The Death Wish: Book One (Hogwarts Legacy)

Anguish & Ice

You awoke in a groggy state, your eyes—and mind, raw from the events of yesterday—of last night.

You lay in your unfamiliar bed, staring up at the basil-coloured canopy above you. You listened to the sound of your roommates, Imelda and Nerida, getting ready to head down to breakfast.

Your mind warred with itself as you tried to organize your thoughts following your—encounter in the Pensive.

It has taken some time for you to calm yourself, with Miriam and Eleazar holding your hands as you tried to control your breaths.

Once you settled a little, safe between your mentors on the comfortable settee, you attempted to talk—to explain what you saw—but it came out in a jumble that you were sure didn't make sense.

You told them everything—bar the Ravenclaw's final plea. You didn't know why—but you knew that was just for you.

You described the memory in detail, dwelling numbly on your alter's haggard and bloodied appearance. You recalled each word the dying teen gave you—each a chance to avoid her fate.

When you got to Fig—you had to fight down another attack, just barely getting out: "You seemed to have gone down fighting beside me." He had shut his eyes, shaking his head as he rubbed your hand in an apologetic gesture—as if sorry you now lived with that image.

Miriam just took a steady breath, squeezing your hand while looking intently at her husband, bidding you to continue when you felt ready.

You proceeded to tell them about Ranrok—and though you didn't understand a lot of what the reflection had said, you gave every word. You told them about Keepers and Isidora—whoever they were. That there would be 'trials' and that you couldn't wait for them. Most importantly, you admitted that the magic Ranrok sought was a corruption of the magic you could see—and wield, if your alter was to be believed.

A dark fear crept over your heart that this may make them fear you—pull away, just as your reflection believed these 'Keepers' did. But their steadfast hands never faltered for a moment, their grip and intent unwavering. You let out a relieved sigh and continued.

You informed them that the girl had said she had never met Miriam—and that she hoped she may tip the scales this time around. Miriam nodded grimly, surmising resignedly that Ranrok must have succeeded in silencing her in your alter's timeline. After a minute you had apologised—unsure what else to say.

"Don't be sorry for me, my precious Spark. I only pity that my counterpart never got a chance to know you as I have."

You had fought back more tears as you nodded, biting hard on your lip to distract your heart.

You then described the look on the reflection's face when she had begged you to choose an alternate path than hers—one of light and life, rather than darkness and death. You told them about her request to create—to build anew, as she had said.

You ended your tale there, staying silent on the other unknown players and quests in this dark pantomime in progress; Anne and Rookwood.

Miriam and Eleazar had been excellent listeners, never rushing you or interrupting—especially when you had to keep stopping to steady yourself. After a few minutes of silence, the three of you just listening to the dying fire, Miriam announced that it was far too late and that you needed rest—that there would be time to discuss the details of the memory later—you had done enough.

Miriam told Eleazar that she would take you to the Slytherin house. Professor Fig offered to accompany you, as your face must have broadcast a slight panic at not being able to see him alive and well.