The Unspoken Legacy

Chapter 1 - Third Person

On December 9th, Olen Warner's life changed forever. His wife was gone, and his daughter was dead—or so it seemed. He had no choice but to bring her back. How, you may ask? All in good time, dear reader. When the time is right, we will uncover what truly happened in those three hours. But not now.

The Daily Prophet's front cover showed a picture of stone-cold Olen, watching as his wife was laid six feet under. A silent bundle lay in his arms, so still that one might think it lifeless.

After the funeral, Olen made plans for his daughter. She was to be a great witch, her mother's daughter, destined for greatness. But as the first four years of his daughter's life passed, he struggled to love her fully. He could not look at her for more than 30 minutes without feeling his heart ripped from his chest.

On December 9th, 1964, Ariah woke up, a happy child. She smiled, laughed, and ran with such speed that the house elves scolded themselves for not catching her faster. But on that particular day, as Ariah crept to her father's study, still in her nightwear, she didn't hear the usual clicking of his typewriter or the harsh scratching of his quill. Instead, she heard the sobs of Milly, their house elf, crying for her master, who had taken his own life.

Ariah promised not to cry as she placed her hand over her chest and looked at her father. She crept closer, squatted down, and looked into his brown eyes. In that moment, Ariah decided she hated the color brown. She leaned in, closed his eyes with her fingers, and kissed his forehead, touching the brown locks that matched her own.

Thirty minutes later, a man entered her father's study. He was tall, lean, and exuded an air of mystery, as if he could disappear into the shadows at any moment. He moved so quietly that Ariah hadn't heard him approach. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump back and grab her father's wand. She didn't know this man, and his silent entry made him seem dangerous.

"I mean no harm, little warrior," he said, pausing when he realized she wouldn't speak. "Let's get out of here, okay?" He reached to take her hand, but she flinched away, gripping her father closer.

"We have to let the workers do their job," he said, pointing to the men behind him. Ariah only now realized they were there. This man didn't want to hurt her; something told her to trust him. So she brushed her father's hair out of his face, rose from the floor, and took the mystery man's hand. He let out a breath of relief as he led her to the dining room. They sat across from each other, and as Ariah searched his eyes for any sign of evil, she saw none. But she knew that if he wanted to hurt her, he could, for he was strong, and she was weak.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said sincerely. Who was this man? Ariah did not respond.

"Can you speak? He never said anything about a mute girl," he asked, looking conflicted. Ariah slowly shook her head no.

"Oh great, I was worried there for a second, lass." He seemed unsure of how to proceed—children weren't his specialty, especially ones who had just found their father dead. He cleared his throat.

"Okay, listen, lass," he began, pausing to look into her eyes. "Your father was a fair man, and... he wanted you to be safe." He stopped, carefully choosing his next words. "Well, I suppose I'm your guardian now, at least until you come of age." He let out a rushed breath. "I don't know much about children, but I do know how to fight. Fighting makes you strong. Do you want to be strong, little warrior?"

Ariah nodded her head. Yes, she wanted to be strong. Stronger than her mother and her father.

"Let's make a deal, alright?" he began with a newfound sense of determination. "I'll make you strong, lass, but you can't be afraid or weak. You have to want it—earn it." He extended his hand for Ariah to shake. She slowly took his hand and shook it vigorously.

"Who are you?" The man was partially shocked at the first words she spoke. He smiled gently and said, "You can call me Grey."

"Like the color?" Ariah asked, surprised but intrigued.

"Well, yes, of a sort, I guess."

"That's a stupid name," Ariah said. Grey was taken aback by the little lass's boldness. He had never known pureblood children to speak so freely, let alone insult someone of higher authority. Nonetheless, Grey chuckled deeply, looked at the young child before him, and said, "I guess it is quite stupid."