Chapter 15

Cyrus knelt by the tree, using still-shivering hands to scoop away the soil. The January weather was bitter, and the ground had frozen hard. Her hands were red and raw, scratched by pebbles, but none of this could stop her movements.

Time ticked by second by second. Morning light filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting down upon Cyrus without a shred of warmth. Cyrus took out the large glass jar she had purchased earlier from her pouch. Professor Snape twitched the corner of his eye and sighed; with a flick of his wand, the glass jar transformed into a rectangular glass casket. Angus lay quietly inside the casket, and Cyrus gently cleaned away the dirt from his body.

Her hand stroked the cold glass casket just as she had stroked Angus before. Soil gradually covered the entire casket, and Cyrus was grateful that she could no longer see anything. A headstone was erected at Angus's grave, engraved with:

Angus My Guardian Angel

"I'm sorry, Angus. It's my fault I couldn't protect you," Cyrus murmured, kneeling before the headstone. She gently stroked the stone, leaving a faint kiss mark upon it. By the time she stood back up, her expression had returned to calm. "So, Professor Snape, could you take me to the Headmaster's Off— wait?!"

Floating as she was carried back to the Hospital Wing, Cyrus was forced back onto a bed with a helpless resignation. Straining against a body on the verge of fainting, she probed, "Headmaster Dumbledore?" Cyrus tested the waters. "Dumbledore... a muddled centenarian... who loves to steal..."

A piece of candy popped into her mouth, cutting off Cyrus before she could expose his true nature. "I will satisfy your curiosity once my basic sensory functions have recovered. Until then, I hope you can provide me with a sufficiently quiet environment for healing. I certainly don't want to wake up the next morning to a bunch of pure-blood old men and women pointing at my nose and cursing me. Surely the greatest wizard can manage such a simple plea from a student. Don't probe my body at will; if I wake up and find any anomalies, those people won't just be drinking a restorative draught to get better."

With that, Cyrus collapsed onto the bed and fell fast asleep. She was simply far too weak.

Rather than receiving treatment in the Hospital Wing, it felt more like being imprisoned there. Drinking various potions every day, she gradually began to perceive a hint of flavor within the otherwise tasteless draughts—evidently the handiwork of Madam Pomfrey.

During this time, the twins wanted to come visit Cyrus, but Madam Pomfrey stopped them. Cyrus had also secretly begged her not to let anyone come visit; she needed time to think things through. Dumbledore also kept his promise, and throughout this period there was no disturbance from reporters or students' parents. She lay in the Hospital Wing for a full half-month before she was barely able to get out of bed and walk.

In the middle of the night, after Madam Pomfrey had gone to rest, Cyrus sneaked out of the Hospital Wing. "It seems Miss Sean has fully recovered, and is already dying to go on a night stroll?" Professor Snape's exhausted, low voice came from the side as his figure gradually materialized from the darkness.

Throughout her treatment in the Hospital Wing, Cyrus had never worn bandages. After using the scar-removal ointment Madam Pomfrey gave her, the scar on her forehead had faded somewhat, and paired with those azure pupils, her originally delicate features gradually emerged. Snape lingered on her face for a moment longer before looking away. "Sir, can you take me to the Headmaster's Office?"

Snape still strode ahead, though he noticeably slowed his pace. Cyrus's right leg had previously been bitten by an Acromantula, the venom eroding her nerves, and she was still somewhat unsteady on her feet, forced to follow slowly behind Snape.

She couldn't help but eye Snape's back. He really did look like a giant bat. Didn't those robes drag on the ground and trip him? Cyrus's thoughts drifted far away; ever since her injury and entry into the Hospital Wing, her mind seemed to have grown unfettered and wild. Things she would never have paid attention to before now sparked her curious scrutiny.

As she walked, she bumped right into Snape ahead of her—smelling of herbs, carrying a hint of bitterness. Cyrus lost her footing and instinctively grabbed Snape's black robes to steady herself. When she looked up, she met a gaze as dark as obsidian. It was as though she had never seriously looked into anyone's eyes before; it was the black she liked...

Snape turned sideways and looked down at Cyrus from on high. "It seems Miss Sean has not yet fully recovered."

Cyrus stared into Snape's eyes in a daze, released his black robes, and slowly said, "Your eyes are very pretty." Snape's face remained cold and indifferent. He turned, let out a hum, and gave the password to the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's Office: "Lemon Drop."

