Life at Hogwarts for Cyrus fell into a very routine pattern. She would finish serving detention with Professor Snape at night, head into the Forbidden Forest once her roommates were fast asleep, and then reappear in the Great Hall bright and early the next morning.
Only Lynna Shafiq remained intensely annoyed by Cyrus's indifference to her verbal assaults, trying numerous ways to provoke her. By now, all the Slytherin students had realized that Cyrus was simply a nobody with no background to speak of.
Even the female prefect, whose attitude had previously been somewhat tolerable, now completely ignored Cyrus's existence. Being from a pure-blood family, Lynna naturally commanded the support of many Slytherin students.
What started as targeting by a single individual soon escalated into pranks by a small clique. Their words and attitude toward Cyrus grew increasingly hostile, but the other Slytherin students didn't care; they had no spare energy to meddle in such matters.
Coupled with the fact that in every class they noticed Cyrus had never once successfully cast a spell with a wand, the looks people cast her way were now laced with contempt. Within the house, rumors had already begun to circulate that Cyrus was a Squib. There was even talk that she was a Mudblood.
Facts sometimes matter very little; people only need a starting point to invent an entire novel on their own.
Rumors are like the wind—a gentle blow is all it takes for them to sweep across the entire forest.
By November, the biting chill in the air caused many young wizards to choose to stay indoors. Cyrus, wearing a black robe altered from beast hide, sat with Angus near a large tree by the Black Lake. She had been fascinated by this vast lake ever since she first sailed across it on a boat.
Watching the tentacles of a giant squid slowly stretch out from the water to bask in the sun, she curiously stood up and stepped closer to investigate. She wondered if this Angus was edible... Suddenly, a black ball came hurtling toward her from afar. Cyrus tried to dodge instantly, but she was still struck on the arm. She felt a bone in her forearm snap, and the black Bludger curved in mid-air, slamming Cyrus herself straight into the Black Lake.
Cyrus felt the world suddenly grow quiet, the sound of bubbling water ringing in her ears. The lake water was bitterly cold, making her whole body stiffen. Then, Angus plunged into the water, bit down on the hood of her hoodie, and swam desperately toward the shore. She dragged herself onto the bank with some difficulty, her lower half still in the water.
Her broken forearm lacked any strength, and leaning on her single good arm, she panted heavily. Right after that, she felt someone lifting her up.
"Cyrus, are you alright?" The noisy voices of the twins rang out.
Cyrus sat on the ground, refusing their help. Looking at Angus to confirm he was alright, she muttered a word of thanks to the twins.
Fred and George squatted on either side of Cyrus, looking somewhat flustered at her pale face. The two of them had just been passing by the lake when they saw Angus anxiously leap into the water and swim toward the shore with something clenched in his jaws. Drawing closer, they saw it was actually Cyrus emerging from the lake water. Cyrus gradually recovered and looked toward the two of them.
"I'm fine."
Dragging her soaked robes, she headed to the girls' bathroom to change. When she stepped out after changing, she discovered the two of them waiting nearby.
Fred's voice came over with some hesitation, "Cyrus... It's not that we didn't want to talk to you, you see. Since you got into Slytherin... we were worried others would mock you for having a Gryffindor hang around with you."
"We're... friends, right?"
Cyrus didn't know how to respond and stared blankly at the two of them. Then she gave a stiff nod. Receiving an affirmative reply, the twins instantly became familiar, stepping closer to hand Cyrus a box of sweets.
"These are the Bertie Bott's Every-Flavoured Beans we've been working on—they've got even more amazing flavors! But don't worry, we picked out all the gross ones." Hearing the rumors about Cyrus, the two had been furious, spending days trying to figure out how to use pranks to get back at those people.
They had wanted to comfort Cyrus, but every time class ended, she vanished without a trace, and the Slytherins wouldn't speak to them either. Under their expectant gazes, Cyrus finally pulled out a small red ball and popped it into her mouth.
