Snape watched Headmaster Dumbledore, who had returned to the headmaster's office without a word. This latest encounter with the girl had left him thoroughly unsettled.
The girl's physical features naturally reminded him of that dark wizard who had plunged all of Britain into panic more than a decade ago, yet there was something different about her as well. There were far too many secrets wrapped up in her; allowing such an unknown danger into the school was a deeply imprudent choice.
Still, he could understand Dumbledore's reasoning to an extent. Rather than leaving such an unpredictable factor to grow unchecked out in the world, it was better to keep her close where she could be monitored. What puzzled him, however, was the conversation Dumbledore had just had with the girl.
"Severus, what do you make of Miss Sean?"
"I trust Headmaster Dumbledore will dispense with the riddles."
Dumbledore looked at Snape, appearing to weigh his words.
"All I have been able to unearth is that those four individuals seemed to spend most of their time in a circus operated by a circle of dark wizards. They happened to pass by Spinner's End that day, though their movements were strictly concealed. They wandered across Europe, earning their living by exhibiting dangerous and mutated magical creatures."
"Because their trade skirted the legal grey areas, the Aurors could never pin anything on them. Judging by tonight's probing, it appears this young girl was one of them. A few years ago, news came out of Germany that the circus had been consumed by a massive fire."
"Everyone and every animal with a life inside it was burned to ashes. No one witnessed what happened; she was the sole survivor. Or perhaps... she was the instigator. The next time any trace of her turned up was a few months ago, when her location was identified through the Book of Admission."
Snape fell silent. He knew the child possessed a remarkably dangerous petrification ability. Yet a circus run by dark wizards, coupled with dangerous magical beasts—how had she managed it?
Could an eleven-year-old child really pull off such feats? "What is going on with her magic? I could tell that her ability wasn't enough to petrify you. But the magical fluctuation just now was different from before, it was almost like..."
"An illusion."
Snape's brow furrowed deeply as he crossed his arms over his chest. One hand rubbed his chin, his eyes filled with gravity.
"The power residing in her eyes is far greater than you or I imagined. She appears capable of generating illusions through her gaze. Furthermore, I could not use Legilimency on her. Or rather, her mind is like a swamp."
"Nothing can be seen within it, and there is a constant sensation of being dragged down into the darkness at any moment. But what disturbs me even more is this girl's psychological resilience and a cunning far beyond her years... along with her absolute ruthlessness. She knows how to conceal herself from others. Earlier, when she looked at the two of us, she did not activate her ability at all."
"Only when I crossed her boundary—namely, that hound named Angus—did she realize the disparity in power between us. Yet she still used her ability without regard for the consequences."
"What is so special about that dog?"
"According to your earlier recollection, her eyes can revert to blue. Clearly, she is full of hostility and guard toward me. If she were facing her savior, perhaps it would be different, wouldn't it? She even adopted the name you chose for her."
Dumbledore offered no further answers. Amidst the murderous glare from Snape, he fished out a handful of Cockroach Clusters and chewed on them with a loud crunch.
"If Headmaster Dumbledore's ears aren't as decrepit as his teeth, he should have heard quite clearly that she merely happened to be lacking a name at the time. I did not choose one for her!"
Dumbledore looked with a beaming smile at Snape, who continued to spew venom. "Even if Cyrus truly has no parents, she is capable of naming her friends, yet she gave none to herself. Why is that? Are you not curious in the least?"
Back in the pitch-black, somewhat chilly and dilapidated shack, Cyrus lay down pressed against Angus. For all these years, they had spent every single night just like this. Day in, day out, without change.
"The greatest white wizard in the world... ha..." Cyrus murmured softly, then began to hum a tune. She closed her eyes, and countless images flashed through her mind.
"It doesn't matter. Anyway... anywhere I go is the abyss."
"If I see any breathing creature other than you here tomorrow, that furry little friend of yours will be turned into a taxidermy specimen crossbred with a Siberian electric fox!"
"Fifteen minutes! Finish off that Clodovea giant lizard, don't you dare make me lose my money!"
"Back on stage tomorrow. So many people have placed their bets on you, don't let me down!"
"Heh... what a monster. Don't look at me with those disgusting eyes! Blindfold her!"
