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ricekirpsees · 10 months ago

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|| The Unfortunate Thing About Legacies: Chp 1 ||

Synopsis- Dear Student...

Notes- N/a

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We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a fifth-year student.

Term begins on 1 September.

Preliminary supplies have been collected for you and will accompany you on your journey to the castle.

As you may be aware, the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery prohibits the use of magic by those under the age of seventeen outside school. However, due to your unique circumstances, the Ministry has graciously agreed to allow Professor Eleazar Fig to help hone your spell-casting before escorting you from London to the castle for the start-of-term feast and the Sorting Ceremony.

Yours sincerely,

Professor Weasley

Deputy Headmistress

---

What a surprise it was, the letter in her hand.

She was rather curious as to why the brown and white owl was following her all around the county of western Carmarthenshire. She merely thought the cute thing believed something of hers was prey. However, her assumption was refuted when she sat down beside the crumbled bricks of what was a wall for a quick rest.

The blue Welsh skies had shifted into the coloured warmth of the sunset when she finally decided to find a spot to settle in. She had just made it to the ruins of a castle that caught her wandering interest, spotting it a few hills back, set between lush greens, old trees, and shattered stones. And so she lay against the grass, nestled against the curve of ancient roots shrouded in moss.

It was a little too early in the afternoon to doze off and a little too exposed to set up a temporary camp. Instead, she let her mind wander, dream, and lightly touch on the days before her adventuring. She dreamt of seeing those odd creatures again and wondered about the blossoming hamlet close to the sea, relishing in the simple peace of the sleepy meadowlands. Then all too suddenly, her daydreams scattered.

Startled, she quickly sat up feeling something plopped onto her lap. It couldn’t have been a leaf, it was far larger than the tree could have dropped. She picked it up and to her utter bewilderment, saw it was a letter. Tan and square, it was sealed with a luscious red wax stamped with a decorative H and an emblem with four creatures printed delicately on the flap.

Peering closer at the letter, she could just make out the words and begin to sound them out loud, "Hogwarts… Draco dor- dormi-ens nunquam ti… ti-till-andus."

Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus.

Never tickle a sleeping dragon.

She snorted, amused. Someone must've dropped this, she thought with a small smile. Or at least, it might've been stolen by the wind. She looked around the darkening grasslands in hopes of catching someone nearby who could have lost the missive, possibly a postman, but it was just her and nature's awakening nightlife.

A gentle hoot from above caught her attention. She looked up to see the brown and white plumage of her little companion sitting on a branch, with large yellow eyes gazing down at her. Oh, and it seems he's here too. Her smile grew wider, delighted to see the owl again.

"Well, hello sir, and good evening," She hummed lowly, to not scare him. Though he seemed comfortable, blinking slowly at her words. "It's very nice to see you again."

He blinked once more before turning his head and grooming his ruffled feathers.

She nods and turns back to the letter in your hands, "I'll leave you to it."

A thought popped into her head and she flipped the note around. She’s been a good deal around the isle and the hamlets aren't at all big. She’s sure she’ll recognize the address and give it to the person missing their mail, she thinks as she skims through the green-inked delivery address. Wait… she pauses, fumbling over the written name.

It took a while for her to process. She had to reread the recipient's name over and over again because written on the envelope was her name.

But it couldn’t possibly be… Her brows furrowed, a trickle of fear seeping into her chest and she quickly moved to open the letter.

No one should know her. At least no one alive should know her, much less her name. Her whole life she’s been significantly distanced from human civilization, a vagabond. She was sure that she’d never caught the attention of someone or introduced herself anytime recently. Unfortunately, the piece of paper proved her hermit-ing was not as good as she thought it was.

Unfolding the last section of the paper, she began to read and with each word, realizations and discoveries were made. Once the last word had been read, she let the letter slip from her fingers and flutter back to her lap. And there it was, the surprise in her hands apparently delivered by her friend up in the tree. What was even better was the pocket full of confusion that came with it.

She leaned her back against the tree and attempted to come to terms with the contents of the letter, fiddling with the rough bark of the roots and listening to the tittering of the owl above.

There was a school. A school of witchcraft and wizardry. It's called Hogwarts and she supposedly was enrolled to join. Now she’s accepted and a man by the name of Eleazar Fig will be helping her "hone her spell-crafting". She winced at her summary, finding it a tad unbelievable. How… far fetched.

