing Lucius, he is trying to serve his own interest; he hinted that he would kill two birds with one stone. He kept that elusive, though.’

The headmaster looked preoccupied.

‘He did not seem to have put his son in his confidence, either,’ Snape added.

‘Young Draco, right?’ the headmaster checked. ‘I think we should take that seriously. If it was just some nasty dark arts prank, he would have included his son in the fun.’

‘I’ll pay him another visit before the semester starts,’ Snape offered.

‘Thank you, Severus. We received your trunks. I take you are entering your Hogwarts quarters again?’

‘Yes, I will spend the last week of the holidays here. I want to go on with the research on Magi before the semester starts.’

Dumbledore’s eyes caught the dark ones.

‘The documentation I gave you is, I’m afraid, very incomplete,’ he apologized to the Potions Master.

‘I intend to look into external sources later on. As for now, I took time to analyze the material you and Professor Flitwick have passed to me.’

Dumbledore gestured to Snape to elaborate.

‘I have few facts. I know more legends. I’m not even close to discovering how to link them together and with her.’

Dumbledore did not comment on this but gave Snape a piercing look.

‘Are you intending to share your findings with Miss Philius?’ he asked in his usual direct fashion.

‘Yes,’ Snape answered simply.

Dumbledore didn’t ask more.


*-*-*-*-*


Back in my office, I summoned several files and opened Cybele’s previous year’s essay file, where I wanted to archive the ones she had sent me over the summer.

How Cybele’s knowledge worked was now drawn clearly. She was omniscient as far as the Muggle world was concerned. She needed to learn everything from the wizarding world, which she was doing easily as she needed to hear or read anything but once to know it.

I peered quickly through the essays before I archived them. Cybele had been working regularly and willingly on these reports, but I had come to wonder if she was now so anxious to decipher who she was and where she came from.

She was young and had been distracted easily. Her first year in Hogwarts had confronted her to a variety of people. The blind way she developed friendship had led her into some childish conflicts.

I let my thoughts linger on Cybele and Draco for a while.


*-*-*-*-*


‘Master?’

‘Eslis.’

‘It is the time Master tell Eslis to come, Master.’

‘Yes, come in, Eslis.’

The Elf entered reluctantly the dark office and stood in front of the desk. Snape did not offer the Elf a seat and started directly.

‘You have called a student a Magian. I would like to know why.’

Eslis twisted uncomfortably on the spot, unsure if he would be scolded or punished for doing what the Potions Master was accusing him of.

‘Yes Master, I is calling Miss Cybele a Magian, because she is a Magian, Sir.’

‘What differentiates a Magian from a Witch, in your eyes?’

‘Magi don’t do magic, Master.’

‘Miss Philius can do magic. Explain!’

Eslis choked. This master wanted him to give him information but was contradicting him. It was very distressing as he had to answer to direct questions but was not supposed to contradict a Hogwarts Master. Snape noticed.

‘Tell me what you know,’ he confirmed.

‘Magi is magic. Witches has magic powers so they can do magic. Witches is not magic.’

Snape knew better than to press the point. Elves would not elaborate on such a scholastic matter. They were intelligent and perceptive creatures but they couldn’t formulate abstract thoughts better than that in English. Their language, Elfish, defied human logic and even Dumbledore himself admitted to get quickly lost each time he tried to practice it.

‘Tell me everything you know about Magi,’ Snape ordered.

The Elf complied, delivering much information in one breath. Snape did not react to any. He had read through all this already. But the Elf was mixing history and legend as if one. Elfish knowledge, combined with Cybele’s very existence, was confirming what he suspected: legend was history.

As Eslis was going on, Snape started to let his quill run on the parchment on and off to consign few new elements.

After the Elf was dismissed, Snape sat back on his chair. He was holding a piece of parchment reading,

Magi are made, not born.

Magi are cursed by Love.

Rowena Ravenclaw didn’t lose her tiara.

The Elf had refused to elaborate on this last statement. It had escaped him in his emotion because he had started to plead with Snape at the second statement. Magi are cursed by Love! Master must help Miss Cybele, Miss Cybele needs protection, Rowena Ravenclaw didn’t lose her tiara. At this point the Elf had walked right into the fire place barefoot, repeating, ‘Eslis must keep Hogwarts secrets.’

‘I still don’t see how…’ Snape thought out loud long later, still holding the parchment in his hand, sitting in the darkening office.


*-*-*-*-*


‘I’ll pass by the library,’ Cybele said after a quick breakfast with the Gryffindor boys.

‘Cybele, it’s the first day of class, you won’t even find another Ravenclaw there. You’ll beat even Hermione on this one!’

‘Who? Look, Madam Pince sent me the rudest note over the summer. I left Hogwarts without giving back this tale compilation I’ve had for ever. The longer I wait, the worst it will get and I may as well pick a novel. Don’t you worry; since when have you seen me overstrain myself over studies?’

George made an artificial caught which sounded very much like ‘Potions’.

‘Yes?’ Cybele asked in a mockingly dangerous voice.

‘Nothing, you chose a nice fat book and enjoy; see you tomorrow!’

Cybele made it directly for the literature section after Madam Pince’s lengthy lecture over the Tales of the Wandering Wand. She had already reached the double row when she spotted someone on the couch, hidden behind a paper they were reading. She thought it may be Caroline but at second glance, it looked like a boy. She let her school bag drop noisily on the floor and Draco lowered the newspaper to see who was there.

He looked back down at the paper now on his lap so quickly that his eyes had already fallen back on the printing when it hit him that Cybele had been smiling at him. He looked up again immediately. But Cybele had already passed behind the shelf to scan the books’ spines.

She had smiled quite automatically at recognizing her once friend. She didn’t regret it. After all they had been friends, they were friends, it was the same; she didn’t like the idea of giving up so easily on friends. She also realized the moment she had seen him that she had been somewhat missing his assuming, sufficient and inconsequent self. Draco had not returned the smile or greeted her, however, and she now wished she could find some book quickly and go… only she could not properly concentrate long enough to read a full title right now. She angrily stuffed back the Tales of the Wandering Wands in its right place.

Draco had leapt to his feet and followed Cybele from the other side of the shelf. She had almost reached the end of the row and was trying to focus on the book in front of her when she locked eyes with Draco, who was standing on the other side of the books and the shelf.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi Draco.’

‘Did I see you smile?’

What a git! ‘I should think you did not or you would have greeted me.’

‘Well I do now. How were your holidays?’

Cybele started walking back toward the central aisle, still trying unsuccessfully to spot a good title.

‘Fine. I was at the Jordans’, they’re a great family.’

Draco followed her on the other side, glancing at her over the books.

‘Yes, a very good family, ancient one.’

‘It’s not here nor there. What have you been up to… genealogy?’

Oh no, it’s not getting there again… ‘No, just hanging around with, you know, my childhood friends… whom I was trying to escape from for a while, as you see.’

‘Better than nothing, for a while…’

They had reached back the central aisle and Cybele had said the last facing directly Draco.

‘I’ve been missing you,’ he stated simply, looking fierce, as if defying her to ridicule him.

‘I’ve been missing you too.’ Cybele made the first move and somehow the next second they were hugging each other. They let go quickly but were both beaming at each other now. ‘Will I see you around, then?’ she asked.

‘You definitely will, whether your friends like it or not,’ he answered.

‘You know I’m not gonna put with any of your bad behavior this year, right?’

‘I think I can handle… It’s worth it. Here, try this, it’s a classic.’ He put a book in her hands, a light kiss on her cheek and was gone before she could react to this unusual behavior.

She needed to talk to the boys.

‘Were you with him?’ Caroline had just arrived to the library. Monday morning History of Magic class was already beginning downstairs.

‘With whom?’ Cybele asked as she hugged her friend.

‘Malfoy, I almost bumped into him on my way here. He looked very pleased with himself. That is, until he saw me,’ she added suspiciously.

‘Yeah, he was here,’ Cybele answered innocently. ‘Shall we be serious and study history or catch up on our holidays?’ she asked, eager to change topic.

‘What about a bit of Muggle history, before we catch up?’ suggested Caroline. She looked excited about something.

‘What should I know about Muggle history?’ Cybele asked, intrigued.

‘Well, you remember how I reckoned I would not be of any help researching about the Magi over the summer because I was in the Muggle world. Well, I didn’t want to tell you in a letter, but I did find things, a lot!’

She handed Cybele a laser-printed A4 paper and several photocopies of a book.

‘It’s incredible, look! I was getting bored one afternoon and I absent-mindedly searched it,’ Caroline was telling.

Cybele had opened her mouth and was not reacting, so Caroline started to explain, misinterpreting her friend’s silence.

‘I mean I made a search on Internet… means… oh never mind. See what it said. It’s the printed one.’

Cybele read through. How could she have not thought about it earlier! Like Caroline had, she had dismissed Muggle knowledge on such a magical matter. Now all the Muggle information about Magi was coming back to her mind. Really, what was the point having limitless knowledge if it would not just kick in when one needed it? She didn’t need to read Caroline’s papers, as she knew all this already.

‘You are right, this is incredible,’ she simply said.

‘So, then, I went to the town’s library. There was not much, actually, but I copied the most interesting documents.’

Cybele complied to pretend to read, but Caroline saved her the pain.

‘Basically,’ she explained, ‘Magi were a tribe and it’s the origin of the word Magic itself in English! In most languages really… In the Muggle world, it refers to an ancient Persian tribe or more precisely to a religion, the followers of Zoroaster. But Muggles believe them to have had magical abilities, such as reading the stars, brewing potions. They are seen as the inventors of magic. But basically, Muggles viewed them as a heretic sect, so they were persecuted and they don’t exist anymore. That’s more or less it, but you may find some of the references useful, too. It’s quite fascinating, actually. They distinguish Magian, the creators of magic and Magavans, the ones who have magic. That makes me think of you and us,’ she concluded.

She stayed silent for a while, as Cybele was pondering this too.

‘Do you think it means there could really be other types of sorcerers? One who would have appeared long before wizards? Ones nobody would know about, and you would be one of them?’ Caroline resumed eagerly.

‘Well, Eslis knows about them,’ Cybele pointed out.

‘Yeah, but there aren’t any but one book in the all Hogwarts library mentioning them. And they are a Muggle legend...’

‘Professor Snape will tell me more. He said he would, this term. Can I show him your printouts?’

‘They are yours,’ Caroline started. She hesitated a while and seemed to make her mind about something.

‘That’s what you are doing with Snape in these tutorial of yours, isn’t it? He’s trying to find out about your special abilities, isn’t he?’ she asked boldly.

Cybele then only realized what she had just let slip. She locked eyes with her friend but didn’t need to think twice to know she could trust her.

‘Yeah,’ she admitted simply, ‘that’s what we are doing. You know, I think he may be thinking I’m a Magian, too.’

‘Did he mention something?’

‘No, it’s more the way he reacted, well, the way he didn’t react, when I mentioned Eslis called me like that. This and one thing he said on our first meeting last year, too.’

‘Fancy a hot chocolate in the kitchens by the end of the week?’ Caroline suggested unexpectedly.

Cybele smiled.

‘Maybe you are right. I could ask Eslis. All right then; see you there Saturday evening! I’m gonna be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts… And thanks for the research!’ She waved the papers in a goodbye out of the library.


*-*-*-*-*


I was left in the literature section, to ponder over what Cybele had so lightly admitted. I knew she had lost her parents, she didn’t know who they were – put it like that – she didn’t know who she was! She had admitted her amnesia to me last year after the incident with Eslis. She didn’t know where she was coming from. And now it sounded like she didn’t even know what she was!

I let myself think about my friend for a while. There were a lot of mysterious things about her, really. The amnesia was one thing, and the strange magical powers too, of course. But I would still have found her intriguing even without that. She was a top student, but never talked enthusiastically about the classes, except for Potions and Herbology, and she spent a ridiculously small amount of time studying, following the Gryffindor twins most of the time. Then she admired Snape, which was a one and unique occurrence among Hogwarts students as far as I knew. This and the friendship with Malfoy were in my point of view in natural contradiction with being friend with Eslis, the Gryffindors and myself.

Thinking about Malfoy, Eslis was right. Her friendships were likely to put her into trouble. The look the boy gave me earlier when he bumped into me, like he would have to wash his clothes after brushing me. I had to put with the idea of my friend being his friend. Because I didn’t doubt they would be friends again. I even suspected Cybele to be slightly infatuated with him (knowing how Cybele would be blind in friendship, I’d rather not imagine how she would reveal in love!) Could I put with it? Could the twins put with it? Could Cybele herself put with it?

Aghast, I started to think back about the incredible discovery I had made this summer. Who would have thought the Muggle world contained so much more information about a Magic legend than Hogwarts library? Then it hit me that what I was looking at right now, the literature shelves, I had discarded just the way I had discarded the Muggle library. I was in the only section of the library where I had not lost my time casting the revealing spell. What if…?’

‘Carta Revelo “Magian�; Carta Revelo “Magi�,’ I chanted waving the large loopy wandwork of the spell in direction of the two literature shelves.

Three books zoomed to me, which I took eagerly. Two were Muggle books. The first opened itself in its middle, where the word “Magian� shined for a second in the middle of a page. The pages turned by themselves, showing the word “Magian� shining in several pages around the middle. I read through quickly. It was just a fantastic epic story in which the word “Magian� could as well have been replaced by “wizard� or “sorcerer�. I took the second Muggle book in my hand and contact with my hand made it reveal itself in turn. This time it was a compilation of Muggle tales and the fifth tale involved a “Magian�, and old wise man with magical powers. Nothing there either. I put it aside and curiously pull over the wizarding title. It was a tale compilation too. It opened itself to show the title of the last but one tale. Tale of the Times of the Magi.

The tale started with the exact same words as the introduction of Lost Antic Enchantments.

‘At the origins of Magic, when Magi were It, before they hit the curse and liberated It from within, before parchment and quills, is it true what they say? Magic was wordless, Magic was wandless.’

Mafalda Wimbury had been quoting this tale, without footnotes. That must mean that the tale was famous enough among wizards to be considered public knowledge. I read on.

Here it was. They had turned their heads to see who I had been smiling (and blushing of all things!) at. Now they were going to turn their heads back to me with looks of disbelief and disgust and say… nothing? That was unexpected.

Fred dove back into his cereal, George gave me a weak smile and Lee was pretending he had noticed nothing. I did not feel relieved, though. So I decided to be brave and have things spelled out.

‘I’m speaking to Draco again,’ I said. My mouth seemed to have become thick and heavy all of a sudden.

‘And smiling, too,’ George observed, as if he was talking about the weather.

‘And blushing,’ added Fred mercilessly.

Lee merely stopped staring at the ceiling.

‘Well, he asked for a second chance and as I said before, Eslis seems to reckon I should...’

Fred put his spoon down and looked seriously at me.

‘Look, Cybele. I’m not going to have a go at you because you are friends with a worthless bully for reasons that escape me completely. We’ve came to an agreement,’ he waved to the two other boys, who looked sheepish, ‘that we would have to trust you on that as long as he doesn’t start to rub off on you… again,’ he added pointedly.

‘No, this time he won’t. It’s not going to be like that. If he wants to be my friend, he will have to hear out my points of view and respect what I value or he will just lose me! And believe me he won’t want to, seeing the intellectual level of the rest of his friends!’ I explained eagerly.

Fred still looked serious, though.

‘Look, Cybele, again, I really don’t see how you can expect a guy who bullies and insults people in the worst ways to come round to your views. But that’s not the point,’ he added quickly as I made to answer, ‘please don’t bring in Eslis as an excuse. He is a House-Elf; he would say whatever he thinks you would like to hear to please you. And he is forbidden to say anything against any Hogwarts student, did you know that?’

‘Yes, I know. Believe it or not but Eslis has very specific reasons to recommend me to keep trying with Draco. I… just can’t share them right now.’

‘Look, Cybele,’ George said kindly, ‘we know you won’t let Draco speak or act in front of you like he did last year with Hagrid or Eslis. If you think that in spite of that, he still will want your company, that’s a mystery to explain, but fine with me.’

I laughed. ‘I think he needs someone to contradict him a bit. It seems to be a very new feeling to him and he likes it, as far as I’ve figured out.’

‘Just be careful,’ Lee warned. ‘Seriously, this guy is not just an arrogant spoiled kid; he’s evil. I’ve heard him say racist stuff, and praise violence. He’s not just your average git.’

‘I know… It’s… been explained,’ I said vaguely, remembering my peculiar detention with Professor Snape.

‘Let’s not talk about that. We trust you. As a matter of fact, George and I have a little project to share with you two,’ Fred teased maliciously, changing topic.

Lee and I looked at the twins expectantly and George went on.

‘Wouldn’t you like to pay a little visit to Phil?’ he asked conspiratorially.

I opened wide eyes.

‘Very funny…’

‘Look who’s speaking! Not afraid of single-handling Malfoy but you recoil in front of a modest spider nest?’ Fred teased.

I looked at Lee for back up. He looked somewhat half terrorized, half tempted.

‘Come on, have you been paying attention to Hagrid?’ I asked at large.

‘Okay, okay, okay, I take you guys don’t want to hear about our plan, then,’ Fred suggested.

‘Never mind,’ George took in, ‘Cybele’s right, it could be dangerous.’

They made to leave the breakfast table.

‘Guys, guys, don’t be… wait!’ Lee stammered.

‘All right, come back, it won’t hurt to hear it,’ I gave in.

‘Let’s not talk about it here, we don’t have time anyway. Sunday after lunch behind the Green Houses?’ asked Fred.

‘Fine.’ I made to stand up too – and arrive on time in Charms for a change – when Caroline came to the Gryffindor table. Lee froze.

‘Hey, Cybele. Hi guys,’ she added to the Gryffindors.

‘Hi,’ answered Fred and George, already on their way.

‘Lee, wake up, we don’t want to know what happens when students arrive late in Transfiguration!’ George warned.

‘Hi,’ said Lee at last with a vague wave of his right hand, and he ran for it.

‘Cybele, just take a look at this, number twelve; gotta run!’

She placed a book in my hands. An all too familiar book…

‘Caroline, no! I’ve just given back this book!’

But Caroline was gone. Here I was again with the Tales of the Wandering Wand, which I had never looked back at since the disappointing tale of the Wandless I had read the previous year, but which seemed to stick to me like a magnet. I stuffed it in my bag and ran for Charms only to bump into Draco.

‘Cybele, will you meet me tonight in the Hall?’ He looked very excited about something.

‘Okay,’ I said quickly, ‘I’ll be there, you’ll explain it to me then; I’m late for class.

I arrived late in Charms, as usual. There was something cursed about Tuesday mornings, I had noticed that last year.

*-*-*-*-*

Draco was walking up and down the entrance Hall when I arrived. He was holding a broom.

‘Are we going to fly?’ I asked.

‘You bet we are, come!’ he ordered, dragging me outside and in the direction of the Quidditch Pitch.

‘Aren’t we going to get in trouble, flying at night?’

‘The Slytherin Quidditch team has booked the pitch for tonight; you’ve got to see that!’

He stopped and brandished his broom under my nose. It was a very nice broom.

‘New Nimbus Two Thousand and One!’ he declared. ‘The whole team has them, now. My father sponsored them! And I’m on the team; I’m the new Seeker!

‘Slytherin has made their tryouts already?’ I asked. This was not the reaction Draco had been waiting for and he brushed it aside.

‘Yes, no, they will organize tryouts for other positions, but they want me as Seeker. Wait and see this one flying. We have half an hour before the rest of the team comes. I don’t know if they will let you watch.’ He actually grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the pitch.

I felt puzzled. Draco had claimed last year that he wanted to be a Chaser. And I could have pointed out that with such a sponsorship, Draco’s father had not left much choice to Slytherin team but to let Draco in. I felt like Draco had chosen the easy way into the team rather than wait for the tryouts and take his chance to be a Chaser as he had wanted to.

‘Come on,’ he was insisting, pulling my arm, ‘you will fly with me, you won’t believe the speed.’

Suddenly I had the vision of a four-year-old dragging the attention of a busy mother. ‘On the other hand,’ I thought, ‘I’d better save my comments. There will be more serious matters to argue on than Quidditch, no need to spoil his joy now.’ I broke into a beam.

‘You’ll fly me, really?’

Draco smiled back and let go of my wrist, breaking the pathetic childish effect and comforting me in my decision to let go of this argument.

‘Sure, you’ll love it. I remember you are not afraid when you fly with me,’ he added proudly.

‘Yeah, and this time we may avoid to fly over the Forbidden Forest,’ I reminded jokingly.

I enjoyed flying with Draco even more than the first time. The new broom was indeed very fast and smooth at the same time. Draco was showing off but it was fun. We landed when he spotted the Quidditch Captain entering the pitch below.

‘What is she doing here?’ he barked as a welcome.

I hid behind Draco who, I was relieved to see, stood up for me.

‘She’s fine. Cybele, this is Marcus. Marcus Flint, Cybele Philius. She’s my friend, she’s all right,’ he repeated.

Flint totally ignored me and started telling Draco off for bringing me to their practice.

‘You’re not bringing your filthy little girlfriends from other Houses over to our training sessions. We want to keep the brooms as a surprise effect for the first match of the season and you see fit to drag Gryffindors to the training!’ he yelled.

‘I’m a Ravenclaw!’ I cried indignantly from behind Draco’s shoulder. Feeling ridiculous, hiding behind my friend, I stepped forward.

‘There’s no need to insult me. And I won’t stay for the training if you don’t want to; you could as well let me know in a civilized way.’

‘Yes, you will stay.’ Draco stepped back in front of me.

‘She knows about me being in the team and about the brooms, and she won’t repeat. And she’s staying to watch the training. Or you want me and my brooms to go back with her?’

Flint laughed at Draco.

‘Those brooms aren’t yours, Malfoy.’ He seemed to be unsettled by the thought of losing them, though, because he added, ‘Have it your way. I hope she knows better than going babbling around.’ He gave me a threatening look and kicked off his broom.

I was not feeling so much like sticking around, now.

‘Draco, I’d better go anyway. I’ve flown with you, so I can go now.’

‘No, you gotta see me, see us, fly,’ he corrected. ‘Stay a bit.’ It sounded, as often with Draco, as an order.

‘All right, I’ll stay a while.’

Draco didn’t smile but made for the second time since we’d come back an unexpected gesture. He grabbed and squeezed my hand quickly in a sporting way before he kicked off too.

I sat down in the stands. Draco was flying gracefully over the other players, chasing the Golden Snitch. The curves, dives and sharp turns he was taking were fascinating. He grabbed the Snitch and let it go several times. I followed his movements in the air for what felt like mere minutes and training was over. I left the pitch before the team could come out of the changing rooms, unwilling to be referred to like I was not there again by this Flint troll.

Back in the dormitory, I lay down on my bed with the Tales of the Wandering Wand. Why did Caroline want me to look into that?

Number Twelve. I opened the book at the table of content and looked down. I gave an out loud gasp. How could I have not noticed it? But then I had not reopened the book since I had chosen to read the tale of the Wandless and the Willow at the beginning of last year and left the all book as a bad job.

There it was, though, last but one before the Tale of Selwyns and the Scorpius; the Tale of the Times of the Magi. I whispered the title and the pages flipped obediently to the beginning of the Tale.

‘At the origins of Magic, when Magi were It, before they hit the curse and liberated It from within, before parchment and quills, is it true what they say? Magic was wordless, Magic was wandless.’

‘I need to show that to Professor Snape,’ was my first thought after I read through the Tale. But then Professor Snape had not let me know yet when we were to meet again. Last year he had not seen me before we were three weeks into the term. Maybe beginning of term was a very busy period for the teachers. Shall I wait or shall I drop by his office to show him the book?

Chapter 16 – A Night in the Kitchens


Cybele took the book with her when she went down for an early breakfast the next day, having decided to drop by Professor Snape’s office before the beginning of the classes.
She sat at the Ravenclaw table alone, and she was almost finished breakfast when Pete and Archie came down.

‘Hi Cybele. Why are you up so early?’ Archie enquired.

‘Hi! I want to see a teacher before class.’ Cybele avoided referring to Snape by name as often as she could, as to not draw attention to her special tutorials. She had done well so far; no Ravenclaw had wondered why she had gone to so many extra Potions lessons the previous year.

She was about to leave when Pete grabbed her book. She instinctively snatched it back, but immediately felt ridiculous. She had been reading it in front of them last year and there was nothing suspicious about it, but now she couldn’t help but fear that someone would spot it and immediately suspect her potential identity.

Peter looked abashed, but Archie spotted the title and smirked. He took the book from Cybele, who let him, and laughed.

‘Don’t be ashamed! I love this book too. Not that I read it anymore; I think I know all the stories by heart,’ he said.

It would be an understatement to say that Cybele was surprised. Archie passed the book to Pete, who smiled too.

‘Oh, my parents used to read me The Tales of Beedle the Bard, but I like these too. Hey, Cybele, did you know them before you came here?’

‘Do you mean that all wizards – all British wizards – know these stories?’

‘Of course! They’re our childhood bedtime stories. How do you like them?’ Archie asked.

‘Er, I’ve just read one. The Wandless.’

‘Very moral’ Archie commented. ‘Which was your favourite, Pete?’

‘Mine was Babbity Rabbitty in Beedle the Bard, but I like the Phoenix one in The Wandering Wand; you?’

‘The House-Elf one; used to make me laugh to tears.’

Cybele pretended to peer through the table of content and dared, ‘The Magi one, what is that?’

She was curious to know if among wizards, Magi were something familiar.

‘Oh, that one’s more mythological. It’s the legend of the origin of Magic and our world,’ Pete said.

‘You don’t have this story back home, Cybele?’ Archie asked curiously.

‘Uh, yeah, something similar,’ she answered vaguely. ‘Gotta go.’

‘Read them all,’ Archie recommended eagerly. ‘And then you’ll be all British!’ He winked.

Cybele smiled back.

‘I will.’

She put back the book in her bag, now feeling it was unnecessary to draw Snape’s attention to fairy tales he must have read countless times in the past.

Cybele was only more eager to talk to Eslis. The tale must not hold much truth, but she could not ask that to her friends without arousing suspicions or looking stupid.

*-*-*-*-*

Eslis came back to the girls with two mugs of hot chocolate. They were sitting in their pyjamas on the stone staircase of the kitchen. There were few Elves in the kitchen at this time of the evening.

‘Have the Misses spent a good holiday?’ he asked graciously.

‘Great Eslis, thanks,’ answered Cybele. They spent some time catching up on the semester break. Muggle London for Caroline, the Jordans’ for Cybele and House Elves activities during semester break.

‘Do you have a family, Eslis?’ Cybele asked curiously. It had stricken her that Eslis seemed to have spent all the holidays at Hogwarts.

‘Yes, Miss Cybele, my family lives her. They is Hogwarts Elves too. My mother and my father and my wife. Eslis’ family is serving Hogwarts since its foundation, Misses,’ he added proudly.

‘You must know a lot of stories from the old times, then?’ Caroline asked.

‘Yes, Miss, we do. House-Elves keep Hogwarts history. We is keeping Hogwarts’ secrets,’ he specified cautiously.

Feeling that Caroline was having it the wrong way, Cybele pulled out her copy of The Tales of the Wandering Wand.

‘Eslis, I meant to ask you, this tale about Magi, does it have anything to do with the Magian you called me?’ she asked plainly.

Eslis took a look at the book.

‘Yes, Miss, this tale tell the legend of the Magi,’ he answered.

‘So, when you said I was a Magian, you meant I was one of them?’ she asked, waving at the Tales.

‘Miss, the book is story, legend. Eslis say you are Magian. Real Magian.’

‘Can you tell me the difference between the Magi in the tale and a real Magian?’

‘I isn’t knowing, Miss,’ Eslis stated. ‘Magi in the tale are finished. But you are Magian, so the tale is not true,’ he elaborated, somewhat frustratingly.

Cybele tried to reformulate what the Elf was trying to express, unsure she had understood.

‘You mean the tale is not supposed to be real? Do you believe in this legend, Eslis?’

‘Eslis is not sure, Misses. There is a lot of versions of the legend, so I cannot be sure. But all stories say Magi is finished centuries ago. Even the legend that says Rowena Ravenclaw is a Magian says she was the last. But you is Magian. So Eslis doesn’t know.’

‘How do you know Cybele is a Magian?’ Caroline asked.

‘My kind know things about Magic. You are Muggle-born,’ he said to Caroline, ‘we is knowing that. Cybele is Magian, we is also knowing that.’

‘How, Eslis?’ Cybele asked.

‘We is seeing the Magic. It is different. Miss Caroline Magic, it doesn’t look like pure-blood Magic.’

Caroline grimaced at that. Eslis noticed.

‘Miss Caroline’s Magic is very powerful,’ he added quickly, ‘it’s only the look. It is more mixed with Muggle Magic. It is more rich.’

‘And mine looks like Magus Magic,’ Cybele concluded for him.

‘No, I is not seeing any Magic,’ Eslis surprised her again, ‘that is how I is know you is a Magian. Magi don’t possess Magic like wizards, they are it.’

Neither Cybele nor Caroline managed to make much more sense out of Eslis on the topic. It appeared that to Eslis, Cybele was a creature that came out of a fairy tale. Cybele tried to imagine a Muggle witnessing a Phoenix burning and being born again from its ashes in front of them. They would without any doubt know that they had just seen a Phoenix, even though they always knew they were a legend.

In the little hours of the morning, more Elves started to get busy in the kitchen again and the girls made to leave, realizing that the night had passed in conversation with Eslis.

‘Miss Cybele, you must be very prudent,’ Eslis started as they made to leave.

Cybele smiled. ‘You take care too, Eslis.’

‘Miss must be careful, Miss Cybele. To be a Magian is dangerous,’ he said.

‘Why, Eslis? Do you mean some people would want me bad if they knew?’

‘I isn’t knowing that, Miss Cybele, but being a Magian is dangerous, you remember, Miss? I says to you last year, be very careful with your friends.’

Eslis last year’s strange advice, Cybele had not forgotten, though she seldom gave it a thought. She could still hear Eslis repeating ‘cannot say was’…

‘Why, Eslis?’

The House-Elf balanced from a foot to another, uneasy.

‘I cannot say why, Miss Cybele, I is sorry. Be very prudent, you have no way back now, you can never chose. Terrible things happen when the natural rule is broken.’

‘What natural rule?’ Caroline asked curiously.

‘Everybody always has a choice,’ Eslis stated. ‘Terrible things happen when Magian isn’t having a choice. It is dangerous. Terrible things have happened in the past…’

Eslis stopped at this point and made a bee-line for the fire-place with a horrified looked on his face. Cybele stayed motionless a second too long, but Caroline was sharp and grabbed Eslis before he could step on the burning charcoal.

‘It’s all right,’ she said firmly, ‘we don’t want to know!’

Chapter 17 – Last Stroll

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right doing, there is a field.
I will meet you there.

Cybele woke up just in time to grab a late lunch on Saturday. She pointedly ignored her Gryffindor friends and pretended to go back to the East Tower before taking a shortcut to the Quidditch Pitch.

The meeting to plan a visit to Phil had been postponed for over two months, due to a new fanatic approach to Quidditch training which had been adopted by the Gryffindor captain. Then frightening attacks had taken place and they drove the idea out of their minds until they decided they had to get their minds off of purebloods and Slytherin heirs.

Those were subjects that Cybele and Draco had been painfully avoiding for the past two months. Cybele was trying to ignore Draco’s position on the matter but it was tricky to pretend not to overhear him in the corridors. She knew she would have to confront him sooner or later, and that the confrontation may well be their last conversation. She didn’t want to lose Draco, but she loathed what she was hearing him say, and she couldn’t take the hostility around her on the seldom occasions when they had hung out together.

The Ravenclaws had kindly tried to ignore the fact that she was back on speaking terms with Malfoy, but they all too often abruptly stopped speaking when she appeared in the common-room. Cybele had spent a gloomy autumn with Caroline or the Gryffindor boys, who more often than not were telling her off for still speaking with the Slytherin boy.

Trying to push these sad thoughts aside, she walked around the castle and back to the greenhouses. The weather was clear, but crisp and cold in the early November. The boys were already there.

It was quite a nice, picturesque spot, behind the ancient walls of brass and glass of the green houses, in an under kept part of the Hogwarts grounds. It was also a good place to have a private conversation.

She leaned against the wall beside Fred, Lee and George, and soon Lee brought the subject.

‘So, what’s with your grand plan to visit Phil?’

‘I don’t know if you can call it a plan,’ George started.

‘Yeah, it’s more like a general idea, you know,’ Fred continued.

‘Say, Phil is in the forest.’

‘And we would like to visit him.’

‘That’s the plan!’ George concluded happily.

‘We thought you guys would like us to leave the details to be discussed among the four of us,’ Fred explained.

‘You don’t have a plan,’ Cybele stated.

‘Well, shall we make one?’ offered Fred.

‘I don’t know,’ Cybele said. ‘Hagrid seemed to consider it was really dangerous, and in Hagrid’s scale of dangerousness, I would say that means lethal.’

‘Besides, we know Phil’s okay,’ added Lee, ‘and we knew the price to pay was to have him – her – back to the wild.’

The twins did not answer immediately and they stayed for a while in companionable silence in the warming sun.

Before any of them spoke again, they started hearing other voices coming from the corner of the green house. Students were coming this way, talking without fear to be overheard in the abandoned part of the grounds.

‘Next time the Heir attacks,’ they heard, ‘the Mudblood will die.’

The Gryffindors and Cybele looked at each other with interest.

‘Yeah, I hope,’ came another voice, still closer. ‘I hope it’s Granger!’

Fred jumped up and wordlessly gestured to the others to follow him. They all were eager to hear more, so the four of them hid behind bushes right before two Slytherin boys appeared at the corner of the old green house.

A tall, thin boy was walking with composure, his hands in his pocket. Beside him, a shorter Draco Malfoy was beating bushes violently with a twig.

‘I’m not sure,’ the tall boy answered. ‘I think it does you good not to be the best student around anymore. Gives me a break, anyway.’

‘Your parents weren’t so happy to have me beating you in all the assignments when we were in their school. Well, you can imagine how my parents appreciate me being beaten in all Hogwarts exams by a Mudblood!’ Malfoy answered angrily.

‘Fine, let’s pray the Heir gets the know-it-all next,’ Zabini answered lazily.

‘Pity Harry Potter is a pureblood!’ Malfoy spat.

‘Haha, I can’t believe some people are twisted enough to think he is the Heir of Slytherin!’

‘I don’t understand how he can be Parseltongue! I wish I could command snakes!’

They eventually sat down in the very place Cybele and the Gryffindors had vacated for them.

‘You’re not afraid for you girlfriend?’ asked Zabini after a while, in an insinuating voice.

‘What girlfriend?’ Malfoy asked defensively.

‘Are you sure she’s a pureblood?’ Zabini continued.

‘Mind saying who you’re talking about?’

‘Have it your way: the Ravenclaw girl. She told you she was a pureblood, then,’ Zabini stated with a poker face.

Malfoy didn’t answer. Behind the bushes, the four friends had frozen. Cybele was holding her breath.

‘What’s your point?’ Draco spat eventually.

‘I’m asking you for your own good, Malfoy, so listen well; Marcus Flint-’

‘What’s with him, now?’ Draco asked, unable to contain his nerves.

‘He was fed up to see the little Ravenclaw girl trailing behind you every other Quidditch practice. He checked her blood status.’

Draco froze. He had blissfully ignored this matter, just the way he conveniently put aside all political and genealogical topics when he enjoyed his unique, innocent time with Cybele. The last thing he needed was the Slytherins throwing it in his face so he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

He would lose her.

