Hogwarts Legacy: The Curse of The Ravenclaw House

Seventh-Year Growing Pains

The sky was gray. The biggest storm in all of your two years at Hogwarts had kept all students trapped in the castle over the Holiday break. To everyone's dismay, classes continued. No break, just work. It was miserable. Everything was always miserable...at least since his death...Professor Fig had passed away only two years ago and it felt like you hadn't seen him in decades. You had tried to find a painting of him somewhere in the castle, but sadly you still hadn't found one. Professor Weasley had told you that a talented artist was painting one of Fig that they would enchant to life. She had said that a year ago and nothing came of it. Professor Black probably didn't think it was that important. He probably put it on hold just to spite you. 

For no reason, he hated you.

 You always wondered what you had done to provoke him and as the years dragged on it became more apparent his selfish reason of disgust. Since you had joined Hogwarts in your fifth year, he saw you as nothing more than weak. It all made sense. You had no prior magical knowledge before joining and you had to do extra assignments to catch up to everyone else. It was hard and time consuming, but yet with all of that on your plate you some how had time to make poachers, goblin loyalists, and dark wizards hate you enough to try and kill you. Not to mention you had to fight the most powerful goblin in history: Ranrok. He and Rockwood had made an alliance that threatened the lives of wizards and goblins alike. You and your mentor Eleazar Fig had to defend Hogwarts against their evil forces with the help of Hogwarts' Professors. Even as the battle grew rough, you knew that you could defeat Ranrok with everything you had learned from your friends and professors alike...with the help of your naturally born ancient magic. The keepers had prepared you for that moment and your success was felt throughout the wizarding world. It had come at a cost though. Professor Fig had barely survived a large fall and gave his life to end Isadora's magical repository from getting more out of control. He died holding Miriam's wand. 

You missed him.

 Black gave his whole speech and it meant nothing. He didn't care to come and help defend Hogwarts. He was the worst Headmaster ever. Someone you never wanted to be associated with. 

Ever. 

"Miss L/N?" A raspy voice asked. You turn around to see Scrope, Professor Black's house-elf. Technically, he was the Black families house-elf, but he was always busy doing the headmaster's dirty work. 

"Hi, Scrope." You smiled, looking down at the one-eared house-elf. You had been looking out one of the windows in the Great Hall when he interrupted you. The floating candles that danced around the ceiling illuminated the dark and musty hall. The storm had made everything dreary and depressing and not much light had shown into the room.

"Master wanted Scrope to ask you to meet him in his office." He said, fiddling with his hands. Why did the Professor need to see you? Did you do something wrong? He knows you would never, but what if you somehow had? Paranoia began to crawl up your body. 

What. Had. You. Done. 

"Why does he need to see me?" You ask as Scrope tilted his head. 

"Why do you think?" Scrope replied, beginning to leave. Now where did he think he was going? 

"Scrope, please. I just want to know. I need to prepare myself." You pleaded with the elf who seemed distracted in his other affairs. He pulled out a duster as he began to dust one of the many busts of Professor Black that was scattered throughout Hogwarts.