The gargoyle stepped aside, revealing a flight of upward-moving stairs. Cyrus went in first, leaning against the wall and using her left leg to push herself up the steps at a snail's pace.

"Tsk!" Her collar was hoisted up. Cyrus was currently eleven years old, but her height and build lagged behind most of her peers. Dumbledore chuckled as he looked at Cyrus, whose limbs hung limp as she was hauled bodily into the Headmaster's Office. "Ah, Severus, I don't accept students caught sleepwalking here."

Cyrus's face turned as gloomy as Snape's, tinged with a touch of awkwardness. She was placed in a chair opposite Dumbledore. Snape showed no intention of leaving, nonchalantly taking a seat next to Cyrus. Fawkes the Phoenix seemed rather disinclined toward Cyrus, standing upon an elm branch of the desk and watching her with a trace of vigilance.

"Care for a Cockroach Cluster, Cyrus? Although their appearance is a bit terrifying, they have a peanut butter center and are quite delicious. Madam Pomfrey tells me your sense of taste has recently recovered—a joyous thing, is it not?"

Cyrus was actually somewhat curious about the sweet, sour, bitter, and spicy flavors people talked about. She looked at the plate of sweets that looked identical to real cockroaches, their antennae and legs still twitching. She picked out the uppermost cockroach and, without hesitation, bit off its head.

Snape wore a look of utter disdain from the side; he had assumed that besides Dumbledore, no one would ever be willing to eat such a disgusting-looking thing.

The peanut butter center burst in her mouth, and the intense sweetness left Cyrus somewhat unaccustomed. So this was sweetness? She didn't really like it.

"Ah, finally someone who can appreciate my tastes. What would you both like to drink?" "Black coffee." "What does that taste like?" "Bitter." "Then I want black coffee too."

Two cups of coffee appeared. Cyrus watched Snape, who looked noticeably more energized after finishing his. She tried taking a sip or two; it seemed she was much more receptive to bitterness.

Waste no more time. Cyrus no longer bothered hiding her blue eyes, looking very generously at Dumbledore. "My entire past from six years ago, in exchange for you satisfying two of my requests."

"Oh? And what requests might those be, Cyrus?" Light danced in Dumbledore's eyes. "Cyrus Sean is suspended from school due to shattering a hallucinogenic potion during a dispute with others, causing everyone present to hallucinate."

Cyrus held up her index and middle fingers. "The second request: during my suspension, no one is to monitor me, no one is to follow me, and I am to be given sufficient time."

"This was merely caused by a minor dispute between students; it is hardly grounds to expel someone." "You know that telling you my past is me trading for your trust during my suspension." "Cyrus..." "I just want to go out for a walk. You can make your decision after viewing my memories." "Very well, Cyrus. This will require your cooperation; try not to resist, all right?"

Cyrus averted her gaze. "I don't like the intrusive feeling of Legilimency. Even if you insist, I'll just cast illusions on myself like last time, and you won't see anything. I've read in books that an alchemical object called a Pensieve exists, into which memories can be placed and viewed."

Dumbledore sighed. "Cyrus, extracting your own memories to place in a Pensieve... improper execution of this charm could lead to confusion in your memories. Besides, just a short while ago, you couldn't even cast magic."

"How do you extract memories? Demonstrate it once; if I can't do it, we'll resort to Legilimency. Don't worry, using illusions to alter memories is far too dangerous, I won't do that."

With no other choice, Dumbledore summoned the Pensieve. He lightly tapped his temple with his wand, and a silvery-white thread of memory was drawn out, then flicked off the wand into the Pensieve.

"Cyrus, the Memory Charm involves finding the relevant imagery in your mind and then utilizing magic..."

Magic seemed to swirl within her blue pupils. She crossed her arms and pondered for a moment. She walked over to the Pensieve, closed her eyes, and pointed her right index finger at her temple. A thread of memory was drawn out, and after Cyrus tossed it into the Pensieve, she sat back down amidst their astonished gazes.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, could you get me some more foods or drinks with different flavors? I want to try them all. You two go ahead and look."

Non-verbal, wandless casting, and she succeeded on the very first try. "Is it because of your eyes?"

Dumbledore and Snape's attention shifted entirely from the Pensieve to the girl's eyes. Snape also recalled that night in the Forbidden Forest, where the girl used air blades to slice apart an Acromantula—a technique strikingly similar to his self-invented spell, *Sectumsempra*.