He didn’t want to hear what Zabini had to say, he wanted to run away, find Cybele and fly with her to a place where all this didn’t exist.

‘Do you know what he found out?’ Zabini teased.

In a minute now, he would say it. It would be over. He would never see Cybele anymore. And just when he realized that, Draco felt that he could not. He could not go on without this strange part of his life, without his contradictory friend who always asked questions he didn’t want to answer, who reminded him that not everybody who respected and liked him had to have the same ideas, the sweet girl who never flew on a broom without him.

For a wild moment, he imagined himself knocking Zabini out and running back to the castle.

Zabini looked highly amused now, seeing the concern, almost the panic on his fellow’s face.

‘What?’ Draco eventually exploded. ‘Just split it out, will you?’

‘Wow, touchy are we? Nothing.’

‘What?’

‘You’re so thick, aren’t you? I’m telling you he found nothing. The name Philius isn’t the name of any wizarding family.’

‘Cybele’s from Lebanon,’ Malfoy defended.

‘You won’t hear it, huh? He checked worldwide; it’s easy to do. To me, she’s Muggle-born, case closed. Sorry to be the one to break it out to you, but better me than Flint, right? You’re gonna be teased forever,’ he added with relish.

Draco looked blank.

‘It may not be her name,’ he eventually said.

‘Wow, that’s far-fetched! Forget it, man, you’ll find another girl.’

‘No, you don’t understand, there are confidential things about this girl. I’m not supposed to repeat this, but apparently Hogwarts doesn’t know her family. She’s an amnesiac.’

‘She told you that?’

Draco blushed.

‘Not exactly, but I know that for sure. I think she’s a pureblood.’

This conversation was wrong. Draco didn’t want to think about Cybele’s status or family, it all felt wrong. For some reason he didn’t feel that Cybele belonged with these topics, these issues didn’t apply to her.

‘Well, good luck feeding that to Flint!’ Zabini concluded. ‘I’m going back to the castle, you coming?’ he asked Malfoy.

Cybele stood up and came in view.

‘No, I’ll walk him up to the castle,’ she said simply.

Draco blanched as he stood up. Zabini chuckled merrily and went away. Fred, George and Lee crept behind the bushes out of view and headed back to the castle too.

*-*-*-*-*

‘How did you know about my family?’ Cybele asked as soon as they were alone.

‘Severus told me that, when I asked about…’ He didn’t want to say it. What he had so badly wanted to know after meeting Cybele was the last thing he wanted to talk about now.

‘Professor Snape!’ exclaimed Cybele. ‘He told you that?’ she asked incredulously.

‘He also told me you were a great witch and you didn’t care about these things,’ added Draco quickly, trying to make amends for his godfather.

Cybele felt dizzy. If she had been shocked by the conversation between Draco and his friend, the hate in Draco’s speech, the definitive tone in which her “status� was discussed, it was nothing compared to Snape’s betrayal. She had always understood him so perfectly, she trusted him. And now not only he had never resumed their meetings, but he had been babbling about her amnesia!

‘He made me swear not to repeat it to anyone,’ Draco was faithfully going on. ‘He would reduce me to pulp if he knew I told Zabini.’

‘I’ll make sure he does,’ Cybele threatened icily. She would deal with the problem at hand – Draco – she decided, before trying to understand Professor Snape’s behaviour.

Draco actually looked frightened for a second. He soon composed his face.

‘So, you wouldn’t be my friend if you knew my parents were Muggles, right?’ she asked next.

‘Cybele, don’t be ridiculous,’ Draco answered eagerly. ‘Of course you aren’t a mud-Muggleborn! You are so at ease with magic, you-’

‘That’s neither here nor there,’ Cybele interrupted. ‘I don’t want to be friends with you if you would abandon me if we discovered I was Muggleborn!’

‘We agreed last year that we wouldn’t talk about this,’ Draco said.

‘Yes, last year, Draco. We also agreed at the beginning of this year that I wouldn’t let you get away with all your nonsense!’ she spat angrily.

Draco opened his mouth and then closed it.

‘Honestly, what do I do with a friend who would run away from me if my family doesn’t suit him?’ Cybele went on. ‘What do I do with a friend who wishes a fellow Hogwarts student would die?’

‘That’s personal, you don’t know the girl,’ Draco argued.

‘I know my friends dote upon her,’ said Cybele simply. ‘Anyway, that’s not all. You actually support whoever is attacking students! How can you?’

‘I’ve tried to explain you last year, Cybele, but you would only listen to what your Gryffindor friends say! There are students in this school which don’t deserve to be here; if they aren’t stopped by the institution, if they don’t leave by their own accord, then I can only agree with the use of force.’

‘Students like Caroline, right? You would be okay with her dying, too? She’s my friend!’

‘Look, Cybele, I’m not saying she’s not sweet with you and all; she just shouldn’t be here!’

‘If not then how do you explain she has high grades and all the teachers are happy with her?’

‘I don’t want to know how all these Mudbloods snake their way around. It just proves we should get rid of them before they take over!’

Cybele sighted. The conversation was going nowhere. There was no way she would see how Caroline or the Hermione girl didn’t belong. Draco was brainwashed. Cybele felt sad and tired.

‘I don’t think I can do this,’ she eventually said softly. ‘I know we’ve been friends for a while, but …’ she couldn’t finish.

Draco looked panicked.

‘I’m not saying I don’t want to be your friend anymore,’ she said, her own words making her remember once again of Eslis’ strange warning, ‘but there is no point for us to see each other if these crazy ideas are so important to you,’ she managed to say.

‘But why don’t you just admit that you don’t know your family and then nobody will ever know about your blood status and we can still be friends!’ Draco offered.

That’s when Cybele lost it.

‘You really don’t understand a thing, do you?’ she yelled. ‘I don’t want a friend who needs to know who my parents were to accept me and stand up for me! I don’t want a friend who’s too brainwashed to think for himself and who talks about violent and murderous things! And you are this friend!’

‘You’re the brainwashed one,’ Draco yelled back, ‘you can’t see the truth because you’ve been blinded by these filthy friends of your. And you never listen to me,’ he added childishly.

‘I think we are done here.’ Cybele simply turned her back on him and made to leave. As she did, she felt all her limbs and her insides fill with a boiling acid poison. She paused.

‘Can’t you see I don’t care?’ came Draco’s voice, almost in a whisper.

‘What?’ Cybele turned back, and as she did, the burning sensation disappeared at once.

Draco came right in front of her and said to her face.

‘I don’t care about all this-’ he hesitated a split second ‘-when it comes to you. I don’t care what you are; it’s different with you.’

Cybele felt hopeful and desperate at once. But she couldn’t walk away anymore. Draco put a hand on her shoulder.

‘Draco.’ She let her head lean to his so their foreheads were touching. ‘You are wrong. You are so wrong,’ she said softly.

Draco bit his lip but didn’t answer. They went back slowly to the castle in silence and separated without a word, once again with a sad look. They had preserved the last, tiniest, fragile friendship link between them, both hoping to find each other again one day when the other one will have at last opened their eye.

Chapter 18 – An Imperfect Trap


November came and went and Cybele still hadn’t received any summons from the Potions Master to resume their research. As much as she wanted to talk to him, she was determined that she should wait for his invitation. In Potions class, as always, the professor acted as if Cybele’s seat was empty.

Eventually, the Headmaster called on her instead, shortly before the Christmas holidays. Flitwick pulled Cybele aside at the end of Charms to inform her that she was to meet the Headmaster the next evening.

Cybele was full of apprehension. Surely the headmaster was about to inform her that Professor Snape could not undertake the duty of her researches anymore and that she was to wait until some other scholar would volunteer. She even had involuntary formed images to dread upon, such as Lockhart using the duelling ring to test his clumsy hexes on her.

On Friday evening, Professor Flitwick escorted her to the Headmaster’s office. He didn’t stay for the meeting.

It was the first time she came back to the office in which she had first spoken to wizards. Nothing had changed since the year before. The atmosphere, perhaps, would have been dimmer at the beginning of the winter if a particularly joyous fire had not been burning in the chimney and Christmas decorations were not already hanging lavishly all over the place.

‘Good evening, Miss Philius,’ the Headmaster greeted. ‘Pray, have a seat.’

Cybele sat back in the exact same chair she had occupied over a year earlier, recollecting the meeting which had taken place at this occasion.

‘A year has passed, Miss Philius,’ the Headmaster was stating, thinking along the same line, ‘since we had the pleasure to meet and to welcome you to Hogwarts.’

Cybele recalled that she had at the time broken unknowingly into the boundaries she now regarded as sacred of Hogwarts.

‘I have called you to check on you, Miss Philius, and to renew Hogwarts’ welcome.’

This is not very substantial, thought Cybele who, all in dread as to the expected news of the withdrawal of Snape, nevertheless expressed her warm gratitude.

‘How do you feel following Hogwarts education?’ the Headmaster asked conversationally.

He was now gazing down at Cybele with a piercing look, all attention. Well, pretending to cast spells is not exactly thrilling, memorizing Latin formulas for the sake of pretending is highly frustrating, having to wave a wooden stick in particular ways for no reason at all borders nonsense, the new DADA teacher is a practical joke, and could someone please just tell Binns that he is dead? Boring, she thought.

‘It is easy enough to mix and follow the topics involving wand work, but I have not yet learnt to use my wand. I learn a lot in Herbology and Potions, too,’ she answered mildly.

‘Good, good,’ the Headmaster stated with satisfaction, ‘I still take that your main motivation in continuing to attend Hogwarts is to pursue the researches on your own Magic.’

Cybele nodded apprehensively. Surely now, the Headmaster was about to explain Snape’s silence.

‘Miss Philius, would you consider doing your school a favour?’ he asked unexpectedly instead. ‘If Hogwarts could use, in a very serious matter, your special abilities to solve a problem, would you accept to help us?’

‘Of course,’ Cybele answered without hesitation. ‘I am at you disposal, it’s the least I can do,’ she trailed.

The headmaster smiled warmly before he assumed a serious expression.

‘In this case, I will have to give you information that must never go out of this office;’ he did not pause and delivered. ‘We suspect that Mr Draco Malfoy may know something about the accidents which happened to Mrs. Norris and Colin.’ He looked at Cybele and said no more.

‘Headmaster, you believe Draco is involved in the attacks?’ she asked in disbelief.

‘No,’ Dumbledore assured, ‘I do not think so, even though I cannot exclude any possibilities at the time. But I have reasons to suspect that Draco may have heard information about possible attacks when he was among his acquaintances during the summer holidays.’

Cybele did not answer that. She felt puzzled. Dumbledore was accusing possibly Draco’s family in front of her and she did not see what he was expecting of her. She decided against asking any question and merely looked at him expectantly.

‘It would be of great service,’ the headmaster explained, ‘if you could read Draco’s mind to settle the matter.’

Cybele’s jaw dropped. She had not expected that sort of service. She could have travelled long distances, found hidden object or countless of other wonders for the sake of her school, but this was… not so straightforward.

She could not. She would never betray the trust of a friend. Draco may have been an insufferable git and she may not have had a civilized conversation with him since November, but he trusted her. She could not even account for him not to be involved in students’ attack, as it was, but she would not more likely peer into his mind than steal from McGonagall’s purse.

She could not understand how the headmaster could ask her such a thing. It seemed out of character from the straight and upright old man. Surely they were other means.

‘Can I ask you a question, Headmaster?’

‘You will find that you can. Whether I will answer it or not, I cannot promise,’ he answered.

Wise old monkey, Cybele thought unkindly.

‘Have you requested from Professor Snape to attempt to use Legilimency on Draco?’ Cybele knew well about Professor Snape’s Legilimency abilities, as he had tested them, unsuccessfully, on her the previous year.

The headmaster gave Cybele a sizing look that she found calculating.

‘I considered this possibility, but then again, I have reason to suspect Draco to be able to perform Occlumency. I could not take the risk to have him realizing that he was being investigated. Do I take that you are reluctant to use your ability at reading minds to help us?’ he asked directly.

‘I am not reluctant to this, Headmaster,’ she corrected carefully, ‘I am reluctant to deceive a friend.’ She hesitated, then added, ‘I can offer, however, to speak openly to Draco.’

‘Wouldn’t that, Miss Philius, also be a way to deceive him, if you are to report everything to me afterward?’ he asked with interest.

‘But, Headmaster, I would not hide it from him,’ Cybele explained, as if it was obvious.

The headmaster seemed to ponder her latest statement.

‘You do realize the gravity of the circumstances, though? Surely in such an exceptional context, a deception, later openly explained, could be considered?’ he insisted.

Cybele looked shocked and distressed at the very thought. She answered quite vehemently.

‘No circumstances could ever prevail. I simply cannot. You must understand that I would simply be unable,’ she stammered, looking frightened.

The headmaster looked preoccupied. The whole conversation sounded fishy to Cybele but she could not pin down exactly why it wouldn’t all be genuine.

‘I understand,’ he said eventually. Seeing the apprehensive look on the Ravenclaw’s face, he added, ‘I really do. It is all for your honour to be so loyal and to express it so clearly.’ He smiled at her.

‘Professor, please, I really would do anything for the school,’ said Cybele, distressed now at having had to refuse.

‘I won’t ever ask you again something that you cannot in good conscience do, Miss Philius. It was my mistake. But would your special abilities be one day, in another way, useful to the school, I shall not hesitate,’ he stated warmly.

‘I will speak to Draco, as I offered.’ Cybele nodded and made to leave.

‘Miss Philius, please note that your research meetings will resume after Christmas. You are to meet Professor Snape in his office the first Friday of the New Year.’

The peculiar interview had driven this main issue out of her mind. Cybele broke into a wide smile at this, all the rest forgotten. She could have sang as she danced her way down from the headmaster’s office.

*-*-*-*-*

Dumbledore did not move from his desk as he wandlessly locked the door of his office closed on Cybele Philius’ back. He did not move as a dark figure emerged for a hidden corner behind the meeting table and came from behind him to sit silently opposite to him.

‘Thank you, Headmaster,’ Snape said.

Dumbledore nodded. ‘I dare say this conversation has been useful. It does confirm your fears.’

‘It does,’ Snape agreed.

‘Your theory is that she is equally bound to be loyal to us and to Mr. Malfoy?’

‘As well as to all her friends, her good-doers, anybody whom she had accepted friendship from.’

‘She is very skilled at finding a way out, you may have noticed,’ pointed Dumbledore encouragingly.

Snape looked up. ‘While closing a door, you had been very careful to open a window, Headmaster. Our trap was carefully deficient. What happens when a Magian cannot find a way out of their contradictory bounds?’

‘They always do. Tiaras disappear,’ Dumbledore suggested.

‘If they don’t?’ Snape insisted.

‘I do not know, Severus,’ Dumbledore answered gravely.

‘I fear she may be in grave danger.’

‘She won’t as long as you watch over her,’ the older man assured. ‘You must talk to her.’

‘I will,’ the Potions Master agreed.

But he never got the occasion to do it in time.

Chapter 19 – The Nightmare Before Christmas

You are yourself the animal we hunt
when you come with us on the hunt.

I will remember the details of that night my all life. How could any of us not have seen that there was something different about Cybele until that night and the many months that followed? It took these dramatic events for us to realize what was going on.

Cybele had told us she would resume her tutorials after the holidays, but Snape unexpectedly requested a meeting with her on the last week before Christmas break, a last minute summon. While Fred and George had gone for Quidditch practice, I stayed behind and we lingered at the Hufflepuff table with Caroline and Cybele to keep her company until her appointment.

‘No meetings until Christmas and all of a sudden he has to meet you right away!’ Caroline was saying enthusiastically, for reasons I could not understand. ‘He must have discovered something meaningful!’

Cybele was sending uneasy glances my way. She never spoke about Snape’s research project to the twins and I and we never felt curious about the time she spent with our least favourite professor. Caroline, however, seemed to know more.

‘What are you working on with him, anyway?’ I asked directly.

‘Elixirs,’ Cybele answered.

‘Mediterranean potions,’ Caroline said at the same time.

There was an awkward moment before Cybele jumped up.

‘I’m running late! Thank you for waiting with me!’

‘We’ll walk you,’ I offered. ‘You can explain to us about all the lies and secrecy on the way.’ I teased.

‘Oh, it’s not what you think, Lee!’ Cybele protested. But she didn’t give me more explanations.

As we walked to the doors, I could hear nasty laugher coming from the entrance and I was wondering who could be there at this time.

Cybele was first to reach the doors and she stopped so abruptly that we both bumped into her. By the time we apologized and looked up to what she had seen outside the hall, all what we could see was a bunch of Slytherin second-years, with expressions that said they had just been caught red-handed, a Hogwarts Elf banging his head against the stone wall, and the Malfoy boy just far enough away to make someone unsure whether he was with the others or not – to someone who didn’t know him, that is.

After a few awkward seconds, the Slytherin girl – Pansy Parkinson – kicked the Elf away from the wall.

‘Stop that!’ she cried malevolently.

The main doors opened wide; the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Quidditch teams had entered just in time to see Pansy kick the Elf. They stopped their heated argument about how the Quidditch pitch couldn’t have been double-booked at once. For a moment, every party froze.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Fred roared.

Cho, Ben, Harry and George had taken out their wands as Caroline and I had done. The Slytherin girl looked a bit frightened. If she had considered the possibility of getting caught, it wasn’t by a large crowd of older students from other Houses – not at this time of the evening.

‘Answer!’ ordered George, an ugly look on his face.

Cybele had not taken out her wand but she ran to the Elf and kneeled down to tend to him. Parkinson was looking at the pair with disgust.

The circle had closed around the Slytherins now and George simply grabbed the girl’s wrist. She immediately pulled it back angrily.

‘Don’t touch me you filthy-’

‘Answer, then!’ Fred yelled, supported by an angry looking Cho, who pointed her wand at the girl’s face.

Caroline, Ben and I had circled the three other Slytherins with more Quidditch players and were pointing our wands at them too.

Zabini answered for her.

‘Nothing! We just found this stupid animal banging its head on the wall, we were trying to stop it,’ he spat.

‘Yeah,’ Parkinson joined in. ‘It wouldn’t obey, that’s why I kicked it away. For its own good,’ she added with an evil grin.

‘A likely story,’ Ben commented.

‘You can’t prove the contrary!’ Parkinson taunted unwisely.

‘Yeah?’ Cho countered. ‘We saw you kicking him. You’re not supposed to do that. There are other ways to stop an Elf punishing himself!’

‘For you, maybe,’ Zabini answered haughtily.

‘Anyway, Cybele saw them doing something before, didn’t you Cybele?’ Caroline asked.

Cybele looked up from the Elf with whom she seemed to have been talking.

‘Yes, it seemed to me that you were encouraging him to do it.’ She looked briefly at the Elf and did not elaborate. ‘That’s what I’ll tell to your Head of House when he asks me, anyway,’ she added fiercely.

The Slytherins looked at her murderously. Cybele always inspired, together with a great deal of hatred and jealousy, some amount of fearful respect from the Slytherins, since she was on speaking terms with their Head of House – a card she often played.

‘Yes, someone should call a teacher,’ Caroline said.

Some Quidditch players went away in different directions to find teachers.

‘Hey, come back here you little snake!’

A Ravenclaw Beater grabbed Malfoy by the collar as he tried to make an escape following the older students.

‘Leave me alone, I’m going back to my dormitory. I had nothing to do with this!’ Malfoy was protesting, trying to pull from away from the Ravenclaw girl who was two times bigger than him.

‘Just happened to be passing by, were you, Malfoy?’ Harry asked. ‘Unlikely that these two’, he jerked at Crabbe and Goyle, ‘would find their way to the Hall without you.’

‘Was he with you?’ Caroline asked the Slytherins. They smirked but didn’t say anything.

‘Was he with them when you caught them first, Cybele?’ I asked, little knowing that I would feel guilty for years for asking this simple question.

Cybele caught Malfoy’s eyes and gulped. She seemed to wait for Malfoy to say something. One could see the request in both pairs of eyes: Malfoy wanted Cybele to stay quiet and save his skin and Cybele wanted Malfoy to speak up himself to avoid her to have to denounce him; both feeling strongly that their own option was the only one which could save whatever was left of their friendship.

As Malfoy kept quiet, Cybele started to look around her and she seemed to panic.

‘Cybele, did you see him?’ George pressed.

Cybele looked at George and said nothing.

‘Of course she did, didn’t you see him trying to escape?’ Cho insisted.

Cybele looked at Cho and started to look like she was about to be sick. She actually put her hand on her stomach. Nobody seemed to notice that she was not feeling well. I opened my mouth to suggest we let the teachers deal with Malfoy, but Fred spoke first.

‘We all know he was with them! Come on, Cybele, you cannot seriously consider covering for him!’ he cried indignantly.

Cybele looked at Fred and said nothing. For a spit second, I thought she glowed slightly. On second look, she was just extremely pale.

‘Cybele, was he with them or not?’ Ben repeated kindly, looking confused by her stunned silence.

Cybele twisted to look at Ben and said nothing. Something was definitely wrong with her now. She looked as through she was going to become transparent if she went any paler. Nobody seemed to realize, all passionate as they were about having the poor Elf avenged.

‘What are you playing at, Cybele?’ eventually came an ice-cold voice I didn’t immediately recognize as Caroline’s own.

Cybele gave a final twist and looked at Caroline with disbelief in her eyes. I saw the glow again and this time I knew it was not a trick of my eyes. Something wrong was happening. Light seemed to try to escape from Cybele, like some layer being ripped of her.

I looked around me but still nobody seemed to notice. Caroline had a cold mask of anger and was looking straight at Cybele without seeing anything. The others were discussing and a rumble was developing as some players were coming back with teachers. Then I spotted Malfoy. Malfoy had seen it too. He was looking at Cybele, transfixed and frightened, with a look of concern I never saw on him before.

‘No!’ the tiny Elf squealed.

I looked back and choked. Cybele looked on the verge of fainting now and the rippling hallow around her was flickering furiously. Everybody noticed now but all seemed frozen. I eventually recovered the use of my legs and reached Cybele just in time to catch her clumsily in my arms and collapse on my knees under her weight. The light around her immediately stop fighting its way out and seemed to settle back into her through her chest, where her pendant watch was lying. She was completely still.

Professor McGonagall and Snape arrived. McGonagall came to me but Snape was faster, and he took Cybele easily from me and walked away with her limp body in his arms up in the direction of the Hospital Wing. He disappeared in a twirl of black robes and McGonagall was left to listen to the witnesses and take charge of the Slytherin culprits.

Chapter 20 – Arta Magush

All night long
A voice calls upon you
To wake up
In the precious hours



‘Arta Magush.’

I opened my eyes, feeling like I had slept for far too long. And yet, I was exhausted.

Snape was sitting next to my bed. Why? I realized I was not in my bed. I could not remember going to bed at all. Did I have an accident? Then I remembered what happened in the Entrance Hall. That’s why I was in the hospital wing with Professor Snape. I started to remember how I had felt and why. It made my heart beat faster. I was afraid. I mustn’t think about that.

I looked at Professor Snape; he was not looking in my direction. Instead, he was examining my brass necklace watch on my bed-side table. I weakly reached for him and met his dark eyes when he felt my hand rest on his wrist. I thought he looked surprised for a second.

He gently pushed my arm back on the bed and sighed.

‘Professor Snape,’ I articulated weakly.

‘How do you feel Miss Philius?’ he asked with a shadow of a smile, which disappeared as usual before I could see it properly.

But yet there was something unusual in Professor Snape’s expression … Expression! And I realized that I had never seen him laugh or properly smile: I could not even imagine him doing such things; he never wore any expression on his face. Except now, he had a shadow of an expression of concern. It looked like his face had been given colours and soul. He looked more human. Have I ever thought Professor Snape didn’t look human? He looked like a man who was trying, but failing, to hide his emotions, a very common thing to witness on any other face but his. I felt a rush of sympathy toward him and pulled myself to answer.

‘I’m all right,’ I said. I felt weak but didn’t see the point mentioning it. I already felt stupid to have fainted out of some sort of panic attack for reasons I felt afraid to think about.

Then Professor Snape smiled. Not his usual shadow of a smile, a real, quick but full smile. It was a mocking smile too, with disbelief and relief into it. A corner of his mouth was even still mockingly twisted when he asked with authority, ‘Can you exactly and precisely describe how you feel right now, Miss Philius?’

I reluctantly described as ordered. Then I blinked and both smile and any expression had deserted his face.

I closed my eyes and replayed the smile in my head. Why am I doing that? I wondered. And the answer came to me automatically. Because I need to not think about what happened in the Hall.

‘What did you say?’ I asked suddenly.

‘When, Miss Philius? I have not spoken now.’

‘No, I mean what woke me up. You said something that woke me up.’

Professor Snape did not answer immediately but frowned and reached for my watch and handed it to me, face down. He simply pointed at the polished backside.

‘Arta Magush,’ I read. I looked up at Professor Snape. ‘This inscription was not here before.’

‘What does it mean?’ he asked.

‘You don’t know?’

‘I just saw it now. I know Magush means Magian in ancient Persian. I’ve come across the term. But I do not know the language further. You do,’ he added simply.

‘Yes, Arta means true. It says True Magian,’ I answered. ‘What does it mean, Professor? Why did it appear here? Why did it wake me? What happened to me?’

‘This, Miss Philius, is magic beyond anybody’s understanding or knowledge here, I am afraid,’ answered a voice from the other side of my bed.

Professor Dumbledore had entered silently the hospital wing. As he was standing in front of a window, I realized there was a pale glow about the night. Only then I noticed the birds were singing.

‘Is it dawn already? I spent the whole night here?’ I asked in disbelief.

Dumbledore and Snape looked at each other.

‘Yes, it is dawn already,’ Professor Dumbledore answered in strange tone.

He looked at me for a while, sensing rightly that I had another question. But I felt ridiculous asking the headmaster and my professor. I would have felt more at ease to ask the nurse. However, I needed to know badly.

‘Did any of my friends come to see me in the evening?’ I asked sheepishly.

Dumbledore smiled kindly.

‘They all came.’ He looked at me quizzically. ‘Miss Philius, you have been unconscious for a while. Your friends have come regularly.’

I felt oddly relieved. At least my accident’s consequences would have made them forget the circumstances of it. I felt almost grateful to have passed out for several days; then I felt foolish to think that way.

‘You will need to rest. I would like you to stay in the hospital for a while. Then Professor Snape will brief you on the latest developments in his research. Only then we will inform your friends that they can come over to Hogwarts to visit you. If you wish, you can spend the rest of the summer here at Hogwarts working with Professor Snape.’

‘The rest of the summer?’ My head started to spin. Wasn’t it in… it was just before Christmas, wasn’t it? How could I have been unconscious for months?

‘Miss Philius,’ came the cool voice of the Potions Master. ‘What happened to you is deep magic, as the headmaster said, beyond our understanding or knowledge. But understanding and knowledge’s frontiers can be pushed further. We will discover all we need to know about you soon. What happened to you will never happen again, however madly we have to study to prevent it.’ I couldn’t miss the eagerness of the speech in spite of the cold flat voice delivering it. I felt grateful and anxious at the same time.

The perspective of fighting whatever had attacked me last winter (last night!), with Professor Snape’s help was appeasing. I still wanted to make sure I remembered correctly.

‘It was before Christmas, wasn’t it?’ I asked the headmaster.

‘Yes, the last week of term before Christmas holidays, Miss Philius.’ He looked hesitant. ‘Last year’s Christmas, Miss Philius. One year and a half ago,’ Dumbledore eventually added, looking sorry.

*-*-*-*-*

Professor Snape stayed. We did not talk. I was under shock. Professor Snape simply stayed the all day in watchful silence at my bed-side. I tried and failed to eat lunch. I felt very weak.

‘Try to eat something,’ he eventually ordered when the sun started to set, and he left as Madam Pomfrey brought food once again.

I managed to slip some food down this time and felt better after it. Madam Pomfrey left me for the night and as I didn’t feel sleepy, I was let to think in the slowly darkening summer evening.

I had remained unconscious for a year an a half, I reflected. The thought did not make my head spin like earlier but I was still dizzy.

Professor Snape would be able to explain why, I thought faithfully. But as I cautiously allowed myself to remember the day of the accident, I couldn’t help starting to feel that Eslis had given answer to the question long ago. I didn’t want to dwell on this by myself, though. I would have a satisfactory discussion with Professor Snape on the morrow, if I could show I was already strong enough.

My thoughts took another direction. Dumbledore had said my friends had visited regularly. I felt grateful. But which friends? Did Dumbledore know of all my friends? Did he mean the Ravenclaws? Could my House, in which I had never blended so easily, happily have forgotten me? What about Caroline? Surely Caroline had come. And Eslis? Lee? Fred and George? Draco? Would Draco have visited after all?

I then started to feel anxious. What about the attacks? Were more students attacked? Did anybody die? Was Hermione, the friend of Fred and George, all right? What about Caroline? Would Dumbledore have told me anything if my friend had been attacked? Surely not, not just after I had waked up from an eighteen month coma! Did Draco stupidly get involved in the attacks? Could he have been expelled after that night? I cursed myself for not asking all these questions to the Potions Master. What was I thinking all day? But then I had felt so weak. I would know all tomorrow. Once again, I needed to think about something else.

Professor Snape. He had been there when I had woken up. I had been unconscious for eighteen months; I had woken up at the crack of dawn of a summer night and yet he had been there. I felt a rush of gratitude and affection for my mentor. Had he been the one to wake me up? I wondered next. Were the words he had read aloud from the watch the reason why I had suddenly awoken? I had worn this watch around my neck as long as I could remember. I did not have any precise memories before my stroll up to the castle on Hogwarts’ grounds three years ago but the watch had appeared that day, when I had wanted to groom my appearance, and ever since in the same circumstances. I decided on every other aspects of my appearance but the watch was always here and I had never even once questioned it. I marveled at the thought. That would be another topic to discuss with Professor Snape.

I suddenly heard the hospital wing’s door creak. I closed my eyes.

It must be Professor Snape. If he sees that I am sleeping, he will leave and get some rest.

Indeed, I heard light foot steps coming directly to my bedside. Professor Snape didn’t sit, though, but, as far as I could guess, just stood very near to the bed. I started to wonder if this could be someone else but refrained from opening my eyes until I could make sure it was not the Potions Master.

‘Hi, Cybele, it’s me again.’

I froze as I recognized the voice. Could that be Draco? What would he be doing here? How? Why?

‘I don’t have much time before Professor Snape comes back from his dinner. I had trouble escaping tonight, but I figured I still had time to come here.’

I was listening hard and breathing slowly. Did Draco know that I was awake?

‘Can you hear me, Cybele?’ he asked.

I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I was eavesdropping on Draco. But then, he is talking to me, so I have the right to hear, no?

‘I’m sorry.’

Another silence. What would happen if I just opened my eyes now? I would have to admit I was faking!

‘I want you to wake up. I want you to come and fly with me. We don’t need to talk about all the madness around us. We were happy that way, remember?’

I felt half like hugging, half like punching Draco now, so it was good that I had kept my eyes closed.

‘I’ll be back.’ Draco grabbed my hand and kissed it. ‘Take care.’

I heard him leave slowly and the hospital wing’s door creaked back close. I opened my eyes wide and looked around. The hospital wing was deserted. Could I have dreamed it? I was confused and exhausted; I had just woken up from a coma. Maybe I had just imagined that.

I lifted my right hand to my eyes. I could still feel something prickle there. I looked at the warm spot on my hand. Could it be possible that those inches of skin had been kissed every night by Draco? I felt a foreign pinch in the stomach.

*-*-*-*-*

Unlike I had feared, Professor Snape did not come back that night.

Waking up very early in the morning – I started to think that I had probably slept enough for the rest of my life during the last months – I decided to act.

I wanted Professor Snape to get back to research with me. I wanted a good, long conversation to have all my questions answered. I wanted out of this hospital bed. I had to show them that I was strong enough for all this.

Long before Madam Pomfrey came with a breakfast tray, I made my bed. I wanted to wait for her up and fully clothed. I looked down at myself and felt puzzled a moment. I had changed. I was taller – though not much taller – and somewhat fatter than before. ‘How could I be fatter after a coma?’ I marveled. Then it dawned on me; I was just – wow – not a kid anymore. I needed a mirror!

Of course the hospital wing didn’t have any. In the summer dawn light, I installed one in the middle of the empty wing and started looking at myself. I didn’t like what I saw. I sighted, wisely thinking that I still looked quite normal for a fifth-year that I was, now, and that I would get used to the new pieces and curves in time. I got dressed with my usual marine blue Dockers and grey sweater. It didn’t look as right as before. It looked shapeless and goony on my new body. I tried jeans. I looked fat. I sighed. I didn’t like it; I was always happy with whatever I had made appear on me at the first try, before.

It’s the coma, I reasoned. I just have to get familiar with my older self. Crap, you do change in eighteen months, though! I ended up in an all black, quite lousy pants and pullover set. I still didn’t really like it and it was a very unfamiliar and unpleasant feeling.

I heard movement from Madam Pomfrey and vanished the mirror quickly. She looked surprised to see me up and frowned slightly.

‘You should be in bed, Miss Philius. You were very weak yesterday,’ she said, not unkindly.

‘Thank you, Madam,’ I answer politely, ‘I have slept a lot,’ I added with a twist of a smile.

Madam Pomfrey sighted.

‘Please, get back into bed for your breakfast.’

I complied but sat up. She seemed to consider it acceptable and didn’t insist.

I was feeling hungry by now and had my first real meal.

Professor Snape was back early. After some short negotiations on my part with Professor Snape and much longer ones on his part with the matron, we agreed that Madam Pomfrey would check me up this morning while I lay still and would release me after lunch if she couldn’t find anything positively wrong with me apart from the fact that I had slept the whole past year. I felt elated. I was to go down to Professor Snape’s office in the afternoon.

I could still feel my limbs weak, in spite of Madam Pomfrey’s strengthening potions, as I went down to the dungeon and crossed the Potion’s class to Professor Snape’s office, but I was not going to admit it to anybody. Madam Pomfrey had tried to detain me on discovering my tension was very low; however, it had not remained so low as we argued the case.

Professor Snape came to the door, and instead of inviting me to sit in front of his desk, I had to follow him behind and upstairs into his quarters. The sitting room was plain, yet somehow cozy enough with a comfortable sofa. There were large and high Hogwarts style windows there, I was pleased to see. The furniture was in earthy and dark tones, yet not miserable-looking. Professor Snape invited me to sit on the sofa, where a blanket was neatly folded in spite of the warm weather. He conjured a mug of tea.

‘Madam Pomfrey has insisted that you would be comfortable and that we limit our sessions to few hours a day at first,’ he explained.

I smiled and looked around. Knowing my Potions Master and mentor, I suspected I possibly owned the first non-Elfish pair of eyes to rest upon the place.

‘Thank you,’ I said simply. I tried to put as much as I could in this thanks. Thanks for watching over me all this time, thanks for you smile, thanks for your sight up there in the hospital wing.

‘You must have a lot of questions,’ he said next, sitting himself on an armchair. ‘We will not discuss much today, but I believe you will rest better knowing about what must be the most pressing matters in your mind.’

‘Yes, thanks, Sir,’ I answered eagerly. ‘Were any more students attacked, Sir?’

‘We have caught the culprit,’ assured Snape, ‘and all the attacked students were cured and feeling perfectly well by the end of the year. There were some more attacks though, after Christmas. Nobody that you know personally, I think, but your House’s Prefect Penelope and your friends’ friend, Miss Granger.’

I gaped. So this Hermione girl was attacked. Had Draco been happy? Did he regret that she had not been killed?

‘Who was the culprit? Were any students involved?’ I asked anxiously.

