Shadow of Legacy

The Price of Loyalty

The weight of the night pressed on me like a physical burden. Every step felt like it was dragging me deeper into a pit of despair, yet I couldn't seem to escape.

Snape had been silent as we made our way back to Hogwarts. His footsteps echoed against the stone corridors, a reminder of the silence that hung heavy between us. I couldn't look at him—not after what I had done. I couldn't look at anyone. The image of Professor Kershaw's face, her pleading eyes, and the final, sickening thud of her body collapsing to the floor replayed over and over in my mind. The room, the candles, the smell of blood... It was all consuming. I followed Snape into his office without a word, my gaze fixed on the floor. He didn't try to speak, didn't ask anything. The door clicked shut behind us, sealing me in a cage of my own making.

Without a word, Snape poured a measure of firewhiskey into a glass and placed it in front of me. His face was unreadable, as always, but there was something in his eyes—something faintly softer than usual. His voice, when it came, was low and detached.

"It will become easier," he said, as if that somehow made sense. As if the weight of a life I had just ended could be eased by a drink.

I stared at the glass, the amber liquid swirling inside . I didn't want to feel anything, not right now.

With trembling hands, I picked up the glass, bringing it to my lips. The firewhiskey burned as it slid down my throat, the heat of it almost enough to drown out the pain inside me. I took another sip, then another, until the glass was empty, my mind hazy and dull.

"I'm fine," I said, the words thick on my tongue. But they weren't true. Not at all. Snape didn't speak. He didn't need to. He had given me what I needed for the moment—something to numb the pain. A few moments later, I could feel the fog descending over my thoughts, like a blanket, wrapping me in its suffocating embrace. My head felt too heavy, but the emotions... the guilt, the horror, the regret—it all started to dull into something that felt more bearable.

Snape stood up then, his black robes swishing as he moved toward the door. I remained seated, staring at the empty glass in my hand.

"I'll check on you later," he said, his voice soft but firm, before disappearing into the hallway, leaving me alone. I didn't remember walking back to my room. Everything was a blur, a haze of whiskey and guilt. But when I finally entered the familiar confines of my bedroom, the weight of it all crashed down on me.

I collapsed onto the bathroom floor, the cold tile bit into my skin, and I curled into a ball, my arms wrapped tightly around my knees. The world felt like it was crushing me, and I didn't know how to stop it.
I lay there, staring at nothing, as the tears came. They were uncontrollable, the hot, stinging salt of them pouring down my face. I didn't even try to stop them.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I whispered over and over, like a mantra. But who was I apologizing to? To Professor Kershaw? To myself? To the little girl who would never see her mother again?

The guilt squeezed at my chest, tight and suffocating. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face—her kind smile, her gentle eyes. I had known her only in passing. But I knew she had a daughter. A little girl who was now motherless because of me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered again, barely able to breathe through the weight of it.

Eventually, exhaustion overtook me. I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't stop thinking about what I had done. My mind couldn't make sense of any of it, but I finally lost consciousness, my body succumbing to the relentless pull of sleep.

But the sleep wasn't peaceful. The dreams came. Horrible, vivid dreams. I saw her again. Professor Kershaw's face, twisted in pain, the terror in her eyes as she realized what was happening. I heard the hiss of Voldemort's voice, cold and venomous, the shadows growing darker around me. The sound—the sickening thud of her body hitting the floor—ripped through my dream like a blade. I woke with a scream, my heart pounding in my chest, the echoes of the nightmare still lingering in my ears.