She shakes her head, dismissing the school from her thoughts as best as she can and ignoring the bubbling curiosity that had begun to boil from within. She must stay focused on the more pressing matter of an institute knowing who she was. For her safety.

But, she confesses, she's never been to a proper school, having only ever seen them from a distance, but she knows her basics; reading, writing, and math. She thinks she’s rather decent at it.

And it's a rather strange name, maybe the witchcraft and wizardry part is a metaphor.

A sudden crack echoing from the side had her whipping her head around and leaping up from her seat. She turns towards the direction, tense and ready to run if need be, only to come face to face with an odd sight. There stood an old man dressed in odd blue robes lined with gold holding an unnaturally straight stick in one hand and a leather bag in the other.

She watched in fearful surprise as he stumbled a bit, barely catching his footing before straightening up. She squinted. How strange, he seemed to have just appeared out of nowhere! She quickly scanned the forest wondering where on earth he came from, as the man dusted his sleeves off with a pleased hum.

Though his back was facing her, she could see his contentment turn to displeasure as he let out a groan, his shoulders dropping. Shaking his head he turned around only to pause when he saw the figure behind him.

Once he seemed to, unfortunately, recognize who she was, the man's face lit up with relief, "Ah! There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you existed at all! Though I suppose a Welsh meadow is not exactly specific, it's very lovely to finally meet you. I am Professor Eleazar Fig."

She merely stayed silent, perplexed by a sudden appearance and social interaction being thrown right at you, like a skipping stone to a fish. A moment of quiet passed but the man didn't seem too fazed as he began to talk again.

"And I presume you are our new student?" Professor Fig asked, holding out a hand, a pleasant smile dawning on his face.

She tensed and eyed the man’s hand. With a hop of courage, she spoke, “Uh, no, sir…” You replied, darting her gaze to meet his, “Unfortunately I must inform you that there has been a mistake in your… system. I shouldn’t be going to your school or anyone’s school for that matter…”

That seemed to have baffled the man and Professor Fig let out a breathless laugh, “A mistake? I can assure you there have been no mistakes, as there can be no mistakes.” He then gestured to the letter, “May I?”

She nodded tersely and handed it over. He gently took it from her grasp and began to read while she took a step back farther from the stranger for a comforting distance.

“Ah see? No mistakes.” He smiled, finding what he needed from the paper, "Now, there are plenty of things to discuss and plenty of things to do." He adjusted his grip on the bag, "Is your guardian nearby?"

"But there must have been one, sir," she argued, ignoring the strange question. "A misspelling or- or the wrong address."

"I can assure you, young one, that the quill makes no errors," The man said kindly, a gentle look on his face, "And if so the book will not allow one to pass on to a letter."

Despite the calming voice of the stranger, it only made her more confused and a tad bit miffed. It was like he was speaking in tongues! Never straightforward, are all humans like this?

With furrowed brows, she grumbled, "What does a book and quill have to do with errors? I'm saying whoever is in charge made a mailing mistake and the letter was placed in the wrong hands. My hands. Now it is in yours and can be delivered to the right person."

She repressed the urge to roll her eyes, settling for flexing your hand. How irritating it was to have to spell it out.

"So, you are indeed not Miss (Y/n) (L/n), residing beside the castle ruins of Caldicot, Wales, beneath the great ash tree of 300 years pass?" The man inquired lightly, clasping his hands together in front of him.

She blinked, shifting her widened eyes to him. "Well, yes. That is me, but…"

He held up a hand and said, "I must apologize, I was under the impression you were aware of our world. Allow me to give a proper and appropriate introduction." Placing the bag down, he gave a crooked bow, "I am Eleazar Fig, a professor at Hogwarts, a school for wizardkind and magic alike and I have been tasked with mentoring you in preparation for your fifth year at Hogwarts."

"Wizardkind…?" She muttered, "You mean staffs and potions wizardkind?"

Professor Fig nodded with closed eyes, "Yes, though I must say the majority of us prefer the familiarity of the wand."

Ah, so it wasn't a metaphor.

He opened his eyes and soon after an earnest look replaced his calm, "And you, my child, are a witch."

She couldn't help the laugh of disbelief that burst from her lips, "Ha! No- no, I am no witch, but it certainly does give clarity to some mysteries I've seen flying about." She eyed the owl, who seemed to be closer than before.