‘Yes and no,’ started Professor Snape, and he patiently explained me the main elements of the complicated plot which had been set on Hogwarts that year. I asked some questions about this dead-not-dead frightening wizard, Voldemort, and Professor Snape explained me more about the possibility of his return one day among the living, but assured me that no positive elements had occurred in that direction during my coma.

‘Sir, may I ask you how are my friends?’ I chanced after a short silence.

‘They are all fine,’ he answered kindly. ‘You will see them soon. The headmaster will meet you tomorrow, as Madam Pomfrey has insisted on not more than one meeting today and he will then meet your friends too, to explain them about you. I hope you understand that your friends need to know about you now. As for us, we will start discussing about the past events and our new theories tomorrow too.’

I nodded. Professor Snape looked at me a while and eventually answered the question I was too embarrassed to ask.

‘I don’t know if Professor Dumbledore will meet them all, but all your friends have been visiting you regularly. All,’ he added pointedly, and I knew I had not dreamt Draco. ‘Professor Flitwick will also inform the Ravenclaw fifth-years at the beginning of the term. We will decide together and let him know what exactly to say.’

I felt grateful for the steady consideration my mentor was giving to my decisions and opinions. I couldn’t wait to start the research again. Hopefully we would meet daily until the beginning of the term?

‘It is late already, and a long enough meeting for today. You can go back to your dormitory if you wish, but Madam Pomfrey insisted that you would sleep in the hospital wing if ever you feel weak. An Elf will bring you your meals in your dormitory until you are alert enough to go down and eat in the kitchens.’

I was determined to go down to the kitchens to eat and see Eslis when I left Professor Snape’s apartment; but my head was spinning badly and I couldn’t deny I felt very weak. I had decided to sleep in the hospital wing until Draco would come again, so I went back there directly and collapsed on the bed.

*-*-*-*-*

‘Miss Philius?’

I opened an eye reluctantly. Madam Pomfrey was there with a tray of food. I realized I was starving.

‘I’m happy to see you are reasonable and getting rest,’ she pronounced with satisfaction. ‘Do come back here every night until you feel fully recovered!’ she recommended.

‘Where is my owl?’ I asked. I should have thought about that earlier. It was late now and Madam Pomfrey would surely not allow an owl in her wing. I felt guilty.

‘Oh, you have an owl? Well, animals are not allowed in this wing,’ she stated predictably, ‘but I will ask about it during dinner.’

When Madam Pomfrey went down to dinner, I sat on my bed and hugged my legs, hopefully waiting for Draco to sneak in again as he had done the previous night. But a long while passed and nobody came. I tried to summon my owl but I couldn’t. That was a thing I couldn’t do. There seemed to be a lot of things I couldn’t do, lately, and I didn’t like that at all.

The door eventually creaked open but it was only Madam Pomfrey back from her dinner. She went straight to her apartments. She had apparently forgotten about the owl. I resolved to try and sleep. I was about to open my bed when I heard a crack behind me. I jumped and stared back.

‘Miss Cybele! I is bringing your owl.’

‘Eslis! Archie!’

Chapter 21 – Out of a Fairy Tale Book

Why talk about all
The known and the unknown
See how unknown merge into the known

‘One of the stories which fuelled the legend that Rowena Ravenclaw was a Magian,’ Snape was explaining on the morrow, ‘was her behaviour toward Salazar Slytherin at the end of their lives. I believe you have read the Tale of the Time of the Magi?’

‘Yes, my friend Caroline discovered it for me,’ I explained.

‘Tales of the Wandering Wand is a compilation of old stories from the oral tradition. They do not have, like the Beedle’s, a known author and though they are not as pleasantly written, they are much older. Tale of the Time of the Magi is the only well known testimonial of this ancient myth. Parts of the text are cryptic enough and leave space for interpretation. Particularly, there is a passage in the middle of the text where Magi are not referred by this word but by the word Magus, which should be the singular, even though wizards tend to use Magian because Magus is being used by Muggles. An odd occurrence which many attribute to lazy copying spells; while others insist that the text may speak about some other type of Magi in the passage. Anyway, it is in this passage that Magi are said to,’ Snape took his copy of the Tales and quoted;

‘By forgiveness or blindness, finding excuses, tricks and ways out, always the Magus to their loved ones keep close, as their loyalty knows no limit.’

‘It is the last part of this sentence which is well known. It was an expression still used in my youth; “Loyalty of Magi� used to refer to an action beyond measure, unreasonable.’

‘Rowena Ravenclaw fought for many long years for the forgiveness of Salazar Slytherin and his return to Hogwarts. She had the “Loyalty of Magi� toward her old friend, in spite of his outrageous behaviour.

‘It is also known among very few wizards – namely the Hogwarts professors and headmasters – why her legendary heirloom, her tiara, has never surfaced. Her daughter had betrayed her, stole it and run away. Rowena Ravenclaw protected her daughter’s memory all her life, insisting that she had lost the tiara herself. Again, possibly, the loyalty of the Magi.

‘They say magi have bounds in love and friendship, which do not allow them to relegate past feelings and vows. This is only a legend, Cybele. But you are here standing in front of me and had your soul almost ripped from you when a number of your friends have demanded that you betray another friend.’

There was a silence, as understanding of the implication of this theory dawned on Cybele. Professor Snape looked at her seriously.

‘You ought to be prudent, Cybele, in your allegiances. If they are to come in contradiction, you are the one who will be torn apart. Do you understand me? In a world where it is impossible to be a friend of an Eslis and of a Malfoy, you can try to twist this world if you can, but you cannot go back and choose again.’

Cybele did not answer. So much had eventually been discovered about her before and during her accident. She was a Magian, which made her a legendary creature out of a fairy tale book. If she wanted to know more about her kind, here it was; children books and fairy tales!

‘I have Muggle documentation about Magi,’ she eventually said, willing to see their meetings turn back to a more scientific ground.

‘Good, we will have much to do! I will not be in Hogwarts for the rest of this week. I hope to see you here on Monday.’

And with that he sent her to rest before her meeting with Dumbledore.

*-*-*-*-*

‘You look very well today!’ the headmaster exclaimed genially upon my entering his office in the afternoon.

‘Yes, Headmaster. Thank you for Hogwarts’ good care during all these months.’

Dumbledore waved his hand to signify it was nothing.

‘Miss Philius, I understand from Professor Snape that we have reached major discoveries about you. I trust you will both be able to draw positive conclusions soon.’

Of this, I wasn’t so sure; and as Professor Snape himself had confessed the limits his new theory, I just assumed the headmaster had a good reason to act ignorant.

However, the headmaster didn’t dismiss the topic after that but added, in a much more serious tone,

‘I have felt guilty, Miss Philius. I take you remember the trick we played on you before Christmas, with my request about your friend Mister Malfoy?’

Of course! It was all coming back now! Not that I was suffering from amnesia again, but there was simply so many things to compile!

‘Yes, I do,’ I replied prudently, understanding only now that it had been a test.

‘We had assumed that little experiment would be more efficient than a direct question, you see. Of course Professor Snape was to disclose all to you in your next meeting, but-’

‘It never took place,’ I finished.

‘Yes. I have to confess I was feeling very confident that even if Professor Snape’s and my theories were right, you were not in any immediate danger. I am afraid I had managed to placate Severus enough to let him wait until the New Year to meet you. I cannot help but feel that if not for my foolish overconfidence, you could have been warned…’ He trailed off.

‘Professor Snape had planned to see me before the holidays, Headmaster. It simply happened before our meeting,’ I explained, feeling uneasy about the old man’s guilt.

Dumbledore nodded and seemed eventually willing to let this aside.

‘We have agreed with Professor Snape that given the circumstances, your closest friends will have to know about your nature to some extent, so they can help and protect you from such accidents in the future.’

I nodded.

‘I will invite your friends to come and visit you this weekend and will talk to them before they see you. I will tell them about you not being an ordinary witch and about the possible bounds you may be under to explain your accident. Is that all right with you, Cybele?’ he asked kindly.

I felt like I didn’t have much choice, and this was probably better than to have to talk at all myself with my friends about what happened before last Christmas.

‘Yes,’ I answered simply.

‘I will contact the Weasleys and the Jordans, as well as your friend Caroline’s parents and arrange for their children to come and spend Sunday here at Hogwarts.’

I smiled.

‘I cannot include Mr. Malfoy,’ Dumbledore went on, ‘and I would like to request that you will not trust him with information about your being a Magian.’

I was about to ask why, but the headmaster intended to explain to me and went on.

‘I hope you will understand. I am sure that you know the wizarding world was at war for many years over a decade ago. I have reasons to believe that this war, against Voldemort, will resume one day or another, when he manages to return to power. In this war, I, Hogwarts, the Weasleys, the Jordans, Muggles and Muggle-borns are on one side, the Malfoys on the other, together with Voldemort. I do not mean to say that young Draco is,’ Dumbledore added, ‘but his family is, and we cannot take risk that they hear about a Magian. Magi represent limitless powers, as I am sure you have realized; it would put you into trouble and possibly Draco himself in danger to let him know about such powers if war were to resume.’

Somehow, Draco already knew less about me than any of my other friends, I reflected. And this was certainly not foreign to the fact that he proffered controversial opinions. I had instinctively already acted on Dumbledore’s line of thinking.

‘I understand,’ I agreed.

‘Good,’ he concluded simply. ‘As I am sure that you are eager to stay around with us to explore the new hypothesis with Professor Snape, we still have to agree on how you may resume you education.’

As what the headmaster was meaning draw down me, I started to dread what would come next. Surely he didn’t want me to resume Hogwarts’ third year, when all my Ravenclaw friends were about to start their fifth? Even Draco would be starting his fourth year now! I must have looked horrified, lost in my thoughts, because I heard the old man chuckle pleasantly.

‘Would you like to resume Hogwarts’ fifth year, Miss Philius? Considering your abilities, it should not be too challenging.’

‘Yes, I can! I will catch up even before first of September,’ I assured eagerly.

Dumbledore unfolded a parchment. ‘Let’s see, Professor McGonagall has kindly prepared a tentative strategy for you.’

‘We assume that Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms will not be an issue. But you should read third and fourth year’s syllabus at the very least, to memorize the spells. Then, our Potions Master has kindly offered to have you catch up in his subject over the summer. That leaves Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures to seriously work on, doesn’t it?’

Without waiting for a confirmation, he went on.

‘Professor McGonagall suggests that you will have a fellow tutor for each subject to help you go through until you have caught up. She has already contacted Professors Sprout and Hagrid to suggest names. She will see the students at the beginning of the term to tutor you. Will you agree?’

‘Of course,’ I answered simply, wondering, still, how the students were not going to grow suspicious when I catch up on a year and half worth of their best subject in less than a month. But I didn’t comment.

‘Oh, and History,’ Dumbledore was mentioning as an afterthought. ‘Well, I suppose we will let you catch up at your own speed,’ he said with a half smile.

I felt myself blush. He knew!

Chapter 22 – Sunday With Friends

Something opens our wings. Something
makes boredom and hurt disappear

Cybele was able to move back to the Ravenclaw tower before the weekend, abandoning her hope of getting another night time visit from Draco. She felt much stronger now and enjoyed a nice chat with Eslis in the kitchens three times a day. She never suspected that Dumbledore had thoughtfully given a direct order to Eslis not to work when she was visiting for meals.

She woke up early on Sunday and spent a long time in front of her mirror, in an attempt to recapture her old appearance. Deep inside, she still thought her teenage self looked like a potato; but she tried to be reasonable and eventually settled on jeans and a black T-shirt.

She was disappointed, however, when she saw no sign of life by lunch time. She moodily descended to the kitchens for lunch.

‘Hurry up, Miss Cybele!’ Eslis greeted her, ‘it is already late and your friends will be in Ravenclaw Tower by one!’

Cybele beamed and swallowed her lunch happily.

‘Cybele!’ Caroline cried at the Ravenclaw’s door shortly after, as she pressed her friend in a fierce hug.

All three boys gave her a somewhat cautious embrace. Fred escorted her to a comfortable sofa and they all sat down near a corner window, surrounded by wizarding and Muggle chocolates and two huge bouquets of flowers.

For an awkward moment, they just all beamed at each others.

‘It so good to see you back,’ Lee eventually said.

‘And you!’ She was on the verge of tears. ‘So, you saw Dumbledore,’ she asked to cut her emotion.

Her friends simply nodded, apparently still under the double shock of having Cybele back and the strange news about her. They looked uneasy.

‘I am so sorry,’ Caroline said. ‘When I think I confronted you like that, I didn’t even see you were not all right, I was so stupidly angry.’

‘You all had the right to act as you did,’ said Cybele, cutting in with determination. ‘It may turn up now that I had an excuse to act like I did, but I still did act wrongly. If not for the Magi bound, I would have had no excuse refusing to give Draco in.’

‘We should have seen it coming,’ Fred insisted. ‘We were stupid, really. I hope you will forgive us. Lee was the only one to react.’

‘Much too late!’ Lee dismissed. ‘I’ve been very stupid. I saw it all and I could simply not believe my eyes, I didn’t react at all!’

‘Yes, you did,’ George corrected. ‘I didn’t at all. We knew, though, that you were different.’

‘You did?’ Cybele asked curiously.

Fred smiled. ‘Well, it took us time, obviously, but catching some random information through classes, we realized you should not have been able to conjure food out of nowhere the way you did – not that we minded! Besides, Lee had to Apparate along with his father last summer and he realized that that was not what you had done back in Knockturn Alley.’

‘You went to Knockturn Alley?’ Caroline asked in disbelief.

Cybele laughed. ‘Long story!’

‘Anyway,’ George said, ‘Caroline here had much more information to share and by the end of last year, we already knew or guessed most of what Professor Dumbledore just explained us.’

‘Your Ravenclaw friends asked us a lot of questions when they saw us four together,’ Caroline tried cautiously.

Cybele gave her a neutral interrogative look.

‘I didn’t know what to tell them.’

‘But then they seemed sincerely concerned, you know,’ Lee said. ‘We would bump into them every so often in the hospital wing, especially Cho, Archie and Pete.’

‘And Ben would come and talk to you before each Quidditch match!’ Fred laughed.

‘Really?’ Cybele laughed too. She pictured Ben in full Quidditch wear, fidgeting nervously at her bedside like she was some goddess of the airborne sports in her temple. ‘So what did you tell them?’ she asked confidently, trusting her friends to have done the right thing.

‘Well, actually…’ Caroline was hesitating.

‘They sort of cornered us in the hospital wing once, the lot of them,’ Fred said.

‘So, pretty much everything,’ Caroline said very quickly.

‘All in front of you,’ Lee added, as to make clear they were not trying even back then to speak behind her back.

‘I’m sure you did the right thing given the circumstances,’ Cybele assured them. ‘Professor Flitwick wanted to speak to them this term anyway, so I will let him confirm all you said.’

They spent the next hour catching up on the incredibly long period they had spent apart, Cybele having almost as much news to share as her friends, who didn’t know where to start.

‘We’ll write,’ the twins promised when they parted.

‘We’ll really write,’ Caroline said with a wink, speaking on hers and Lee’s behalf

The boys tried to convince Cybele to have their parents invite her to the Quidditch World Cup at the end of the month but even though she pretended to be optimistic, she didn’t think that Madam Pomfrey, the Weasleys’ parents or even Snape and Dumbledore would be happy to have her first day out in a hysteric crowd of supporters.

*-*-*-*-*

Sunday evening, Severus Snape reached back his apartments and was about to magically close the shutters of his large windows when he caught a move on the West Tower’s roof. Cybele was standing airily on the sharply sloping roof, her arms opened, breathing deeply. Severus stopped by the window as the young girl fall graciously from the tower to rise with speed up in the Hogwarts sky. She danced around the turrets relatively slowly a short while and then headed full speed toward the lake. Severus stayed at the window until she was an undistinguishable point over the mountains. He was smiling.

*-*-*-*-*

By dinner time, Cybele landed in front of the main door, recalling her arrival in Hogwarts. She made the door open wide as she had done that day. How things had changed since, she reflected as the huge double doors closed back behind her. There were still many mysteries to unfold, but she was closer to understand what she really was now. She was looking up at the top of the monumental staircase where Professors Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall and the Auror had appeared years back when she spotted Madam Pomfrey going down for her dinner.

‘Taking some fresh air, dear? Very good, but you should come back in earlier, the evening can be cool,’ she warned kindly.

The matron proceeded into the Great Hall, where a handful of Hogwarts staff was having their dinner together. Without thinking, Cybele ran up to the hospital wing. The door was open. Draco was standing in the middle of the wide room, looking at Cybele’s old bed.

‘I’m here,’ she called.

‘Cybele!’ He ran to her and hugged her, ending up twirling her round happily. Cybele laughed. Draco was so tall! He was making her fly effortlessly.

‘If Madam Pomfrey would see you do that, she would change you into a hospital bedpan,’ she said.

Draco let her down, still holding to her like to a dream which could escape. He touched absent-mindedly her hair.

‘When did you wake up?

‘Last week. You visited me,’ she added truthfully, ‘the day I woke up, I heard you but I was half-sleeping,’ she lied. ‘That’s why I came back tonight; you said you were always coming during Snape and Pomfrey’s dinner time.’

Draco looked embarrassed. He let go of her and step back.

‘Ah, yeah, I did.’

‘Thanks,’ Cybele said simply.

Draco smiled. He didn’t want to have to admit that he had come in the evenings because he had not wanted to come across her friends, or that he had snaked in during the two summers because he couldn’t stay away so long without knowing…

‘And I accept you apology,’ she added.

Draco looked nervous.

‘What apology?’ he asked a bit defiantly.

‘About my accident. I understand. You just wanted me to cover up for you. It wouldn’t have been a big deal in other circumstances, but with all my friends around …’ She trailed off. Then she remembered that Draco had indeed taken part in tormenting the House-Elf. She felt tired all of a sudden and sat on the bed’s edge.

Draco supported her, passing his arm around her shoulders. He understood what she must have thought about. Now that she could speak back, how was he going to manage to be Cybele’s friend again?

‘What happened to you, that day?’ he asked cautiously. According to what he had seen, a curse had taken effect on Cybele that evening, a powerful one.

‘I don’t really know,’ she answered vaguely, remembering her promise to Dumbledore. ‘You’d better go,’ she suggested, unwilling to dwell on this topic, ‘before Madam Pomfrey is back.’

Draco accepted gladly the excuse. They both had realized that their chance to be happily friends again was not much higher than it had been back before Cybele’s accident. Draco felt deflated. He had come almost every day during term, up to twice a week during holidays to see Cybele and now only realized that all this was pointless. Why even couldn’t he help not giving up on her?

Cybele hugged him gently goodbye at this point and he knew why. His heart missed a bit as he closed his arms around her.

‘Thanks for being here,’ she said, still in his arms. Then she had an idea. ‘Would you write to me? It’s more than a month before term starts, and you’d better not sneak in here or you will get caught.’

Draco took the hint; they couldn’t yell at each others through letters. ‘I will.’

*-*-*-*-*

‘Wizarding mythology,’ Snape started to expose on the morrow, ‘refers to Magi as the inventors and creators of magic as used by wizards, therefore as the creators of wizards themselves.’ He paused to search Cybele’s face. As she was listening calmly, he continued.

‘Magi are, by the common wizarding legends, considered the ones who hold the magic within them and transmitted it to other humans by inventing tools like the spells and the wands, hence creating wizards. But as to which extend the mythological tradition may hold truth is highly controversial. Of course, conservative Purebloods reject a hypothesis in which wizard have originally learnt their craft from scrap. More objective research also rejects the story as we know by experience that wizards are born and not made.

‘The myth has it that after training the wizards, Magi traveled and within the ages, their different tribes were lost and they disappeared. Legend adds that one last tribe remained and is still wandering. It makes little sense and it is generally understood that what myth presents this way is simply the first wizarding tribes. Historical studies show that the first wizarding activities were indeed registered in Persia. Muggles too, have started to refer to magical activities and folks at the same time and place.’ Snape paused there and caught Cybele’s eyes.

‘That is,’ he concluded, ‘until you came in the picture.’

‘I have brought the Muggle sources that my friend Caroline compiled for me,’ Cybele offered.

They compared both sources and that opened new perspectives.

Muggle documentation could very well be interpreted in a magical point of view. Muggles used to speak about rituals and religion instead of magic, and pinned down the magi tribe as heretics. But the facts were very striking.

‘Heraclitus threatens (the Magians) with tortures after death, he threatens them with fire, for what they believe to be initiations in the mysteries are in fact impious rites,’ read an old Muggle text.

The study sessions were very productive, even if the outcomes were a lot of speculations.

In the second half of August, they moved to the Potions classroom, where Cybele performed the third and fourth year potions, learning about new ingredients. It made a nice change to have her Potions Master actually talking to her and watching her work during class, unlike he did during term.

She had been to Diagon Alley with Eslis once again, buying two years worth of books and spent afterward a great deal of time reading Charms, Transfiguration and History without much enthusiasm. She visited Professor Hagrid too, mainly to figure out how to open her Care of Magical Creatures book. He had enthusiastically showed her a variety of slimy creatures he was saving for his fifth-years and Cybele had carefully avoided coming any near the hut for the rest of the summer.

The thing she enjoyed most was corresponding with Caroline and Lee. The latest had proven to be a serious correspondent, too. Fred and George had signed one common, frustratingly short but very entertaining letter to her.

Draco had written soon, mainly boasting about his cool summer activities (lots of Quidditch) and his going to the word cup (more Quidditch.)

Cybele had put down in writing her feelings of sadness and disappointment at seeing her friend involved in tormenting a House-Elf. She had tried to write most mildly, accepting that he may despise the creature and questioning only the pointless cruelty. To her delight, Draco had admitted it had been a stupid idea and not much fun, but had put all the blame on his fellow Slytherins.

She also had mention the attack on the Hermione girl, asking Draco if he had felt at least relieved that his silly wish had not been fulfilled. Draco, however, had simply ignored this part of Cybele’s letter and went on instead for pages about a coming Triwizard Tournament in Hogwarts. He boasted that most students didn’t know about it and his father being well-introduced at the Ministry, blah blah blah. Cybele’s interest was nevertheless picked and as she found a book about the history of the Tournament in the library, she started to anticipate eagerly the beginning of the term.

All in all, Cybele had time to wonder why neither she nor Draco had ever let go of what objectively looked like a totally unfit friendship.

On her side, she could consider the Magi bind. She had accepted Draco’s friendship offer and then, as Snape had put it, had never been able to go back. But then, even when Draco was proving utterly incompatible, was it the Magi bind which made her feel like she would lose something priceless if she turned her back on him?

To be honest, there were a lot of things she really liked about Draco; maybe not as many as the things she hated, but still a lot. She liked the Slytherin traits in him, they were, in his good days, nobly incarnated in him: the sharp cunningness, the sensible self-interest, the refreshing disregard for rules. She liked his boyish conversation, too, and his physical presence: his voice, his hair, the way he flew, his laugh when he rose in the sky with her at the back of his broom. And then there was the influence she had on him. He was less of a coward when he was with her: he had flown over the Forbidden Forest, stood up to Flint, sneak in Hogwarts during term breaks. He spoke more mildly with her. He could actually have a spontaneous and long conversation without bringing up any of his stupid topics of predilection; didn’t that mean something good about him?

Moreover, there was the fact that he wouldn’t give up on her. And he didn’t have a Magi bind to explain that.


*-*-*-*-*


It seemed like yesterday that she had opened her eyes weakly to find Professor Snape at her bedside, Cybele thought as she woke up on the 1st of September.

Chapter 23 – Sleeping Beauty

How long will you hide
your beautiful
festive smile

It felt like yesterday when she had opened her eyes weakly to find Professor Snape at her bedside, Cybele thought as she woke up on the first of September.

Cybele was overwhelmed to see that she created a small commotion in the Great Hall the first evening. Fred, George, Lee and Caroline had purposefully arrived in the first carriage to be with her and had refused to leave the Ravenclaw table even after the Sorting had begun. The fifth-year Ravenclaws all hugged Cybele lengthily; Ben had even twirled her in his arms like Draco had in the hospital wing. The other Ravenclaws were eager to welcome her and the rest of the school to catch a glance at Sleeping Beauty, as this had quickly become her new nickname.

If only they knew who was the Prince charming who woke me up, Cybele thought playfully when she heard it.

It was very strange being around everybody again. First of all, everybody had changed so much. Everybody looked taller; boys and girls actually looked different from each other. Cybele realized they had all still been children before her accident and she regretted the good old times. Fred, George and Lee were downright men now and she almost felt shy in front of them. Everybody seemed happily oblivious of it, however, as they hadn’t had to get used to it overnight.

*-*-*-*-*

Caroline and Cybele decided to shop together on Cybele’s first Hogsmeade weekend, which was scheduled for the end of September.

‘Fair Fortune,’ Cybele told the monk’s portrait and she stepped into the Hufflepuff common room, where nobody minded her. She made it directly to the girls’ staircases and the fifth-years’ dormitory where Caroline was still getting ready.

‘Hurry up! We’ll be allowed to leave in ten minutes!’ cried Cybele, quite excited by the prospect of discovering Hogsmeade.

Caroline was so often late that Cybele had long ago taken the habit to come and fetch her at her dormitory rather than having to wait up for her at every corner of the castle.

The two other girls who had still been in the dormitory were going out as Caroline greeted her friend. Caroline looked at Cybele sternly.

‘You’re wearing these shapeless black things again! Seriously, don’t you own any other clothes?’

Cybele looked abashed, but not as much as Caroline did when she heard her answer.

‘I don’t own any clothes.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, except my Hogwarts uniform, of course.’

Caroline was gapping, not understanding.

‘You know, I just appear the way I want,’ or used to, ‘I just, you know-’ Cybele simply flicked into a jean and black T-shirt to demonstrate her point. She didn’t have to hide her powers to her closest friends now; that was one positive side effect of her accident.

Caroline still didn’t close her mouth but let it twist slowly in an awed smile as the possibilities were crossing her mind.

‘You can do that and you’ve been wearing oversize black outfits for the last month?’ she asked in a vaguely scolding tone.

‘Well, if you want to know, there’s not much I look decent into, lately,’ Cybele snapped, aghast. ‘Can we go?’

‘What do you mean, not decent?’ Caroline asked in disbelief.

Cybele didn’t like at all the turn this conversation was taking. She wanted to go out, discover the wizarding village, the sweet shop and meet their friends at this famous café they were all talking about; not discuss her little potato-shaped spot of bother.

‘I’m just so, so, like, fat now, you know, so what can I do? Anyway, let’s go!’

Caroline laughed out loud.

‘Fat? Haha, yeah, right, you’re a downright fat!’ She giggled.

Cybele really didn’t see what was funny about it. Caroline had grown tall and elegantly thin, she was looking graceful in shorts and a fashionable T-shirt. Cybele wouldn’t have minded at all if she had woken up like that. She said exactly that to Caroline.

Her friend looked at her seriously. Of course, she realized, Cybele had had to wake up in her teenage body from a day to another, she couldn’t imagine how that could feel.

‘Cybele, I’m laughing because what you say sounds preposterous to me,’ she explained. ‘You’re not fat at all! You just have curves; that’s normal. I actually whish I had some.’

It was Cybele’s turn to gap.

‘You want to switch? You know, I probably have the power to do that,’ she offered.

Caroline merely smiled.

‘You know, I may wish I was different, but all in all, I’m at peace with the way I grew up. I’m just me. And so you should. I know it must be a shock to wake up so changed but you’re gorgeous! Trust me on that; why do you think they all call you Sleeping Beauty?’

‘I wonder… Hey, maybe because I’ve been sleeping for months!’ Cybele answered, dripping with sarcasm.

Caroline gave her a scolding look again.

‘More than half of the school has never even heard about the Muggle fairy tale, Cybele; the nickname just worked because you’re so cute!’

Cybele sighed and looked at herself, unconvinced. Caroline conjured a mirror.

‘Please, let me help you wear something decent and we go, deal?’

Cybele looked up and saw her new oddly-shaped self in the mirror. She would let Caroline make her wear whatever, so they could just go and enjoy the trip, she decided.

‘Okay, so what do you suggest?’ she asked with as a neutral tone as she could master.

‘Hum, just try out things. That’s so much fun!’ Caroline was starting enthusiastically. Seeing the clueless and utterly unenthusiastic expression on Cybele face, she decided to take the lead.

‘Right, the nice Dockers you always used to wear before,’ she ordered.

‘I tried that, it looks all odd, now,’ said Cybele, complying nevertheless.

‘Yes, it does,’ Caroline admitted. ‘No, look!’ She started to pull and pinch her and there the material to show Cybele how it should be falling. Cybele good-willingly followed her instruction. She was awed by the result; the docker was now following her shapes without grapping at them and it actually looked nice! Caroline proceeded to revamp her grey cashmere with the same satisfying result. She eventually forced Cybele into bright colours.

Cybele was smiling.

‘Thanks!’ she said simply. She could look at herself without feeling depressed. She still made double-takes at the unfamiliar figure, but she didn’t dislike it the way it looked now, with the cherry cashmere.

Caroline made her try several more relaxed outfits before Cybele resumed her moaning about leaving for Hogsmeade. When they hit a jean miniskirt and simple green T-shirt, Cybele was feeling quite herself again in this more childish attire; she made sneakers appear and beamed when she saw her brass watch appear around her neck. It always used to appear when she was ready, and it was back now.

‘Let’s go,’ she said with determination and she walked to the door.

It was a bright and sunny, still warm late summer Saturday, an ideal day to discover Hogsmeade for the first time. Cybele was feeling elated and the girls ran out of Hogwarts’ grounds, Cybele relishing the sensation of being freed from the large covering clothes.

Honeydukes was awesome. The girls went out with packs of sweets and distracted themselves a while trying Bertie Bott’s Every Flavoured Beans, until Cybele picked up a rainbow-coloured one which turned out to be petrol flavoured. She declared at this point that she needed a Butterbeer urgently and they abandoned their shopping to head to the Three Broomsticks.

Fred, George and Lee had just arrived and Lee waved at Caroline from their table. The three boys simply gapped at Cybele and grinned as they approached.

‘Look at you!’ Fred exclaimed happily.

‘Cybele, you look so pretty!’ Lee declared kindly.

‘Yeah,’ George said with a weak smile.

‘It’s Caroline,’ Cybele trailed, not catching anybody’s eyes, suddenly very aware of exactly the amount of bare legs sticking out of her miniskirt. What she had viewed as a simple and liberating outfit back in the Hufflepuff dormitory was, she realized now with horror, a bit sexy. She let her skirt discreetly grow a few centimetres as she sat down.

‘How do you find the place?’ Fred asked proudly. as if he owned the Three Broomsticks.

‘Love it!’ Cybele answered happily. She poured the contents of her fat Honeydukes bag on the table. ‘I suppose it’s on me today,’ she announced; ‘I’ve got a couple of weekends to make up for!’

They chatted happily for the rest of the afternoon, the amount of things Cybele having to catch up on seemingly limitless. They then passed by the joke shop on their way back to the castle. The twins became business-like as they made purposefully for the fireworks section and Caroline, Lee and Cybele were left to wander around in the busy shop.

Caroline and Lee were laughing over a nose-biting teacup and Cybele was trying to figure out the use of a giant rubber foot a bit farther down the same aisle of the shop.

‘Draco!’ she exclaimed as she saw her friend passing.

Draco looked sideway and saw Cybele, but never greeted her back. He gapped and somehow his legs didn’t stop. As he went on straight, still looking sideway, he hit a massive display of Frog Spawn Soaps which collapsed all over him as he fall dawn.

He stood up back hurryingly, looking around to check nobody else had seen that. Well, Caroline and Lee had, and received a nasty glare for it, but luckily nobody else, in this corner of the shop. Cybele, who had rushed to his help, started pulling up the display back.

‘Merlin! Are you all right?’

‘Yeah yeah,’ Draco answered, trying an embarrassed laugh. ‘So, how have you been?’ he tried to ask coolly, oblivious that he still had a Frog Spawn Soap stuck under his right ear. He stopped his babbling abruptly, though, when Cybele started trying to brush gently something from the front of his shirt.

‘Oh, no!’ she exclaimed, ‘it’s ripped, look.’

Draco looked down at his shirt and at Cybele’s hand.

‘It’s ah- right,’ he stammered, ‘it’s just a skirt… shirt!’

Silence.

‘Gotta go!’ Draco eventually ran for it.

Cybele turned back to her two friends to see them exchange a knowing smile.

She had quite enough of miniskirt wearing for the rest of her schooldays, she decided, as she changed into her newly fitting Dockers and a coloured sweater later for dinner.

Chapter 24 – The Tormented Tutor

Look at water and fire
earth and wind
enemies and friends all at once

The first Wednesday of October found Cybele hanging around with Draco in the Great Hall after classes. Draco was enthusiastically catching Cybele up with eighteen months worth of Slytherin glory in Quidditch; though with intensive training from Cho, Ben, Draco and the Gryffindor boys, Cybele was an expert at half listening to Quidditch talks while thinking of something else.

‘You could say I saved the day in the third match of the season,’ Draco was explaining. Cybele simply noted that there was only one match to go before they could change the subject. As she looked absent-mindedly around the Hall (‘you should’ve seen Potter’s face when I pulled his Quidditch robes back!’), she noticed a boy sitting alone at the Gryffindor table who glanced in their direction every so often, looking preoccupied. (‘Best part is Madam Hooch was looking in the other direction!’). She made a mental note to ask Lee, who had invited her to the Gryffindor table before dinner, who the boy was.

When Lee arrived and waved to her to join him, Draco was just starting with the fourth and final match of the previous year. Cybele couldn’t wait for the report of the season to be completed so they could get back to having normal conversations – well, normal to Draco and Cybele’s standards, at least.

Lee turned out to be sitting right beside the boy Cybele had noticed. The latest was looking at Cybele approaching with an expression something akin to fear. But why would the Gryffindor boy be afraid of me? Cybele’s smile got stuck halfway as she sat in front of the two Gryffindors.

‘Hi,’ she said uncertainly.

‘Cybele, this is Neville, Neville, this is Cybele. Cybele, we are your tutors!’ Lee announced with glee. The round faced boy looked like he had mistakenly agreed to baby-sit the giant squid.

‘Oh!’ Comprehension drew on Cybele and she beamed. She decided to ignore Neville’s somewhat anxious expression for now. ‘Thanks guys, that’s great! I hope I won’t take too much of your time.’

‘Nah, it’s gonna be fun! I’ll be helping you catch up in Care of Magical Creatures, and Neville here is our junior, but he’s the best in Herbology, trust me!’ he declared proudly. ‘So much for Ravenclaws!’

Cybele beamed at the boy again, who looked at her uneasily. What’s wrong? she wondered.

‘So, you, er, volunteered?’ she asked, thinking that the boys may not have been given the choice and while Lee was happy to help his friend, Neville may find it a burden.

‘Teachers asked us, but we were happy to accept. I mean, I was quite proud to discover I was smart enough to tutor someone in a subject, weren’t you, Neville?’

‘Yeah,’ Neville answered weakly. Only then did Lee seem to realize there was something wrong with Neville. He looked curiously at Cybele, who returned his interrogative look. Lee then looked behind Cybele’s shoulder. Draco was still sitting at the Slytherin table. Understanding seemed to dawn on him, and so it did on Cybele as she followed his gaze.

Neville was her junior, she reflected, he must be in Draco’s year. He saw me with him and he doesn’t like him, she concluded, quite resigned at the fact that every single non-Slytherin in the castle hated Malfoy.

Lee was even more familiar with his housemate’s fear of his bully, Draco Malfoy.

‘You were happy until you saw your future pupil sitting at the Slytherin table, weren’t you?’ Cybele asked boldly.

