A Chill

On the first Saturday night of the new term, in Lockhart's brightly candlelit office hung with portraits, Harry rubbed his aching wrist with a miserable expression. Beside him, Lockhart prattled endlessly about his experiences and his insights into fame—he had been going on for several hours already.

Harry genuinely wondered whether the man's mouth ever got tired.

"Oh, Harry!" Noticing Harry's movement and gaze, Lockhart laughed exaggeratedly. "Hold on a little longer, and your detention will be over. Don't complain about being tired. If you want to remain famous, you must accept the occasional hardship of not being quite so famous."

"...Oh." Harry answered listlessly, then continued writing letters to Lockhart's fans—he had long known that Lockhart never listened to anything he said, so arguing back was useless.

So he kept responding to Lockhart with perfunctory "Mm-hm"s and "Oh"s while writing letters with his aching hand. Suddenly, amid Lockhart's dense stream of words, a name caught his attention.

"Who did you just mention?"

"What?" Interrupted, Lockhart thought back over what he had been saying. "Just now? Oh... that fifth-year Sekerei?"

"Yes. Do you know her well?" Harry asked.

This fifth-year who had suddenly appeared had become the talk of the entire school. Even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who never concerned themselves with such matters, had sent letters to the Weasley children, warning them that the Sekerei Family was very powerful—though they knew little else.

Until yesterday, Harry had felt nothing about it. What did it matter to him whether a pure-blood family was powerful or not? Seeing how politely Malfoy treated her, perhaps her family was just as arrogant as the Malfoys, looking down on everyone else.

But yesterday, this mysterious older student had kindly helped Ron!

At the time, Malfoy had called Hermione a very nasty word—Harry had only learned afterward just how filthy that word was. Hermione, who had realized it just as belatedly as he had, had been deeply upset. Fortunately, Hagrid was good at comforting people.

Enraged by that word, Ron had drawn his wand on Malfoy, but the result... had not been very kind to Ron himself.

Slugs had poured continuously from Ron's mouth. Slytherin's laughter soared to the heavens, and no one on the Gryffindor side could help Ron either. Harry and Hermione had been desperate, discussing taking Ron to Hagrid first, since his place was nearby.

Just as they helped Ron to his feet, a voice suddenly came from behind the Slytherin Quidditch players—

"What are you laughing at?"

Malfoy, who had been laughing so hard he was sprawled on the ground, abruptly stopped as though someone had seized him by the throat. He rose to his feet with a red face, dusted off his robes, then lifted his chin as though he had done nothing at all. In an odd tone, he said, "Oh! We didn't do anything, my dear Sekerei senior. It's just... that lot from Gryffindor were making a fuss."

For some reason, the Weasley twins had been full of curiosity about this older student from the very beginning. On the second day of term, they had casually greeted her in the corridor as if they already knew her. They had done so every day afterward, seemingly becoming familiar with Senior Sekerei, and now they had even—

"Malfoy is lying!"

"He insulted our little first-year!"

—naturally tattled to this mysterious older student!!!

"And he used a nasty curse to hurt our adorable little brother!"

"Oh, our poor little brother still has to endure their laughter..."

—and twisted the facts besides!!!

Both Slytherin and Gryffindor stared at them in astonishment.

The twins ignored those looks. One on each side of Cyberlina, they led her over to Ron.

At the time, Harry had been very close to this older student. He watched as she merely gave her wand a light wave, and Ron stopped vomiting. She Scourgified the slugs on Ron and on the floor, then gently asked Ron whether he felt unwell anywhere. Finally, after thoughtfully casting two diagnostic spells to make sure Ron was all right, she turned and left amid the twins' alternating thanks. Before leaving, she even greeted Harry and Hermione in a friendly manner.

She had none of the faults of those pure-blood families at all.

So Harry had a very good impression of this gentle older student. Hearing Lockhart mention her now, he could not help wanting to ask a few more questions.

"Ha! Of course I know people like her!" At the mention of Cyberlina, Lockhart became annoyed. "Just as I was saying, she's the sort of person who borrows her family's glory to show off. That kind of 'fame' is what I despise most, because they haven't earned it themselves."

