Harry Potter 50 Shades of Gray

Daphne tilted her head, growing more and more curious. "There's this willow tree by the lake," she suggested, having seen it from afar and wanting to visit it. "This close to curfew, there wouldn't be many students out."

The two Slytherins found themselves outside the castle. A wistful smile painted Daphne's lips as she savoured her time away from the dimly lit dungeons and the Slytherin dormitory. They hadn't broken any rules on curfew, but Daphne couldn't help but feel like they were sneaking out of the castle to play—like back then. Theodore had been there; Millicent too.

Millicent hadn't been the cleverest, but she was the one who'd get them into mischief. It had been fun. Now, Daphne despised admitting that she knew Millicent at all. But things were complicated in the Sacred-Twenty-Eight circle, and no matter the distaste, everyone had to get along; there were only so many of them, after all, for any of them to genuinely hate the other. Their families, even if they hadn't participated in the past two wars, had already made so many enemies of those from the opposite side. If they were to start fighting amongst themselves, they all might just cease to exist.

Daphne didn't know how to go about fixing all this. But she did know that maintaining the status quo wasn't the answer. Her eyes flickered over to her new ally, a bit uncertain of her after today's failed Transfigurations. But it was either her or Malfoy because the House of Greengrass and Nott weren't sufficient to contend against the Malfoy House and their allies, which were rising quickly in political power. Lord Malfoy had their Minister's ear. Submitting to Malfoy, and thus to their extreme backing for things of a Darker nature—no member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight was actually fooled by Lord Malfoy's claim of being under the imperius curse—was something to be done only as a last resort.

They stopped beneath the long, flowing branches of the giant willow tree.

"There are many rules that a Pureblood must live by, but there are three important ones," said her father. "Number one. The winner is the one that outlives everyone. Allies and friends are things to help further your chances to win."

Daphne, her younger self, cocked her head, not really understanding.

"Number two. Power is more important than anything—with perhaps the exception of your survival. And the third," her father settled her on his lap. "Never. Never show any weakness."

It was why Daphne had taken control of the situation after Cyrna's sorting, granting her a moment of reprieve. If she were to be her ally, Cyrna's weakness would be hers as well. It was also these words that firmed her resolve.

Cyrna turned to Daphne and said bluntly, "I'll owe you a favour for this."

"There's no need," said Daphne. Cyrna was still the better choice; besides, she would likely excel in another discipline. "We're friends, aren't we? There's no need to play the favour-for-a-favour game amongst friends."

By 'friends,' Cyrna presumed Daphne to mean 'allies that keep a lenient score of what each party owes—and not Harry's idea which meant throwing yourself into the pit of hell for the other till everyone burns together.

After a short moment of consideration, Cyrna smiled. "Of course."

Cyrna didn't know much about the politics between the Purebloods, but the tension with the Malfoys must've been worse than she thought. However, since she'd never join the Malfoys, and she really didn't want to start anything in her short few years at Hogwarts, Cyrna thought she may as well join Daphne. Going through school without a single ally within her House sounded like a horrible idea.

So, sure. Friends.

Daphne brightened. "Then let's get on with your little experiment, shall we?"

There were a few things Cyrna had in mind. But first, Cyrna had Daphne perform the transfiguration spell on the match. Nothing new or special. Then, Cyrna gave her wand to Daphne and asked her to repeat the transfiguration.

With sheer disbelief radiating from every line on her body, Daphne took her wand and tried the spell.

"How was it?" asked Cyrna

Daphne thought for a bit. "It was harder, I suppose. I did everything the same, but—I don't know—it just felt more difficult. More tiring."

Cyrna noted that down, and noted the spot of red on Daphne's cheeks. She furrowed her brows as she searched from the possible cause of that reaction. Hesitantly, she said, "Was it inappropriate to lend you my wand?"

"It's just one of those archaic things that older Pureblood families follow," said Daphne, crossing her arms as she flustered. "The wand is an extension of the wizard, and a wizard without their wand is sitting duck. It's fine for close family to share their wands, but otherwise, it's like offering a bit of yourself to someone else. It's considered a show of trust."

"Ah.".

Daphne nodded.

Cyrna supposed it made sense, and she had felt something when she had gotten her wand.

"I know that's not what you meant," said Daphne, fidgeting with the wand.

Cyrna nodded awkwardly. "Yes, but please hang onto it for one more spell. This time, I'll give you a new wandwork to use with my wand—same incantation—to transfigure the match. It's going to be a bit more difficult, but I trust that you can do this."

Daphne's eyes gleamed with determination, and Cyrna turned away to make the necessary calculations to alter the wandwork—willing to show more of her abilities now that they were friends. Eventually, Cyrna drew a new symbol on her notebook: a larger curve, a more prominent slash, two more loops and a more difficult flourish at the very end of the motion.

She's reformulating the hand motions to accommodate for the changes in using her wand, Daphne realized. Her eyes darted to Cyrna's face periodically as she practiced the new wand movement. How does she know this? And if she can do this, why can't she transfigure the match? Once she was certain of the new wandwork, Daphne took a breath and performed the same spell. She jumped, clutched Cyrna's arm tightly—"It worked! How was this so much easier than before?"

But Cyrna appeared troubled as they swapped their wands back. "This isn't good for me," she admitted. Mulling over her words, Cyrna asked, "Is it possible for a wizard to be incapable of a discipline?"

Daphne frowned. "Not for the four major disciplines, I don't think. The only discipline that requires a natural predisposition is Divinations—you're either a seer, or you're not."

But Transfigurations was one of the most practical disciplines. Cyrna's brows drew faintly together as she considered the repercussions of being unable to transfigure at all. She worried, but she kept those thoughts from her expression. "I think I'll go check my wandwork with Professor McGonagall again," Cyrna said evenly. "But it's odd—since I've always been able to cast other spells."

Daphne relaxed when she heard that. "It's fine—" Out of all the disciplines for Cyrna to fall short in, Transfigurations was not the worst. Daphne knew that her talent was inclined towards Transfigurations, so she would just have to be good enough for the both of them. "I'll check your question with my father. Maybe he'll know something."

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