Neville looked up in surprise. This, at least, had made him look straight at Cybele eyes. She took the occasion to lock eyes and smiled softly.

‘Try me,’ she said simply.

Neville hold her gaze, still looking a bit uneasy but not so fearful.

‘Shall we go to the greenhouses this Saturday?’ he offered quietly, sounding resigned.

‘Of course, and thanks a lot for helping me!’ She then wisely left for the Ravenclaw table so her friend could freely be left to convince Neville that she was a good girl.

Lee proved an eager, though messy, tutor. They got easily distracted. Conversation always flowed freely and fast between them. They had, after all, spent whole holidays together in the past, getting used to hop on and off conversations casually – and they had an awful lot to catch up on.

They met often and chatted more than they studied.

On Saturday morning, Cybele met Neville at the main door to spend the rest of the morning in the greenhouses. After cool greetings, they walked down silently. Neville pulled out a key and opened greenhouse three.

He silently started to bring forward to the study table several pots. Cybele had read her Herbology books and recognized the third year plants that she didn’t have a chance to study. Neville was informed, prepared, and organized. He looked nervous and Cybele could see his hand shaking slightly when he was not holding the pots carefully. He proved to be a very different tutor than Lee. Avoiding her gaze most of the time, he explained clearly the facts about the first group of plants to Cybele, stuttering nervously all the way. He then gave her precise instruction and let her try to handle them.

He seemed relieved that Cybele already knew the theory; probably thankful that the lesson would be short, Cybele reflected. The atmosphere was just as cold when they parted at the door of the greenhouse – Neville nothing short from breaking into a run – as it had been two hours earlier.

*-*-*-*-*

Cybele had soon noticed that she lacked practical skills in her fifth-year Herbology classes and she eagerly turned up early at greenhouse three the following Saturday. While Neville was fetching a sample of plants from the fourth year syllabus, she tried both to help and to make small talk, both spectacularly unsuccessfully. Neville was still jumpy and looked frightened by her attempts to be friendly.

As Neville started to help her handle the plants, however, his enthusiasm sometimes made him forget who he was talking to (Malfoy’s girlfriend!) and he spoke pleasantly and happily. Each time he looked up at her is his eagerness to share about the topic, however, he checked himself at catching the deep brown eyes and resumed in his mild, pedagogic manner after a slight shudder.

After an hour of struggle against a Devil’s Snare, they were taking a short break to massage their sore arms when they heard a knock on the door. Neville went to open it, looking curious.

‘Miss Cybele?’ squeaked a small voice.

Neville looked down from human height to the stout Elf holding a basket. He wordlessly opened the door and stepped aside.

‘I is bringing a snack for Miss Cybele,’ the Elf explained as he entered, confirming Neville’s worst ideas about the Cybele girl.

‘Eslis!’ Cybele beamed.

Eslis started to take out cups and pour tea.

‘I is bringing some also for your tutor,’ he invited.

‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Neville said super-quick, looking disgusted.

‘Eslis, you’re so sweet!’ Cybele exclaimed.

Neville looked up at that. Did she just thank an Elf?

‘Miss Cybele is telling me the other night when we chat in the kitchen how hard she is working with Master Neville, so I is thinking I should bring you some tea,’ he explained.

Neville raised an incredulous eyebrow as he took in what he heard. She’s having chats at night with a House-Elf?

‘Can you stay a bit?’ asked Cybele. ‘Look,’ she went on without waiting for an answer as she pulled a stool for Eslis, ‘we’ve been pruning Devil’s Snare.’ She pointed at the dangerous looking bushes as Eslis sat down.

Neville’s second eyebrow had lost itself up in his hairline together with the first at this point. He looked bemused at the loathed girl slipping her tea and chatting happily with a House-Elf. There was something wrong. Well, Lee had tried to convince him that beside the fact that she insisted to be friends with Draco (‘she obviously has a crush, love is blind,’ Lee had explained philosophically) and that her favourite teacher was Snape, Cybele was a nice girl and a good friend of his. Back then, Lee had lost Neville at the Snape part. Now, however, he was starting to see his point.

Cybele was happy to have a chat with Eslis. She was growing tired of the heavy silence in the greenhouse.

‘You can see I still have lots to learn; I can’t see any bruises on Neville’s arms,’ Cybele was pointing out to Eslis.

‘Is Master joining us for tea?’ Eslis asked politely, as Neville was still gapping at them from the door.

Neville speechlessly came and collapsed on a stole. He slipped his tea in one gulp and stare back at them after putting his cup down.

‘More tea, Neville?’ Cybele offered.

‘Yes, please,’ Neville said in a blank voice.

*

After Eslis had gone, Neville appeared less nervous and was catching Cybele’s eyes at a natural rate as he directed her in her task with more ease. Cybele congratulated herself. The little scheme she had planned with Eslis the previous night to mollify Neville had worked perfectly.

What with Cybele’s natural enthusiasm and knowledge in Herbology, by the third meeting, they were quite friendly. So well that they scheduled a fourth, though Cybele was already pretty much caught up with everything..


*-*-*-*-*


On the Saturday of the fourth and final meeting, they went down to the greenhouses chatting happily. Not only were they comfortable enough with each other by now, but they had quite much to discuss, as the foreign students had arrived the previous evening.

‘Those folks from Durmstrang do scare me a bit,’ Neville was chuckling.

‘I know what you mean,’ said Cybele with a laugh. ‘Quite the tough ones; but at least they looked curious,’ she added. ‘I mean, the French sat with my House and they just looked like they would gladly put a scouring spell on the table!’

‘I’m sure Hogwarts will grow on them,’ Neville suggested. ‘They mainly looked like they were freezing, at dinner.’

‘Oh yeah, you should have heard them complain!’ Cybele answered indignantly. The Beauxbatons girls had been complaining quite rudely in French, assuming that the Ravenclaws couldn’t understand them. Cybele’s loud translation to her friends had done nothing to warm the atmosphere, but had shut them up effectively.

‘Hey, Cybele, are you old enough to enter the Tournament? Lee told me you had great skills.’

‘I don’t know.’

Cybele had not given it a thought. Of course it was out of question. She was feeling enough of a cheat just by taking Hogwarts exams; she would certainly not enter a competition to humiliate all the other participants by pretending to cast spells and have it her way whatever she was babbling. Dumbledore would not allow it anyway and this Goblet would probably do a Sorting Hat and reject her paper shouting, ‘Muggle!’

Neville looked puzzled.

‘Are you seventeen or not? The age limit is below seventeen,’ he reformulated.

‘I don’t know, Neville. You see, I don’t know my family and all,’ Cybele explained plainly. She was quite done with the half lies. Since her close friends knew all of what she knew herself about her, she had taken a taste for telling the truth – or parts of it, anyway.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,’ Neville said, embarrassed.

‘I don’t think Dumbledore would let me. I don’t know any fifth year who is seventeen yet. But my friends Fred and George are almost seventeen, they want to try.’

‘But if they are almost seventeen …’

‘I don’t think that’s going to stop them! Would you enter if you could?’

‘No,’ Neville answered without hesitation, ‘I’m not much the competitor; I pretty much use spells right only when nobody is looking at me! You?’

Cybele then gave it a thought. If she could? If she were seventeen, if she were a regular Hogwarts student, a good witch who could use her wand and knew a lot of spells, would she like to enter a dangerous and prestigious tournament played in front of the all wizarding world?

‘No,’ she answered simply.

They reached the greenhouse.

Chapter 25 – The Unexpected Dance Partner.

Open your hands,
if you want to be held

Once in the third greenhouse, Neville went directly for a door at the back and produced another key.

‘I’ll show you what I’m working on, then,’ he said. ‘They’re school projects, basically, but, well, a bit more advanced. I have to check on experiments sometimes, so I have the keys to come here on weekends. Professor Sprout trusts me,’ he added proudly.

‘That’s great!’ exclaimed Cybele. ‘What is it that you are working on?’

‘You know, lately, I’ve been working on one project only.’ Neville hesitated for a second. ‘It’s quite ambitious, really, but Professor Sprout reckons I should go on, so here you are.’

They reached the back of greenhouse five as he said the last, and he allowed Cybele to enter the very small adjacent glasshouse. Cybele’s breath was caught by the hot and humid atmosphere.

The place was messy and full of unfamiliar plants. A small table on the side was covered with instruments and three cauldrons, two of them on blue fires.

‘Wow!’ was Cybele’s simple reaction.

‘We are trying to acclimatize tropical magical plants, mainly from Africa. Professor Sprout usually travels for conferences, you see, but she never used to bring back specimens because she wouldn’t have time to take care of them. Then I came into Hogwarts and we had the idea to make it a school project,’ Neville explained.

Cybele looked around a while, Neville explaining some of the specimens.

‘You’re working on potions, too. It’s my favourite subject!’

Neville winced.

‘Yeah, so I’ve heard. I’m not good at Potions, but we are trying to replace local ingredients with new plants in simple potions, to see if side-effects can be reduced,’ he explained. He seemed to hesitate, but eventually said, ‘You like Professor Snape, Lee told me.’

‘Not as a teacher, no,’ Cybele admitted. Lee had explained her about Neville’s suffering in Snape’s class and seeing how her own class was going, she didn’t have any difficulty believing it. ‘But I happen to have to work a lot with him outside of the class and yes, I really like him; I’m quite indebted to him, actually.’

Cybele’s tone didn’t invite question. Neville looked at her curiously and changed subject.

*-*-*-*-*

By the end of November, they had attended the First Task of the Tournament together and were on easy, friendly terms. Cybele had taken to helping Neville with the potion brewing and was visiting the small lab regularly.

All seemed too good to be true to Cybele. Having spent her first year and a half at Hogwarts dealing with tension between her friends, she was suspicious of her current bliss. She had woken up from what looked like an enchanted sleep to find all her troubles vanished.

She knew now she was a Magian, as limited as this knowledge was. All her friends and her classmates knew she had special powers and bounds. Nobody dared question her anymore about her less conventional friends, namely Draco and Professor Snape. Even Draco seemed altogether tamed now. It was also helpful that unlike before her accident, the school was now engrossed with the Triwizard Tournament rather than monsters and blood status, providing safer conversation topics.

Yet Cybele had the feeling that in essence, nothing had changed since her wake. Circumstances were happy now, but she couldn’t help dread that the day the war would come, as Snape hinted, or some other incidences, and all would turn into the same nightmare as Christmas two years ago.

For now, however, Christmas approaching meant that the Yule Ball was coming fast.

The level of giggling had grown frantic in the Ravenclaw dormitory with everyday closer to the ball and was close to hysteria now that Cho had been asked to the ball by no less than two champions. Cybele had stopped completely talking to girls at all, except for Caroline. She wished she could stop overhearing them, too. What was all the fuss with the ball anyway?

When Professor Flitwick had informed her House about the event, Cybele’s mind had immediately formed an image of Draco inviting her to the dance. She had flushed violently and had spotted Marietta elbowing Cho to check her. She had blushed a shade deeper and since then had simply avoided all things relative to balls, dresses, boys and girls.

Much to her surprise, Cybele had received several invitations. The first had been Ben, who had kindly suggested they go together. ‘You don’t have to,’ had been Cybele’s awkward answer, and not only to Ben – who had seemed slightly puzzled – but also to a friend of Ben’s brother the week after and to a Hufflepuff Quidditch player on the morrow. Cybele suspected that Ben was putting all his Quidditch pals at inviting her, maybe to repay her for her good office as a Mascot. She shared the idea with Caroline.

‘You’re raving! The reason only Quidditch players dare approach you is because you need a certain amount of ego to invite such a pretty girl if you don’t know her. Quidditch players have that.’

In this case, why Draco is not inviting me? Cybele caught herself thinking.

‘What about you, anyway? Have you invited someone?’

‘Not really,’ Caroline started.

‘Well?’

‘I just assume I’ll go with Lee,’ she said very fast.

‘Oh, have you asked him?’

‘Err, no, as I said, I’m just assuming.’

Cybele laughed. ‘Well, maybe you should ask him before another girl does!’

‘That’s a bit rich coming from you!’ Caroline cried indignantly, but she didn’t elaborate. ‘I don’t need to ask him, Cybele, he’s my boyfriend.’

Cybele’s jaw dropped.

‘How come I don’t know?’

‘Dunno, you’ve got a lot to catch up on, you know, and, we, well, want you to take your time, err, growing up, see,’ Caroline formulated infuriatingly.

‘Gits,’ Cybele said soberly, but she smiled.

Caroline smiled, too.

‘I hung out with a lot of your friends when you were taking a nap in the hospital wing,’ she summed up. ‘Why did you turn these guys down, anyway? I mean, the Hufflepuff guy was hot, and he’s close to Diggory,’ Caroline suggested.

Cybele blushed, effectively proving Caroline’s previous point about her maturity.

‘That’s not here nor there. Hot, really, who cares? I don’t know him. I don’t even know if he dances well!’

Caroline giggled.

‘If he dances well!’ she repeated.

‘Yeah, you know, it’s actually a ball we are talking about, not Valentine’s Day!’

Caroline just laughed even harder.

‘Well, are you going to ask someone, then?’

If Cybele wanted to be honest with herself, the reason why she had turned down these guys without even thinking was that she wanted to give Draco time to ask her. But Draco didn’t seem in a hurry at all. Yet, should she go ask him? Over my dead body!

‘I don’t think so. Well, Neville, you know, my Herbology tutor, he said he liked dancing. Maybe if the conversation comes to that again another time,’ she trailed. For some reason, the idea of asking Neville to the ball was not at all as distressing as the idea of asking Draco.

*-*-*-*-*

They were all in the Gryffindor common room when the idea came to Cybele for the first time. Fred and George, happily assisted by Lee, were promoting some Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes to the Gryffindors.

Much to Lee’s indignation, Fred had tried to trick Caroline and Cybele into trying some Canary Creams. Fortunately, George had spotted his twin brother and took the pot from Cybele’s hand at the last second. He then had to hide the all lot, as Cybele was actually eager to try the Canary Cream to see if it would have any effect on her, eagerly supported in that by Fred.

Later on, the conversation took a turn toward the ball, which was now dangerously close. As her friends were speculating about who would go to the ball with whom, Cybele was left to marvel at the fact that she was actually missing the plain old Quidditch conversations.

‘Fred’s going with Angelina,’ Lee was providing.

‘And you, George?’ Cybele asked in an attempt to pretend she was all right with the topic.

‘Dunolsee,’ George answered, avoiding their eyes.

‘Sorry, we didn’t catch that,’ Caroline teased.

‘I don’t know, I’ll see,’ George repeated a bit too loudly, still not catching anybody’s eyes.

‘And you Cybele?’ she next asked pointedly.

Cybele looked at her with daggers in the eyes. What was the matter with her? She knew Cybele didn’t have a partner yet – will never have, she added inwardly.

‘No, you know I don’t. Hey! We could-’ Cybele stopped. The moment passed and Lee started on another topic. She had almost invited George and caught herself. He would probably say yes, he was too nice for his own good. But seeing his behaviour now, he probably had someone in mind, so that would not be very sensitive. He could never really want to go and attend the ball with a little girl like her, now, would he?

But since then, Cybele couldn’t shake the idea from her mind. During this few seconds when she had been trying to catch George’s eyes to invite him, she had pictured herself entering the Great Hall at her older friend’s arms and each time this vision was coming back stubbornly to her mind, she swelled with pride.

Eventually fed up with her own obsession, she made a brave decision. If by the eve of the ball they both had not found a partner, she would ask George to go with her.

*-*-*-*-*

Draco knew exactly who he wanted to invite to the ball. But he was making it difficult for himself.

The main reason was that Draco would not ask without being sure to receive a positive answer. But with Cybele being in another House and the Slytherins’ inter-House relations being nil, it was almost impossible to check that she had not already accepted someone’s invitation.

To Cybele’s record, she had bravely brought up the topic once, informing Draco that she had turned down Ben. But Draco had simply eyed her suspiciously and had not taken his chance then, which he regretted bitterly now.

The day before the ball, Draco still didn’t know for sure if he could safely invite an available Cybele to the ball. He felt furious with himself. This not being a familiar sensation, he soon managed to convince himself that it was all Cybele’s fault and accepted Pansy’s invitation. Both Slytherins were relieved that they would not have to show up alone.

*-*-*-*-*

Cybele looked for the boys on Christmas Eve, determined to stick to her resolution. She simultaneously couldn’t believe her luck and filled with dread when she found George and Fred sitting alone near by the fire in the Gryffindor’s common room. Fred was even engrossed in checking a list into which he plunged with apparent deep concentration after greeting Cybele.

Cybele looked at George who gave her a weak smile. Tension was palpable.

‘So, who are you going to the ball with?’ George asked, simply unable to pretend he wanted to speak about something else.

‘I don’t know, and you?’ Cybele asked with hope.

‘Neither,’ George answered.

‘What if-’

‘Do you-’

‘You-’

‘We could-’

‘Shall we-’

Cybele and George spoke together. Then they caught each other’s eyes.

‘Yes,’ they said together with two large smiles. Fred quickly looked up from his parchment and resumed his checking with a sly smile.

They were laughing out the tension now.

‘I thought I would never dare,’ Cybele admitted, laughing.

George gave a half laugh.

‘You thought I would say no or something?’ he asked jokingly.

‘Of course not, but you seemed to have someone in your mind, I didn’t want to interfere.’

‘It was you,’ George answered without thinking.

Cybele opened her mouth. She felt her heart make a little dance as they locked eyes. Before either could break the silence, a red-haired bullet came crashing on a vacant armchair.

‘Oh no,’ said Fred and George’s little sister, looking over the back of the seat, ‘he’s coming this way.’

‘What’s happening, Ginny?’ Fred asked.

‘Shhh! I don’t want Neville to see me!’

‘Why’s that?’ Cybele asked curiously.

‘My friend overheard that he wants to invite me to the ball!’

‘What’s wrong with that?’ Fred asked. ‘Wouldn’t you be happy to go?’

‘Nothing,’ Ginny said weakly. ‘But I could as well go with George, no? He doesn’t have a partner,’ she added hopefully.

Before any of them could answer, Neville spotted them.

‘Cybele! Hi guys, Ginny,’ he said, taking a seat with them all.

‘Neville, so who are you bringing to the ball?’ Fred asked genially, oblivious of Ginny’s glare.

This was the perfect setting for even someone as shy as Neville to pop casually the invitation.

‘I don’t have a partner yet,’ he answered. ‘Actually, I was thinking that Ginny may like to go to the ball,’ he went on quite coolly for his standards. ‘So, err, I could escort you, if you would like, Ginny?’ he asked quietly.

‘Oh, err, thanks Neville,’ Ginny answered, ‘but actually George said he would bring me, see,’ she answered.

‘Oh, okay, go-good for you,’ Neville said kindly. He was looking crestfallen.

Ginny was looking at George sheepishly, George was looking at Cybele desperately and Cybele was looking at Ginny murderously. Fred and Neville were looking at the trio, Fred half-amused, half-sorry, Neville clueless.

A long silence stretched. Cybele looked back at George who merely gave her an apologetic look. They smiled at each other weakly. Ginny looked from one to another, looking awfully embarrassed as comprehension dawn on her. Cybele looked back at her and gave her a grumpy smile. She then looked at Neville.

‘Hey, Neville, why don’t we go together?’ Cybele asked suddenly, beaming at her most recent friend.

Neville looked at her in disbelief.

‘You don’t have a partner? You want to go with me?’ He paused a second and asked seriously, ‘Can you dance?’

And Cybele knew she had found the perfect partner for what was nothing more after all than that; a dance.

Chapter 26 – What Happened at the Yule Ball

You are drunk
and I’m intoxicated

They decided to all meet in the Entrance Hall: Caroline and Lee, Fred, George, Neville, Angelina, Ginny and Cybele.

Cybele arrived first and waited on the stairs, like many other students.

When Draco arrived in the entrance with Pansy and his friends, he saw her immediately. For the first time of his life, he felt a strong, somewhat Elfish urge to bang his head against a wall in punishment for not inviting her.

She was wearing a Slytherin-green, knee length dress. Half of her rich, dark hair was pulled back and held by a small silver crown. The rest of it was cascading down her bare shoulders. His friends thankfully didn’t notice that he was gapping for several moments while they were queuing in front of the hall. He was inwardly hoping they would wait long enough to see who she was coming with.

Soon enough, after Caroline had joined her, the Gryffindors came. Draco winced as he saw no less than three red hair approaching the heavenly vision in the stairs, but he downright choked when he saw Neville offering his arm to Cybele, who accepted it with a grin.

‘Longbottom?’ Draco laughed out loud, a bitter laugh.

‘Longbottom what?’ Pansy asked.

‘Nothing, let’s go,’ answered Draco and he cut the queue, pushing a couple of younger students aside. Now he felt guilty on the top of everything. Obviously Cybele must have been desperate, to accept Longbottom’s invitation. He was looking forward to a strong drink if he could find one.

*-*-*-*-*

‘Let’s go, then,’ Neville invited.

The interior of the hall was magnificent. They all sat down together for dinner, Fred making quite a foolish fuss over the seating at the table so that Cybele ended up between Neville and George.

As they started dancing, Neville allowed Cybele to forget about her disappointment of the previous day. As much as Neville could be clumsy in his everyday life, he was just as precise in movement on the dance floor as he was with his plants in the greenhouses. True, he did spill his drink on her – twice – but the dancing was making up for it.

As the four couples found themselves close to each other during a dance later, Fred enthusiastically declared, ‘Let’s switch partners!’

With that, in one smooth motion he dragged his sister into Neville’s arms while pulling at Cybele whom he simply threw at George. He himself grabbed Caroline, leaving Lee and Angelina to deal with each other and start dancing again.

Cybele gave a small laugh, shrugged her shoulders and started dancing with George. As she saw Neville and Ginny dancing easily and talking a few minutes later, she relaxed and started to enjoy it. George was smiling at her and she felt again the strange little dance over her stomach.

The dance soon finished and a slow one started. Cybele saw Caroline, Lee, Fred and Angelina switch again, but Neville and Ginny left the dance floor as soon as they heard the slow music and were headed to the bar. Cybele started to gesture toward them while taking a step toward George at the same time. And then, not knowing how it happened, she was in his arms, dancing slowly.

It was strange, she thought. It was strange to be in her friend’s arms like that, all of a sudden, and feeling that way. She could never have imagined. However, she thought, it felt just like friendship did, warm and secure. It was weird but, Merlin, it was just good.

*-*-*-*-*

As Draco was watching Cybele in George’s arms, he took his tenth cup of punch, which had turned out to be the strongest and only alcohol served in the hall.

He virtually never left the bar and the punch bowl, as the group of friends went on with switching partners and he had to witness Cybele dancing with Fred and Lee next. Draco had stopped counting the punches long before Cybele and Neville resumed dancing in such perfect harmony that people around them pointed in admiration. Draco imitated vomiting in the punch bowl at this point.

Cybele eventually begged for a break moments later. Coming back from the bathrooms, she found herself literally cornered by Draco who dragged her into one of the hall’s large windows’ recess, hidden behind a decorative Slytherin banner.

‘Cybele,’ he started.

‘Draco?’ She sniffed him and laughed. ‘You’re dead drunk. How did you do that? They only serve punch!’

‘Ah, but I luuuv the punch!’

He came close and started to speak almost in her face.

‘You’re beautiful, Shybel!’ he stated fondly. He then stepped to the wall behind her and actually started banging his head to the wall. ‘And I’m shtupid, shtupid, shtupid…’

‘Hey, stop that!’ Cybele cried as she grabbed Draco by the shoulder to make him face her, his back securely resting on the wall.

Draco started at her stupidly for some seconds.

‘Why you are not at the ball with me?’ he asked accusatorily.

‘Because you didn’t invite me, you git!’ Cybele answered truthfully.

‘D’you wanna cometotheballwi’me?’

‘The ball is almost over and I already have a partner, Draco.’

Draco unstuck himself from the wall.

‘You should be with me,’ he declared, resting his hand on Cybele’s hip for support. Cybele felt a shudder crossing her body from head to toe as her heart made an almost painful jolt. She put her hand on Draco’s with the idea of pushing it back but Draco simply came closer and passed his entire arm around her waist, his body fully crushed onto hers.

A flow of violent foreign sensations completely overwhelmed her. She felt panicky.

Draco leaned his head forward and kissed Cybele lengthily on the neck, under her left ear. Cybele heard a weak moan she realized with distress was her own.

‘See,’ he said, as if he had just proven his point – he probably had – and with that he was gone, zigzagging toward a group of Slytherins.

After that, Cybele stood several minutes shaking by the window before she could regain enough self-control to go and say a quick goodnight to her friends. Reaching her dormitory before any of the other girls, she crashed on her bed and let herself cry.

*-*-*-*-*

In her dreams, Draco would have invited her to the ball. In her dreams, maybe, he would have held her hand. Maybe, in her wildest dreams, he would have put a kiss on her check again, like he had once in the library in their second year. It would have been the same kiss, but it would have been different, too, in Cybele’s dreams.

She looked at her reflection in the window against the dark night. Woken up by her roommates’ return and unable to sleep again, she had sat, after everybody was gone to sleep, on the same window edge where she had gone through her Diagon Alley shopping more than four years ago. The girl looking back at her now, crying silently, was not the child who had been sitting there anymore.

Cybele held her own gaze for a moment, wondering how she could feel all what she was feeling. She would have been so happy with a simple dance with Draco. She would have gone to bed with a smile, if he had just held her hand.

She remembered how it felt, back before her accident; holding on Draco on his broom; his hand around hers when he pulled her to the Quidditch pitch; his kiss in the library. It felt sweet and a bit dangerous at the same time, a new sensation but not too overwhelming, like the perfume of a foreign flower in Neville’s lab. But what she had felt this evening, it was a storm; an ocean washing her away, daggers into her flesh, thunder splitting her into shatters, all at once. She didn’t know one could feel like this. Nobody had ever told her. Maybe only a Magian could feel that way?

It was not good, she decided, looking back at her own face for support. She looked determined. Draco’s body against hers had felt like a poison, sweeping her of her feet into a deadly storm. George, she thought, and the pleasant joyful dance of her heart encouraged her to think ahead. She recalled the pleasant warmth of being in her friend’s arm; the delicious elation when she felt his fingers playing with her hair; the delicious sensation of having a sweet secret deep inside, dancing around like a butterfly. This was good, she decided. It didn’t take too much reflection after all.

How could she have even been distressed hours ago? Draco was a selfish friend. He had ignored her all that time then tried to drunkenly tear her world apart. She would tell him what she thought. George was sweet and thoughtful. She thought of Caroline and Lee. Yes, this was good. She eventually went to bed with a smile, not lingering on how Draco ever had the power break her world in the first place.

*-*-*-*-*

Dumbledore was fiddling with the small brass watch delicately for a while. He eventually let it hang from his long finger, turning slowly over his desk.

‘Extraordinary,’ he repeated again.

He looked up from the watch to Cybele.

‘You say the inscription was not there before your accident?’

‘I can’t be sure, Sir, I seldom look at the watch.’

Dumbledore seemed to ponder that. The corners of his lips twisted slightly.

‘You never check the time?’

‘No. I know the time,’ Cybele explained.

‘Why have this beautiful watch, then?’ he asked next.

‘I don’t know, Professor, I just have it.’

‘You didn’t choose it?’

‘No, it’s just around. It appears whenever I’m ready. When I’m finished making clothes appear, that is, if I really feel ready, I noticed.’

Dumbledore raised a curious eyebrow at that but didn’t comment.

‘For how long have you had it?’

‘As long as I can remember,’ she answered, knowing that this was also as far as the headmaster could remember her.

‘Fascinating,’ the old man repeated. ‘You know what is so fascinating?’ he asked Cybele casually.

‘The fact that it says Arta Magush, confirms your theory?’ she tried.

‘You are right, this is mysterious to me,’ Dumbledore admitted. ‘But what fascinates me is that this object doesn’t have any perceivable magical property.

‘Professor Snape asked you to bring it to me,’ he explained, ‘because as one the most experienced living wizards, I am the one who has the most developed ability to feel and detect the presence of magic. I pride myself in being able to tell if any spell has been performed on an object even decades or centuries ago. I look at this watch, and even though I have proof that it is magical, I cannot feel anything.’

‘Eslis has said the same thing about me,’ Cybele remembered. ‘He said only Magian have unperceivable magic.’

‘Which is not an accurate description,’ Dumbledore corrected. ‘It is not that the magic cannot be perceived. It is that there is no magic.’

‘So this is a Muggle artifact,’ Cybele stated half-jokingly.

‘This, Miss Philius, is exactly like you,’ Dumbledore answered seriously. ‘It is your perfect counterpart. It performs magic, powerful magic, but it doesn’t contain any. It also doesn’t react at all to magic. Not any of the spells I have tried on it had any effect. Just like you,’ he repeated.

Cybele stared at the watch silently.

‘Knowing you, I understand the old legend,’ Dumbledore resumed. ‘At the origins of Magic, when Magi were It, before they hit the curse and liberated It from within, before parchment and quills, is it true what they say? Magic was wordless, Magic was wandless,’ he quoted. ‘Magi were it. You are magic. You do not contain it. This is why it is unperceivable.’

‘Yes,’ Cybele cut in. ‘Professor Snape has established that I was a Magian. As they are supposed to be legendary beings, we are now left with discovering how I… happened,’ she stated, at lose for a better wording.

Dumbledore looked at her seriously.

‘It is a very hard task you are setting for,’ he admitted. He gave her one of his piercing looks. ‘You may or may not discover where you come from,’ he stated calmly. ‘However, you remain a Magian, a being with extraordinary, virtually limitless powers at your service,’ he reminded. ‘Have you ever thought of what you will do in the future, Miss Philius?’

Cybele looked at him puzzled. ‘You mean after we will have discovered where I came from, Sir?’

‘I mean after Hogwarts, in two years,’ the headmaster corrected.

Cybele had never thought of it this way. She had always assumed she would stay at Hogwarts until Professor Snape had answered all her questions, somehow always imagining this would conveniently occur at the same time as she would complete her NEWTs. Dumbledore was forcing her to face other possibilities now.

‘I assume if there is still research to do after my NEWTs,’ she tried, ‘Professor Snape will go on helping me to find my origins, while I’ll be able to travel and expend our research field.’

Dumbledore nodded gently. That was not what he had meant, but he wouldn’t press the point – for now.

*-*-*-*-*

Draco knew he had lost her at first sight.

Cybele was not very gifted at ignoring her friends. On the seldom occasions on which she had pathetically attempted to ignore him after a row, she had looked all fussy and had eventually beamed at him by accident after a few minutes.

They would always, always Draco marveled, catch each other’s eyes in the Great Hall at breakfast and exchange a smile. The morning after the Yule Ball, she had come into the hall genuinely oblivious of his existence, happily sitting next to George at the Gryffindor’s table.

This is it, he thought furiously, I’ve done it!

He knew, somewhere near his consciousness, that he had bullied Cybele all those years, bossing and ordering her around, burying her under his Quidditch monologues, provoking her with aggressive ideas he didn’t himself fully understand, ignoring her feelings. It had seemed like he could do whatever he pleased. And the only time he had ever apologized for anything, it was when he had thought she was unconscious!

Draco didn’t like to feel apologetic; he didn’t like to feel sorry, he couldn’t admit feeling furious at himself. But he couldn’t ignore the urge, for the third time in a very short while, to bang his head against the wall, because he knew, even if he would deny it to himself as fast as could, that he was stupid!

Disrespect.

He savored the texture of the word in his mind. That’s what had done it in the end. The bullying, the intolerance, all the selfishness and the nastiness he had made her witness, she had brushed aside like nothing more substantial than an annoying hair tickling her face, fiercely committed to their friendship from the first day.

Disrespect had done it. Draco knew. Not inviting her to the ball, letting her go with the pathetic Longbottom, getting drunk and aggravating her physically, leaving without a word. If he could go back in time, he would invite her. Then maybe the same kiss would have meant something completely different.

Draco felt a foreign sensation in his throat at this last thought. He tried to swallow. Something hard and heavy had settled there, something swallowed and surprisingly painful. Something Draco had never felt before. Slightly panicky, he stood up briskly from the Slytherin’s table and before anybody could speak to him, ran out of the hall.

He entered a bathroom in a rush and rested his hand on a sink’s rim, catching his breath painfully. The lump in his throat was blocking his breath.

His mind still dwelling on about Cybele, his heart made a painful squeeze as he imagined her back in the hall with her friends.

He regretted it. How much he regretted it. As the admission of this fact made his way in his mind, the lump in his throat melted suddenly. Instead, something hot was now running down his checks. Draco looked up from the sink and gasped as he caught his reflection on he mirror. His face was wet with tears.

For the first time in his life, Draco considered apologizing – to someone who was not unconscious.

Still under the chock of both the unfamiliar urge and the foreign sensation of the tears on his skin, Draco wiped his face hurryingly. Looking around, he realized he was in a girl’s bathroom. He rushed out and ran to his dormitory.

*-*-*-*-*

He managed to corner Cybele out of the Great Hall one Sunday after lunch.

‘Cybele,’ he said, conscious that he had rather apologized quickly but unable to do so.

Cybele was staring right back at his grey eyes, emotionless, looking dispassionately annoyed. She didn’t answer.

Draco took a deep breath and said it, or tried to.

‘Cybele I’m really-’

He breathed again. Cybele now wore a cynical half smile; that didn’t help.

‘I really am,’ he resumed, ‘Cybele I am so s-’

‘Malfoy.’

George had joined Cybele and put a casual arm around her shoulders.

‘What do you want?’ he asked with calm authority.

Draco tried to catch Cybele’s eyes but she was now looking tenderly at George, all cynicism gone from her sweet smile.

Draco simply turned on his heals and disappeared. With all the Weasleys, Mudbloods and worse always around Cybele, he knew he was left with only one solution.

Chapter 27 – The Tiniest Scrolls of Parchment

Today like every other day
We wake up empty and scared.
Don't open the door of your study
And begin reading.

Cybele was up late in the Ravenclaw common room making translations from Ancient Persian for Snape when a sharp tap at the window made her look up.

A fierce eagle owl was standing outside, looking right at her.

The icy February wind made her shiver as she opened the window. She noticed frost on the window’s edge – it was definitely time to go to bed.

She went back near the chimney and enjoyed the warmth before reading the parchment.

I regret it.
Love,
Draco

It was the tiniest piece of parchment, written in a cramped handwriting, as if Draco had found it more bearable to write it smaller, Cybele thought ironically.

It meant a lot for Draco to apologize like that, on parchment moreover, she reflected. Does it mean a lot to me too, now? she asked herself. She didn’t know anymore.

She stayed a while, staring at the fire, rolling the parchment absent-mindedly in her fingers, before she checked herself. She had better get some sleep; it was very late. She looked at the books and parchments on the table and at the tiny roll in her hands, not knowing what to do with it.

Then she spotted her brass watch. She decided it would open, like a locket. And so it did obediently. She folded the tiny parchment inside, let it close and by the next day, she had forgotten all about it.

*-*-*-*-*

Meetings with Professor Snape had mainly consisted of the pure documentation of facts since Cybele had awakened.

When Cybele had brought him her translations from the night she had received Draco’s letter in late February, Snape had suggested they could use more Muggle resources than what Caroline had found in London.

‘The Muggle documentation matches and completes the wizarding one, once one gets used to their specific terminology. We should seek to extend our reading in this field as much as in the wizarding world,’ Professor Snape had declared after reading her translations.

Professor Snape had traveled a great deal all over the wizarding world for Cybele and came back with copies of ancient books and parchment, some of which had never been translated into English before. He had trusted Cybele to translating them, with her gift of understanding all languages.

