Shadow of Legacy

Fortune

The cream Professor Snape had given me worked wonders. Slowly, the bruise around my eye faded from a deep, angry blue to a sickly shade of green.  The colour of it, shifting almost like a bruise that wasn't meant to heal, seemed like a reminder of something I wasn't quite ready to face. But what worried me more than the bruise was the thought of what my friends might say when they saw me.

I'd concocted an explanation, of course—a simple accident. I told them that I'd felt dizzy after using the Floo Network to visit my family and had tripped, hitting my head on the edge of a table. It was a decent excuse. Thankfully, they bought it, and Ron—who had been somewhat preoccupied with his own thoughts—didn't question it. My brother kept my secret without so much as a second glance.

And so the days passed, each one folding into the next in a blur of lessons, homework, and the ever-present hum of worry gnawing at the back of my mind. But it wasn't until Potions class came around again that I felt the true weight of what had happened, and I found myself dreading the lesson more than ever, but I couldn't avoid it, not with my N.E.W.Ts hanging over my head like a sword. So, I resigned myself to another uncomfortable hour in the dungeons.

But, to my surprise, the lesson was smoother than expected. I didn't make a single error, not one. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I was in control. Perhaps all those hours in the library, poring over ancient potion texts, were finally paying off. The steps came naturally, and the final product was flawless. I caught Snape's eye more than once, his usual cold, impassive expression softening—if only just—into something almost... approving.

I wasn't sure if it was the rare success or the budding sense of relief that made the afternoon feel different, but as the bell rang and the other students surged for the door, I was already gathering my things. I was eager to leave, not just because class was over, but because I could feel the warm air of spring outside, a welcome break from the chill of the dungeons.

But then Snape's voice cut through the murmur of chatter.

"Miss Blackwell, you are not done yet."

I froze, a chill rushing through me at the sound of his voice. Of course. I should have known he wouldn't let me leave that easily.

"I had hoped I could slip out unnoticed," I said under my breath, but Snape was already striding towards me.

"Miss Blackwell, you are not done yet." The sharpness in Snape's voice cut through the jovial chatter. I had hoped to slip out unnoticed, but evidently, he had other plans.

"Dumbledore wants to speak with you tonight," he said, his gaze steady and unreadable.

I swallowed hard. "Oh, okay. Is it because of our discussion?" My heart began to race. The thought of Dumbledore calling me in so soon after our last conversation filled me with dread.

Snape gave a curt shake of his head. "There's no need to be nosy. Seven o'clock. His office. Be prompt."With that, he turned away, leaving me standing in the middle of the classroom, a swirl of anxiety coiling tighter in my chest. What did Dumbledore want this time? The questions tumbled through my mind like leaves in a storm, each one adding to the sense of foreboding.

The rest of the day passed in a haze, my thoughts still fixated on the meeting with Dumbledore. Why had Snape been so cryptic? What did Dumbledore have to say about... whatever it was I'd been dealing with lately? I barely noticed the passage of time until, suddenly, it was seven o'clock, and I was standing outside Dumbledore's office, my heart beating in my throat.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure how to proceed. I wasn't entirely sure of the password, but as if reading my mind, the door creaked open just as I was about to knock. I stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind me. Dumbledore's office was as cluttered as ever, a thick fog of parchment, books, and odd trinkets swirling in the dim light. The faint scent of lemon drops lingered in the air, but I could tell by the way Dumbledore settled into his chair that this meeting wasn't going to be about sweet confections or idle conversation.

"Good evening, Miss Blackwell," Dumbledore said, a kindly smile tugging at his lips, though his eyes were alert, calculating. "It's always a pleasure to see you."

I forced a smile, though my stomach was in knots. "Thank you, sir. May I ask what this is about?"

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his gaze faraway for a moment. "Straight to the point, then. You are familiar with Professor Trelawney, yes?"

"Yes, sir. She's my Divination Professor," I answered, still wondering where this was heading.

Dumbledore's gaze softened as he spoke again, his voice quieter this time, almost contemplative. "Professor Trelawney recently shared a fortune, one she believed to be of great importance."

I felt a cold shiver run through me at the mention of Trelawney. Her prophecies were always strange, cryptic, and often unsettling. "A fortune?" I repeated, trying to mask the unease in my voice. "What did she say?"
Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, folding his hands on the desk, his expression growing more serious. "Her words were... veiled in mystery, as they often are. But they seemed to speak directly to you. They went as follows:

'A heart of courage, a name of might,
Will rise with eyes as clear as night.
With skin so pale, yet a soul on fire,
She'll face the trials, her fate won't tire.
The name she carries, the blood she's born,
Will guide her path until the dawn.'

As he spoke, I felt a shiver run down my spine. Could this riddle be about me? My heart quickened, and I recalled my own struggles and fears. "I don't understand, Professor."

Dumbledore smiled gently, sensing my confusion. "The 'heart of courage' speaks to someone who has faced hardship, someone with the strength to endure, and 'the name of might'—well, that speaks to your lineage, your legacy. And the 'eyes as clear as night'... the change in your eyes is not a coincidence. There is something deeper there, something that has yet to fully reveal itself."

I blinked, the realization dawning on me. "You mean... this riddle is about me?"

"I believe so," Dumbledore said with a slow nod.

"But what does it all mean?"

"The time will come when you will have to face the trials alluded to in the riddle," Dumbledore continued, his tone serious but not unkind. "It's not a matter of if, but when. And when that time comes, you must stand firm in who you are and what you will become. It is you who will guide the way forward."

I swallowed, the weight of his words pressing on me. "I've been working hard, but—"

"I know, my dear child. No need to worry. We simply wish for you to discover your true potential—to become who you are meant to be."

"And what is that?" I pressed, my curiosity deepening.

"The time will reveal it... yes, the time will show." His gaze drifted, as if he were peering into the future.

As we left his office, Snape turned to me, his dark figure looming in the dim candlelight. " Your extra lessons are starting tomorrow after Potions."

The riddle echoed in my mind, the words mixing with my growing anxiety. Shadows, courage, emerald fire—what did it all mean?