Letters

On the first morning of term, Ron had been left utterly mortified by his mother's Howler, and he was miserable—miserable over his own embarrassment, and even more miserable over his father's investigation. Although his mother had said she did not know why the investigation into his father had been suspended just hours after the notice was issued, it certainly would not simply disappear without a trace.

He pouted and lowered his head, forcing himself to shovel down his breakfast, when Harry nudged his arm.

"Oh, Harry, don't comfort me, I—"

"Ron, look at Malfoy!"

There was a note of excitement in Harry's voice. Ron looked up in confusion and was astonished to find that the usually quiet, orderly Slytherin table could now actually be called lively.

Every Slytherin had at least one letter in front of them; some had three or four, and some even had parcels. As a result, there were an extraordinary number of owls at the Slytherin table that morning. Even more owls had yet to deliver the letters or packages in their claws, merely circling above the Slytherin table or perching on the table, windows, chairs, and anywhere else they could find. Every owl beat its wings, shoving against the others in the crush, until the entire area around the Slytherin table became packed.

Draco had apparently been scratched by several owls. The hair he had carefully slicked into place that morning was already a mess, his robes were slightly disheveled, and paired with his mortified expression, the young wizard looked thoroughly bedraggled.

Ron's bad mood instantly improved considerably. Along with the other Gryffindors, he watched the rare embarrassment of the Slytherins as though enjoying a show.

"What happened? Did all the pure-blood families get into trouble at once?" Ron asked gleefully, having completely forgotten that his own family was pure-blood as well.

"Maybe something major happened in the wizarding world." Hermione Granger studied all the tables, including her own House's. "It isn't just Slytherin. Everyone has received at least some letters. Term has only just started—none of this makes any sense."

At the words "something major," Harry—who had faced Voldemort last term and whose scar had just acted up again yesterday—suddenly became alert and sat upright.

"Maybe it's because of that mysterious—" A pair of hands landed on Harry's tense shoulders.

"Suddenly appeared—" Another pair of hands settled on Ron's head as he watched the spectacle.

Two nearly identical heads leaned in between Harry and Ron, speaking in unison. "Fifth-year."

Ever since they had seen that person with only a name and no body last night, then watched her suddenly appear as a new fifth-year and undergo the Sorting after the ceremony had ended, they had known that girl was no ordinary person. So, during their customary first-night excursion, they had paid extra attention to that name on the Marauder's Map. They discovered that this Slytherin girl did not sleep either, leaving her dormitory in the middle of the night. The twins had immediately set out to block Cyberlina's path, only to discover halfway there that her name had suddenly vanished from the Marauder's Map. No matter how they searched, they could not find it.

By then, they were already very close to the gloomy dungeons. Amid the shallow snores of the portraits on the walls, the brothers exchanged a glance, then silently turned and ran back at once.

"Don't press on my head, George!" Ron frowned and shoved the arm off his head.

"I'm Fred, little Ronnie." George patted Ron on the head, then lifted his arm and casually glanced at the Marauder's Map he had been holding all along—then froze. He immediately raised the parchment before Fred's eyes.

Fred stared at the slowly appearing name, "Cyberlina Sekerei," and froze as well. Then he and George simultaneously looked toward the location where that name had appeared on the Marauder's Map—the entrance to the Great Hall.

The next second, the mysterious fifth-year stepped into the Great Hall.

Almost the instant Cyberlina entered the hall, all the lingering owls rushed at her in one great swarm. The faint smile on Cyberlina's face did not change. Only when the owls were about to crash into her did she gently raise her wand. The reckless owls were all sent soaring into the air above the Great Hall, so high they nearly blended into the enchanted sky.

The noisy hall fell silent in an instant. Students and even the owls that had not been sent skyward held their breath as they watched the black-haired girl walk step by step toward the Slytherin table. She casually chose an empty seat in the middle and sat down, then flicked her wand and released the owls. No longer flapping and squawking, they silently lined up and placed the letters in their claws before Cyberlina.

After greeting the young Slytherins around her, Cyberlina began reading the letters. Every one of them was a greeting, though most carried a probing tone, testing whether she was truly a descendant of "that Sekri"; whether "that Sekri" was still alive; whether she herself was "that Sekri."