‘I cannot think of any other wizarding private or public collection left I could explore,’ he admitted. ‘Would you like to help me and seek more Muggle documents?’

‘Of course,’ Cybele answered, wondering why the Potions Master wanted her to travel with him this time round. She had never been invited to follow him to any wizarding libraries. She merely looked at him interrogatively.

‘I had advisors and guides into the wizarding collections,’ Snape explained, ‘who I was careful not to render suspicious. It would have been risky to go around asking about the origins of magi with you on my trail.’

That seemed quite obvious to Cybele. ‘But this time?’ she prompted.

‘This time, I will have no guides. Your absolute knowledge of the Muggle world and your language abilities will be crucial. As you may guess, Cybele, we are not going to take registration cards into all the major Muggle libraries of the world,’ he explained.

Cybele held his gaze, her interest picked. ‘So?’ she asked simply.

‘I suggest we start taking some night strolls in the Muggle world,’ he answered, ‘and you will be the one planning our destinations. We need to visit the major documentation centers in History and oriental studies.’

Cybele smiled.

That’s how she found herself, a cold night of March, Apparating her favourite professor into the Sorbonne University. She guided him through the huge library and peered into ancient Latin and Greek texts quickly to assess whether they wanted to copy it and bring back.

Only on this first trip, they brought back a quantity of fascinating documents, especially countless ones about a Magus Muggle named Zoroaster, whom orientalists considered to be the inventor of magic.

After that, they took a stroll every week, steadily the all spring long, visiting, after the other major European libraries, the United States, Middle-East, North Africa and India. It was weird, reflected Cybele, how even a library in the middle of the night simply could feel foreign, each one carrying a bit of their country’s special atmosphere.

The American libraries were air-conditioned and spotlessly clean with their stainless steel shelves and security cameras Cybele had to bug when they appeared. The forbidding European libraries had readers confined to ugly modern tables and shelves, yet surrounded by century old shelves that only the staff could approach and leather bound books which one needed a special authorization to consult. Vatican library, a preserved museum where chairs, tables, books, shelves had all traveled centuries unchanged in this sanctuary where a dull old grey computer had made its nest behind a majestic counter. Oriental libraries, where the overwhelming richness of the scrolls, parchments and books contrasted with the poor plastic tables and chairs sometimes offered to the nocturnal visitors.

Cybele was waiting for Snape to complete some copying charms on a selection of books in Latin one night at the London Public Library when she found it.

On an isolated desk behind the last row of shelves, she noticed a book had been left out. She went eagerly to it, as she had noticed a missing volume in the part of the esoteric section that spoke of magic.

It was this volume indeed, she realized, as she took in a title that would not have looked foreign in Hogwarts’ library: Famous Wizards and Witches.

She sat at the small table and turned the pages, curious to see which wizards were known to Muggles. Not any modern ones, she reflected seeing that the text was in very old German. Merlin was in, lots of Arabic wizards; Nicolas Flamel was in the “modern� section, as the book was so old. As she flipped back the pages from Flamel, a name caught her eyes. Ravenclaw. Not Rowena, though, another name. Strange.

In the mean time Snape was almost done so she closed back the volume and brought it to him to copy. He pointed his wand at it and stopped.

‘Two documents,’ he mumbled. The spell wouldn’t work on more than a document at a time and Professor Snape often had to look for scraps from notebooks left by students inside the books before he could copy it properly. So he aimed a different spell at the old volume first and a tiny old-looking piece of parchment escaped from the book to roll at Cybele’s feet.

Picking up the minute scrap of paper, Cybele gave it a quick look soon followed by a double take. The tiny scroll had an image on it. It looked something between a black and white drawing and a photocopy, like an imprint of an object on the paper, which outlined would have been penciled.

As she looked closer, she thought the imprinted object could have been a broach, or maybe the front of a tiara – she was not sure. The thing that had her gap at the imprinted objected was not its nature anyways but the text it bore in a curvy regular handwritten style – Arta Magush Afarida.

‘Bring us back,’ came the cool voice of Professor Snape as she felt his hand on her shoulder. She had been quite oblivious of him and he had crept silently behind her to read over her shoulders. He looked serious.

He withdrew his hand at soon as they found themselves in the Potions classroom.

‘Sir,’ Cybele started, handling the small scroll to Snape.

Professor Snape simply took it and made for his office wordlessly in a quick pace. Cybele decided to follow and found him seating at his desk with a large volume of Hogwarts, A History opened in front of him.

Imitating her Professor, Cybele silently walked behind the desk to look at the page too. Professor Snape was now comparing the imprint with a moving painting of Rowena Ravenclaw. Cybele could see now that the imprinted object must have been a tiara – very similar indeed with the founder’s one, but the painter would not have been able to see the small text on it if it was there.

As Professor Snape was still frowning at the pictures, Cybele took a seat at the side of the table, knowing better than to force any comment out of the forbidding teacher.

She observed the frown relax slightly as Snape took his wand out.

‘Digitorum imposo!’ he chanted in a trying voice, pointing first at the scroll and then at the book. It seemed to work. A floating image of the founder’s tiara came up the book and a similar floating image of the ancient scroll’s imprint joined it mid air. The imprint seemed to adjust itself in its right place in the image and the all shone brightly in white before vanishing.

He turned to Cybele after that, handing the scroll back to her.

‘You have found the proof that Rowena Ravenclaw was a Magian,’ he confirmed simply.

Cybele opened her mouth but didn’t speak. She needed to be alone.

‘Shall I bring it back?’ She pointed at the original volume on Snape’s desk. With the surprise discovery, Snape had not performed the copying spell on that last book and they had transported it back to Hogwarts. He did, now.

‘Yes.’

Cybele tried to breathe slowly as she stepped back in the darkened London library. The discovery had left her with mixed feelings of hope and frustration. To know that a renown Witch has been a Magian was a relief and gave her a long waited for feeling of belonging to the wizarding community and Hogwarts. But this occurrence was still the only one and dated back over a thousand years ago and this last thought deflated her.

The heavy book on her arm reminded itself to her after a while and with a sigh, she walked to the esoteric shelf.

The missing space left by the volume still stood out and she made to replace it directly when she noticed a card on the table where Professor Snape had been performing the copying charms.

She put down the heavy volume next to it and immediately realized the pale green rectangular card was the traditional borrow and take back records card that most libraries still kept in books even long after the computerization of the system. As it turned out, the card belonged to her volume.

She lifted the cover and slipped back the card into its plastid holder when her eyes were caught by an unusual library user name in the list.

Philiocornus

Weird name, Cybele thought, wondering why she had the impression to have heard it before. Sounds like a wizard name, she dismissed as an explanation.

Chapter 28 – Some Unintended Things

What hurts you, blesses you.
Darkness is your candle.
Your boundaries are your quest.

‘Oh…’ George looked disappointed. Cybele felt guilty.

‘I don’t think he realized it was Hogsmeade, you see.’

By the beginning of the summer, Professor Snape and Cybele had completed their main readings and decided on a one day meeting to organize and sum up all the knowledge they had gathered before and after Cybele’s accident. It was unfortunately on the last Hogsmeade weekend of the term.

‘You bet he did,’ mumbled Fred. Cybele chose to pretend she didn’t hear.

‘I’m sorry guys, I’ll see you in the evening, hopefully.’

‘Right! Actually, we want you to see Hermione.’

‘Hermione? Sure; why?’

‘Well,’ started Fred, ‘we were wondering-’

‘-if she could see your watch,’ George finished.

‘Oh.’ Cybele had not expected that. Of course she knew the twins’ friend was a brilliant student, the best in her year, but…

‘Dumbledore did, and he couldn’t figure out much,’ she reminded them simply.

‘And so did Snape,’ George said. ‘But you want to show it to all best brains around, right?’

‘I guess it couldn’t hurt, but how much would she need to know about me?’

‘Nothing, just say it’s a family heirloom. I mean-’

‘- it’s probably true,’ Fred finished for his brother.

‘All right then, I’ll come and see you after my meeting.’

*-*-*-*-*

As most Hogwarts students were making their way to Hogsmeade, Cybele was making a large board float at one end of Professor Snape’s office. They soon began organising their information on it. The left section of a table summarized what they knew about Magi; the Muggle definitions, the wizarding definitions and the parallel legends. The right side was comprised of two rows which they had named The Magi Bound: one for what Cybele had experienced and one for their research.

By midday, the board was covered in the major points they had magically written while peering into the documentation which was now covering the Potions Master’s desk. Cybele didn’t seem to realize she was making her Professor’s thoughts appear on the board before he spoke them out loud. She didn’t even realize that she was reading his mind, focused as she was on listening to his ideas and compiling hers at the same time.

Strangely, Snape was yet to react to Cybele’s unintended intrusion.

They had come to this level where perfect understanding of each other was difficult to distinguish from mind reading. With anybody else, Snape would have felt endangered and vulnerable to not be able to use Occlumency; but then again, this was Cybele. Maybe it had started then back in Dumbledore’s office four years ago, maybe it had made its way slowly along the years, but it was there and Snape had to live with it: He trusted Cybele. Maybe because he didn’t have a choice: there was no protecting oneself from Cybele’s powers. So he had come to trust her beyond reason and he cared for her as family even if he couldn’t afford to. He was not in denial. He had tried to fight it back but he knew it was a lost battle and he sometimes felt relieved to know it was.
In the most challenging years of his life, with Lily’s son in his care and the seemingly ineluctable return of the Dark Lord over their head, Cybele had been his unintended anchor.

‘Lunch?’ he said simply after a while.

‘What? Weren’t you just saying something about Ahuramazda?’

‘I was not saying anything, no, but I just saw his name here,’ he gestured to a Muggle photocopy with a ghost of a tired smile.

Cybele looked up and understanding drew on her. She blushed.

‘Oh, I’m sorry!’ Then she looked even more embarrassed. ‘How long have I been doing that?’ she asked, referring to the involuntary mind reading.

As an answer, he simply gestured to the board. Cybele looked horrified when she understood that all the time she had “heard� her professor’s idea, she had in fact unintentionally been hearing his mind. Snape didn’t elaborate.

‘Eslis!’

The Elf appeared in the second.

‘It’s ready, Sir.’

They went up to Professor Snape’s apartments to have a quick lunch and break.

When they came back down, Snape started to review their results.

‘In the Muggle world,’ he started, ‘your knowledge and powers are limitless, except -’

‘-Travelling in time, seeing the future, bringing back the dead, and summoning people,’ Cybele recited.

‘You have the same limitations in the wizarding world, which bring down to two the things that wizards can do and you can’t-’

‘-Time turners don’t work on me, as we tested back in my first year. I show no ability for reading future, actually, I don’t believe in it at all,’ confirmed Cybele.

‘In the wizarding world, however, as far as your abilities are not hindered, your knowledge can extend only to what you access and read or hear. Your powers cannot stop or defeat spells, even if they don’t have any effect on you. Magical objects and wizards tend to have a slight resistance to your intentions compared to non-magical object.’

‘I think that pretty much sums it up,’ Cybele said approvingly.

They had not come up with anything new in the course of the year about the magi bound and this remained preoccupying. Their knowledge on the Magi themselves, though, was now very extended. So extended, that it was becoming difficult to come up with any clear theory to embrace all this knowledge – thus this meeting.

‘It is clear that magical History doesn’t go back so far and both wizarding and Muggle sources are vague and contradictory,’ Snape reminded. ‘But in both case, Magi are described to be the firsts, to be the very source or creators of Magic. The Tales of the Wandering Wand may be the sole wizarding text to mention them as the Magic itself, but Muggle sources present them as Magic teachers, or of the sort, often.’

‘Yes, what is strange is that Muggle sources regularly mention that Magi were reading stars and predicting the future, which is one thing I am unable to do. They mention alchemy too, but I can do things without the help of Potions, which have no effect on me.’

‘I think the key to understanding these contradictions is in the Muggle as well as wizarding sources. They both say that Magi were teachers. This is my theory,’ started Snape seriously. Cybele looked up sharply.

‘Magi were a most ancient breed of Magical being. In a way we cannot fully understand now, they were the Magic. They thought everybody should share their immense powers and they experimented on how to teach it and transmit it. They found that other humans did have Magic in them too, though much less. They started to identify people who had greater amount of it in them and figure out ways to help them channel it out of them to perform some of the powers which were so natural to them. Hence, they developed all witchcraft, such as wands, potions, spells, crystal balls. Hence, they created the wizards, a breed of humans who learnt the ability to channel out their magic, when they had enough of the good type of it.’

Snape stopped, looking slightly annoyed by his own theory. Cybele was in awe, fascinated by the simplicity with which the theory embraced all their acquired knowledge without leaving anything out.

‘Eslis mentioned something about Muggle Magic,’ she recalled.

‘Did he? Indeed, there are theories, that Magic is everywhere, the Wizarding one being the only one able to express itself through witchcraft, but the Muggle one also at work in different ways,’ he admitted, looking unconvinced.

‘That was when he said I was not magical, he said he could see magic and that Caroline one’s was mixed with Muggle magic. It is also true that some wizards have more magic in them than others, right?’

‘I think so, yes,’ Snape trailed.

Cybele didn’t insist. The theory seemed brilliant to her. But if these magi had created sorcerers and then disappeared over the century, forced to flew and separate under Muggle persecution for their “teaching� activities; how could she be?

‘So there must be a lost tribe of Magi somewhere, hiding, and I have lost myself from them,’ she concluded.

‘That would seem logical,’ first answered Snape. He looked preoccupied, though. ‘But I am not convinced by this explanation.’

‘Why?’

‘Wouldn’t you know it?’ he asked simply. ‘Wouldn’t they know it? How could you have found yourself separated, amnesiac and abandoned or forgotten by them all?’ he stated plainly, watching Cybele for reactions.

‘We have to look for them and we will know the answer,’ she offered. She looked thoughtful, though.

Snape let the silence lingered until Cybele would speak out.

‘It strikes me how the Muggle historians, like Herodotus of Halicarnassus, repeatedly linked Magian with human sacrifices, both in Greek and Persian sources,’ she eventually said, a note of fear in her voice. ‘Teaching of magic and magic-linked sacrificing,’ she added, ‘are the main activities described.’

‘Are you suggesting you could have escaped?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said very quietly. ‘What kinds of wizarding magic involve sacrifices?’

‘Dark magic,’ Snape answered without hesitation, ‘of the most powerful, most ancient and worst kind.

‘Can you give me examples?’

‘No,’ he answered quickly, ‘please be cautious not to read my mind by inadvertence,’ he added plainly. He could think of several examples. One was not dark magic, it was the sacrifice of love Dumbledore had discovered while studying Potter; another one was Horcruxes. And the Dark Lord had hinted he had discovered an ancient one enabling resurrection. He didn’t want Cybele to know of any of them and the only way he had to ensure so was to ask her not to. And he knew she would obey. ‘That’s how far I trust her,’ he realized. It was almost vertiginous.

‘I have another theory,’ he offered quickly. ‘Magi seemed to be a peaceful breed, eager to share their powers rather than abusing them – a strange state of fact in itself. It would be easier to imagine early wizards, carrying the memory of these all-powerful Magi of the early time to work at an enchantment to create such limitless power for themselves. Magic at its darkest could very well,’ he trailed, and winced.

None of them elaborated on that last, frightening theory. Cybele was starting to understand that whatever she would find out to explain her Magian powers will likely be dark. She was determined nonetheless to uncover and confront the truth.

*-*-*-*-*

It was too late for dinner when Snape and his student parted, satisfied that they had successfully compiled and analyzed their data, even though their future course of action remained to be thought of.

Cybele decided to pass by the Great Hall to check if her friends were not waiting for her there. She peered through the door. The Hall was empty. Almost empty. She made out a lonely figure sitting down at the Slytherin table. She recognized the elegantly slender back of Draco Malfoy and his silky light blond hair. She felt a pang in the heart and closed back the door silently, her heart beating hard.

Why? she thought as she slowly made her way up to Gryffindor tower. Is it seeing him alone like that? What makes you think he was sad? Maybe he was just studying quietly.

Her heart had regained a normal pace of beating when she reached the Fat Lady, but she still felt troubled by the incident.

Fred, George, Lee, Caroline, Hermione and Ginny were all sitting by the fire on comfy armchairs and sofas. George swift to the sofa’s arm to let Cybele take his place near by Fred and started to stroke her hair gently as she leaned on him.

‘How was it?’ Lee asked.

‘I’m exhausted,’ Cybele answered, not elaborating in front of Ginny and Hermione.

‘So, this is your watch?’ the latest asked with interest, pointing at Cybele’s chest.

‘Oh, yeah, I’d be curious to know what you make of it,’ Cybele answered, pulling it of her neck.

Hermione took it eagerly, and then put it down on the coffee table.

‘It looks really ancient,’ she said, casting a silent spell at it. ‘Oh’, she exclaimed with great surprise, ‘my age-dating spell doesn’t work on it!’

She tried again, speaking out the spell loud this time.

‘Revelo Annea!’ she shouted with a quick spiralling movement of wand. Nothing happened.

‘What magical property does it have?’ she asked curiously.

‘Well, it’s really peculiar,’ Cybele advanced, feeling by the second that this was not a good idea. ‘It appears when it wants, first of all, around my neck, and it, well-’

‘It writes things at the back in Persian,’ Fred provided.

Cybele was uneasy. Next Hermione will ask what and then she will want to understand about magi and she will have to lie and Hermione was not exactly stupid. It was a bad idea.

‘What does it mean, “Arta Magus�?’ Hermione asked as on cue.

‘It means true magus, you know, the magus legend, like in the tale,’ Cybele answered as casually as she could.

‘Oh… you come from Lebanon, right?’ Hermione checked next.

‘Yes.’

Hermione was playing with the watch, looking for an opening. The watch suddenly burst open in two, a tiny scroll of paper rolling to Ginny’s feet.

Cybele didn’t realize immediately what it was. Hermione had quickly replaced the watch back on the table and was apologizing profusely, blushing.

Ginny picked up the paper and hold it out to Cybele without looking at it. Only when George reached for it instead of Cybele, did she realized what it was. She turned sharply to George who was about to hand it back to her when he seemed to accidentally catch a word on the paper. In a small move that looked like slow motion in Cybele’s eyes, he took a quick look at the text, swallowed hard and hand it over to Cybele without comment.

Fred sensed something was wrong with his brother and kindly suggested that Cybele must be very tired after her day of work with Snape. Ginny and Hermione looked horrified at the very thought of spending an entire day locked in the dungeons with Snape and the watch was quite forgotten.

George stood up to walk Cybele back to the Ravenclaw tower. They walked in silence for while. Cybele was thinking hard on what she would like to tell George. She had sincerely forgotten that she had this paper in her watch all this time, close to her heart, how weird must it have seemed! Why did she ever have to put it here? To even keep it at all? Why throwing it into the fire where it belonged didn’t even cross her mind back then?

But George didn’t ask her anything. As they reached the Ravenclaw tower, they lingered against the ancient wall as they often use to do for a small talk or a sweet goodnight kiss. George leaned onto her and played with the brass watch where Cybele had, quite unthoughtfully in her hurry to make the scroll disappear, replaced it earlier. He locked eyes with her.

‘This,’ he started slowly in a kind but saddened voice, jerking his chin to the brass watch, obviously referring to the note within I regret it. Love, Draco, ‘is problematic,’ he said simply.

Cybele opened her mouth to speak. Probably no sound would have come out of it anyway, but George tenderly put a finger on it. He gave her a weak smile.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do that.’

‘I-’ Cybele didn’t know what to say. She wanted to tell George she was so happy with him. She wanted to tell him he should not even think about Malfoy: that was all past. She wanted to tell him she loved him. But she couldn’t. Because she did, love him. But, after several months with him… They had been sweet, nice months; months in which she had pretended love could be this smooth and simple thing. But somewhere in the way, she had had to admit that if she did love George, she didn’t love him much differently from the way she loved Fred, Lee or Caroline.

‘It will always be here,’ George stated, releasing the brass watch.

Cybele knew he was not talking about the watch or even the scroll within. Draco and she had been on non-speaking term more than once in the past. But things were never really over. Was it because of this magi-bound? Magi. Cybele had thought the way she had reacted to Draco’s touch back at the Yule Ball may have been a Magian thing. But when Caroline had had girls’ chats about love with Cybele, she had used the very words Cybele had thought of back then. Daggers, waves, fire. What if? Whenever they were on friendly terms, the all school always referred to Draco and her as boyfriend and girlfriend. That never happened when she hung out with Neville or Lee. Was it that people could see something she couldn’t? What if?

Tired of the whirl of thought, she let her head rest on George’s chest. He closed his arms around her. None of them knew how long they stayed like that. There was not much to say after all. They both knew they were not each other’s right one. They were just two friends who had tasted something it would be very hard to let go of. They were two friends terrified of losing it all, for one innocent mistake.

‘We will be all right like that,’ George eventually said long later, pulling of gently.

‘Yes, I’m sure we will make it,’ Cybele answered with a weak smile.

‘And just so that you know; I will miss you, so much.’

‘I will too. Already am.’

‘But we will be just as happy,’

‘Yes, and one day we will be even happier, and then we will realize how right we were to be reasonable today,’ Cybele said in a self-convincing tone.

‘We’ll be happy and there will be no need to be sad or to feel awkward because we are these friends.’ Cybele nodded, feeling a lump forming in her throat. ‘Because we love each other,’ George concluded, managing a real smile.

‘Yes, we do,’ Cybele answered, her smile liberated too by the happy thought.

And so they separated quietly in the middle of the night in front of the Ravenclaw’s tower. For the second time since Christmas, Cybele cried herself to sleep.

Chapter 29 – One Last Summer of Peace

Face the war and
be a warrior like a lion
or you’ll end up like a pet
tucked away in a stable

It was the last summer of peace. This was obvious to Cybele and her friends. Some of them were close enough to Harry Potter to know for sure.

Voldemort was back. He was back and for some twisted reason, he was allowing them all one last summer of peace. Nothing was happening.

The summer was exceptionally hot. To Cybele, it was strangely sweet and easy, considering the dangers at large.

She had spent a fortnight with Caroline in Muggle London. She would spend the rest of the summer with her surrogate family, the Jordans, but she had also accepted an invitation from her new friend Neville to spend a week at the Longbottom Manor.

The first days at Neville’s had passed in a whirl of Herbology experiments. Longbottom Manor actually held a large, run down greenhouse on the edge of the grounds. Neville had spent summer after summer bringing the place back to life.

One heavily hot afternoon, Neville took Cybele to a remote, under kept part of the domain. In a raised part of the ground, several rows of ancient, modest-sized greenhouses were still standing.

‘Wow!’ Cybele exclaimed. ‘Herbology does run in your family!’

Neville smiled. They were walking on shattered pieces of glass, polished by time into smooth and hardly translucent stones.

‘One day, I would like to make a giant research lab out of this place,’ he said with determination.

Cybele smiled, too.

‘I don’t think my grandmother would like that, though’ he added.

‘Why wouldn’t she?’

‘Um, my parents were Aurors,’ Neville reminded her.

‘Oh, all right. But why would she want you to do the same? I mean, you’re not the fighting type, are you? I could see you better in a lab.’

Neville mumbled something inaudible.

Cybele didn’t ask him to repeat, though; she knew his story.

‘You don’t have to avenge your parents. Avenging is not a purpose!’ she said heatedly.

‘He’s back,’ Neville reminded simply. ‘Shouldn’t I be fighting?’

‘Of course you should. We will all have to fight. It’s war. But when peace comes back, you should put this place together,’ she said with conviction.

She grabbed a smooth polished glass stone from her feet and examined it dreamily, as if it held the promise of a better tomorrow.

‘Aren’t you afraid?’ Neville asked.

‘I’m afraid of a lot of things,’ Cybele answered calmly. ‘War is just one of them.’

Neville chuckled weakly.

‘I know what you mean.’

‘Sometimes I’m afraid of who I am,’ Cybele continued.

Neville gave her a curious look. Cybele caught his eyes, pocketed the glass stone and just like that, told him everything about her Magian self.

*-*-*-*-*

The last night of her visit found Cybele working late with Neville in the manor’s greenhouse. They were disrupted by an owl from Mrs. Longbottom reminding them to get dressed for a formal dinner, as they had guests.

‘You still have that glass stone from the old greenhouses?’ Neville asked before they left.

Cybele took it out from her pocket and handed it wordlessly to Neville. He placed it on a shelf nearby his work station and gave a small smile.

‘To always remember my projects,’ he said.

Cybele beamed.

‘Would you work with me?’ he asked unexpectedly as they were closing the greenhouse door behind them.

‘In a Herbology lab?’ Cybele asked, more to feel how it sounded than anything else.

‘Yeah, as you’re better at Potions than I am.’

Cybele remained silent for a while. She had never considered what she could do later. What were Magi supposed to do? Neville now knew she was a Magian; did he think Magian should get a regular job like everyone else? Would people let her get away with that? Wouldn’t they employ her for other things? She tried to say all this to Neville.

‘I don’t think people can employ you as they see fit, Cybele. The wizarding community doesn’t own you just because they welcomed you to Hogwarts. You should just do what you are good at or what you enjoy, like the rest of us. Isn’t that what you said to me?’

Cybele felt grateful for the idea, but it sounded lavishly optimistic to her. She smiled.

‘I would love to work in a lab. I would love to work with a friend,’ she said simply. ‘But I cannot imagine settling to something like that before I’ve found out where I came from.’

‘Then find out soon,’ Neville answered kindly.

*-*-*-*-*

The dinner party consisted of an addition of four. A cousin of Neville’s parent had come with her husband, their son and a friend of the latest. Neville and Cybele came down just in time, the mud of the greenhouse freshly showered away, the two of them smartly dressed. Mrs. Longbottom was very old fashioned when it came to social events – and an awful lot of other things.

The de Lioncourts were living in France. Mrs. de Lioncourt’s husband was a French Muggle and the two boys had attended Muggle schooling before entering Beauxbatons, making them louder and bolder compared to Cybele and Neville. The lively lot was, however, agreeable enough company for a family dinner.

Mrs. de Lioncourt kept teasing Neville about his shyness and clumsiness, a family joke apparently. Cybele wasn’t finding it too amusing; neither did Neville, by the look of it.

They had coffee in a sitting room and Mr. de Lioncourt sat at the piano, playing some lively Chopin number. The party was gay and as Mrs. de Lioncourt was engrossed in conversation with Mrs Longbottom, Neville was left free to fight his shyness and participate into the conversation between Cybele and the boys.

‘Shall I play a dance?’ offered cheerfully Mr. de Lioncourt from behind the piano.

The invitation was to his wife, who took the hint with delight. She started waltzing graciously with her son, obviously a family tradition in this noble family.
Cybele invited Neville. They had learnt simple waltz for the Yule Ball and had never thought that they would have an occasion to revive their performance. They happily found that they could remember the steps quite well and enjoyed themselves as Mrs. Verdelan gapped with awe at her so-called clumsy nephew revolving gracefully in the room. As for young de Lioncourt’s friend, he seemed to be baffled to be the only teenager in the room not up for a waltz.

Someone peering through the window at this time would have seen a very nice – though oddly old-fashioned – scene. They would have seen a party of smartly dressed people. They would have noticed at first, maybe, as the piano was near the window, an enthusiastic piano player smiling joyfully to the rest. They would have catch, then, the fond glances they exchanged with his wife while she danced. Brushing over the dancers, they would have rested their eyes on the touching scene of a young man talking lively to an elderly woman on the sofa at the other end of the sitting room. They would have eventually indulged in the contemplation of the two graceful couples dancing casually in the middle, an elegant mother with her son, a pretty young girl in a little black dress, laughing with her head tilted back.

Would they have suspected that they were looking at people waiting for a war to begin?


*-*-*-*-*

September first came and the wizarding world still lived in blissful ignorance of Voldemort’s return.

The young sorcerers sitting together in the last compartment weren’t, though. Lee, Caroline, Cybele and the twins were exchanging points of view on the situation, all looking much more concerned than they usually would on a Hogwarts Express trip.

‘We’ve let the food trolley pass,’ Caroline noticed after a silence.

‘I’ll get it,’ Cybele offered and she exited the compartment without waiting for an answer. The corridor was deserted. She headed to the end of the wagon, hoping to find the lady and her trolley in the next one.

She found herself face to face with Malfoy almost as soon as she left her wagon. He was exiting another compartment after spiting something hostile to its occupants, which Cybele couldn’t catch. He was wearing a particularly malevolent sneer.

His expression softened as he saw Cybele but the look he gave her was hard. They had not talked since the Yule Ball. Life had gone on surprisingly smoothly among Cybele’s friends after she and George had decided to go back to being friends. Before both of them could overcome their sadness however, dramatic events had closed the Hogwarts term, Cedric’s death putting all other matters into perspective.

Cybele looked at Malfoy. He was still the same boy. Ever taller, it seemed, ever cuter, too, she noticed, resigned to be, as she had been for years, sensitive to the beauty of even the slightest golden flicker of her friend’s hair. He had a shiny Prefect badge on his robes and a cool expression on his face now as he watched her, ordering her silently to speak first.

Who were they, now? Cybele wondered, as the silent staring contest settled between them. War was there; it was not open yet but it was; and Cybele knew well all that Malfoy belonged to: his House, his family; both were supporting evil. And yet he was standing here in front of her, an old friend. However one put it, an old friend.

He was still waiting for Cybele to speak. He had a right to, Cybele thought. He had written her sincere words of apology and she had never answered. Draco’s silent and determined glance now was his request for her belated answer.

She didn’t know what to answer or how. Her hands reached her watch by their own accord – or so it seemed to her. She opened it and extracted the small scroll which had been there since that night when George had handed it back to her.

She locked eyes with Draco. His expression was difficult to read.

‘I have received your note,’ she started. Draco gave her a smart look. Right, stating the obvious, she thought. But it was difficult to get to the next step.

‘It’s all right,’ she said very quietly. She knew she had not really forgiven Draco. But she had, too. She had forgiven him for not inviting her to the ball, for getting drunk and embracing her in a dark corner when he was intoxicated. After reading his note, she really had. But she had never, she would never, forgive him for the way she had felt when he had touched her, for the way it had almost hurt, for how she couldn’t forget it, for how she couldn’t understand how it could be.

Draco gave a quick glance around, before replying.

‘I’m sorry, Cybele, I just acted like a total prat,’ he said.

‘You were drunk,’ Cybele said.

‘I was furious that you ended up going with the hopeless Longbottom.’

‘He can dance,’ Cybele stated unexpectedly. ‘Can you?’ she added, as Draco hadn’t found an answer to her last.

‘Er, a bit,’ he answered, taken aback.

‘Then you did me a favour not inviting me. I went with the best dance partner in Hogwarts!’ she replied, savouring the modest revenge.

Draco gave a soft snort, rolling his eyes. They then locked eyes again and gave each other a corky smile. They would hug each other, just as they had back in their second year. Except, everything had changed: They both looked around nervously, neither wanting to be seen hugging the other. Then they realized what they were both doing and looked at each other awkwardly. Then a glimpse of determination passed in their eyes and both made a move to hug.

‘We were looking for you, Draco,’ came a loud voice from the end of the corridor. They stopped in their move abruptly. Draco looked ahead.

‘Well, I’m here,’ he answered in an exasperated voice.

‘Are you coming, then?’ Goyle asked.

‘Obviously,’ he answered, taking a step toward Cybele to pass in front of her. The train gave a shake at this moment and he had to stop himself from falling on her by placing his hands on the wall on both side of her head. In this close position, they held each other’s hard look for a second, or maybe an hour, Cybele couldn’t tell.

Then Draco was gone and Cybele was finding her way back to her compartment, collapsing in her seat like a sleepwalker.

‘You didn’t find her?’ Caroline asked.

Cybele looked at her blankly. She had quite forgotten about the trolley.

‘No,’ she said with a shudder.

*-*-*-*-*

Draco led Goyle back to their compartment. No way was he going to spend the rest of the journey stuck in the Prefect compartment with bushy-haired Mudblood. But he had lost interest in testing the bullying possibilities of his new badge… for now.

How could she have the friends she has? he reflected, unnerved. Why couldn’t Cybele be seated with him, laughing with him at Crabbe and Goyle’s idiocy, saving him from Blaise and Pansy’s dull conversation? Why wasn’t she a Slytherin to start with? She was spending half of her leisure time in his head of House’s office, was she not? If she were a Slytherin, she would have avoided making all those inappropriate friends.

I mean, even if he really can, who cares that Longbottom can dance he marvelled silently. And she had definitely snogged whichever Weasley twin! The thought made Draco’s stomach lurch. Disgusting blood traitors, he thought, interpreting spectacularly wrongly his stomach’s signal. My fault, though he couldn’t help thinking, still hating himself for not inviting her to the ball. And then again, as always, Why do I even care?

He never tried to answer this question. He knew. He had known all the while. The only time he had faced it had been before Cybele’s accident, when Blaise had threatened to separate them. He simply knew he needed her in his life, somehow, if he wanted to make it through. But he was not going to admit this to himself now.

He so badly wanted Cybele to see the errors in her ways. He so badly wanted her to open her eyes and abandon her Squibs, Mudbloods, Elves and Blood Traitor friends and thank him for not giving up on her. But he also loved her because she didn’t just buy his speeches. He loved her because around her, like if she was of some other species, all these things that seemed to matter so much back home or in the Slytherin common room simply didn’t seem to exist at all and it felt blissful. He loved her because she had given him a chance from the first day, despite their differences and she was this unintended exception, for he had given her a chance too, despite her doubtful blood status, her outrageous friends and her way of opposing his deepest convictions.

He loved her. And he knew why. But he couldn’t see the meaning of it all in his life; what was wrong with him?

*-*-*-*-*

Cybele let the twins go find the trolley and Caroline and Lee catch up on each other’s holidays, oblivious enough of her.

So she was on speaking terms with Draco again. Where would that lead? Her heart gave a painful answer to the innocent question. I’m afraid of my friends’ reaction, she thought, interpreting her heart’s signal spectacularly wrong.

Then why did she have to forgive him? Why did she want to hug him back? Why did she so desperately want to be his friend like back in good old times? I miss him, she admitted to herself. Why? a small voice in her mind questioned immediately.

Yeah, why do I even care? she questioned angrily, thinking of Malfoy’s disgusting behaviour to the House-Elves, his hopelessly hating speeches on all matters, his obvious bullying even now that he was a Prefect.

He had always been here, since her first weeks in Hogwarts. He had always cared. He had always shown her his best face. Maybe his best face had not been much, but compared to the face he was showing to the rest of the world, it meant a lot. She had been important to him.

There was the softest touch of his silky hair, there was the gentle way he flew with her on his broom, there was the easiness and tolerance he showed with her and nobody else, there was the strong will and self-confidence, there was the fun and cunning she loved in his character. She also loved him because he was the only person to have given her what she seemed not to be able to help giving to all: his unconditional friendship in all circumstances even when their lives and views opposed in the most violent manner.

She loved him; for many reasons. And she could name them all. But then what was that love in the face of his intolerable views and behaviour?

‘What’s wrong with me?’

‘I was about to ask you that.’ Cybele jumped at Fred’s voice and blushed. She had spoken the last sentence out loud. She realized the twins were back and sharing the food with them all. She had not noticed them return.

‘What happened to you, Cybele? Seen a ghost in the corridor?’ Lee asked

‘Yes.’

Chapter 30 – A Glimpse of Your Soul

The pure souls
Like the spectrums
Of the shinning sun

‘Hogwarts has certainly outdone itself this year; we have never had a better DADA teacher!’ I burst out of Professor Umbridge’s class, sarcasm dripping from my voice. One month into the term, I was still marvelling at the mixture of dullness, fake sweetness and meanness that was our new professor.

