Hogwarts Legacy: The Price of Power

Elizabeth Rogers

Dracaena left early Saturday morning, summoning a carriage and climbing inside, settling back as the Thestrals galloped along the road and took off, leaving Sebastian and Ominis behind. Neither had been particularly happy about letting her go alone, and had done their best to convince her to let them join her. Sebastian had gone so far as to promise she could do anything she wanted to him if she let him go with her, and whilst it was a sorely tempting offer, she got the feeling he'd let her anyway.

She laced her fingers together in her lap, gazing out of the window. Part of her wished she'd thought to speak to Fig's portrait before she'd gone, wondering what advice he'd give her. He was aware in part of her history, of the difficulties she'd faced.

Dracaena smiled a little then, remembering when she'd first met him. It had been the day after she'd got her letter. She'd been walking through London on a day trip with Gran, when an owl had swooped low, a thick letter held in its beak. It had dropped it right into her basket, frightening the life out of both her and Gran. She remembered the surge of energy that made her heart jolt when she saw the letter had been addressed to her.

Miss Dracaena Hoctina

The Attic Bedroom

Primrose Cottage

Winnodown

Oxford

She'd poured over her letter, telling her of her admittance to Hogwarts, the peculiarity of her late entry, advising that a school representative would arrive the very next day to go over all the particulars. Fig had turned up on their doorstep at eleven o'clock sharp, his genial smile and soft voice setting Gran at ease immediately.

He'd been wise enough not to mention the magic of Hogwarts where Gran could hear, but when he was able to tell her exactly what kind of school she'd be attending, Dracaena hadn't believed it. She didn't even believe it when Fig had made the teapot dance a little jig, and sent Gran's decorative mugs zooming all around the kitchen, convinced it was some kind of clever trick involving wires and strings and things.

She left with him for London three days later to buy her school supplies, and so began her proper introduction to the world of magic. Fig had told her everything he could, his smile widening as he waxed lyrical about Hogwarts, about the Ministry of Magic, about the Statute of Secrecy, all of it, speaking so fast she could barely keep up as they wandered through Diagon Alley, collecting everything she'd need for the adventure she was about to embark on.

He'd been so kind. So welcoming. Dracaena had trusted him right from the start. She thanked her lucky stars that he was still here, in some capacity, still there for her to talk to whenever she needed him, even if she couldn't sit by his side and drink tea, leaning on his shoulder, comforted by his fatherly presence.

She grinned. She'd even accidentally called him "Professor Dad," partway through fifth year, though she wasn't sure if he'd heard her, or simply pretended he hadn't to spare her the embarrassment.

I have long thought of you as the daughter I never had.

She brushed away the dampness at the corner of her eye. The feeling was mutual. He was, without a doubt, the best father figure she could have hoped for. She'd have to tell him that, when she saw him next.

It was almost midday by the time the carriage touched down in her home village, and she stepped down, closing her eyes and breathing deep of the familiar air. Her smile faded some as she set off down the path, casting a dark look towards the Old Gresham Place. If she had the time... hell, she'd make the time, she would do away with the vile bastard that dwelled there, the lurking Ashwinder that threatened those she held dear.