Harry Potter 50 Shades of Gray

A minor setback.

That was what Cyrna tried to tell herself as she stared silently into the polite applause. But something bitter—something she had been suppressing ever since she found herself forced into another life—curled with blistering heat in her gut.

There was no way the story wouldn't affect her if she was in Slytherin. New plans—delicate and fragile like gossamers—spun through her mind, but each and every one tore at her touch; she hated every alternate solution. Hidden from plain view, her hands curled, nails digging crescents into the flesh of her palms. A minor setback. No. She was furious. It mounted within her chest, and she could feel her magic pushing against her control, just as it had in the bookstore.

Smile. She reminded herself as she got up from her seat.

"I'm not letting you go anywhere near the children at Hogwarts with so little control over your magic"

"Standing out is dangerous. A child shouldn't have this much magic."

"Hide it."

Stifling her anger felt like voluntary suffocation. But she remembered their deep-set frown, the near painful grip on her shoulders as the Flamels engraved the severity of the situation into her. She took a slow breath. She was mediocre. Normal.

Hide it.

Check the board. Where were her pieces?

Her gaze flashed to the Gryffindor table, discarding every face till she found Harry who appeared neither happy nor betrayed. Cyrna contorted her expression into an imitation of Perenelle's smile. One filled with such undeniable warmth that it seemed as if the shadow of deceit could never touch it. Harry responded with a crooked smile and a wave of his own.

She moved on. Ron averted his gaze, unable to meet hers. Not ideal, but it was not hatred. Well, toleration was enough for Weasley. Ultimately, he wasn't necessary. Hermione didn't seem to mind.

She could work with this.

(She was too scared to look at Dumbledore)

"Turpin, Lisa," Professor McGonagall called.

Heading towards the Slytherin table, Cyrna saw that Malfoy's mouth was slanted up with malevolence as he spoke quietly to the people around him. In response, a girl eyed her with a mocking smile, and the other Slytherins quivered, their shoulders shaking from laughter as they jeered at her approach.

H i d e. I t.

Daphne gave a slight shrug, telling her that she would not lend a hand when so many stood against her. Cyrna was on her own.

Flashes of what had happened to Snape ran through her mind. Perhaps other half-bloods in Slytherin led more fortunate lives, but all she could think of was Snape's horrid school years. Cyrna had no plans to linger around Hogwarts for her later years, but she knew the possibility of plans going awry. If she ended up staying for seven years... Could she put up with this? Or worse? Unlike the previous war, Hogwarts would be the location of central conflict. There would only be two identities within Slytherin upon Voldemort's return: allies with the Death Eaters (or be damn good enough at pretense to fool the Dark Lord) or a traitor—and Cyrna didn't have high hopes as to how life would go for the latter.

And Snape, Snape had the most brilliant of minds. She was quite sure that that was the only reason why he was tolerated in the Slytherin House. They had been trying to recruit him for the Dark Lord. But if he had refused, she had no doubt that they would've turned on him immediately without fear.

Intelligence alone wouldn't be sufficient protection.

By now, the Slytherins had stopped snickering, but she knew, oh she knew by the ways their eyes glinted, by the way they flashed with condescension that she'd have no peace. Perhaps she could have been ignored if she were any other Half-blood, but seeing as she had pissed off Malfoy, she wouldn't have the luxury of being ignored.

Her thoughts flew—she'd have to make room for herself in Slytherin, and for that, she'd need power. Nothing could be accomplished without it, not peace, safety, or even friends within the House. She had to offer something, and to alter the situation, intelligence alone would not suffice in the end. They would never leave her alone for just that—they hadn't for Snape; if anything, they'd try to extort it.

And furthermore, she had it. Power.

Hide it?

Perenelle's warning played again in her mind. But circumstances had changed, hadn't they? Was there really no other way for her to survive the war? Her gaze lingered on Malfoy's smug expression.

How could she expect Daphne to risk her reputation when she was not willing to risk herself?

With clammy palms, she made her decision.

hide it?

Why should she?

Life had its move, now it was hers.

....

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