‘I thought we had the worst of it with Maniac Moody last year, and then they came up with this,’ Pete said in a disgusted tone.

‘And I thought we had it bad with Garlic Spread back in second year! I’d take him back anytime, at least with him we still got to see some spells!’ Archie pointed out.

‘I wish I could just skip,’ I trailed dreamily.

‘Forget it! Ben tried last week and she went after him. He got summoned to her office!’ Pete warned.

I gave a muffled grunt, inwardly forgetting my dreams to practice defence in the library with Caroline instead of reading under the big toad’s nose.

‘He told me her office was pink, too,’ Archie provided.

I giggled at that. ‘Seriously? I thought pink was for nice girls!’

‘No big deal for you anyway, right, Cybele?’ Archie went on. ‘Got all top marks in Defence, it takes you seconds to master new spells; but think of us, facing OWL exams without training!’

That made me feel guilty. My group knew I was not an ordinary witch since I had woken up from my accident the year before.

‘Do you want me to send her to Antarctica?’ I asked sweetly.

‘Can you do that?’

‘Yes, but I’m afraid the headmaster wouldn’t take long to figure out I’m the culprit.’

‘Pity…’

As if on cue, Professor Flitwick stopped me at the entrance of his class.

‘Miss Philius, the headmaster will meet you tonight after classes,’ he informed me simply.

Archie chuckled as I sat beside the boys. ‘You haven’t even done anything yet!’ he teased.

‘At this rate, maybe you should transform her into a toad anyway,’ Pete suggested.

‘I can’t do that; she’s already one.’


*-*-*-*-*


When I reached the headmaster’s office after dinner the same night, I found the Potions Master there too, looking tense. He was actually pacing, making his robes twirl dramatically behind him. I could see what Pete meant when he called him a bat.

‘Miss Philius,’ the headmaster greeted me. ‘Come in and take a seat.’ He gestured to the armchair I knew only too well. Professor Snape gave me a curt nod, his face softening slightly for a second in a subtly engaging way I had learnt to perceive.

‘I am afraid I’m the reason why your research sessions with Professor Snape have not resumed yet,’ Dumbledore started quite directly.

I arched an eyebrow. I was not expecting that. I had never worked with Professor Snape the first month of term in past years; I had forgotten that there had always been a reason for that and had viewed it as a habit.

I also took in the tension emanating from the scene. Professor Snape was not sitting down. The headmaster however sat comfortably behind his desk and invited me to sit again. I complied, curious.

‘I understand that last year, after the Magian theory became solid, you spent the year doing theoretical research,’ the headmaster started.

I held his piercing gaze and didn’t comment. Although I did it all the time, I had little patience for other people stating the obvious. I could feel Snape at my side looking steadily at Dumbledore too.

‘We have not decided yet how to go on this year,’ Snape said in a cold whisper. I sensed that the two men had held this conversation before. Was Dumbledore trying to interfere with our research? And if he did, why wouldn’t it be for the best? Why did Professor Snape sound so hostile?

‘I understand, Miss Philius, that you want to spend as much time and energy as it takes to find out where you come from and how you can be a Magian, a sole Magian in the modern wizarding world,’ Dumbledore resumed kindly. ‘I understand how hard it is to start living and take responsibilities before one knows one’s origins.

‘In other circumstances, you would have my unconditional support,’ he said, sounding regretful.

‘So, what are your reservations now, Professor?’ I asked simply, quite puzzled by the over-cautious approach.

‘War is coming, Miss Philius, something I am sure you are aware of,’ he started, with a hint of a question in his voice.

‘Yes,’ I confirmed. ‘I believe Harry Potter, I know Voldemort is back and war has begun, somehow, even if it’s hidden,’ I stated clearly, wanting to leave no doubts about where my loyalties lied: to the school, as the headmaster knew well – or did he?

Dumbledore gave me an approving smile.

‘War is a terrible thing,’ the old man started next. I raised an eyebrow again, unimpressed by the clichéd statement. I could somehow sense an inner chuckle in the Potions Master beside me. The connection we had developed lately was more and more verging on reciprocal mind reading.

‘It forces people to grow up faster,’ Dumbledore was pursuing calmly, unabashed by my disrespectful eyebrow.

‘In the face of war, Miss Philius, I am requesting you to chose your path of action, without waiting for the complete truth to be deciphered about your past, without fully knowing who you are. In the face of your exceptional powers and the exceptional circumstances, Miss Philius, are you ready to take part? Are you ready to put your research on hold and spend time and energy fighting for the values you believe in, whoever you may be?’

Dumbledore remained quiet after that and held my gaze with a mixture of encouragement and something like guilt. Did he feel guilty about postponing my research? Shouldn’t I be the one feeling guilty for not having offered my help sooner? I felt grateful he had asked me directly, that he wouldn’t consider me as a child. Of course I would do anything for Hogwarts.

Forgetting Professor Snape for a while, I held silently the older man’s gaze. I couldn’t tell why I was not answering immediately, assuring the headmaster of my willing support. Maybe something was not quite right, I mused, peering in the old man’s patient eyes, trying to understand this protector I barely knew. I understood what a brave and good person he was. A profoundly human man, feeling sincerely for each of the living beings coming in his range of power, let them be wizards, Elves, Magian... Yet a man of great schemes, used to moving the pawns around him as the powerful master he was, for the greater good.

As I thought this, I saw something unsettling in the headmaster’s eyes and face. Curious to read it, I accidentally peered in his mind; I then perceived the tiniest flicker of information and was stunned by it: he knew. But I couldn’t get anything more. It was a foreign sensation. Something was here in front of me that I couldn’t reach. In a second of inattention, when I had thought the last, I had unintentionally read his mind and known that he knew more, he knew all I was desperately looking for, about Magi. And he was hiding it. ‘Why?’ I thought; but then, ‘How?’

For the first time in five years, I realized I was being fought by a wizard – and losing! Dumbledore was blocking information from me. It was a silent and calm battle. I gapped at the headmaster, unsuccessful at reading his mind.

‘Professor Snape,’ the headmaster called unexpectedly. ‘Maybe I could talk to Miss Philius alone for a minute?’ he asked politely; ‘About something else,’ he added.

‘I am alone,’ I thought. ‘I mean, as alone as you will find me,’ I explained in a definitive tone.

Dumbledore smiled. Snape silently sat down beside me instead of leaving. Dumbledore didn’t comment or insist.

‘I will tell you why, and how, then,’ he explained. ‘Whether my answers will satisfy you or not, I cannot guarantee.’

I didn’t understand immediately what the headmaster was talking about. Then it drew on me that as much as I had been unsuccessful at reading his mind, he had been able to read mine; something that Professor Snape had failed when trying Legilimency on me. I looked at Professor Snape and understanding drew on him too.

Dumbledore seemed to be waiting leisurely for the two of us to catch up with him. He gave a satisfied smile when we turned back.

‘That was an interesting portrait you painted of me, Miss Philius,’ he commented first. I held his gaze once again. I had thought every word of it and I didn’t feel ashamed of what I had on my mind, or what he may have read.

‘You are right,’ he admitted, ‘it was very accurate,’ he praised soberly. ‘And you asked how? Well before I ever met you, Miss Philius, I had done research on Magi and particularly on the founder of your House. I have looked into this kind of magic; I have developed skills to the point that, as you see, I am uncommonly gifted at non-verbal and wand-less magic. It is very hard to obtain the skill,’ he said, ‘but once you have it, it is the most natural thing on earth,’ he said with a confident smile. ‘I could not hold long, though, against your powers.

‘Yes, I know more about what you are looking for. Why won’t I tell you? Because I think you will be happier without knowing,’ he provided simply. ‘Actually, I have come to think that the war and the necessity to step into action may be a chance for you to go forward with your life without burdening yourself with… dark magic.’

At that point, I felt tired, too tired to even feel angry at the old man. I could tell him he didn’t understand, I could try and explain to him what it felt like to spend years trying to decipher an intricate riddle, just to know who you were, just to know where you came from. How it felt to have a friend like Professor Snape who would spend his time and energy helping you and the guilt one could feel to be on the receiving end of so much dedication. But I could tell him all that and he would still think that I was better off without knowing.

And he was right, of course, I reflected. I could know who I was and head in the right direction without having all the details about my past. It would probably be even more difficult to go on with the burden of a possibly disturbing past – dark magic, he had said. But Professor Dumbledore would not understand that I wanted to be brave. I wanted to know. I wouldn’t be alone, Professor Snape would help me. The future would be even more solid and happy with a past – any past.

I could feel Snape tense beside me. I knew he wouldn’t argue unless I started it.

‘What would you have wanted me to do?’ I asked coldly, articulating clearly the past conditional. I sensed Professor Snape’s eyes on me and caught a glimpse of surprise in the older man’s eyes. I gave the latest a hard look. I was not going to argue his point. But I was on my own side now.

‘Choose a side,’ the headmaster stated simply.

‘Voldemort is a murderer,’ I stated, ‘I want him vanquished as much as any of you and your Order.’ I had purposefully included the last word. I couldn’t help but perceive information from my best friends’ minds unintentionally. I didn’t pay attention to it most of the time, but I couldn’t have not noticed their participation in the upcoming war, which was often on Fred and George’s minds.

Dumbledore simply smiled.

‘Thank you,’ he said simply. ‘I take it you will help us and fight?’ he asked.

Why do you even have to ask? Didn’t I already say I would, countless times in the past? I asked inwardly Does this man even trust me? I could ask.

‘Will you trust me?’

Dumbledore didn’t answer. I looked at him. A chess player in front of the board. Was he seeing me as anything but a powerful and dangerous weapon? Couldn’t he remember the hopeful child leaving his office holding Eslis’ hand? Couldn’t he repay me a bit of the confidence I had put in him then? Couldn’t he let me repay a bit of the favour he did me? I felt anger rise in me like a hot steaming liquid. But no; He kept silent.

‘You are right,’ I answered for him with hurt in my voice. ‘I know things you don’t choose to tell me, I can’t even help it. I am a dangerous ally. But one you cannot let go either. I know you didn’t welcome me to Hogwarts because you trusted my intentions. You didn’t have a choice. Nothing has changed,’ I said in a grieved tone. I felt hopeless. What I had just said was true.

The old man didn’t even try to answer or deny. How could he ever trust a Magian? Then I felt the boiling anger change into a cooler liquid escaping my body. Something was coming out of me, but it was not the anger. ‘You invite me to fight at your side not because you have learnt to trust me. You still don’t have a choice,’ I finished and this time I found my voice cool.

A soft white light had started steadily emanating from me as I spoke, but I couldn’t stop myself from talking. ‘Maybe you’re like the others after all, afraid of what you can’t feel or see.’ The soft light was expending softly in a halo around me, now, and eventually washed over the headmaster. I had risen without realizing it in the heat of my speech and the light now bathed the old man entirely, whose expression was difficult to read. I recognized the halo as what had left me in my second year, but this time it had expanded coolly from me, in a controlled, painless way. I understood – I knew – that my very soul, holding my magic, my intentions and my loyalties had reached the old man in my desperation to have him recognizing me at last.

When I caught Dumbledore’s eyes again, I knew it had worked. One cannot feel such a thing as a soul on one’s very skin without recognizing it. I felt a cool triumph. I turned to Snape and realized he had been bathed in the halo too. He looked overwhelmed. He was wearing an awed expression I couldn’t even have imagined on his face if I had tried. He didn’t disappoint me, though, by regaining a straight face long before the headmaster seemed to come out of his thoughts. I felt cool and powerful.
‘Monday?’ I asked cryptically to Professor Snape.

‘Monday,’ he confirmed with a one of his seldom, precious and fast as lightening bright smiles. I was collecting those smiles like gems, in a vault somewhere in my memory. I smiled back.

I walked out slowly of the headmaster’s office without a word for him. I had made my point.

*-*-*-*-*

‘Such a journey,’ the headmaster commented a minute after Cybele had left, ‘we have embarked upon since a Magian showed up at our door four years ago.’ He was smiling again. ‘We knew we would see wonders,’ he trailed.

‘She deserves to know anything you can tell her,’ Snape demanded.

‘She deserves to be happy,’ the old man argued. ‘Severus, trust me.’

‘Trust me! Do you need to feel my soul to know that I can be trusted with her happiness?’

‘Yes,’ Dumbledore answered, ‘and I can feel it. Your soul has never been closer to your skin, Severus.’

*-*-*-*-*

In spite of the powerful sensation, I realized I was very weak as I stepped down the headmaster’s office. I needed to make directly for the dormitory, I thought, slightly nauseous.

I felt disorientated, though, walking absentmindedly toward the East.

‘Cybele!’

Is that Draco’s voice? I looked up, but realized I couldn’t recognize where I was. Everything was in a blur.

‘Cybele?’

Am I hearing voices? I swayed on my feet.

I next felt a firm arm supporting my waist. Only then did I realize that I had been collapsing. I suddenly found myself kneeling on the cold marble, leaning on Draco.

‘Cybele, this light, it’s like last time!’ he was explaining, panicky. ‘I’ll bring you to the Hospital Wing!’

The blur dissipated in front of my eyes as I rested again Draco. I was quickly feeling better and as I looked down on me, I realized a smaller halo was still emanating from me.

In the emotional state in which I had flown from the headmaster’s office after having extended my soul to him, not only hadn’t I realized how weak it had left me but also that I was still projecting my soul. I imagined what would have happened if I had stepped like that in the Ravenclaw common room. I understood Draco’s panic.

‘No, I’m fine,’ I explained. ‘It’s different, I… I did it on purpose this time. It’s just very tiring.’

‘What is it?’ he asked, brushing gently my shoulder, bathing his hand in the thicker of the soft white light and sending shivers all over my body.

It was weaker now and recessing slowly inward. But Draco was very close and now that his panic was reasonably appeased, he seemed to start feeling as Dumbledore and Snape had.

‘My soul.’

Draco caught my eyes. I saw he believed it, bathed in it as he was, clearly feeling its effect.

My soul, I thought, with all my feelings, all my secrets within! I tried to pull off but Draco, overwhelmed by what he was feeling, was holding tightly, more and more tightly. He gave me a soft smile and embraced me completely, pulling me into his lap as he closed his arms fiercely around me. He leant his head beside mine and let his chin rest on my shoulder, his bare neck touching mine in the closest possible embrace.

I stopped fighting. Whatever Draco had felt had overwhelmed him. Whatever Draco had felt had not made him run away from me or laugh. I smiled. I couldn’t say how long we stayed like that on the cold floor. I felt my soul shrinking slowly back inward. Soon the light had disappeared completely and we were in deeper darkness in the deserted corridor.

‘I love you too,’ I heard in a soft whisper in my left ear. I felt a single warm tear running down my check. I passed my arms around my friend too and held onto him fiercely, smiling a wet, broad, smile.

*-*-*-*-*

‘Meow.’

We could have made it if we had heard the cat at the first mewing, I suppose. But then, looking back, the handfuls of extra seconds spent in Draco’s arms before Flitch arrived were worth it.

‘Meooow!’

‘What’s that?’ Draco asked softly at the second – or had the cat been there creaking for hours? – mewing.

‘Shit, Mrs Norris!’ I exclaimed inelegantly. ‘Was the first word I’ve ever said in Draco’s arms shit? So typically me…’

As we stood up, two persons arrived simultaneously. Flitch arrived up from the stairs.

‘Students out of bed!’ he yelled, as his usual war cry went.

Snape arrived from the west and the headmaster’s office.

‘Cybele, are you all right?’

Draco had not let go of me, afraid that standing up would make me feel bad again. We were obviously giving a very bad impression to the caretaker. I hurriedly answered Professor Snape enquiry.

‘I felt bad, Sir, after… Draco found me, he made me sit here for a while and I’m better now.’

‘I should not have let you leave like that!’ Snape answered briskly. ‘Draco, help me walk Miss Philius to the Hospital Wing!’ he ordered. And he walked toward the stairs, Draco supporting me to follow him, without even a word for the caretaker, who stare at us leaving, looking like he had just been hit by a door square in his ugly face.

They left me in the Hospital Wing where Madam Pomfrey forced a strengthening potion down my throat before I collapsed.

*-*-*-*-*

Snape and Draco exchanged a look outside the Hospital Wing. Bathing in one’s very soul, experiencing their raw love, sensing their most inward reactions to the slightest word or glance from you, was not an experience easily shared.

They both raised their eyebrows at the same time, completely oblivious of the comical picture they were thus offering.

Somewhere in a flicker of their eyes, they both understood they had shared a much more similar experience than they would be ready to admit. Draco looked down.

‘If you were given something priceless,’ murmured the trademark flat voice of Severus Snape, lower and slower than usual, even, making Draco look up. ‘Something complex and immensely precious; would you know how to take care of it?’ he asked in a dangerous whisper.

‘I don’t know,’ answered Draco almost inaudibly after a while.

‘Wouldn’t it be worth trying?’ Severus suggested.

And without waiting for an answer he disappeared in his trademark twirl of black robes, like a vampire dramatically descending the majestic staircase.

Lying awake late that night, Draco didn’t know if he felt more elated, happy, frightened or angry.

Chapter 31 – Draco’s choice

We came whirling
Out of nothingness
Scattering stars
Like dust

How was I supposed to fight this war if for all my powers, I was unable to block a simple spell?

Since my very straightforward allegiance to Dumbledore – displayed by my naked soul, for the record – my meetings with Professor Snape had turned in nothing short of warrior training.

Professor Snape may have said that the resistance of magical objects was proving some sort of interaction between them and I; I still felt like a stranger in front of the spells that I couldn’t reach any more than they could reach me.

‘Riktus Sempra!’ Snape yelled for what seemed the thousandth time that evening. Though I couldn’t feel anything, I could see the light of the spell making its way to my chest and I watched it pass tiredly, not even attempting anything.

‘You are not trying,’ came the dangerously low voice of the annoying mind-reader.

‘Well, maybe I should try something more in my range of powers, like reducing the castle to a small amount of dust?’ I suggested sweetly.

*-*-*-*-*

I had disappointed Professor Snape and I regretted it immediately after being silently shown the way back to the castle. As I was now trying to resist magic and exert my powers with all my might, it had been decided that it would be safer to train outside, where nothing of value could be, say, accidentally reduced to a small amount of dust. We were training in the Forbidden Forest, in a clearing near the edge.

My temper seemed to be rising alarmingly fast lately. But then again, I had never before been confronted with such a level of frustration. There had always been some discovery made, some purposeful research. Now there was only a seemingly endless stream of testing and training to feel magic. While Dumbledore had let me understand that the secret of my origins laid in the muddiest of dark magic and that I was not likely to ever discover it … Really, how was I supposed to be in a good mood?

I reached the castle’s doors and had almost crossed the Entrance Hall when I noticed that the Umbridge toad was following my progress with her tiny batrachians eyes from the Great Hall’s doors. I quickly stepped up the stairs, surprised that she didn’t seem to want to stop me, interrogate me, punish me, or possibly torture me today. I couldn’t believe my luck.

I reached Gryffindor Tower earlier than the twins were expecting me and I ended up in front of the Fat Lady at the same time as the Gryffindor’s members of Dumbledore’s Army were coming back from the Room of Requirement.

Lee, Fred and George collapsed on the sofa while the others went straight up to their dormitories. I kicked an armchair instead of sitting on it.

‘Is there anybody left in the school not busy training for war?’ I asked sarcastically.

The boys exchanged their trademark Cybele-has-short-temper-since-she-has-to-train look, which did nothing to improve the latest. I opted for silence, conscious that I should not take my frustration out on my friends, and collapsed in the armchair too.

I felt Lee patting my hand gently after a while and I smiled to the boys.

‘Sorry, guys. It’s just oh-so frustrating…’

They gave me sympathetic smiles. They knew my bad mood never lasted long.

‘Nothing new?’ George risked.

‘No. Imagine going twice a week to a tutorial were they would ask you to do something impossible, like transfigure into a planet; giving you vague instructions and expecting you guys to just focus and try, over and over, week after week…’

‘On the bright side, you unlike us can actually transfigure into a planet…’ Lee joked.

‘That’s not my point,’ Cybele grumbled. But it made her smile.

*-*-*-*-*

‘Happy non-training day!’ teased Caroline on the morrow as I sat down at the Hufflepuff table for breakfast.

I gave a lopsided smile. Deep down, I didn’t think it was funny that my friends were making a running joke out of my bad moods. But I also knew it was their way of coping with it and that I should feel grateful that they were tolerating me at all.

As we chatted over breakfast, my eyes were caught once more by a golden flicker. I took a quick glance and saw Draco walking to the Slytherin table with Crabbe and Goyle.

Since that night in the corridor, neither of us had mentioned what had happened between us. To be honest with myself, that accounted for a lot of my moodiness.

That night in the Hospital Wing, I had thought it would be the beginning of something. I mean, isn’t that how it’s supposed to happen? Two people admitting their feelings for each other, and then something starts between them – like a relationship?

How stupid was I not to have realized Draco’s I love you may have been a friendly one? I had jumped to conclusions in the romanticism of the moment… and because it had meant so much to me.

*-*-*-*-*

Draco had managed to pass the fatidic Valentine weekend without inviting Cybele. He had feared she would take this occasion to confront him on what had happened in the corridor that time. But then he had spent a frantic Saturday looking for her all over Hogsmead until he was sure she was spending the day in friendly company with her gang and didn’t have a date.

Why did he have to open his heart like that? It was all the bloody soul spell’s deed! Where did that come from, anyway? And now what was he going to do?

Two things scared his wand to dust about Cybele: one was losing her; the other was having her. Draco foolishly thought he could avoid both fates, but the precarious balance was in danger of crashing down since that night.

Draco was wrong, though, and by the end of the winter the two friends were still on speaking terms, their encounter in the corridor still carefully forgotten. Something else, however, was going to put an end to it.

‘The Inquisitorial Squad?’ Cybele repeated with bewilderment. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’

‘Why? No. It’s the headmistress’ team. You surely wouldn’t consider her side the wrong side?’

‘Yes, I would. I question her authority. How could you ever join her?’

‘Can’t you see things will be getting better around here with her instead of that old fool Dumbledore?’

‘Her methods are horrid! That by itself should have prevented you from joining, even without entering the question of her loyalties!’

‘You’re right: loyalties are off the point. What matters is to be on the safe side. Isn’t it obvious the way things are going that we’ll be safer if we side with her?’

‘That’s hardly an argument, Draco. With arguments like that, you would follow Voldemort if he rises to power again.’

‘If my safety is in the balance, why shouldn’t I consider it?’

Cybele rose to her feet, a pained look on her face. Draco bit his lip, knowing what was coming. He had been trying to make his actions justifiable in Cybele’s eyes so many times before; but there was no way he would renounce the enjoyments and the position given by the Inquisitorial Squad because she disapproved.

‘Our paths are separating once again,’ she said simply, turning on her heels.

‘Think it over! You’ll only regret it when time shows which side was safe, won’t you?’

‘You think you’re on your own side, do you? You have no idea,’ Cybele spoke softly. They had quit snapping at each other years ago. Their arguments were so worn out by now that they were led in a tired and melancholy tone. ‘I’m not trying to be heroic or fair. I’m on my own side. I just happen to know which one it is,’ she added.

‘She gave me that for you,’ was Draco’s sole response, as he let one of the Headmistress’ trademark foolish pink parchment scrolls role across the table toward Cybele.

She grabbed it angrily and left.

After taking a look at the ridiculous scroll outside the Hall, Cybele made a bee-line for her common room.

She was happy to find Charlie and Pete alone in their favourite spot by the fire. She took the third armchair.

‘You owe me five sickles,’ she announced gloomily to Pete.

Pete seemed puzzled for a second and then laughed.

Understanding draw down Charlie too.

‘He lost his bet?’

Cybele just nodded and waved the pinkish parchment scroll as proof before throwing it into the fire.

‘I was sure I’d win this one, though,’ Pete wondered. ‘So be it: I’ll be the very last Ravenclaw sixth-year to see the very pink inside of the toad’s office…’

‘What have you done?’ Charlie asked.

‘I don’t know, actually.’

Cybele frowned. She hadn’t given it a thought at first, as Umbridge struck her as the type of person who would punish students without a reason. But what did she want?

‘I guess you breathed too loud or something,’ Charlie said, thinking along the same line.

‘Not even: she had one of her Inquisitorial Squad thingy pass the message to me…’

‘Your friend Malfoy?’ Pete chanced.

‘Malfoy, yeah. But not my friend as long as he has that ridiculous badge pined on his robes,’ Cybele declared, happy to see that her soul didn’t seem to attempt taking a stroll at the declaration. Maybe temporary or conditional friendship removal is allowed, she thought gloomily.

‘Girl, you need a good game of Exploding Snap to let it out,’ Charlie suggested cheerfully.

‘She needs a drink,’ Pete corrected.

They resolved it by going down to the kitchens where they played Exploding Snap on the stairs until late in the night; Butterbeer cheers to the worst headmistress ever somehow became Firewhiskey cheers to the blast-ended inscrewtorial squad.

*-*-*-*-*

‘Miss Cybele!’

‘Ahhhh…’

Cybele opened her eyes slowly to a blurry image of Eslis slowly coming into a relative focus.

‘Eslis, what are you yelling at me for?’ Cybele asked weakly, bringing her hand to her throat at hearing her changed voice.

‘Sorry, Miss. But Miss Cybele must have some breakfast now or you will be late for your appointment.’

Cybele tried and managed to sit up in front of Eslis. She realized she had been lying next to a passed out Pete and Archie on the cold kitchen floor, bare safe for three mismatched pillows. Her head was hurting. Part of the night’s events came back to her.

‘Have breakfast,’ Eslis repeated, placing a full plate under her nose.

That made Cybele stand right up.

‘Ugh, er… no, thanks, Eslis. I’m not hungry for the moment.’

She took a step back and had to sit again. Cybele had never been ill before. She’d heard about it and even took care of Caroline and George several times while they were ill. But even though she had never experienced it herself before, there was no mistaking the sensations she was having now. She felt shivery and nauseated, with a huge headache and general weakness.

‘I think I have the flu,’ she announced to nobody in particular, quite dismayed. She had come to assume that Magi didn’t get ill and was disappointed that she had apparently just been lucky the last five years.

Eslis raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply.

‘It must have been the sleeping on the cold floor,’ she concluded.

Eslis opened his mouth to speak and closed it.

‘You is going to be late,’ he eventually reminded.

‘Late for what?’

‘Your appointment with Ms Umbridge, Miss.’

‘Oh no! What time is it?’

‘It’s almost ten, Miss, you had better go now.’

Cybele made for the door and hurried along the corridors up to Dolores Umbridge’s office by the DADA classroom, feeling helpless. It seemed that not only Magi could get ill, but she also had no idea how to cure herself.

She quickly groomed her appearance at the office’s door. There was no time left to think of a way to make the nausea and headache go away. She knocked.

‘Come in,’ came the sickeningly sweet voice of the headmistress.

She barely noticed the office, as horridly pink as Ben had described it; the mewing painted kittens were not helping with the headache, nor with the nausea. Umbridge in her weekend outfit just looked like a sugar-coated Trelawney.

‘Take a seat.’

Cybele happily complied, barely standing on her feet as it was.

A violent snap on the desk made Cybele jump up and feel like her head split in two. She brought her hands to her head and looked up to see an infuriated-looking Umbridge flaring her nostrils at her.

‘Proper greetings will be required when you are invited into a professor’s office,’ the toad stated in a girlish yet aggressive tone.

Oh no… I forgot to say hello. Way to start…

‘Good morning, Professor Umbridge.’

Professor Umbridge didn’t answer the greeting, however, but resumed a crisp little smile and offered tea, pushing a hot cup toward Cybele.

‘Thank you, Professor Umbridge,’ Cybele uttered automatically.

What followed was a long silence during which Cybele tried to recompose herself and push the nausea away while Umbridge was burning a hole in the tea cup.

‘Have your tea,’ she snapped nervously.

‘Thank you, Professor Umbridge,’ Cybele repeated, pulling the cup towards her. She found that talking brought up the nausea and she wasn’t going to eat or drink anything for fear of feeling sick.

Umbridge chose this moment to give another snap of her fat little hand on the desk.

‘Drink this tea, silly girl!’ she ordered.

Cybele tried to balance the benefits of not drinking versus the ones of having Umbridge stop yelling, but the exercise seemed to increase her headache. She brought the tea cup to her lips and swallowed a mouthful of tea. It was way too sweet and she put it down quickly.

This seemed to have calmed Umbridge down enough, though, as she had resumed her cruel little smile.

She let a few seconds pass and asked bluntly, ‘What are you, Cybele Philius?’

Cybele couldn’t process the question and didn’t want to open her mouth too soon, so she remained silent.

‘Sorry?’ she eventually chanced when she realized Umbridge was not going to elaborate.

‘Cut it!’ she received in response. ‘I have evidence that you are a non-listed half breed of an experimental sort. Yes, I know about Snape’s little project with you, you see. No need to play the innocent little girl. Now tell me everything you know!’

Cybele raised an eyebrow.

Surprisingly, Umbridge didn’t yell back. She looked annoyed and ordered her to finish up her tea.

‘No, thanks, Professor Umbridge. I am feeling a bit sick this morning.’

‘You will do as you are told, girl. NOW!’

Head splitting, Cybele reached for her cup and gulped it down. Less than a second passed before she was sick all over Umbridge’s laced desk cover.

When she looked up from the disagreeable experience, Umbridge was almost smoking at the ears.

Strangely, Cybele was feeling way better all of a sudden. Not thinking clearly, she erased all memory of her from Umbridge’s and left the office just like that.

She went back down right to the kitchens, where she found Pete and Charlie happily stuffing themselves with a huge breakfast. She smiled.

‘Hi! At least you guys didn’t get sick. I woke up with a terrible flu from these cold stones.’

Pete and Charlie exchanged a look as she seated down at the table near them.

‘You had the flu? You don’t sound like you have the flu right now,’ Pete observed. For some reason he sounded amused.

‘Yes, it’s queer: I even got sick, but then it passed.’

Archie snorted.

‘That’s not funny,’ Cybele protested, offended.

‘I don’t think it was the flu, Cybele. I think you were hung-over.’

Cybele blushed as comprehension draw down her. Her mouth formed an O but she didn’t reply.

‘Actually, I’m sure you were, because we were too, until Eslis gave us a potion. It was some nice anti-celebration yesterday!’

‘Anyway, where have you been?’

‘Eslis woke me up for my appointment with Umbridge…’

The boys laughed.

‘You went to Umbridge’s office with a hangover? There’s got to be some sort of school special award for that!’

In spite of her preoccupation, Cybele had to smile at that.

‘If there is, then what are they going to give me for puking all over her desk?’

‘No way!’

‘You didn’t!’

‘I just did.’

That clearly made Archie and Pete’s day.

‘What did she want, though?’ Pete asked later as they walked back to their common room.

‘Besides showing me her collection of ceramic kittens? Someone told her about my having special abilities.’

She needed to talk to Caroline.


*-*-*-*-*

‘That can be only temporary. She’s going to come back for me.’

Cybele and Caroline were sitting in their usual spot in the library the next day.

‘I don’t know. It may as well be that nobody will mention you to her again after that. You did erase her memory. Keep your eyes open, though.’

‘I will.’

‘Who do you reckon might have tipped her off?’

‘Could be anybody, couldn’t it?’

‘Well, most of the school hates her too much to do that, and the rest…’

Cybele didn’t look up.

‘And the rest doesn’t know,’ Caroline finished.

‘So you think it was Malfoy, don’t you?’ Cybele asked.

‘Well, only someone from Hogwarts would know about you and nobody would give away someone to Umbridge unless they were on the Inquisitorial Squad…’

‘So it could be any of them, right?’

‘Yes, but which of them know about you?’

‘Draco never knew about me, Caroline.’

Caroline looked surprised.

‘Dumbledore asked me not to share anything of the sort with him after I woke up and somehow, I never shared anything with him before that, either.’

‘He was still the more likely to have figured it out by himself than any of the others,’ Caroline dared after a while.

‘Yes,’ Cybele admitted simply.

*-*-*-*-*

Caroline was right: Umbridge never came back for Cybele. Whoever had tipped her off didn’t follow up with her, apparently.

When the year ended with Umbridge’s removal and Dumbledore’s return, Cybele hadn’t had any other encounter with Umbridge, who simply didn’t seem to see her in the corridors.

Cybele had never confronted Draco over that matter. They were not on speaking terms and it would be risky to bring up the matter if he wasn’t the one who had tipped her off to start with. Or so she argued with herself.

On the Hogwarts Express ride back without Fred and George, Cybele was left to think of the waste her year of training had been. She could tell Professor Snape was frustrated as well, not being able to spend precious time on research instead of the pointless training, even if he would never admit to it in front of her.

Now the war was in the open, thanks to Harry Potter and a bunch of DA members’ intervention at the Ministry. Cybele was seeing her chances of discovering the truth by working with Snape disappearing, what with the more important battles to fight ahead. At least she could feel good about the few successful information missions Dumbledore had sent her on over the year.

With not much else to be satisfied about and a lot to dread coming, Cybele couldn’t help a rising feeling of anticipation as the train drew close to London. She turned her attention back to her friends in the compartment.

‘What exactly does a ‘railway pass’ do?’ Lee was asking.

‘It’s just a train ticket for Muggles; but you can take any train to anywhere,’ Caroline explained patiently.

‘Wait! Do you mean Muggles have a train which can go anywhere on the continent? Without Magic?’ he asked, bamboozled.

Cybele smiled as Caroline explained less and less patiently to Lee the Muggle railway network. It seemed like Lee fancied she was pulling his leg. Caroline was backpacking Europe with Muggle friends over the summer.

Lee didn’t still seem quite convinced about the tale of the railways spider-webbing all over the continent, and he would hear nothing of it until they reached London.

To Cybele’s delight, Fred and George were waiting for them on platform nine and three quarters.

‘So you missed us!’ Lee exclaimed as he hugged George.

‘No,’ Fred replied over Caroline’s shoulder. ‘Just making sure our employees are coming straight to work!’ He winked at Cybele.

Working full time for two months at Weasley Wizarding Wheezes was a promise of oblivion of all other concerns over hard work, late nights and fun until the first of September. For the first time in months, the shadow of Draco’s probable betrayal was far from Cybele’s mind, as she Apparated with the boys to the Leaky Cauldron.

Chapter 32 - Tom and Pansy

You think the shadow is the substance.

Going back home after so much had happened gave me a weird feeling. To see mother sitting in her usual chair by the fire, in our respectable drawing room, after…

I was at a loss, not only for words to describe my feelings but, it seemed, for feelings themselves.

For the thousandth time, I glanced at my left arm – the innocent-looking white shirt I had not dared to roll up was dangerously caressing my skin. The fact was I could feel it so acutely was proof enough for the irritated skin under.

Why had it felt so unreal? I was prepared and willing when I woke up in the morning in the dark lord’s shrink. But as soon as I opened my eyes, everything had appeared far away. I could see it like I was watching through someone else’s eyes: the ridiculous clothes, the would-be grand decorum, the adults playing pretend and everybody scared underneath; I could tell it was all fake.

A small voice was protesting in the back of my head, reminding how much I should be proud today: I was honoured, the only Hogwarts student to have this privilege. But the voice was faint and didn’t prevent me from seeing everything though the stranger’s eyes. I imagined them to be Cybele’s. It felt as if Cybele’s soul was looking through my eyes at a moment of my life when I should have felt the farthest I had been from her in five years.

Frustrated with my lingering feeling of fear, I went up to my room and undressed in front of the mirror.

The sight was a satisfying one. I was no longer a child. I looked dangerous with the sneakily undulating dark mark on my lean arm. I eventually gave a sly smile but it unexpectedly turned into a self-derisive laugh.