"Well of course you are a witch. You see them don't you?" Professor Fig gestured to the ancient tree behind her.

Them? She narrowed her eyes at the man and turned around to face it, noting some strange little bugs that scampered about along the branches. Taking a closer look you see that they weren't bugs at all, but rather the sentient green sticks with a leaf or two upon their bodies she's seen before in another tree. Luckily, these seemed much more friendly than previous encounters were with the few who noticed her, curiously watching from afar.

"Strange little things aren't they? And quite cute," she hummed, turning back to Fig, "but I'm not sure what looking at them has to do with being a witch."

One particular creature dared to get closer, inching its way over to her with a tilted head. She copied the little leaf, tilting her head as it crept closer down the branch’s tip and up to her face.

From behind her, she hears Professor Fig speak up, "It has to do with everything, for muggles– non-magics– are unable to see magical beasts such as the bowtruckle, the creatures inhabiting that tree."

"Oh…" she mumbled, the bowtruckle reaching up a little twiggy arm and patting her cheek.

Satisfied with the encounter, it turned back around and climbed back up to its friends sitting higher up in the tree. In turn, she looked back towards Professor Fig who now held the bag once more.

“So, I am a witch… and you are here to tutor me.” she says, sceptically, “But why was I admitted so late as you and the letter have told quite prominently?”

Taking a deep breath, Professor Fig replied, “That, my dear, is a mystery of ours. Unfortunately, I have not been informed much, merely that I have been requested to help you assimilate, and even then, information on yourself was scarce.” He seemed hesitant to continue, but nevertheless asked, “… And I can assume it is just you?”

She nods. She hoped he wouldn’t ask any more questions. She didn’t want to explain things to a stranger.

But he just sighs and offers her a smile, “Come, there is much to teach and a whole new world of possibilities for you.”

Professor Fig offered out a hand for her to take and just as before she eyed it with distrust, but a part of her, that little voice of hope, was just enough for her to take it. With a warm hold, they walk together for a moment, just a little farther from the great ash tree as he takes out his wand, and with one swish, the two of them disappear from the ruins. Nothing but a whisper left.

The owl cocks his head, before spreading his grand wings, and with one giant beat, he lifts off. Gliding over the forest and into the night sky, he heads home, hoping to see the new student soon.

---

The summer had passed in what felt like moments and yet in forever. It was an extreme transition for her from wandering lonely, away from people to now temporarily living at Rotherly’s Hotel in London, a hotel for wizards and witches alike away from Muggles.

It was an amazing place and the rooms were grand filled with enchanted items, sweeping, washing, and folding themselves. But everything was grand to her as, apparently, this was common in the Wizarding world as Professor Fig had explained, amused.

Professor Fig was a great teacher, kind patient, and fun. He had no qualms about spending nearly most of the season explaining the workings of the Wizard world and how they lived. Some things sounded vaguely familiar to her, as she believed she might’ve seen a few examples from her travels. Unfortunately, her millions of questions left not much time for the actual schoolwork and she only has recently started to work with a wand.

Less than two months isn’t a lot of time to learn about a whole new magical world. But she did receive a second-hand wand at the beginning and it was quite a surprise when she felt it the moment she touched the handle. It was as if there was a presence within the wand, a being or something somewhat conscious. And, at best, it tolerated her.

Honestly, maybe that was the other reason why she was now starting to do wands work. Even at the moment, as she packed her spare items into a knapsack, she could feel the brown-wood wand wish ill on her person; to at least have you trip and hurt her leg. It was a very fussy piece of wood.

And of course, she hasn’t told Professor Fig, who now knocked on the room’s sturdy door. She didn’t want to trouble him over a bad relationship. Setting in the last item of clothing, she swings on the sack that would very soon become her bookbag and open the door with a smile to see her mentor.

“Good evening, a leanbh, are you set to go?” He greeted with a nod.

“Yes, Professor.” She said, fidgeting with her coat sleeves.

“Good, good! And how are you feeling?” Professor Fig asked as they began to walk down the lamp-lit hall. She was careful not to step too loudly on the noisy floor despite the thin decorated carpets that lined the steps.

Tilting her head, she considered how she felt at the moment and decided, “Feeling alright and a little tired, sir.”

He chuckled, “It is quite late. The carriage is just in the back alley with all of your school materials. Down this way.”

They made it to the stairs of the building and stumbled their way down the flights of steep steps. She was relieved once she made it to the first floor, certain she was going to roll her ankle at least once.

