Harry Potter 50 Shades of Gray

Their spar played through her mind. "It's control isn't it?" Cyrna said, bouncing up from the ground, finally understanding. Perenelle had used more, but was also less tired. "I'm so much more tired than you because I'm using more magic than I actually need to cast the exact same spells! I think I've improved my precision when casting, but my control needs more work."

The smile lit Perenelle's eyes, and the genuine pleasure and approval that shone in her gaze caused Cyrna's chest to flutter warmly. "I was wondering when you'd notice," said Perenelle. "As Nicolas guessed, you took less time than I expected—he'll be insufferable for the next few days when I tell him this."

Cyrna's lips curled into a wide smile. "Maybe he'll go easy on me for his lessons."

"Don't tell him that unless you want double the work."

"You can't be serious!"

"Unfortunately, I am."

Cyrna grumbled, giving her body a good stretch. Then she turned to Perenelle. "So, the next step is to learn control?"

"Not exactly. While you can use power to force the spell, it is ultimately a crutch. You'll never be at your full potential if you have poor control. But that lesson aside, we will be working on a more pressing issue."

"Like what?" Cyrna asked with no little confusion.

Perenelle sighed. "I'm going to teach you how to hide your magic."

...

January 30th, 1991

Cyrna woke to a sound that she had hoped she would never need to wake to again. The sharp rapping on her window pane began at six in the morning. Unwilling and unable to get up because of the ache that wracked her when she moved (courtesy of yesterday's training), Cyrna could only groan in response. Like before, she burrowed deeper into her blankets.

The tapping paused.

Thank Merlin.

Then the tapping recommenced with an undeniably bird-like twittering.

"Nooo," she moaned, muffling the sound with her pillow. Why was it always her window in the morning! Surprisingly, Prince, perhaps taking pity on its owner, wiggled out from beneath the blankets and leapt onto her desk. He peered out the window, and after assessing the unexpected guest, nudged the windows open.

A small tawny owl with bright yellow eyes quickly flew in and hovered above Cyrna's head for a moment before landing on the pillow. It puffed its feathers when it saw that it was being ignored. With a flash of irritation, it dove into the mass of raven-black hair and nipped the ear of the sleeping human.

"Ow!" Cyrna bolted upright and smacked at the thing that had bit her. The owl avoided her hand, and with a patronizing stare waved its leg. Fully awake, she stared at the letter attached to the owl's right leg. Who'd send her a letter? Then she realized—today was her birthday (though it might've been Laufeia's too).

Muttering a quick apology to the owl, Cyrna hastened to open the letter. And immediately, she gave a muffled squeal. It was her letter—her Hogwarts letter! Her eyes raced through the words, noting that term began on September 1st and that she'd have to reply by July 31st.

Cyrna was unaware of Prince offering a dead mouse to the owl as a 'thank you' for delivering the message; she was unaware or the look of indulgence that Prince gave her once the owl was gone. All she knew was that she. Had. Her. Hogwarts. Letter!

The next thing the Flamels heard, waking them from their sleep, was a loud whoop of joy followed by a thundering sound as Cyrna clambered down the stairs to share the news.

....

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