"How is it? How is it? The red one is a mix of watermelon and strawberry flavor."
"Actually, I can't taste anything. I don't have a sense of taste."
The excited expressions on the faces of the two visibly deteriorated. They looked at Cyrus with profound apology. Just as the words of apology were about to spill from their lips, a low, magnetic voice rang out from behind:
"Littering school corridors, ten points from Gryffindor!"
The twins turned their heads to look at Professor Snape and gasped, then were chased off by his icy glare. As they left, they still gave Cyrus a wave. With an unkind expression, Professor Snape said, "Miss Sean, to my office, at once!"
Cyrus followed Professor Snape down into the dungeons, watching as the man looked down at her from above. His tone carried an unquestionable weight:
"Explain—why on earth was Miss Sean swimming in the Black Lake in November?"
Cyrus was somewhat surprised. He had seen her fall into the water, but she didn't know whether Professor Snape was asking a question to which he already knew the answer or if he had only witnessed the moment she tumbled into the lake.
"...I was knocked into the water by a rogue Bludger."
Her honesty caused Professor Snape's tone to soften slightly.
"The Black Lake is quite a distance from the Quidditch pitch. Did that Bludger fly a thousand miles just to hit you?"
The girl fell silent again, and a cold snort escaped the corner of Snape's mouth.
"Sometimes, don't be too arrogant!" As a Slytherin, she couldn't even handle a trivial matter like this; where had her audacity to slaughter beasts gone? As a quintessential Slytherin, Snape was proud.
Although during his school days he had frequently brawled with Potter and his cronies and occasionally suffered cold mockery from his own housemates, as a Slytherin he knew deep down that if one didn't bare their fangs here, they would simply become targets for everyone else.
Snape held a rather dim view of the girl's failure to fight back against humiliation and bullying, yet he was somewhat relieved that she hadn't displayed any murderous intent toward anyone since enrolling.
Right now, his attitude toward the girl was somewhat complicated: on the one hand, she was a student in his house; on the other, she was a potentially dangerous element connected to the Dark Lord.
"Sir... could you lend me some dragon bone?"
Snape raised an eyebrow, sizing Cyrus up before his gaze finally lingered on her unnaturally drooping arm.
Then his tightly knitted brow twisted even further. He retrieved a vial of potion from the cabinet and placed it on the desk. "Drink it!" His tone was extremely impatient, signaling for her to drink it right in front of him. Cyrus picked up the vial, pausing just as the rim was about to touch her lips.
"Sir, you're starting to beat around the bush just like Dumbledore. I truly don't have a sense of taste, but my sense of smell is still quite exceptional."
Snape leaned forward in his chair, looking at Cyrus with a touch of interest. "Oh? And what did Miss Sean manage to smell?"
Hearing the professor use her name, Cyrus froze for a moment. Realizing his slip, Snape gave a cough and looked away from her. Cyrus straightened up.
"I didn't smell anything at all, Professor Snape. And that is precisely the problem."
Instead of being angered at being exposed, Snape replied with a light, mocking tone:
"It seems the clever Miss Sean has also read ahead on the fifth-year coursework regarding Veritaserum. Who knew Miss Sean harbored such—passion—for potion-making?"
"Just the reckless overreach of a foolish student, Professor Snape."
"No wizard is born with a disability. What caused your loss of taste?" Capable of destroying human sensory perception—aside from external physical damage and surgical removal—Snape could think of only one other possibility: Dark Magic.
Cyrus clearly had no intention of answering, and Snape's patience had worn thin.
Handing her two brand-new vials that floated toward her, he said, "Skele-Gro and a Pepperup Potion... as payment for your labor." Snape's muffled voice emerged. "Slytherin never treats the cowardly with kindness. If you want to go around making friends like some grinning fool, transfer to Gryffindor."
A few days later, the Slytherin Quidditch captain was given a month of detention by Snape for chronic negligence of equipment.