Finding Purpose

"No, listen, I have seen magic do great amount of things, wondrous things, evil things; I witnessed Grindelwald's reign as well as the First Wizarding War, both of which were the darkest moments of history, and I have lived a long time before those events had even happened. You see, Magic plays with life, it plays with death, it plays with space, and for Merlin's sake, it can even play with time—through time turners! But never has magic played with all four elements at the same time. Jumping through the rifts of time for more than five hours in the past is a feat in itself, but what Magic did to you was it tore you out of your dimension and placed you in an alternate space of a different past.

Then, Death stole the soul from the body you currently reside in, and Life took you from your universe and planted you in the empty shell. Magic has never intervened to such extent. So, if what you say is true, why you? What do you have to offer to this world?"

Cyrna was aware of her intelligence, but she didn't think that she could compare to the brilliance of scientists who made ground-breaking discoveries. She was familiar with the Harry Potter series, but she was a casual fan at most! She certainly wasn't the person from her world who knew the most about this world. "I don't know," she said wearily, suddenly deeply exhausted. "I really can't offer anything that others can't." The admission stung her pride, but she knew it to be true. Always had known it to be true.

If Magic sought a hero for the impending war, it should have chosen someone with a boundless capacity for love and compassion. According to Dumbledore, it was Harry's ability to love and forgive that won them the war; it was Snape's enduring love for Lily that provided him with the strength to persevere and fulfill his role as a spy.

Cyrna was more than aware that she felt no inclination to die for a world she felt little to no love for.

"Child, Magic always has a reas—"

"No! Listen!" Cyrna cut in. "There is nothing I can do that someone else couldn't do better! I have nothing unique to offer—I'm smart, but not a genius; I can't even care for someone, much less the world, so if there was a battle, I would flee."

"Then perhaps," Perenelle spoke softly after a while had passed, "you are here because there is something our world can offer to you."

"What—"

"Be quiet Nicolas," Perenelle said sternly. She turned to Cyrna with a softer look in her eyes. "To me, it's as if you've taken everything that's happened to you in stride. You've adapted ridiculously well for someone's first day in the world. Truly, I think that you would still be in shock if you had cared deeply for anyone in your old world."

Perenelle must have seen something in Cyrna's expression that confirmed her theory because she smiled sadly. "I think you were able to adapt so well because you never lived in your world. You existed, but never lived."

A sudden dryness gripped her throat, silencing her words. And for some reason, Cyrna found it hard to meet their eyes.

"So perhaps, Magic has brought you here to give you another chance to live," Perenelle concluded glibly.

A second chance? Cyrna shivered at the uncertainty. And though she did not speak, Perenelle seemed to be able to read the question from her eyes.

"Perhaps," said Perenelle, "perhaps this is Magic giving you and this child's body a chance to belong—one last chance so that you may find your reason to live."