The Death Wish: Book One (Hogwarts Legacy)

Game Over

Blood dripped down the length of your wand, running along the spiral channels carved into the Blackfern. The heat from the fire and molten magic dripping from the ceiling stung your cheeks as the chaos around you started to blur—the fatal wound at your side seeping steadily through your clenched fingers.

You had failed. Hogwarts would fall.

You swayed unsteadily as you turned your head to watch your professor's futile attempts to stop the collapse of the cavern—the collapse of everything. Professor Sharp shouted that the entrance they had come through had caved in—and that they were too deep to apparate. Professor Onai desperately cast spell after spell at the ceiling, the supports—trying anything to save Hogwarts—to save her daughter.

Tears felt cool on your hot cheeks.

Ranrok had succeeded, even in death.

He had wanted the power of the ancient magic to make wizarding kind pay for their selfishness—but when he knew he would lose to you, he chose to make a final statement. The burning dragon had used the last of its life to destabilize the foundations of Hogwarts, to bring down the entire castle, and all who remained inside.

For what future will the wizarding kind have without a school to teach magic—or children to learn for that matter?

How could this be how your story ends?

Fig was dead. Lodgok was dead. Sebastian in Azkaban—his family ruined.

His very soul, forfeit.

You looked up at the ceiling that had angry cracks widening, large stones and flames raining down around you.

Natty. Poppy. Ominis.

They would be killed when the castle collapsed, along with all of your other friends and professors. You had mere minutes before everything was over—for everyone.

There must be a way to undo this—to fix what has happened.

You slid to the stone, your knees hitting Fig's body where he lay on the ground, his wife's elegant wand on his chest. You closed your eyes, attempting to steadily take breaths—but the smoke and ash burned your lungs.

If we had known more about ancient magic—more about what Ranrok had planned. If I had known about Rookwood...

You glanced at the white wand in the aged-fingers of your dead mentor.

Miriam would have known. Fig had said she was the real expert and she had been working with Lodgok. If she had been there—if you had known what you know now.

You needed a reset, a replay, a d—

Your head shot up and looked for Professor Hecat.

The silver-haired witch was attempting to keep a support pillar in place but was losing against the growing cracks of Ranrok's magic, the burning orange eating away at the stone.

Time. You needed more time.

With the last of your strength you pulled out your battered field guide, ripping out two blank pages and scrawling as fast as you could, your blood smearing on the parchment.

You had no idea if this could work but you already felt magic start to grow in your fingertips, your body attempting to perform one more piece of insane magic before it was, well—game over.

You put your wand shakily to your temple, the world around you starting to go dark as your body tried to function on so little blood. You pulled out a thin silver wisp and poured it into one of your empty Wiggenweld bottles.

Folding one sheet of parchment around the phial, you wrapped that letter in the other page. You sealed the package with charms, your mouth muttering unknown words as you felt your body take control.

Finally, you placed your wand on the ground. This magic was not wand magic, it was something else. An innate connection you felt through your fingers, the dying embers of your short life collecting in your hands with all the magic you had left.

You muttered a soft prayer—a death wish.

Holding the grubby package that contained all of your hope—the very lives of everyone you loved, you felt peace start to wash over your fading body.

CRACK!

The ceiling finally gave out.

Looking up you felt the package disappear from your hands, your magic carrying it to uncharted waters. You shut your eyes, your head held high as you waited.

"May you get a better ending than I did." you whispered, before everything went black.

***

"Are you ready to go?" asked Professor Fig as he held open the carriage door to you. You were still staring at the front of the coach which had no horses wondering what was going to happen.

"Yes Professor, very excited." you replied cheerfully, turning to mount the carriage steps.

"You were not thinking of leaving without me were you?" came a voice from an adjoining alley.

"Wouldn't dream of it my love." smiled Fig as he winked at the ageing witch with the long white braid going down her back.

"Well, let's get settled in shall we? We have quite a long ride to the castle. I am glad we were able to escort you my dear." said the witch, placing a comforting hand on your lower back to help you climb in.

"Thanks so much Mrs Fig, I really appreciate it."

"Oh please, call me Miriam."