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.