Once grounded, rather than turning left towards the lobby, Professor Fig led her out the backway on the right. It was even darker than the hall but half as long and soon they made it out into the brisk London night.

And there it was, a carriage piled with precariously stacked luggage and a familiar owl preening its feathers. But what truly caught her attention was the six dark, strange, bat-winged beasts that stood restlessly at the front of the carriage. They looked like skeletal equines, but their faces did not resemble those of a horse. Rather, it looked like a beaked reptilian adorned with two stubby horns. And they looked absolutely beautiful.

Professor Fig went to check on the luggage, greeting the coachman. And she, utterly enchanted, gently walked up to the beasts, keeping her posture low so as to not startle the gorgeous creatures, though they didn’t seem to mind her presence. A few turned their heads over to look at her, curious of the new person coming close and once they deemed her harmless, shook their heads, or stretched their wings.

“Amazing, innit?” A voice asked.

Startled out of her trance, she looked up towards the coachman who wore an odd pair of goggles and a grin.

“It’s a carriage pulled by nothing too most wizardkind. But I got these things to see what others can’t.” He seemed to gloat, gesturing to the goggles.

She furrowed her brows, confused as to what the man was talking about, and turned to face the creatures once more. Pulled by nothing? She couldn’t help but ask, “What do you mean?”

“Exactly!” And he burst into a fit of roaring laughter.

Even more confused and a tad bit worried for the man, she backed up from the driver’s seat and closer to Professor Fig, who came back from the luggage end with a smile.

“Ah! It appears we are almost ready to depart,” He informed you, walking over to where she was standing. “It’s a pity we didn’t have a bit more time to spend on spell-casting. I presume you’ve been practising the spells we worked on.”

Oh, yes, that. The reason for such annoyance. She only got to touch upon the most basic of basics and that was all that she could practice in the alleyways. She believed that’s the reason the wand was so mad today.

“I have, Professor.” she said and lifted the ever-so-angry stick.

“Well, I’m quite sure I’ve never seen anyone take so quickly to a second-hand wand,” Professor Fig remarked, looking quite proud, “You’ll be a force to be reckoned with when you get your own.”

What a compliment that was, having only been introduced to this world in less than two months and yet having such potential that a well-rounded educator comments on it.

Flattered, she beamed, “Thank you, Professor Fig. I… appreciate your working with me before the term begi-”

A familiar cracking pop rang out and a well-dressed man appeared, facing away from the two of them. With a quick turn, he found two pairs of eyes gazing at him, one with familiarity and the other in dulled confusion, and exclaimed, “Oh! Eleazar!”

“George!” Professor Fig happily greeted him before giving her a hushed introduction, “An old friend.” Turning back to the man in glasses, he continued, “Glad my rather cryptic description of our location did not thwart your finding us.”

“I’ve apparated to more vaguely defined destinations than this.” George chuckles as he walks closer, “Though, I confess I may have miscalculated slightly on my first try. Gaver quite the fright to some theatre-goers in the West End.” He gave a friendly wink to her and she smiled back awkwardly.

Professor Fig laughed along, “It’s been much too long. When I received your owl. I must say I-”

“Uh- Best not to speak here, Eleazar, hm?” George quickly interrupted his friend, an odd look darting across his face.

The air chilled and she and Fig shared a glance.

Clearing his throat, Professor Fig nodded, “Of course. Why don’t we speak en route to Hogwarts? We have a start-of-term feast and a Sorting Ceremony to get to.”

“Wonderful idea. As long as your young charge here doesn’t mind me tagging along.” George asked, his cheerful grin returning.

“Not at all, sir,” she quickly responded.

Professor Fig gleamed a smile at you as he opened the carriage door, stepping aside for her to crawl in, “After you.”

As she made her way into the carriage, George looked toward Professor Fig with a nostalgic glaze and a light chuckle.

“Ages since I’ve been to the castle. Would be good to see the old pile of rocks,” He mused, helping Professor Fig in with a hand.

Just as he makes his way in, he gives one last glance to the midnight London street with that odd look returning before hopping in and giving the signal to the driver, shutting the door.

The reins whip and the carriage takes off, and the shadowed figure watches it in the darkness before disappearing in a hazy twist.

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Notes- I refuse to believe the Wizarding World is this woke in 1892, they literally had blood supremacy in the 1990s