The sound of my laugh made other ones echo in my memory: Cybele laughing at my clumsiness in the joke shop, Cybele laughing away my drunkenness at the Yule Ball, her beautiful smile, ready to laugh her problems away. Boiling anger grew in me. She should not laugh at me. Nobody would laugh at me now, for I was a Death Eater.

I looked up and caught the eyes of the boy who had laughed at me seconds ago and shattered his reflection to pieces with my bare fist on the glass.

I wished I could tell others. Those who wouldn’t laugh at me. I wished I could see the fear in Crabbe and Goyle’s eyes. I wish I could see the respect in Zabini’s, the desire in Parkinson’s. But it had to be a secret. I could only see the doubt in my mother’s, the blindness in my father’s, and Cybele’s derisive laugh in mine, sickly echoing the Dark Lord’s own.


***

Mother and Father had invited the Parkinsons and the Goyles over distract me and cut short any even improbable suspicions among our family’s friends that I might have taken part in last night’s ceremonies.

As it turned out, Pansy didn’t need to see any dark mark to be all over me. Now that was an interesting turn of events, and just what I needed at the time.

*-*-*-*-*

It was strange to think that none of the boys would follow her to Hogwarts this year.

The twins couldn’t be convinced to return and take their NEWTs, even though the summer had been highlighted by frequent and colourful Howlers for Mrs Weasley. Lee had obtained very good NEWTs, but was planning to work for the twins first, to build some work experience.

After spending two months living and working together with the boys, Cybele was alone in Diagon Alley, shopping for the new term, while the boys were dealing with a shop full of Hogwarts students doing exactly the same thing.

Queuing up in Flourish and Boots with an armful of new books, Cybele’s eyes wandered through the window into a gloomy Diagon Alley.

She could see the corner of Knockturn Alley from where she stood. It felt surreal now that the four of them had slipped in there five years ago. The place so much scarier today, with a smaller crowd moving fast and inconspicuously along Diagon Alley itself.

Cybele paid and exited the shop. She was hesitating in the doorway, having finished all of her shopping. She soon found herself facing Knockturn Alley. Nowadays, it didn’t look any darker or gloomier then the changed Diagon Alley. She made her shopping appear back in Fred and George’s flat as she turn into Knockturn Alley and started walking down.

She wanted to walk back in her childhood’s footsteps, hoping it would help her come to terms with the end of an era; not being the boys’ girl anymore, going to Hogwarts alone, and soon running out of excuses to coming back again, to researching some more with Professor Snape, to finding…

***

She found herself in front of the magical creature shop they had visited back in her first year. She recognized it immediately but was disappointed not to feel the same way she had back then. It didn’t look as colourful, or as crazy. Was it that she was not seeing it through the eyes of a child anymore? Or had it taken in the general gloom of the war?

Well, I cannot have come all the way here and not pay a visit.

Liking the way her stroll was unexpectedly turning social, Cybele stepped into the shop. She didn’t hear any chime this time, but the owner appeared nonetheless.

He did not appear to have changed, but he wasn’t as bubbly as she remembered.

He looked surprised to see her. Cybele hadn’t expected him to recognize her, but it seemed like he had.

‘How can I help you, Miss?’

Cybele was unsettled. She could have sworn he had known her by the way he reacted when he saw her.

‘I was doing my shopping for Hogwarts. It’s my last term… then I remembered coming here in my first year and I thought I’d come and see if the place had changed.

Cybele could hear a throaty chuckle roll after that. She didn’t know what to make of it. It eventually stopped.

‘And has it?’ the shopkeeper asked in an amused tone.

‘What?’

‘The shop,’ he illustrated by a vague circular motion. ‘Has it changed?’

Cybele took a good look around. The creatures were not colour-coded anymore, the creatures were generally bigger and darker and a continuous low growl was coming from the four corners.

‘Yes,’ she concluded simply.

‘So have you, I gather.’

‘I guess I see things differently, now,’ Cybele answered, thinking along the lines of children’s eyes and experience making things look less colourful.

‘Good, very good. I’m happy to know my intervention has been profitable.’

‘Er, yes, thank you again,’ Cybele answered lamely. So he did remember lending them that book.

‘I have to say I was a bit worried,’ he trailed.

Cybele half smiled. Of course they hadn’t been looking for information about Acromantula for a school project back then. But she never would have thought that the man had seen through them. He seemed so naïve. He didn’t seem so now, though. But maybe Hagrid had talked to him, yes, that would be it.

‘Did Hagrid tell you, then?’ she checked.

The man frowned. He seemed to think and assumed a poker face.

‘I don’t think Hagrid would know,’ he offered.

‘Oh, yes, that Acromantula, we told him about it in the end. But let’s keep this between us.’

Cybele was starting to regret having brought Hagrid up. She now had disclosed to a near stranger something illegal Hagrid had done. And if Hagrid had not come and boasted about it himself earlier, it meant the two men were not as close friends as she had thought.

The shop owner looked annoyed now. Was it a coincidence that could Cybele hear the growling sounds getting louder?

‘Why have you come here today, Cybele Philius?’

A cold shiver ran Cybele’s back. Something was wrong. He could have recognized the student who had borrowed a book five years ago, but her full name?

‘I told you,’ she answered bravely.

‘Then, as you see; things have changed around here.’

‘I see. And why so?’

‘A good businessman must adapt to the laws of the market. Nobody was coming down here to buy my inventions. But with the rise in power of the Dark Lord, I found other branches of my trade could give me business.’

All of Cybele’s internal alarms rang at the words Dark Lord. She tried to gather her dignity while thinking of literally flying away, and managed to summon a steady voice.

‘I’m sorry to hear that. I liked your shop better before.’

‘But you also have changed, or you wouldn’t be here today.’

‘Not this way, no, I haven’t. I’ve just grown up, Sir. I think I should go now.’

‘She let you go?’

To Cybele’s distress, the man was stepping closer now, looking at her with a scientific interest which did nothing to calm her down.

‘So I was right… You must have overpowered them.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Cybele eventually declared, half curious to know what was happening in the young man’s mind, half ready to disappear away.

‘I only did my duty as a citizen, you know.’

Cybele was at a loss to understand. She had started to step back toward the door. And even though the man prudently kept the same distance with a fearful respect in his eye that Cybele couldn’t comprehend, he was following her nevertheless.

‘I had to, once I discovered it. Your headmistress had to know.’

They had now stepped outside, Cybele walking slowly backward and the man following her. The street was deserted and their conversation quite as private as it had been inside. Umbridge. Cybele was starting to connect it all, but… and then she saw it. The shop’s name over the windows.

Phineas Philiocornus’ Magical Creature Creations

The card, in that book, in that library, so it meant…

‘I know what you are,’ confirmed Philiocornus, looking half greedy, half scared.

‘What are you talking about?’ she tried.

‘I’m an inventor, Cybele. I had been studying a spell, a spell to gain limitless powers, powers like yours! Yes, Hagrid did talk to me. Before, he used to come here and share some drinks, and talk… He likes talking, this Hagrid of yours, doesn’t he?’

‘So do you. I don’t understand what you’re talking about and you’re scaring me. I’m going to leave.’

‘I recognized you. Through Hagrid’s story, I recognized what I wanted to become. Where do you come from, Cybele Philius?

Scared and disturbed, Cybele made a disheartened fake turn on the spot as she disappeared and appeared back directly in the twin’s flat.

‘Cybele, you’re back!’ George was entering the flat at the same time with an ecstatic smile on his face.

He hugged Cybele and made her twirl happily in his arm.

‘Best sale ever! This is crazy,’ he explained as he went for a box of products hidden under the couch.

‘We’re all accompanying you to King’s Cross tomorrow!’ he shouted from the stairs.

This made Cybele smile. They would be on the platform with here after all. Not all of the past would be forgotten already. And then she would still have Caroline, and Neville, and… Draco. Cybele’s heart felt as light as a balloon. Draco didn’t betray her. That Knockturn Alley maniac did! All fears of the creepy shop keeper and wonders on his knowledge fled away from her mind as it lingered on Draco. Maybe she’d talk to him in the train…

*-*-*-*-*

It was merry on the first of September on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Cybele had feared emptiness and melancholy, but it had been all the opposite.

First the boys sent her, Ginny and Ron off grandly and none too discreetly, then she was able to see and hug Caroline, and Neville too, as soon as she was in the Hogwarts Express’s corridor. And as soon as Caroline left her to join her House mates, she felt someone grab her wrist and was pulled by Ben in a carriage full of merry Ravenclaw Quidditch players.

Still rejoicing secretly at the news that Draco hadn’t betrayed her to his Squad last term, Cybele was in a mood to celebrate and had a lot of fun. After a while, though, she made excuses to go and find Charlie and Pete, whom she hadn’t seen yet.

The corridors were crowed and everybody seemed to be in a celebratory mood. Cybele reflected that with last year’s events and Voldemort’s return, many students must have been relieved that no war was actually taking place yet, that Hogwarts was still open and that their parents had let them and their friends go. Everybody was unusually excited and happy to see each other.

As a result, the corridors were hard to navigate. Cybele was peering into each of the carriages, looking for the Gryffindor boys and greeting everybody she knew.

Two carriages down she found the Gryffindor girls, but Pete and Charlie weren’t with them. She sat for a while and went on. According to Cho, the boys were in the next carriage.

She was making her way down the corridor, peering into each compartment, when she found Malfoy. It would have been difficult to miss him, as from his lying position he was looking right into her eyes. His head was resting on the Parkinson girl’s lap. Cybele felt a cold grip her heart. Why was Draco lying on her lap? She saw her white hand running through his blond hair.

I have never done that, she thought weirdly.

Nothing was blocking Cybele’s way ahead but she was paralyzed in front of the compartment’s open door. The Slytherins started looking at her strangely and she looked for Draco’s eyes.

She found a strong cold face. Then she knew. She let her eyes go down his left arm and watch through the fabric the coal black snake twisting under her gaze. Feeling it move, Draco retracted his arms and checked that his sleeves were still down. Cybele went back to his face to find an angry look.

‘What are you staring at?’

‘At a snake,’ she answered truthfully.

She went ahead and never looked back.

Chapter 33 – Farewells

There is no absolute evil in the world: evil is relative
Snake-venom is life to the snake, but death to man;
If you wish him to be kind, then look on him with a lover’s eye.


Snape had summoned Cybele to his office shortly after her NEWT examinations, for what he had warned could be their last meeting. Cybele went down the dungeons gloomily. In spite of six years of various discoveries; she and her professor had not managed to clearly identify her origins, and school was coming to an end. The wizarding world was at war. Cybele was eager to listen to her mentor’s suggestions as to how to employ her time.

‘Cybele.’ The cold voice of Draco came out of the darkness, when she had almost reached Professor Snape’s office. ‘Ready to bump into someone? One would think six years of magical education would have enabled you to remember to look up from your shoes when you walk in a Hogwarts corridor…’

‘Draco. You look dreadful.’ Cybele felt a pang of pity and something else pinching her heart as she saw Draco up close for the first time since the Hogwarts Express.

‘I had a tough year, didn’t I? But reward is coming at last, coming tonight.’

‘There was once a time when a reward for you would have been a happy thought… But it makes me fear the worst, now.’

‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand.’

‘Indeed. I don’t.’

‘But you’re still looking up to him.’ Draco jerked his head in the direction of Snape’s office. ‘You’re so naïve. He has the same goals as me. Can’t you see?’

‘You’re not working towards anything at all. And he would give his life to protect you. That’s what I know, for what it’s worth.’

Draco looked exhausted. The arrogance on his face was like the last piece of a shattered armour. Then his features softened slightly, as they used to when he was with Cybele long ago. She hadn’t seen the look for the longest time. But she was unnerved by what came of it.

‘Why don’t you join me? You haven’t even tried!’ Draco looked feverish now. ‘I’m leaving Hogwarts tonight. Come with me!’

‘I’m leaving Hogwarts soon too. Yet, I reckon it has become very clear that we won’t head in the same direction. I’m your friend, Draco, but if our paths separate, if I cannot pull you my way, and you cannot pull me yours…’

‘Why not? If you still call me your friend, come with me!’

‘If you call me yours, stay. Abandon whatever it is that you’re after.’

‘I don’t have a choice, but you do. Follow me.’

‘Everybody always has a choice! You spoiled child! It’s not like you’ve been letting me fancy that you may regret me, lately. It’s a bit too late to realize that you really want me around.’

‘Oh, you think I do? Like I care! Go, then! As far as I know, you could be a Mudblood, too!’

His aggressive eyes momentarily reflected fear at the irreversibility of his own words. He opened his mouth to take them back, even though it was too late.

Incredulity drew on Cybele’s face. Both had realized that they were beyond reconciliation, but the insult had shown it in the cruellest way.

‘Very true,’ she answered, slowly, clearly, and she turned on the spot, turning her back on the enraged boy, walking away fast.

Boiling anger was overwhelming her, though. A few brisk steps away, she turned back, took her wand out, out of habit, and pointed it at Malfoy.

And all of a sudden, there was a pure rage within her, and it became real. She felt magic, for the first time in her life, as a separate element, flowing through her limbs to the wand. She shouted, ‘Stupefy!’ and a vibration actually disturbed the air as she cast her first ever spell. It felt foreign but wonderfully liberating.

Draco’s defensive spell was cast just fast enough. It was only the beginning of a battle which never seemed to hurt or give victory, which enabled two tormented souls to release their anger and pain, their love and hate, which were all the same thing now. Violent curses were flying but both fighters always carefully waited for the other to have blocked their spell before attacking again in a violent but coordinated ballet.

Cybele was relishing in casting wizarding spells, in the same way wizards could sometimes relish in Muggle duelling when overwhelmed by their rage. For a while, Draco cast only defensive spells.

‘Battle! I’ll leave you unconscious on this floor! Attack me, you coward!’ Cybele threatened.

‘Serpensortia!’ Draco aimed obediently.

Cybele cast a violent wave of magic at the snake, which exploded.

‘Incarcerous!’ he tried next.

But the ropes burst into savage flames and only thick smoke and ashes were left floating in the air between them. Ashes and a dark figure, slowly emerging.

‘Stop that immediately,’ said a dangerously calm, low voice.

They both lowered their wands obediently, still glaring at each other, over their mentor’s shoulders.

‘Draco…’ Snape addressed him sternly first.

‘No. I’m not taking your orders or advice any more. Or have you noticed?’

And with that Draco was gone in a twirl of black robes.

Snape turned back to Cybele, whose body and mind seemed on the verge of giving away, and did the only possible decent thing by supporting her to a bench where he sat beside her.

She was looking at her laps, distressed.

‘Cybele.’

She looked up. She was crying silently. Snape was touched by an oddly liberating feeling: Nothing mattered right now. He had seen, these last years, his godson making the very same mistakes he once made with Lily Evans. And he had not been able to prevent it. Out of the only two people he had unwillingly come to love these past years, one had cast himself out of his reach, while the other was staring right back at him on this bench.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said to her simply.

It has been a long fight against himself, his feelings for Draco and Cybele along the years. Much more strongly than with Draco, he had hated every moment of not being able not to love and trust Cybele. It had felt like a blessing, and like a curse, made him feel weak, and strong; it had confused and enraged him, loosing control. And today too, he felt both sad and relieved that these trouble years – the teaching Harry Potter years as he referred to them inwardly – were coming to an end. As distressful an end as it was marked down to be; it was to be over at last.

‘He is my best friend,’ Cybele whispered after a while.

Snape registered the use of the present tense.

‘Is he?’

‘Yes, he is. Such bounds are not meant to be destroyed by some bad words and a couple of spells.’

‘The bounds Magi have in love…’

But Cybele stood on her feet at this, trembling.

‘No! Enough with these theories; this is Cybele talking! Whatever I am, this is not my blood, it’s not my nature, not my name, it’s no fate. It’s not what I am, it’s who I am… and I am… this friend! I feel, deep inside, that I wouldn’t say it differently if I was born a witch or a Muggle,’ she explained in a calmer voice.

‘I know you wouldn’t,’ Snape said soothingly.

He let silence linger for a minute. He had only few things to say before running out of excuses to stay and then he would be gone to Dumbledore.

They would probably not have any more private conversations this year, and the future was uncertain. He made his mind and spoke in his best cold professor’s voice, business like.

‘There is more about Magi, Cybele. But time is over for us, I’m afraid, to study and exchange. I had come to give you all my notes.’

He summoned from his office and passed to her a thick green file, which she took silently.

‘More,’ she simply repeated after a while. It was not a question.

‘Something I have discovered recently. I wish I could discuss it with you. But as I said, our time is running out; I may have to leave very soon.’

Cybele didn’t react.

In this moment, surprising himself, Snape made his mind and declared with authority:

‘I would also like you to look into my mind, now.’

The girl looked up at this, surprised.

‘There are things you deserve to know, things I want you to know. But if they are to ever be known by anybody else, they would endanger our world. Do you understand?’

‘What… why?’

‘I’m doing it for Draco, Cybele, so that he could have a second chance if he ever seeks one from you. Now, please.’

Cybele had never done it purposely before and she never had expected, of all people, her forbidding and very private mentor to offer such a procedure. Used to obey Professor Snape’s most unusual commands, though, she proceeded. She didn’t lock eyes with Snape first but looked somewhere beyond his eyes. Soon and easily, she was there. She made eye contact and tried to focus on Snape’s will as to see only what he meant her to. She saw Draco and his parents being tortured by Voldemort, she saw the latest torture his mother in front of him, Voldemort torturing him into accepting a disgusting task; the murder of Dumbledore. She saw Snape taking orders from Dumbledore and vowing to help Draco; Draco, shaking, tried to convince himself he was proud and honoured by his task in front of his godfather, Draco’s fall into despair and mad anger thorough the year, refusing his mentor’s help. That was it. It was over in a split second and Snape and she were looking at each other in real life again. She knew it was useless to argue what she had seen was coming.

‘I will, if he does,’ she said simply.

It was time for Snape to put his mask of indifference and efficiency back on for the war ahead. He braced himself and made to stand up. But Cybele stood up first.

‘We love you too, Severus.’ She left kiss on her mentor’s forehead and quickly went away, walking up the long corridor, not looking back, not looking back or something terrible would happen.

*-*-*-*-*

But something terrible happened anyway, the very same evening.

Like most Hogwarts students, Cybele was sleeping when Professor Snape killed Professor Dumbledore, as he had vowed to do, as she knew he would.

When she heard the news in the morning, Cybele simply walked up to the library.

That is it, she thought. For all the powers on Earth, I couldn’t save Professor Snape from his fate; I cannot help Draco escape his choices.

She made it directly for the literature section, sat on her usual armchair and opened Professor’s Snape file on the coffee table. It was a handsome dark green wooden case large enough to contain some parchment.

But to Cybele’s surprise, when she opened it, it only contained a key and a small scroll, reading,

The password is the one which can awake you.

***

Chapter 34 – What is left to do

It may be that the satisfaction I need depends on my going away,
so that when I've gone and come back, I'll find it at home..


Cybele felt puzzled for only few seconds. Snape had said, ‘I’m leaving you all my notes.’ That meant the key could open only one door. The only door in Hogwarts Cybele knew to be protected by both a password and a key was the door of a very prudent man.

She picked up the case and the key and went down to the dungeons.

‘Arta Magush,’ she said in front of Professor Snape’s office. A key hole appeared in the door and she unlocked it.

She conjured some lights and a fire in the windowless office, passed behind the desk and sat in her professor’s chair.

She stood up again for a moment, looking sadly around before she looked down at the desk and saw the letter. She recognized her mentor’s unique writing and looked at the address.

‘Dear Cybele,’ it read.

Images of Severus Snape’s smile back in the hospital wing came back to her.

‘Dear Cybele,’

As she had realized that day in the hospital that Professor Snape never smiled or sighed, that he never wore any expression on his face; she realized now that Severus had probably seldom started a letter this way.

‘Severus,’ she tried out loud. She looked around the office, as if expecting Severus’ belongings to look different, viewed by someone who called him by his first name.

Sometimes my powers seem infinite compared to those of wizards. But when I want to end the war, save Severus, save Draco, discover my origins, understand who I am, be sure I am making the right choice; then my powers feel ridiculously useless. She reflected sadly.

‘Dear Cybele,’

He had almost chuckled at her in this very office.

‘Dear Cybele,’

She could remember every single one of his almost-smiles and the scarce occasions in which she had seen his young face moved by a slight expression of amusement or concern.

She pushed these thoughts away and read through the rest of the letter. She then covered her face in her palms, feeling exhausted.

‘Dear Cybele,

Our times at Hogwarts have come to an end, and as I am unsure of the terms of my departure, I am writing you this letter, in the event I do not have the opportunity to have a last meeting with you.

I have made a discovery which may explain the origins of your dangerous connections with other humans. I feel I may have discovered where you come from.

As much as you deserve to hear it from me, I’d rather have it written down here for you to read in case I have to leave before we meet again.

I have come across a very ancient Persian text. Do not look for it, I was only able to have a look at it within a most guarded private collection of antics yesterday and therefore couldn’t compile any copy of it here.

This document was the oldest account of the Magi legend I had ever come across and whereas its contents were similar to countless others we have been through together, it also contained one utterly new concept.

‘True Magian is made not born,’ it explained; a fact that Eslis had mentioned once. Beside the novelty of the concept, I was stricken that the Old Persian version echoed the words on you watch, Arta Magush; the original sentence was ‘Arta magush afarida’ as they were on Rowena Ravenclaw’s tiara.

The rest of the document contained a quite unrealistic description of the enchantment which enables the creation of a Magian. ‘Recreate our creators,’ was the name of this enchantment. It involved a willingly sacrificed wizard, the blood of his mother (the document précised that the blood of another female relative could be used instead if the mother was no more), a family heirloom made of gold (again, a note indicated that if unavailable, a heirloom made of another metal could be involved) as ingredients; and a community of no less than thirteen adult magi to perform the enchantment.

The text said only the heirs of the Magi, the ones whose ancestors had trained wizards, could perform that cursed enchantment.

How much truth this text holds, I am sorry that I cannot say. But elements of the enchantment’s description are too striking not to investigate. The ‘sacrificed wizard’ was said to be there to provide ‘being’, the female relative blood to provide ‘body’ and the metallic heirloom to ‘ensure the cursed binds which protect humanity’.

The text added, ‘being and body give a Magian, the curse only give true Magian (again, Arta Magush.) It can spell out truth and call back the soul.

This mention of the binds struck me. And you do come with a metallic object that once spelled out the truth for you years ago, and even had, when read out loud, called back your soul and woke you up.

If this text holds any truth, it may prove the other legends we have read. Lost Tribes of magi may still somehow have survived. If this enchantment exists, then six years ago a tribe of magi may have performed it. You could find them.

I will be with you in thoughts.

Severus Snape’


Much later, Cybele let her hands slip down from her face. She took the letter back and read it a second time. She mechanically reached for her watch and turned it to see the words. She gasped. The back of her watch now read:

Arta Magush
Afarida

She tried to think of the last time she had looked at the watch; but the truth was that she never looked at it. Severus was right in saying that she came with it. She had never chosen it and drawn it like the rest of her clothes; it just kept appearing back around her neck each time she got dressed.

But she remembered the circumstances in which the first words had appeared. They had come during a unique event. Then, she knew when the new word had appeared; when she had performed magic for the first time, yesterday, against Malfoy. She had not been able to be true to all her friends the first time in the Hall and the watch which held the curse had called her back. She had attacked her friend yesterday and the watch had sent another warning, it had spelled the truth. Severus’ text made sense, frighteningly so.


*-*-*-*-*


Graduation was a subdued business that year. A small ceremony was organized on the eve of Dumbledore’s funeral. Fred and George had returned to attend both, and the Jordans had come too; Cybele felt very touched.

The convocation was held by McGonagall, and it was sobered by the circumstances. Caroline was the major of the batch and made a touching speech thanking Dumbledore. Awards were also attributed by subject. Cybele could remember Lee’s humoristic speech last year on receiving the Care of Magical Creatures award, admitting publicly in front of McGonagall and his parents of the Phil adventure and how he hardly risked losing his House any points then!

Cybele was receiving the same award tonight together with Potions and she would make only one speech, which she had not prepared. When the double award was announced, a tense silence fell on the graduates and their families: Potions meant Snape, the flown murderer of Dumbledore, and most students also knew that he had been Cybele’s mentor for six years. Once on stage, though, she realized she did want to say some things.

‘I have so much to be grateful to Hogwarts for… I could hardly imagine two more different people than the two professors who taught me Care of Magical Creatures and Potions, yet it is an equal gratitude that I would like to express to both of them, as well as to all my teachers and to our headmaster.’

Tension was palpable in the assembly as Cybele pointedly included the Potions master in her thanks.

‘When I came to Hogwarts six years ago, I was not a witch. Hogwarts has not made me one. I am actually a Magian. And I owe it to Hogwarts, that I have discovered this fact.’ Cybele locked eyes with McGonagall and Flitch, whose serious, non-puzzled expressions and brief nod converted the murmurs in the assistance into a speechless silence. ‘I may not belong to the wizarding world after all, but it is Hogwarts that has made me the person I am. Thanks to Professor Hagrid, who had taught me much about how to accept and to be accepted. To Professor Snape, who has dedicated his art and energy to discover what I was without letting me forget who I am. To my friends; those who have always reminded me of what is wrong and right, and those, too, who have reminded me that such things as wrong and right don’t exist.’

There were no applause after Cybele speech, as most people were still under the shock of the Magian story and unwilling to associate Professor Snape’s name with any cheering. McGonagall therefore said a short word before she resumed the awarding.

‘Hogwarts is proud to have helped you find your origins, Miss Philius. Whatever your decisions as to your future life as a Magian may be, I speak in the name of all my colleagues in saying that the wizarding world considers you to be one of us. I am also sure that Professor Dumbledore would have liked me to remind you that the wizarding world is one made of people of many different origins.’

After all awards were given, a cold buffet was opened and students bid their farewell to each other and to their teachers.

After she had given McGonagall a hug, Professor Flitwick came to Cybele.

‘So you are leaving…’

‘Yes. I did not say anything like that, though.’

‘Your speech sounded too strongly of farewells, Miss Philius. May I ask what your plans are?’

‘There is only so much that wizards know about magi… I suppose I have to find the rest on my own.’

‘I see. Professor… your professor gave me back my literature on the subject long ago. I believe he has discovered more for you than was ever written on the subject.’

Cybele noted the reluctance to use Professor Snape’s name but didn’t comment.

‘I believe he has. He was ever the most dedicated researcher, and friend, I had the honour to work with. He has left me all his notes.’ Professor Flitwick could not hide his dislike from his face at this point, but he did not allow his farewell be darkened by this.

‘Well, use them wisely. You should write about what your professor and you have discovered. It would be the right way to give back to Hogwarts part of what it has given to you. Good luck, Miss Philius.’

‘Thank you, Professor, for everything.’

But Professor Flitwick went away with preoccupations far from Miss Philius’ personal welfare. If this Magian were to take part in wizarding conflict, which side would Snape’s self-proclaimed friend be likely to take?

He was not apparently the only one asking himself this question: Fred, George and Lee were coming to Cybele with a gloom over them.

‘So, Snape’s girl through and through, are you?’ asked Fred without smiling.

‘Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me… and I get to say goodbye; I’m leaving the wizarding world for a while.’

Fred closed his face completely at this.

‘What do you mean, Cybele?’ George asked. ‘Why?’

‘There is more about magi than I told you. The notes that Professor Snape left me-’

‘He’s no longer a professor in this school, Cybele, in case you have missed recent developments,’ Fred snapped.

‘I haven’t missed any, no,’ Cybele answered sadly. ‘I have read his notes through and what I discovered makes it impossible for me not to go and try to find more. I have to find the lost magi.’

‘But they don’t exist anymore,’ said Lee.

‘They must, or I wouldn’t be here at all, according to Professor Snape’s discoveries. I’m going where legend says they came from. I have to find-’

‘You are going to follow a murderer’s advice? Isn’t it obvious that he’s trying to send you away?’ Fred exploded. ‘I suppose he suggested you go look in some conveniently deadly lair?’

‘I will be travelling in Central Asia.’

‘How coincidently far away!’

‘Professor Snape-’

‘He’s no professor!’

‘He never did anything else than help me, selflessly! I have no reason not to trust him!’

‘So you’re going to fly away from the war and put you future in the hands of a murderer?’

‘Don’t call him that! You have no idea!’

Fred looked disgusted; George and Lee’s faces had closed too, now.

‘Is this your idea of a joke?’ asked Fred dangerously.

‘Snape is not a murderer, mark my word. You don’t know what you’re talking about. And you haven’t ever been put through half of what Draco has, either.’

‘Oh, I don’t know what I am talking about, am I? Well I at least know where my loyalties lie! So you are still finding excuses for Malfoy and Snape now?’ he asked in disbelief. ‘This is sick.’

‘I meant what I said earlier. You have saved me, once, from becoming a mean person, by teaching me to draw the line between right and wrong. But I also owe to Draco and Severus my understanding that this line is not always clear and straight; there are many things-’

‘As far as I am concerned, the line is straight and clear! Your duty is here, helping us fight the evil with your powers!’

‘What powers? Fred, magic is out of my reach! It all looks so easy… and it is, really, for many things, but I cannot stop a spell, I cannot-’

‘So you are saying you won’t help? You’re a Magian and you’ll just fly away? Just let us deal with Voldemort? You belong here, Cybele!’

‘I want to know where I came from, first. I’m sure you und-’

‘Coward,’ Fred stated icily.

Cybele locked eyes with him and answered softly.

‘Maybe I am. Believe me though; I am ten times more frightened of what I may discover abroad than of Voldemort, whose magic can’t reach me. And still, I’m heading away.’

‘Go then, if you don’t want to belong here.’

And he turned away, followed by Lee and George who both uttered a weak goodbye. Cybele stopped Fred, putting her hand on his shoulder.

‘The day you need me, if you fight, if you are in danger, call me. Just say my name, Fred, out loud, and I’ll be there, fighting with you.’

He left without answering.

Cybele felt a hand on her shoulder after a while and only then realized that Caroline was at her side. Cybele wondered how long she had been close and if she had heard their conversation.

‘He will,’ Caroline said simply, answering Cybele’s unspoken question.

She turned to catch her friend’s eyes.

‘You think?’ she asked, searching her face.

‘I hope,’ Caroline answered truthfully.

She looked uneasy. Cybele looked at her feet.

‘I trust you,’ Caroline stated, without smiling. ‘I don’t understand your choice to leave, I don’t understand your reasons to defend the bad guys, but I trust you. I hope one day we’ll all understand.’

‘Thanks. I cannot tell you what I know about Severus and Draco, but if you would hear my reasons, you will understand why I have to travel away,’ Cybele offered.

Caroline nodded, curiously.

*

A while later, Cybele was looking at Caroline, sitting in front of her across Severus’ desk, reading his letter.

‘Created?’ Caroline checked blankly.

Cybele just nodded, looking pale.

Caroline released a breath.

‘You are very brave,’ she stated.

‘I’m afraid, Caroline. I’m afraid of who I might be, of what I might have done.’

‘I’m going with you,’ Caroline announced after a short silence.

Nothing Cybele said could change her mind.

Chapter 35: The Final Battle

Once you conquer
your selfish self
all your darkness
will change to light


‘Cybele?’

Caroline had been woken up in the middle of the night again. Cybele was thrashing in the bed opposite hers. She was not waking up.

‘Don’t! Please! Don’t hurt her! I’ve changed my mind! Don’t!’ Cybele muttered in her dream.

Caroline got out of her bed and reached for Cybele’s shoulders.

‘Cybele! You’re having a nightmare again!’

Cybele jerked awake and gave a small gasp. She knew she had had a nightmare. She had woken up too many times to find Caroline leaning her in the past months.

She allowed some light. It was the middle of the night. They were sleeping in a cozy room. With Cybele’s magic, their journey was not hard, physically. Cybele made comfy rooms and satisfying food appear at will and they popped in at Caroline’s place almost every weekend.

But the journey was unnerving. Travelling restlessly in the East in search of something they couldn’t be sure existed, or even how to recognize it if they saw it was giving them a feeling close to despair. Cybele was feeling guilty for wasting Caroline’s time and Caroline was feeling tired of having to quiet Cybele’s frequent suggestions that she should go back home.

‘See, that’s the reason why I won’t go home,’ she said, pushing a lock back behind Cybele’s ear.

They had had the discussion again the evening before.

‘I’m sorry,’ Cybele said.

‘Look here, and listen well because I won’t repeat it again. It’s been close to a year that we’ve been searching now and it is worth it. It is worth it because one day we will find what we’ve been looking for and it is worth it because we are together and we are learning and meeting people. I’m here to stay because I chose it. I don’t want to hear any more apologies.’

Cybele didn’t answer anything.

‘Was it the same nightmare?’ Caroline asked gently.

‘Yes,’ Cybele answered simply, looking down.

They had started the night after she had read Severus’ letter, and she was having them more and more. What if what was written in the ancient enchantment was true? What if she had been an evil wizard who had sacrificed his own mother to become what she was now – a limitlessly powerful Magian? In her dreams, at first, Cybele had been on a sort of stage, surrounded by other wizards, and they were bringing her mother for the sacrifice. She was a short woman with brown, wavy hair and very dark eyes like hers. Cybele was yelling to them that it was a mistake, she didn’t want to go through with it anymore. But nobody seemed to hear her and she couldn’t move.

Later, the nightmare had evolved. Some of the crowd had heard her; they had discarded her mother roughly and brought a young girl, a girl with black hair who was crying. As Cybele went on yelling, they would kick her little sister aside and bring on an older girl, a strikingly beautiful young woman who was giving Cybele a piercing and complex stare in which pity and anger could mix. This girl was the worst. Often, Cybele would stop yelling under her powerful stare; she would be slaughtered with her eyes locked with Cybele’s, and Cybele woke up shaking. Sometimes she could yell and an elderly lady with grey hair and, like her mother, a resigned expression would come next. The nightmare, with the months, would stretch on and on as more female family members were brought in front of a hysterical and yelling Cybele, leaving her to wake up shouting pleas and crying.

‘Try to stop thinking about all that, Cybele. As you said, the time for theories and guessing is up. We are going to find where you came from, we will know the truth and you will see all this dread was for nothing,’ Caroline said with conviction.

‘What if parts of my nightmares were memories?’ Cybele asked in a whisper.

‘We’ve had this conversation before, Cybele; your nightmares are reflecting your fear of discovering that parts of Snape’s enchantment are true. I understand that, but as I told you before, I believe the wording is symbolical.’

‘Thank you, Caroline. Don’t worry, I’m fine.’

She made two mugs of tea appear and they drank silently for a while.

‘Sorry for waking you up again. Do you feel sleepy?’

‘It’s not so late, but we’d better get some sleep.’

Caroline looked up at Cybele to say good night and saw her give a gasp.

‘Oh!’ Cybele cried quietly, looking surprised.

She acted in a split of a second, without leaving Caroline time to even think of asking a question. All of a sudden, they had clothes on instead of their night gowns; Cybele reached for her hand and they found themselves in a totally different place, somewhere where the sun had not yet set.

*-*-*-*-*

‘George?’

Fred’s brother was standing in the middle of a shattered pile of Patented Day Dreams in the back room, looking at something in his hand. He raised his head at Fred’s entrance, looking serious.

‘This is it, Fred. They’re going to fight.’ He passed him his fake Galleon.

‘Let’s Floo Angelina, Alicia and Lee; we need to be sure they get the message. Then the Galleon says to Apparate to the Hogshead.’

‘Call Cybele.’

Fred did not answer and went to the fireplace where he kneeled down to Floo Lee. He turned his head back seconds later.