Ever since he had heard the words "Sekerei Family," Lockhart had figured it out. In Travels with Trolls, the only old woman whose identity had not been made clear must have been the "that student" he had once heard professors mention—Sekerei. This newly arrived Sekerei must have recognized her elder and therefore come after him. But he was not worried at all. After all, he had never named anyone directly, and perhaps that great figure would even praise him when she saw it.

Lockhart spoke with his head raised and a smile on his face. Harry gave him a look of indescribable complexity, then silently lowered his head and continued his detention work.

"Harry, don't you think I'm right?"

"Tear you apart... kill... tear you apart..."

"Hm?" Harry looked up in confusion.

"Haha, so you do think I'm right."

"Kill you... tear you apart... kill..."

"No, no, Professor, did you hear that—a voice?"

"What voice?"

"That voice—you didn't hear it?"

"What are you talking about?" Lockhart looked at him in surprise. "Are you already sleepy, Harry?"

Before Harry could say anything, Lockhart glanced at the time and began exclaiming about how quickly it had passed. Harry wholeheartedly disagreed.

Soon, under Lockhart's chatter, Harry left Lockhart's office while trying to listen for that voice. But once he was outside, the voice was gone. Harry glanced curiously at Lockhart's office door, then finally turned and left in confusion.

However, after taking only a few steps, he was startled by someone standing in the shadows—so startled that he literally jumped.

"Oh! My God—ah, I mean—Merlin!" Harry was clearly flustered. Embarrassed by his own reaction, his face reddened. "Um... good evening, Senior Sekerei."

"Good evening, Mr. Potter."

Cyberlina stepped out from the angle between the window and the wall, standing before the window with a smile. Her pale eyes were nearly invisible in the darkness, so eerie that Harry unconsciously shrank his neck.

"Perhaps I could ask Mr. Potter to take a few steps forward?"

Cyberlina's voice was gentle and friendly. Harry suspected nothing and stepped forward, though he was puzzled.

"Senior Sekerei, what are you doing here—"

"Come here and let me tear you apart... let me kill you..."

Harry, who had opened his mouth to ask a question, suddenly froze. The voice he had heard earlier in Lockhart's office had become much clearer now, and he understood the horrifying meaning behind its words!

"Senior Sekerei! Did you hear—" Harry looked up, nervously wanting to ask Cyberlina, but once he raised his head, he found himself unable to speak at all.

Those pale golden-brown eyes that had been gentle during the day now seemed soul-stirring beneath the cold moonlight. They were still filled with a smile, but they did not feel friendly—not to Harry, at least.

Under that gaze, he felt as though his entire body had been submerged in icy water—cold, suffocating, with no hope of escape. In an instant, countless memories flashed through his mind—those painful times at the Dursleys', when he had been scolded and despised; the frightening images from his early childhood that occasionally surfaced from the depths of his memory; the delight he had felt when speaking to the snake at the zoo; the fear he had felt facing Voldemort last year; and just now—

"What are you two doing here?"

The stern voice pulled Harry free from those memories. His head began to ache faintly, and he clutched it as he instinctively staggered back. A pair of broad hands firmly caught his shoulders, keeping him from falling.

"Mr. Potter, and—Miss Sekerei, if I recall correctly, curfew is approaching. Rather than returning to your dormitories, are you standing here waiting for your busy old professor to catch you?"

Harry swore he had never found that stern, icy voice so pleasant to hear!

"Professor Snape." Harry straightened himself, and the hands steadying him withdrew. "Sorry, I came to serve detention with Professor Lockhart... I'll return to my dormitory immediately."

Snape lowered his head to glance at the boy. Those green eyes were full of panic. He instinctively looked away and closed the mouth that was about to spew venom, silently nodding.

Having received permission, Harry immediately dashed toward the stairs as though fleeing some dangerous monster.

He was wrong. He was completely, utterly wrong! Senior Sekerei wasn't friendly at all—she was terrifying! He'd rather face Malfoy's insults!

As the hurried footsteps gradually faded, two pairs of eyes withdrew from the boy's retreating back at the same time—then met.

"Miss Sekerei, I assume you can take responsibility for your actions just now!" Snape's tone suppressed his anger. He had never expected Sekerei, who had seemed fairly well-behaved, to—openly use Legilimency on a twelve-year-old child in the corridor!