The Slytherins around her exchanged a few glances, then quietly ate their breakfast. After sending out letters of inquiry the night before, they had received letters that morning from their paternal families, maternal families, and various other families connected to them. The vague wording of their elders' replies made them more wary of Cyberlina than any direct explanation would have.

Draco glanced at the girl sitting primly as she opened envelopes. His fork stabbed at the bread on his plate in a thoroughly improper manner, and his little face was full of conflict.

He had thought his father would clearly tell him whether this fifth-year's surname made her worth befriending as a Malfoy. Yet he had not. His father had only written that his grandfather was investigating whether she truly was "Sekri," and told him not to provoke any conflict for now, but to contact him at any time if anything happened.

But... he did not even know who Sekri was! And he contacted his father whenever he wanted anyway. What could possibly require his father to emphasize that specifically?

Just as Draco grew increasingly irritated, the girl in his line of sight suddenly stopped reading and turned to look at him.

Draco: "!"

He immediately stopped tormenting the bread, slowly sat up straight, and pretended to be eating breakfast with perfect manners.

Cyberlina gave a soft laugh, then turned back to the signature on the envelope in her hand—Abraxas Malfoy.

The recipient of that letter was "Professor Sekri."

The previous letter she had just finished reading had come from Lucius Malfoy, and its recipient was "Cyberlina Sekerei."

—Clever people.

Cyberlina sighed inwardly.

The elder Malfoy's letter contained no probing, only an invitation. Lucius had first welcomed her in his capacity as a school governor, then stated as a student's parent that his child admired her abilities. He then expressed his wish to make her acquaintance, ending with a request to meet her.

The older Malfoy's letter, meanwhile, was a letter of greeting—a junior expressing affection and concern for an elder he had met several times during childhood. Abraxas expressed his admiration for the mentor spoken of by his beloved father—Oberth* Malfoy—and his lingering memories of those few childhood meetings. Though he did not invite her to meet again, he wrote that both he and his father's portrait looked forward to seeing Professor Sekri once more.

Clever people.

After reading both letters, Cyberlina sighed inwardly again.

Owls delivered letters according to the recipient's name. If she were "Sekri's descendant," she would only receive Lucius's respectful invitation, which was neither offensive nor lacking in regard for her as a student. If she were "Sekri herself," she would additionally receive Abraxas's letter of greeting—even if she did not receive it, the letter could still verify whether "Sekri" was alive.

After all, if the recipient did not exist, an owl could not deliver the letter.

Most importantly, amid all the letters openly and covertly probing her, the father and son's letters were particularly pleasing to her. They had surely asked Oberth's portrait about her personality, as well as why she had visited Malfoy Manor several times back then. Otherwise, they would not have specifically mentioned it—she certainly did not believe Abraxas could remember things from when he was three or four years old so clearly.

Class time was drawing near, and the students at the Slytherin table gradually began to leave. In the corner of her eye, Cyberlina saw Draco rise with his little followers. She lifted her head and smiled at him across several seats. "Young Mr. Malfoy, do you know that using too much hair gel can make your hair fall out?"

Draco: "?"

"If you wish to preserve the Malfoy family's beautiful hair, you would be better off changing your hairstyle." Cyberlina continued putting away the envelopes as she looked at him, allowing Draco to clearly see the Malfoy family crest. "I suggest you ask Oberth's portrait for some hair-care advice. His long hair is the most beautiful I have ever seen."

Draco: "??" He was not quite sure whether Cyberlina was mocking him or telling the truth, but remembering his father's warning not to offend her, he nodded. "I'll ask him when I get home."

When they were nearly at the classroom, Vincent Crabbe finally voiced the question that had puzzled him all the way there. "Who is Oberth?"

Draco was still wrestling with Cyberlina's intentions and answered instinctively, "My great-grandfather—"

He stopped, his eyes slowly widening.

Merlin, he thought he understood what his father had meant in the letter. He would write to his father immediately after class!

Note*: I could not find the name of Abraxas's father, so I chose another translation of Abraxas's name (?).