‘Lee will check on Alicia and join us here. Why don’t you pop at Angelina’s, to check with her?’

‘Call Cybele,’ repeated George, bending to the fire. He stepped aside seconds later and a tall, dark, handsome girl stepped out of the fireplace.

‘Fred, you’re the one who can do it. Now would be great, we’re sort of in a hurry…’


‘She has made it plain that she doesn’t want to mix with our little wizarding problems, didn’t she? She chose her side.’

‘She had also made it plain that she wanted to be there if we were going to battle, Fred. Just do it.’

Fred was looking at the fireplace, hoping Lee and Alicia could just pop now and the urgent course of action would put all Cybelish matters out of the way. He had not spoken the girl’s name since a year earlier in Hogwarts, when she had bestowed upon him the power to make her appear at his side by doing just that: speaking her name aloud.

George studied his brother’s face and could see the mixture or annoyance, anger… and perhaps something else.

‘I am afraid too, Fred.’ Fred looked up curiously at that. ‘I’m afraid that she won’t come after all,’ explained George. ‘But there’s only one way to know it. Say the name.’

Lee and Alicia stepped out smoothly of the fire at this moment.

‘Cybele’ said Fred, still looking at the fire as if two of his friends had not just come out of it.

And in a spit second she was here, Caroline at her side, looking astonished. Fred released a breath he had not realized he was holding and gave them a silent hug. So did George and Lee, and then they were gone. There was no time to talk.

They Apparated in the Hogshead, where the bartender rushed them up and they ran to the Room of Requirement.

Cybele soon followed Lee out of the room, leaving the twins behind with their other siblings. Battle had not started; witches and wizards were putting all the protective spells they knew around them. Cybele was feeling extremely uneasy. She took out her wand but was unable to bring herself to pretending to cast spells. School days were over and these were no time for pretences. School days were over and maybe she should not be there at all. She felt like her friends had blackmailed her into coming a year ago and she had known all along that she would be awkward and useless. A battle was coming involving weapons which belonged to another dimension.

They were now all gathered in the Great Hall. Cybele’s eye automatically searched the Slytherin table but could not see Draco. Then a glitter of bright blond hair caught the side of her eye; Draco and his two cronies were reaching the door of the hall, sneaking out. Draco had obviously stopped by the door to look at her and as their eyes locked, she felt her wand drop from her hand. It rolled to someone’s feet.

‘You’re going to need that.’

‘Neville!’ She gave her friend a brief hug and her wand a distasteful glance. ‘No, I won’t,’ she said with determination. ‘But you keep it, someone may need a spare.’

Neville looked at her strangely.

‘Well, then you’ll give them yourself, won’t you?’ And she had to pick the loather wand back up. When she looked back to the door, nobody was to be seen.

As Voldemort spelled out his ultimatum, Professor Sprout grabbed her hand. She could handle magical plants with her team. Cybele felt grateful. If she placed just one mandrake in a strategic spot, it would have been worth returning. Plus, she was starting to think that she could be useful in passing through the deadly spells to give her ‘spare’ wand to a fighter, or maybe to retrieve people’s wands. She had a vision of a kid running picking up tennis balls on a Muggle court while adults were playing. It did not make her feel better at all.

Too soon, Professor Sprout’s team had to abandon their mission and join the general battle. Cybele was standing in the middle of the castle-wide battle field, insensitive to killing spells which were passing right through her, but also unable to do anything. The six years of pretence and magical education, the research with Professor Snape, all felt like a sweet dream one wakes up from to realize that was all it had been. Everything today showed the essence of her foreignness. The magic she could not feel, the magic she could not grab. Then she felt a hand on each of her shoulders.

‘Do something, anything!’ said Neville, who let go of her to cast a violent stunning spell at a Death Eater.

‘Thanks for coming,’ said Fred and he too, flew back in the action, letting her wonder if the warmness on her shoulders had been for real.

Anything, Neville had said. He was right, even picking up the wands would be worthwhile.

As she looked around, she spotted a Death Eater aiming at Caroline’s back. At that moment, it happened again; but it felt different from the time before, very different. As she felt her own magic within her, she slowly put her wand back in her pocket. She barely had to think and a blinding white flash of light burst out of her and hit the Death Eater with the strength of a small bomb. As she was defending her friends and allies, it seemed that the full destructive strength of the Magian was revealed. Cybele could not only feel but see and hear her magic at this level of power.

Around her the battle was raging and nobody pondered what exactly had happen. Cybele couldn’t see the Death Eater she had hit anywhere. She knew he was not there anymore; not dead: some things are worse than death. She shook the thought. She came to the front door when numerous Acromantula broke in and, in a mere breathe, she repelled them to the depths of the Forbidden Forest in a hurl of white light.

The battle came to a break after another one of Voldemort’s announcement. Cybele stood in a deserted corridor where she had, in a blink of an eye, vanished a group of Death-Eaters. She made to head back to the main Hall when a hand grabbed her and firmly pulled her in semi-darkness. She was face to face with Draco. He looked frantic and frightened, which were not the expressions which could have softened Cybele.

‘You’re hiding in a broom cupboard?’ she asked in disbelief.

‘Stay here with me. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.’ He looked down.

Cybele exploded in cold anger.

‘You don’t, do you? Guess what? A couple of evil things have already happened to me! I have fought my way through six years of researching my origins to discover that I was a Magian, one of an extinct kind! I have spent the last year out there looking for people which may not exist! The closest person I have to a family is on the run because of you! And you, Draco, my friend, my- You have abandoned me! And you are hiding in a broom cupboard! WHAT – EXACTLY – DON’T YOU WANT TO HAPPEN TO ME?’

Cybele was glowing slightly in the dark out of anger. Draco looked lost.

‘You are what?’

‘Leave it.’ Cybele tried to go but Draco pulled her back.

‘Did you say-? You meant I am your what?’

‘Yes, maybe. It doesn’t mean much, does it? When one’s love doesn’t meet their lowest expectations,’ she spat with disdain.

‘Do you have any idea, Cybele, of what it would take; to make a girl like you impressed or even satisfied?’ asked Draco desperately.

‘Oh yes, I have a pretty good idea, Malfoy; it would take guts!’

‘Just tell me what to do!’

‘Fine! Get your ass out of this cupboard, stand, and fight! And if there is a tomorrow after this battle, show thousand times more courage than you could ever display on a battle field to become the person I know you deserve to be!’

‘That’s all?’ Draco managed to comment with sarcasm.

‘Yes, and we both know you have it in you. Tell you what, I’ll give you five years. If you are a man when I see you again, I’ll come back to you. But if you are still a spoiled child living up to the family tradition, married one of your pureblood childhood friends, there will be no need to contact me, deal?’

She walked out of the cupboard and quickly down the corridor.

‘Where will you be?’

Cybele did not answer that and was almost reaching the end of the corridor when she heard ‘Deal!’ and the cupboard doors slamming. She did not turn back to see on which side of the cupboard door Draco had understood the deal should make him stand.

As she was reaching the main hall, she spotted Harry Potter heading toward the staircases. She caught his eyes only a second and the warm word of encouragement she had on her lips faded. The Potter boy’s eyes were full of Severus Snape’s death.

Cybele stood frozen on the spot and never made it to the Great Hall. It was the battle itself which reached her where she stood, later. She fought fiercely, relishing in her newly revealed powers, expelling anger and sadness from her lost soul.

It was only when they walked back victorious to the main Hall again that she spotted Fred’s body, surrounded by his family.

Cybele felt a great depression fall all over her. Because Snape was dead, because Draco was a coward, because Fred was lying there and she could not just hug him one last time.

On an impulse, she let her wand fly across the hall and take its place with Fred’s one in his clasped hand. Nobody noticed.

With Fred will be buried all pretences. He will keep me safe from pretending to be a witch ever again, she vowed to herself.

She decided to leave again. She would find at all cost what she had left to find, she would come back in five years and if, as she thought, Draco was still what he had been raised to become, she would disappear again forever.

She would go alone this time. She wouldn’t allow Caroline to lose more of her time wandering aimlessly in desolated lands. She had better disappear simply before Caroline could spot her. She turned round and she spotted Caroline. Lying of the floor. Dead.

Wandlessly, soundlessly, Cybele’s shaking body disappeared from Hogwarts castle once again.

Chapter 36 Days After the Battle


Don’t get lost in your pain, know that one day your pain will become your cure


At Cybele’s feet, the highlands were taking a vertiginous slide down. It was wild up there, but farther east, where the tumultuous relief smoothed into hills, she could recognize the tender green of tea bushes organized in irregular puffy rectangles.


Cybele had appeared a few feet away from hers and Caroline‘s last camp and had only popped in to retrieve the device she was now holding, as she sat before their concealed cabin. A light summer breeze was smoothing her hair back and she found some comfort in the soft touch. Any friendly human touch right now would have sent her into a flow of tears.


But as it were, in this desert, tears wouldn’t come to Cybele. She would have cried if she had lost a friend. But this… Caroline, Fred and Severus had died on the same night. They had died on a battlefield. Everyone in the Wizarding World was mourning their dead and rejoicing a victory. She didn’t know how to feel.


She was gently caressing the bulky device she had retrieved from the cabin. It was a squarish, heavy brass frame with two side handles, empty in the middle. The inner frame was heavily wired in copper.


This prototype was the first of an invention Caroline had come up with to guide them on their quest. Perhaps because she tended to lose things, Caroline liked to imagine all sorts of retrieving devices. Last year, she had even made her Carta Revelo charm into a book searching device to allow less gifted students to use the charm and do searches by keywords in books or even entire library sections. It was a good seller at the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes.


Trying not to think of Caroline or the twins, Cybele brought the frame in front of her to eye level. The frame set at the horizon’s level, she screened the hilly tea estates in the far. As it had the day before, the northern part of them appeared surrounded by a weak glow.


The glowing area must have been at least several miles long. The device wasn’t precise and they had been testing it only for a few days before the battle. Yet, if Caroline’s craft were to be trusted, and it certainly was faithfully by Cybele, an ancient magic settlement was to be found or had been existing in the mist of these hills.


She would quit this camp and explore the area outlined by the magic sensor. But not just yet. She had something she needed to do first.


*-*-*-*-*


Lee was keeping busy. A lot of fighters and especially DA members had stayed at Hogwarts after the battle had been won. Some older members of the Order of the Phoenix were starting to go back home but even though the war was over, it was clear to all that it would take longer before normal life took over and all danger was put at large.


Right now, there were bodies to retrieve, Muggle parents in hiding whose Secret Keeper had been a student killed on the battlefield to find, wands to identify, food and accommodations to provide for those who would be staying on to help on in the days coming, and order to put in chaos.


Lee was happy to do all this. He was soon regarded as the natural coordinator of the various chores. Most people around him were happy to get busy, for obvious reasons, and grateful to be provided with instructions from Lee. Some others, though, had preferred to isolate themselves, or to gather in small groups to mourn, talk or cry. Lee respected their quiet presence and was doing his best to attend to their needs, too.


In spite of the hard work, two persistent thoughts were nagging at Lee’s mind presently. One was Cybele. He knew she had survived the battle unscathed: he had seen her standing at a distance from the DA mourning families shortly after the battle’s end. But he hadn’t seen her since.


To his surprise, Cybele was turning out to be the type to withdraw to a silent place and stay alone. As time passed, he felt a more and more pressing urge to go and find her and get her to the happy bliss of hard work if he could. But this would involve stopping said work for a while in order to find her and talk to her, and for this reason he kept brushing aside thoughts of Cybele, only to have them replaced by thoughts of another depressing thought he was trying to avoid: he was the Secret Keeper for Caroline’s parents hiding place.


At the back of his mind, after he’d finished putting up a detailed list of the Elfish casualties for Healers, families and the Ministry, the two persistent thoughts collided. Lee suddenly marched to Ravenclaw’s tower, determined to find Cybele and have her come with him to Caroline’s family.


*-*-*-*-*


Cybele re-entered the cabin with the crushing thought that she would have a couple of days ahead of her with nothing to do but wait.


She felt a pang of regret, thinking of all that needed to be done back at Hogwarts. Walls she could repair in the blink of an eye, messages she could bring to and from London. This, unlike battling, had always been her kind of magic. She could provide food, the only thing wizards couldn’t in these difficult times. Well, that she could do from where she was, she realized, and she filled Hogwarts’ kitchen store room, though that wasn’t enough to make her feel any less guilty.


Over there, she went on musing, were families mourning, friends… All ready to reconstruct their school, their world, to eventually go ahead with their lives. She didn’t belong there. She was dangerous. Where would the magic she had successfully put at work during the battle stop?


A few fighters had killed enemies during the battle, mainly trained Aurors, and yet very few. Most wizards were trying to tackle the enemy with non-fatal spells, though in the most extreme and dangerous moments of the battle, she had seen some kill rather than be killed.


But Cybele, she had not just killed, she had annihilated a number of Death Eaters. She realized that now, now that the urgency of the combat was past. What kind of person would do that, even if they had the means? What was she cursed with, that she risked losing her soul for betraying friends, but she would go off and murder, as if to defend them? Where did these extraordinary powers come from? Was the enchantment unearthed by Severus real?


Once again, her thoughts returned to this: she couldn’t possibly get on with her life and embrace the Wizarding World as her own if she couldn’t provide answers to these questions. And now more than ever, now that she felt like a rogue weapon.


In spite of the anguish, guilt and regrets, exhaustion took over Cybele and she fell asleep, hugging the uncomfortably sharp metallic device close to her heart.


*-*-*-*-*


Reza had walked for hours before he had dared Apparate closer to the spot where he had seen the figure standing.


He pulled from his sleeve the Muggle contraption he had brought and looked at the highlands again. There was nobody in sight now, but he recognized through the telescope the tree he had sketched the first time he had seen two figures appearing and disappearing, a few days ago.


He hadn’t been able to survey the area with the Muggle device often due to the hazy weather, but early this morning, he had seen a figure watching the sun rise. He couldn’t see much through the small telescope, but it had seemed like the stranger was again observing the hills, in his direction. He could see only one today, and now it seemed he was gone, too.


He risked Apparating to the highland a distance away and walked slowly to the tree. There was nothing to be seen where he had observed the figure earlier that morning.


As he reached the exact place where he saw someone standing earlier, his suspicions were confirmed: he could feel on his skin the tingle of magic. Magic had been performed here, not long ago.


Following this feeling, he turned round and was now contemplating the space just in front of the highlands’ edge. He walked around, feeling the magic. He tried several revealing spells and counter spells and eventually walked across the area. Magic was to be felt in the air, but obviously, nothing else was left. They had gone.


*-*-*-*-*


Lee was feeling stupid. There were Muggle-borns on the run nobody could locate, there were bodies that couldn’t be found and Hagrid had gloomily taken the path to the Forbidden Forest to interrogate the Accromantula on their deeds, against all advice. In the mist of all this, Lee felt stupid to consider alerting anyone about the disappearance of a girl he knew had not been hurt during the battle. Yet… he couldn’t comprehend where Cybele was hiding.


Confused and weak, Lee was, in spite of himself, starting to consider giving in to sleep. It was almost dawn now and he had just had the longest two days and nights of his life. As on cue, a couple of Elves were ushering all the livings down to the kitchens where Lee was pleasantly surprised to be welcomed by the comforting smell of food, as a handful of wizards and Elves were cooking and serving food to the survivors and families.


The Elf he had worked with earlier brought him food. In the post-battle confusion, nobody seemed to be able to figure out where the food had come from.


‘I isn’t knowing, Sir. The food is coming in this morning. No Elf or wizard is remembering seeing anybody bringing in the food. I and three other Elves is going to the storeroom to list what is left. We is finding it full with fresh storage, Sir.’


Good, Lee thought. The important thing was that that particular problem was solved, whoever was to be thanked for it.


‘Only there is no pumpkin juice at all,’ the Elf added as a somewhat frivolous afterthought, considering the situation.


As the Elf left him to his dinner, Lee was almost dozing off with his plate on his lap when he felt a soft bite on his ear. Archie was back from London already with instructions from the Ministry. Lee patted the bird affectionately. He had found it waiting at his parent’s place after Cybele’s infamous graduation day and had grown very fond of it in the past year. It came to his mind that he would probably be expected to hand it back to Cybele, now.


Too tired to think of a more appropriate reward, Lee let Archie share his dinner in the same plate, wondering where the rightful owner of the minute owl might be right now.


Like many of his fellows, Lee dozed off once his stomach full, to the homely and reassuring sound of gently clicking cookware.


*-*-*-*-*


In Hogwarts’ kitchens store room, Eslis visited the new stock again, like one would check on an old friend, smiling at the absence of all the food items that she didn’t like.


‘Cybele,’ he said out loud, sending her his thoughts.


*-*-*-*-*


Cybele didn’t hear the footsteps, nor did she see the shadow of Reza walking right through her cabin. When she woke up with a start, she didn’t remember hearing the loud crack responsible for her wake.


She remembered dreaming of Eslis calling her. Thoughts of this friend soothed her back to sleep.


*-*-*-*-*


When the sun was high, everybody stirred in the kitchens and started getting back to work, first gently forcing one another to have some food before they did.


Lee had a precise task in mind and he was looking around for help. He took George, whom he was anxious to force to work, as he found it would be easier for him to go from day to day if he was busy. George didn’t talk much, but always willingly put himself to work with an angry, desperate energy.


They headed out and Lee hesitated when he saw Malfoy sitting apart near the entrance. Malfoy had stayed on to help after the battle. Lee had seen him work hard and had decided that that was good enough. They had seen enough of war for a lifetime and neither of them was eager to start any new, petty ones.


‘We need a hand, Malfoy,’ he tried not to snap.


George grimaced but said nothing. Malfoy had stayed, he had helped. Harry had said he was all right. That was also enough for George, who couldn’t even find it in him to be curious at the reasons why Harry would ever speak up for Malfoy. Liking or hating the fellow wasn’t relevant or even remotely interesting to him right now.


Draco followed silently. They just turned out of the main door and considered the collapsed wall. Lee explained they would levitate the collapsed heavy stones one by one and pill them neatly on the yard, ready for the complex task of reconstruction that more experienced wizards would undertake when more pressing matters had been taken care of.


Nobody spoke as they started to magically lift gently the stones one by one. George and Draco didn’t need to hear that Lee had figured they might unearth some of the missing bodies there.


‘I’m worried about Cybele,’ Lee told George after a long while of silent work.


George paused and looked up.


‘I haven’t seen here since the battle’s end. But I figured she just needed to be alone; I felt the same, at first,’ he answered.


‘Yes, I didn’t worry at first, of course… Though… It has been more than two days now, George.’


George frowned but was distracted from his reflections by Malfoy mumbling something.


‘What was that?’ Lee asked.


Draco looked up at the other man and repeated out loud:


‘So she hasn’t said goodbye to anyone…’


Lee couldn’t quite place Malfoy’s voice, and truthfully didn’t care.


‘Did she tell you she was going somewhere?’ he pressed.


‘No,’ Draco paused.


The two other men were starting to look annoyed but Draco was oblivious. Only after a few long seconds, did he seem to snap out of his dreamy thoughts:


‘She didn’t say she was going anywhere… But she mentioned that she would be back,’ he trailed.


Even Lee and George could see that Malfoy wasn’t trying to get on their nerves but was simply being evasive because he was lost in thoughts. Lee doubted anyone here at Hogwarts had it left in him to try to unnerve on purpose; even an old nemesis.


‘Tell us what you know,’ George said coldly.


‘She said she would be back in five years, that’s what I know.’


Lee and George only looked at each other, lost for words. But Malfoy was still looking down their area of work.


‘Look.’


Malfoy was pointing in the mist of the collapsed stones, where they had just removed a block. A look of horror drew down them as they spotted an unnaturally coloured hand protruding from a gap.


At the end of the day, they had found two bodies. The shock had driven all talk of Malfoy’s revelation away.


Hence the third day since the battle came to an end. Lee was exhausted but the funerals were starting on the morrow and he couldn’t postpone his hardest task any longer.


Cursing Cybele, he went off alone to Caroline parents’ secret hiding.


*-*-*-*-*


Cybele had seen her wand buried with Fred early that morning and she was now standing under the burning sun in a Muggle cemetery in London, invisible to all, as she had been in the morning.


She stood opposite of where Lee, Neville, George and Caroline’s Hufflepuff friends and professors were standing, as well as most members of the DA, for many reasons. She didn’t think she would be able to resist revealing herself and seeking their comfort if she was closer. She didn’t want to risk and eavesdrop. But what she did want was to get a good look at them and fill herself with guilt.


She knew she should be there among them; just as she should have been helping at Hogwarts these past days. But if she had, they would never have let her go again. And she needed to be gone, probably for a long time. It was out of question to risk being mollified into staying back by her friends or to be convinced to let them accompany her on her dangerous mission.


There was something else, too. If what Severus had discovered was the truth; then how could she ever come back and face her friends again anyway?


As everyone was leaving, she gave a last, longing look at her friends and, summoning the thoughts of all those she had killed during battle to harden her against staying behind, disappeared back to the camp.


*-*-*-*-*


George, Neville and Lee followed a group of Hufflepuffs to a nearby Muggle café where they remembered Caroline together around sweet Muggle refreshments. The three men stayed behind later.


Neville gently patted Lee’s back.


‘We have said goodbye to all of our friends, now.’


As the leader of the DA, and like many of its members, Neville had attended every DA member’s funeral as well as those of a few people from his House, only the closest, as there were remembrance ceremonies to be held soon at Hogwarts for all others who had been lost.


Funerals had all taken place in the last couple of days, making it a morbid morning to evening run for many survivors.


The two purebloods had been to Muggle churches and temples. Some Muggle parents were clueless, some angry, some wanted to hear stories of their child’s last heroic year at Hogwarts.


Cybele had been on their minds, too, and now she was about to be discussed.


‘I can’t believe we let Cybele slip by the tips of our wands!’ Lee started.


‘How were we supposed to see that coming? When she appeared with Caroline at the shop on the battle day, I thought it meant she was back for good, or at least would talk to us before setting off again if she had to! I can’t believe she did that to us!’


Lee understood George’s anger, but he felt guiltier than angry, overall.


‘We didn’t even have time to …’ he said quietly after a while.


‘Yes,’ George reflected. ‘She was right about Snape all along. And she was telling the truth about Malfoy, too, apparently.’ He hated the bitterness he was hearing in his voice.


‘Don’t be too harsh with yourself: you had every right to doubt her opinion one year ago,’ Neville tempered.


‘Her opinion, certainly, but not her loyalty.’


‘It was a confused time and she turned her back to the Wizarding World the moment it needed her most. I didn’t run after her either…’ Neville insisted.


‘It was a confused time for her and we turned our back to her when she needed us most. We didn’t show loyalty,’ George reversed.


‘Caroline did,’ Lee reminded them sadly.


‘Cybele should have stayed,’ Neville insisted. ‘But it’s not for lack of loyalty that she didn’t, I have a sense that she felt she wouldn’t be so helpful.’


‘That’s what she kept saying,’ remembered George, shaking his head slowly in disagreement even now.


‘What shall we do now?’


Lee had asked and both he and George were automatically looking up at Neville for leadership, as wartime habits die hard.


‘Maybe we should give her time,’ he suggested.


‘One of us should be following her,’ George contradicted.


‘Maybe,’ Neville said prudently. ‘I don’t know. I wonder; she went away for a year with Caroline and from what I learned in our short conversation before the battle, they hadn’t made any progress.’


Lee and George were looking at their friend expectantly, not aware this conversation had taken place.


‘I wonder if maybe,’ he went on, ‘Cybele, deep down, really wanted to find out anything with Caroline around. Maybe Cybele needs to do it alone.’


‘Let’s give her time, then,’ Lee agreed. ‘But certainly not the five years she threatened Malfoy with…’


*-*-*-*-*


Cybele appeared a few steps away from her cabin and was washing tears from her face when she noticed movement somewhere in front of her. She quickly dried her eyes and saw a man coming from behind the nearest tree. He was holding a wand, pointing it in her direction.

Chapter 37 - Path to the truth


In fact, my soul and yours are the same.
You appear in me, I appear in you.
We hide in each other.


Reza looked surprised to find a very young woman silently appearing in front of him and it took him several seconds to act.


‘Accio wand!’ Reza cried eventually.


Nothing happened.


‘Where is your wand?’ he asked in Farsi, still pointing his own at Cybele.


‘I don’t have a wand,’ she answered likewise.


Reza didn’t know what to think of that. She wasn’t a Muggle, she didn’t look surprised, but she was going around without a wand, very foolish. She didn’t look foreign, but she was wearing a knee-length skirt and a slightly open shirt with the sleeves rolled up and no scarf. Her clothes were all black and rather formal for camping on the highlands in the summer. She was very young but she didn’t look at all frightened to have a wand pointed at her by a strange man in the middle of a desert.


‘Where is the other one?’


‘She’s dead,’ Cybele said and she found the statement made her strangely calm. Let’s see what this wizard wants, she thought.


‘Come with me.’


It wasn’t an order but more like a rough invitation. Reza had lowered his wand.


She didn’t say anything but took a step in his direction.


*-*-*-*-*


The man in front of Cybele was a few years older than her, probably less than twenty five. He was tall and well, good-looking, she supposed. He didn’t seem to find it dangerous to have Cybele walk a few steps behind him, when keeping an eye on her would have been safer.


Cybele was pleased that he was absolutely underestimating her; it could come useful.


They walked for a couple of hours before taking a break. Reza was sweating. They sat under a tree.


After quenching his thirst, taking his sweet time, Reza passed the water and some dry fruits to Cybele, who took them with a polite nod.


‘We’ll have to walk for several more hours,’ he said.


Cybele didn’t comment on that.


‘How did you lose your wand? Did it happen when your friend died? What happened to both of you? What were you doing here to start with?’


Cybele thought that were a lot of questions all of a sudden, and some indelicate ones, too. So she answered, ‘Yes.’


‘You understand Farsi?’ he checked.


‘Yes. Are we going to the tea planter’s village?’


‘Right outside of it, yes,’ he answered. ‘I’m bringing you to my home, as my guest. I don’t want you any harm.’


Cybele smiled, but even the arrogant Reza couldn’t interpret it as anything other than an amused smile. Not a relieved smile, not a grateful smile, no. An amused smile! He started to wonder if the girl was right in her mind.


Cybele was amused indeed, that the funny young man imagined he could do her harm and survive to tell the tale. The exertion and emotions of the past days had left her drained of the ability to make any pretence or to act upon anything but pure guts.


‘Is it a magical settlement, where you live?’


Reza eyed her suspiciously.


‘A magical settlement? Like in free countries? That doesn’t exist here. No, it’s just me and my family. Where are you from?’


‘England.’


‘So what were you and your friend doing hereabouts?’


‘I’m looking for something.’


‘Yeah, what?’


Cybele caught his eye. He quickly looked down. She waited so he found her looking straight at him when he chanced a glance up again. He flushed. Cybele found him funny. But she needed to take a chance.


‘A magical settlement,’ she eventually answered with a sly smile.


Reza nodded without comments and they started walking again, for long hours in silence. He didn’t know what to think of the girl. She seemed like she was laughing at him half of the time and most of what she said didn’t make any sense. Had he been wasting his time observing some simpleton through his telescope? Or could the girl have lost her mind after her friend’s death?


They eventually reached practicable paths through the tea bushes as they came to the hills. They even soon heard voices ahead of them. Reza had hidden his wand nervously up his sleeve long ago, not unnoticed by Cybele, and he now turned to her, worried that her appearance would draw attention. Who would he say she was?


But he was surprised to find Cybele wearing her skirt long now, with her shirt’s sleeves down and a black headscarf.


Women’s clothing had a magic of their own, he thought philosophically.


To his surprise, the men he met on the path and with whom he exchanged greetings and small news didn’t look at her at all. It was as if she were invisible. That won’t prevent them to talk about it all over the damn village, he thought bitterly.


Shortly, they reached home.


Reza’s family consisted of himself and his young wife, a stunningly beautiful woman of his age, who reminded Cybele so vividly of the young woman of her dreams that she inappropriately cringed upon seeing her. They had a baby under a year old, who was presently yelling at the top of his lungs, covering up for Cybele’s reaction.


*-*-*-*-*


From the edge of the small guestroom’s window, Cybele had a beautiful view over the hilly tea estates. Reza’s house was built high outside the village and was facing west, both the village downward and the sea of tea bushes. Further west, well beyond the hill, there was the highlands and the very spot where their last camp had been, though they couldn’t be seen through the morning fog.


The sun was just rising and Cybele had a lot of thinking to do. Right now two issues were nagging at her for answers. The first one was that they had been travelling South-East. The magical settlement Cybele had spotted through Caroline’s device was North-East. The revealing frame wouldn’t have detected Reza’s isolated family: it wasn’t precise enough at such a distance.


But then, Reza had said that there were no such things as magical settlements in this country. Was he lying? Or unaware? If the latest, then it could very well be a concealed Magi tribe…


Considering this interesting turn of events, the other question was to decide just how much to say or show Reza and his wife. If she were to stay at their house wandless, should she admit to being able to do wandless magic? There would be a need for explanations, as no witch of Cybele’s age could ever master perfect wandless magic, even experienced wizards who could didn’t use it constantly.


Sad and tired, Cybele decided to take a leap of faith.


When she heard noises in the kitchen, she proceeded down stairs in fresh, discreet, clothes and was surprised to find Reza, whom she had classified as purely macho, busy preparing breakfast.


His wife came down the stairs and sat down at the table with their toddler, waiting to be served. She was the one to give a double-take at Cybele’s preppy appearance in her fresh clothing. The good-hearted woman had in mind to provide her guest with just that and was surprised. There were many means by which a witch could conceal luggage, though, and she didn’t think of it further.


Reza tended to the table and very little was spoken over breakfast.


‘Why do the tea estates stop further northward?’


Was she fancying that Reza gave her a sharp look after that? But he went on feeding his toddler and answered casually.


‘They’d have to stop somewhere, now, wouldn’t they?’


In a carefully casual tone? Cybele couldn’t help but wonder.


After breakfast, Cybele followed Reza down to his shop. They took the stairs into a Potions laboratory which had a great deal of Muggle elements to it, too. After the lab, they passed into an Apothecary shop. It was very different than any she had ever been in, and it was undoubtedly fully Muggle.


‘You are a Potions Master!’


Thinking of Severus, Cybele felt more sympathetic toward Reza than she had since they’d met. Reza smiled sadly.


‘Not really. I mainly store Muggle medicine and make traditional preparations. If a wizard in this part of the country needs a potion, they send a pigeon. Back in my father’s time, we used to manage the pigeon service; Muggles used them too. But now they installed a payphone in the village. I only send the odd pigeon once in a while; enough to make my order service inconspicuous, for now…’


That was the most Reza had spoken so far and Cybele thought he sounded dejected. It must be hard, she thought, to live in complete isolation from the Wizarding World.


She spent the morning helping brew a regular order that she recognized as some variation of the Pepperup Potion, reflecting on how strange it was, to be among people who didn’t know of Voldemort; who would need a lengthy explanation to feel the joy and relief brought by his dismissal at such a heavy price to her and all of her friends.


Reza’s wife showed her their beautiful pigeons after lunch and let her look after the baby while she went to the market in the afternoon.


*-*-*-*-*


It was only later that night around the samovar, that Reza confronted Cybele again about her visit.


‘So, what’re you looking for in this part of the country?’ he asked.


Cybele had thought and decided, mostly out of guts and pure exhaustion, that she would only tell Reza and Homa the blunt truth.


‘There are signs that up North, a magical settlement has existed or is still concealed.’ She summoned Caroline’s device and showed them. ‘I saw it through this.’


Reza hold the brass and copper frame in front of him and Cybele knew he could see a soft halo around his wife and child.


‘You have impressive wandless magic,’ was Reza’s comment, as the device zoomed out of his hands without any external signs of magic from Cybele.


Was it because he wished to change the subject, or because he was bamboozled by Cybele’s unusual gift?


‘I’m a Magian,’ she stated bluntly as an explanation.


‘Reza…’


Cybele jumped at Homa’s voice, she was already so used to her silent presence. Her voice sounded scared and pleading. She had stood up swiftly.


Reza was looking down at Caroline’s Revealer.


‘Please don’t go back there,’ Homa pleaded in a bare whisper.


Reza threw her an annoyed look and she sat down, looking apologetically at her lap. Cybele could see her working her lower lip, not betraying emotion otherwise.


‘Why?’ Reza asked in an accusatory, almost desperate way.


This question was addressed to Cybele, she realized.


‘They are not like you, are they? Up there, they are not wizards and witches, nor like Muggles, nor like me, either-’


‘No. They are people of an ancient, rudimentary magic. They have suffered a lot and for a long time; both from Muggles and from those who think they are hiding powers greater than we know. I am their keeper and I am sorry, I cannot let anyone know about them. You will wake up in Teheran and remember nothing of this journey.’


As he said the last, he turned toward Cybele and pointed his wand at her.


‘Obliviate! Petrificus Totalus!’


Two flashes of light closely succeeded each other through Cybele, who only showed her palms to Reza in a gesture of peace.


‘You can’t Obliviate me. I told you: I’m a Magian.’


Reza’s face showed shocked disbelief, but they soon both heard sobs coming from Homa. She was looking at Cybele with a desperate expression.


‘You are Astor,’ she said in a constricted voice. She then launched herself at Cybele, who was great deal shorter than her, and Homa proceeded to punch every part of her that her fists could reach.


‘You! You!’ was all she could say. Cybele had never seen anyone look at her with such disgust and anger in her short life.


It took a while to Reza to get his wits about him and when he did, he gently tried to pull his wife from a bruised Cybele. She struggled surprisingly weakly for a woman of her strength.


‘You evil; you… alive…’


‘Homa, no! It has worked; the bound…’


She seemed to lose anger at that, and with it the last force keeping her conscious.


Cybele wasn’t far from fainting, either, with the overwhelming disorder of thoughts now battling in her head. The fear she had been trying to forget since she had read Severus’ letter was coming alive.


She stood motionless under the shock while Reza picked his wife up in his arms and climbed the stairs. Then thoughts started flowing back in her mind mercilessly.


Severus. His discovery was pure truth, then. It has to be. Homa. Why so upset? She must come from there. Never saw her use her wand or perform any magic at all.

Reza came back down to find Cybele petrified on the same spot he had left her, oblivious to the blood dripping from her noise courtesy of his wife’s punch. She seemed to be looking right through him and he was about to clear his throat when she spoke first.


‘Where is Homa’s wand?’ she asked in a surprisingly even voice.


‘I think you know that.’


‘Who was she? Who was Astor?’


‘You are Astor. You have left only ruins and violence behind you. Yet there are those who would like Astor back! I took Homa away from these ruins. She is one of the many victims of your folly; this is who she is. You don’t need to know anything more about her.’


Cybele was surprised to find burning tears sliding down her cheeks. Tears, so simple, so childish; they didn’t seem to fit the horror of the occasion, somehow.


‘Was she family?’ she demanded in a hard but shakier voice.


‘No. Forget about her.’


‘Tell the truth! Was she?’ Cybele yelled.


‘No, she wasn’t.’


‘I don’t believe you. Why would she be so upset?’


‘Astor didn’t keep his evil deeds to his own family. You caused many despair and loss.’


As Cybele was about to retort, he added, ‘Is this the heirloom?’


Cybele followed his pointed finger and looked down herself to catch sight of her brass watch.


‘Yes.’


‘She would have recognized it as soon as she saw you, if she were family. Now forget about her.’


Silence lingered between them. After a while, Reza spoke in a conciliatory yet determined tone.


‘You should go back where you came from, now.’


‘That is exactly what I’m intending to do.’