"Sorry, Professor. It was my fault." Cyberlina lowered her eyes slightly, her expression as gentle and friendly as ever. "I can take responsibility."

"You had better!" Snape's chest heaved sharply once before his tone calmed. "I presume Miss Sekerei, who can take responsibility for her actions, is willing to explain them."

Cyberlina glanced toward Lockhart's office in the distance, then smiled kindly at Snape. "If I remember correctly, Professor Flitwick is supposed to be on patrol tonight."

Snape paused, then said awkwardly, "I remembered incorrectly." He immediately turned stern again. "Please do not change the subject."

"Oh, that's not it. I'm not changing the subject. I only mean to say—this isn't a good place to talk."

By the time Cyberlina led him up to the eighth floor, Snape had already assumed she was taking him to the headmaster's office. Yet she stopped in front of a tapestry depicting a troll and did not move.

"...This is the good place?" Snape asked.

Cyberlina gave Snape a surprised look, then smiled mysteriously and murmured something as she paced back and forth before the tapestry three times.

Then Snape discovered in shock that a smooth door had appeared in the wall opposite the tapestry! He understood what Cyberlina's earlier surprised look had meant—You've been at Hogwarts for so long and you don't know about this place?

He dearly wanted to retort that he was not some Gryffindor who ran around exploring the school, but since Cyberlina had not asked outright, he could only swallow the reply.

This time, Cyberlina did not open the door and step aside to invite him in. Instead, she entered first, and the door then extended an invitation for him to enter.

Over the past few days since term began, Snape had not failed to receive complaints from Slytherin students about Cyberlina not being in her dormitory at night.

But he had not interfered, because he knew Cyberlina was not truly a fifteen-year-old child, and had even once been Dumbledore's professor. Surely nothing could happen to her at Hogwarts, so he had never considered where she went when she was not resting in her dormitory.

But now, even if he did not wish to know, he knew.

Because behind this door was the answer.

Moonlight from some unknown source poured down through high windows, illuminating the glass of a structure visible immediately upon entering—some sort of glasshouse, though he did not know what it was. The cool light reflected from it across the floor of the entire hall complemented the dark green tiles perfectly, making the place look mysterious and beautiful.

Cyberlina waved her wand, and candles lit one after another with dim light, revealing the antique yet lavish decorations to Snape's eyes.

But he had no interest in the sort of things only his pale blond-haired friend would notice. His attention was caught by the haphazardly arranged pots of herbs and magical plants.

"Professor, this way, please." As Cyberlina walked, candles along both sides of the corridor beside the hall lit one by one. They moved without wind, and amid the flickering flames, Snape saw several rooms the corridor passed through containing quite a few workbenches—though the surroundings were too dark for him to make out what kind of workbenches they were. He was only certain that he did not smell any potions.

The two sat before the tall, narrow window at the end of the corridor—where there was a round table and two chairs—and could see the wild landscape that had somehow appeared outside.

Cyberlina tapped the tabletop, and two cups of steaming hot drink with the scent of milk immediately appeared upon it.

"It's late. Have something to help you sleep." Cyberlina smiled pleasantly.

"..." Snape looked at the hot drink before him and was momentarily at a loss for words. "You seem quite familiar with the Hogwarts house-elves."

"Oh, not really. I haven't been to Hogwarts for several decades, and many of the newly born house-elves don't know me."

"..." Snape closed his eyes, clenching the hands resting on his lap. He repeatedly reminded himself, The person before me is an old monster even Dumbledore must be wary of, to suppress his impatience.

"So, why did you use Legilimency on Potter?" Snape asked with lowered eyes. "You had put on quite a convincing act as their understanding senior before this."

"How merciless, Professor." Cyberlina smiled at the man sitting before her, his entire body tense. "But before I answer your question, may I ask whether it is possible that Mr. Potter has Salazar Slytherin's blood?"

"Impossible!" Snape refuted without thinking.

"Then that is strange..." Cyberlina's tone was full of interest and malice. "If Mr. Potter is not a descendant of Slytherin—how could he be a Parselmouth?"