Shadow of Legacy

First private lesson

The morning sun streamed through the castle windows, casting a warm glow over the Great Hall. As I sat with my friends, my mind was still tangled in the riddles from Dumbledore. The words echoed in my thoughts, intertwining with my growing sense of purpose. What did they truly mean for me?

Classes passed in a blur, but Potions felt different. Each time Snape called on me, I couldn't help but wonder how he would guide me during our extra lessons. I concentrated on my work, the familiar scent of herbs and potions grounding me, but my mind kept wandering to the riddle's implications.

At last, the clock struck the end of class. As my classmates rushed to the door, laughter filling the corridor, I stayed behind, my heart racing. I knew Snape was waiting for me, and I had no idea what to expect.

"Miss Blackwell," he said, his tone sharp as a knife as he swept back into the room. "Are you ready for our session?"

"Yes, Professor," I replied, trying to mask my nerves, but my voice trembled slightly.

"Good. Follow me." He led me down a series of dimly lit corridors, their walls lined with ancient portraits that seemed to watch our every move. I felt a strange mix of excitement and apprehension.

Finally, we arrived at a small, unassuming classroom that I had never noticed before. The air was thick with the scent of old books and potions, and the walls were lined with shelves brimming with ingredients and tomes.

"Take a seat," Snape instructed, motioning to a sturdy desk in the front of the room. I settled in, acutely aware of his presence as he gathered materials from the shelves.

"Today, we will begin with Legilimency," he said, his voice steady but laced with impatience. "Understanding the minds of others is crucial for anyone who wishes to protect themselves against dark forces. But first, you must learn to control your own mind."

I nodded, a flutter of nerves tightening in my stomach. "How do I do that?"

"Focus. Clear your thoughts and allow only one to surface. This exercise is essential for strengthening your mental barriers." He paused, his dark eyes narrowing. "This should not be difficult, but given your previous performance, I have my doubts."

I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. I envisioned a calm lake, the surface smooth and undisturbed. Gradually, I let my thoughts drift to the riddle, to the legacy I carried.

"Now, attempt to project a single thought to me," Snape instructed. "Concentrate."

As I concentrated, a sudden image flashed in my mind—the vibrant blue of my eyes. I focused on that color, the strength it represented. But as I pushed the thought forward, I felt an unsettling sensation, as if my mind were not entirely my own.

"I can see it, Miss Blackwell," Snape said, his voice clipped. "But it's unfocused. You're allowing your doubts to cloud your mind."

Panic bubbled within me. "I'm trying!"

"Trying is insufficient," he snapped. "You must learn to separate your thoughts from your emotions. Right now, I can sense your fear. It's hindering your progress."

With renewed determination, I focused harder, attempting to clear the chaos swirling in my mind. Snape's presence was overwhelming, and I felt exposed.

"Let's try again," he said, his tone condescending. "This time, push aside your uncertainties and project a single, clear thought. You should be able to do this."

Drawing on the riddle's imagery, I forced myself to concentrate on the legacy of courage tied to my family. But as I projected the thought, my defenses crumbled.
Suddenly, I felt his mind penetrate mine. Memories burst forth unbidden—my childhood home, the harsh voices of my family echoing in the dark, their anger a tangible force. I saw glimpses of my father, his face twisted in rage, and my mother's indifference as she turned away.

"No!" I gasped, trying to pull back, but it was too late.

"Fascinating," Snape said, his tone colder than ever.

I felt my cheeks flush with shame and fear, the weight of my memories flooding back. I could feel him sifting through my thoughts—images of the men my family had chosen for me, their faces looming like shadows, each one a reminder of my helplessness.

"Stop it!" I cried, but he was relentless.

"I can see your fear," he said, his voice steady. "Fear of the future, of those who would seek to control you. It's crippling you. You can't allow it to dictate your actions."

The memories swirled around me—my father's strict commands, the way I had to keep my head down, the dread of being forced into a marriage I didn't want. The echoes of my past felt suffocating, and I fought to regain control.

"Enough," Snape finally said, pulling back his mental touch. "You need to learn to shield your mind if you are to succeed. The darkness you carry is not something to be shared lightly."

I blinked back tears, the shame of my past crashing over me. "I'm trying, Professor. I don't know how."

"Then you must learn," he replied curtly. "We will not delve into this again until you can control your mind. Practice is essential. Come prepared next time."

With that, the lesson ended, and I left the classroom feeling raw and exposed. The whispers of the riddle lingered in the back of my mind, urging me to uncover the strength within me.
The shadows may have been gathering, but I was determined to face them.