"What if you do get out... Do you think a killing machine like you has any place left in the outside world? Sooner or later... you'll get everyone around you killed!"
"Such a sickening body..."
The familiar sensation of tearing struck her, and Cyrus once again experienced that excruciating pain originating from her very soul. She clenched her teeth, her lips frighteningly pale. The cold sweat on her body gradually dampened her coarse linen garments, and she no longer had the strength to hold herself up. She could only collapse onto the freezing floor, her slender fingers trembling uncontrollably.
Gradually, she lost all feeling in her hands, her vision was swallowed by darkness, and Angus's barking faded until it vanished entirely. The ringing that drilled into her brain grew fainter. Apart from the slight rise and fall of her chest indicating she was still breathing, she lay there like a corpse.
Early the next morning, Cyrus washed away the filth on her body and put on the clothes she had washed yesterday, doing her best not to look like a vagrant.
The coarse linen clothes she wore were terribly old and very thin. Her long black hair was still tied back, though the bandages on her face had been replaced with fresh ones. Dressed all in black with black hair, the white bandages across her face stood out glaringly. Then a sound like a firecracker burst came from outside the door. The man did not enter, standing slightly off to the side of the wooden door.
"I sincerely hope Miss Sean will refrain from destroying her own breeze-felling wooden door again."
Hearing the familiar deep voice, Cyrus tucked her small handgun away against the inside of her arm. She then took hold of Angus and stepped out of the shack. "Good afternoon, Mr. Snape. If you don't mind, please call me Cyrus."
Snape looked down at the girl, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment. Her cheeks were slightly swollen and flushed. He then looked at the girl's exposed hands; the parts not covered by her sleeves bore bruised, purplish marks. Snape watched as the girl turned her head toward him, her expression carrying a silent question.
"Hold onto your dog."
Without warning, he pressed a hand directly onto the girl's shoulder and Apparitioned them away to Diagon Alley. The instant he touched her shoulder, he felt an instinctive resistance in the girl's body, though she quickly suppressed it.
The moment they reached their destination, Snape pulled his hand back as if he loathed touching her even for a second. He then tossed her a bag stuffed with Galleons. Cyrus made no reaction to his behavior, retrieved the purse, and simply stroked the slightly unsteady Angus beside her with a soft murmur of comfort.
Snape was somewhat surprised that Cyrus felt no sign of the usual discomfort brought on by Apparition, though he kept the question to himself. Instead, he strode forward without a thought of waiting for her. The unfamiliar surroundings seemed to force the girl to rely entirely on the guidance of Angus pulling her forward.
Passersby cast curious glances at the blind girl, for disabled individuals were a rarity in the wizarding world—unless treatment had been delayed, but such instances were exceedingly few. Looking somewhat annoyed, Snape slowed his pace.
Throughout the shopping trip, the girl remained entirely quiet. Just as before, she refused to speak unless absolutely necessary. As she silently tucked away the pouch filled with herbs, she purchased an extra supply of dittany. Snape took note of this, his expression turning rather unpleasant.
"I suppose a person who offers no resistance to anything the outside world inflicts upon her has no need for dittany." Snape had noticed the bruises hidden beneath the girl's clothes and the swelling on her face the moment he met her. He could not comprehend her behavior; even if she needed to keep a low profile, there was no reason to submit passively to the violence of others every single time.
Yet the girl offered no reply to Snape's remark, merely packing away her things and quietly waiting for him to lead her away. "Arrogant and foolish. Does Miss Sean not know how to answer her professor's questions?" Cyrus raised her head to look at Snape's scowling face, gazing at him in silence. This time, Snape did not wait, striding out of the shop.
Neither of them spoke for the remainder of the trip. They simply handed the shopping list to the merchants, waited, paid, and left. Cyrus carried a massive rucksack on her back, loaded with a cauldron and several heavy books. The heavy pack seemed almost capable of crushing her slender frame, yet she walked as if unburdened.
Angus, too, had several herb bundles strapped to his back. Snape offered no magical assistance, perhaps waiting for the girl to break her silence and ask for help. Once everything was concluded and they stood once more before the small wooden shack, Cyrus spoke first.
"Thank you, sir."
Snape let out a cold snort and handed her a ticket. "I trust that with Miss Sean's capabilities, she is fully capable of taking the train to school on her own."
"Yes, sir."