She had only seen him use it a few times, and she had mastered it completely? And it was done with wandless, non-verbal magic as well! Cyrus was also somewhat puzzled.

"Is your ability to instantly learn spells due to your eyes?" Cyrus narrowed her eyes and frowned. "You... can't see magic?"

The two men were even more bewildered. Dumbledore had lived for over a hundred and fifty years and had seen plenty of wondrous things, but he had never heard of anyone being able to see magic. "Cyrus, could you explain in detail?"

"Of course, if Headmaster Dumbledore demonstrates Apparition for me a few times first." "Of course, if Cyrus, you are willing to first tell me the principles behind what you call seeing magic."

The old man and the child were at it again, locking horns. Snape even had the fleeting illusion that the two of them looked terribly similar. Was Dumbledore like this when he was young? "Miss Sean, where did you learn the spell you used in the Forbidden Forest before?" "Didn't you demonstrate it right in front of me?" "Miss Sean didn't even know the incantation, yet how did you cast it? I don't recall ever teaching anyone that spell." "A self-created spell. Quite a genius." Snape didn't feel any aversion to such a blunt compliment from Cyrus. Cyrus looked at Dumbledore opposite her, then turned her head and pointed at her ears toward Snape.

Once Snape understood, a rather peculiar expression crossed his face. He then cast a Muffliato charm right in front of Dumbledore.

"Very well, Miss Sean. I don't know what need there is to keep secrets from the Headmaster—he is, after all, acknowledged by everyone as the greatest wizard."

Though Snape said this, a trace of amusement lingered within him. "Regarding your ability to see magic..."

"The ability of my eyes is not just about using illusions. In a strict sense, it is about switching between reality and illusion. Illusion can create hallucinations, while reality can pierce through the essence of things. When magic is used, magic is always in motion, and I can see how magic is operated, structured, split, and subsequently turned into fully-formed spells."

"So according to what you're saying, the magic comprising every single spell is completely different. Like individual entities, combining with different entities or changing arrangement patterns can form completely different spells."

"That's right, but I still can't freely control it to create new spells yet. I can only manage spells through observation and imitation. Just like the Memory Charm from earlier and your *Sectumsempra*, I imitated the way the magic flowed and changed, and successfully cast them."

"So as long as you manipulate the magic, you don't need a medium like a wand to guide it to cast spells. What about the effect and power?"

"I'm not clear on that. Previously I couldn't use magic, and I was always wrapped in bandages. I've had no opportunity to try at all."

Snape's interest was piqued as well, his hollow pupils emitting a faint glimmer. "What about your petrification ability? Was that achieved through this method too?"

Cyrus shook her head. "Unclear."

At that moment, Dumbledore's cough sounded, and the two of them finally realized they had been discussing things with such heated fervor that they had completely forgotten his existence.

"...You should know that the great Dumbledore cannot be blocked by a simple Muffliato." Snape reverted to his cold expression.

"Naturally, seeing as the Headmaster is a centenarian who haggles with children." Snape's mouth curved upward into a slight scoff. Why did it feel like this child had become a lot more talkative ever since that day?

Without a shred of hesitation in exposing his own faculty member and completely unbothered by mocking him, Dumbledore felt as though he had aged twenty-odd years in an instant.

"Cyrus, actually I wanted to ask you before. Why have you harbored such deep hostility toward me from the very first time we met?"

Cyrus arched a brow, giving Dumbledore a look that told him not to ask obvious questions. "Ever since I saw you, there's been an underlying irritation deep in my heart. Very well, Headmaster Dumbledore, please honor your promise and demonstrate Apparition. You heard the conversation just as well as anyone."

There were anti-Apparition charms restricting Hogwarts Castle, but the Headmaster alone possessed the privilege to use it. So that she could practice it herself, Dumbledore Apparitioned her and Snape to a deserted high ground.

In truth, it could hardly be called teaching; Cyrus only needed Dumbledore to demonstrate a few times for her to grasp it. To see whether different people casting the exact same spell would yield different results, Snape reluctantly cast it once as well.

Due to Cyrus's magic having just recovered and her control lacking precision, her Apparition destination deviated slightly. However, with more practice later, that would hardly become a problem. Aside from that, the Apparition cast by Cyrus showed no difference from theirs. Dumbledore's expression grew somewhat grave.