Shadow of Legacy

After the fall

I couldn't forgive myself. I could never forgive myself. But I had to keep moving. I had to keep fighting. For her. For Professor Kershaw. For everyone.

The thought of facing the day made my stomach twist, but I forced myself out of bed, ignoring the pain in my limbs. I dressed mechanically, not really thinking. There was no purpose to any of it. The others were in Herbology—most of them, at least—but I couldn't bring myself to sit there with them, pretending everything was fine when my world had shattered into a thousand pieces. I made my way down the corridor, through the silent halls of Hogwarts, my footsteps echoing in the emptiness. Without thinking, my legs carried me to the one place that seemed to hold the tiniest fragment of her—Professor Kershaw's office. The door creaked as I pushed it open, and a chill swept over me. The room was untouched, still as it had been when she was alive. Her chair, her desk, the papers scattered across it—everything was as she had left it. Everything, except for her. She wasn't here anymore, and I couldn't undo what had happened.
I stepped inside, my feet heavy, and closed the door behind me. It was absurd, talking to an empty room. But I didn't know what else to do.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to the stillness, my voice barely audible. My throat was tight, my words choking in my chest. I could barely breathe as the grief, the guilt, washed over me. I could never make it right. I could never take back what I had done.

"I didn't want this," I continued, my voice cracking. "I didn't want to hurt you. You were kind. You didn't deserve this. I..." I trailed off, unable to find the words that could possibly make any of this better.

My fingers brushed across the edge of her desk, lingering on a piece of parchment that had been left half-written. It seemed so wrong to touch it, as though I was desecrating something sacred. I put it down, unable to continue. But just as I thought I might break under the weight of my sorrow, something caught my eye. There, on the windowsill, a small butterfly fluttered. It was delicate, its wings a pale, shimmering blue, almost ethereal against the dim light of the room.

I froze. I hadn't expected it. But there it was, a small symbol, fragile and beautiful. A sign.

A sign from her.

For a moment, I couldn't move. My hand hovered near the window, my breath catching in my throat. The butterfly perched there, undisturbed, as if it had been waiting for me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered again, more firmly this time. "I promise... I'll do better. I'll fight for you. I'll keep going."The butterfly fluttered its wings, then took flight, disappearing out the window into the vast, open sky. I watched it go, and though my heart was still heavy, something inside me—something small—felt a little lighter.

Later that day, I found myself standing in front of a small, modest house. It was tucked away from the rest of Hogwarts, a little cottage on the edge of the village.
The door creaked open, and the woman standing there gave me a cautious look, as if unsure who I was or what I wanted. Her expression softened when she recognized me.

"You..." she began, her voice uncertain. "Alvira Blackwell?"

I nodded, offering a small, tight-lipped smile. "I was a friend of Professor Kershaw."

Her gaze lingered on me for a beat longer than I was comfortable, and I could see the shadow of grief behind her eyes. She stepped back to let me in, the door opening wider to reveal a modest living room. The air inside was warm, but it felt like it was suffocating with the weight of everything unsaid. The walls were bare, save for a few framed pictures, and there were toys scattered across the floor—evidence of a child trying to hold onto something innocent in the wake of tragedy.

As I stepped over the threshold, my heart tightened.

Inside, a little girl—no older than six or seven—sat near the window, her small hands moving slowly over a set of wooden blocks. She looked up when she heard the door open, and her wide, curious eyes met mine. Her hair, dark and silky, framed her face like a halo of innocence. I could see it now—she had the same eyes as her mother. The same warm brown, full of wonder. A part of me, a small, guilty part, almost wished she could stay that way forever—untouched by the horrors I had just helped create.

Professor Kershaw's sister closed the door behind me with a soft click, her hand brushing her brow as if she were trying to mask some of her own emotions. She spoke quietly, as though trying to keep the atmosphere light for the child. "This is Eleanor," she said, her voice a mixture of tenderness and sorrow.

My stomach turned. I hadn't come here to face this. I hadn't come to look into the eyes of a child whose mother I had killed, whose mother had trusted me. But here I was.

"Eleanor," I said, forcing a calmness into my voice that I didn't feel. "I'm a friend of your mum's. She spoke a lot about you."

The child stared at me for a moment, blinking slowly, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Where's Mummy?" she asked softly, her voice small and hopeful. My throat tightened, and for a moment, I almost couldn't breathe. I had seen this child before, running through the halls of Hogwarts with her mother. I had watched the two of them together, the bond between them so pure, so simple. The last thing this little girl should have to hear was the truth. The truth that her mother had died at my hands, that I had been the one to pull the trigger. I swallowed hard, the lie forming in my mind like a poison. "Your mum was very brave," I said, my voice catching slightly. "She... she was a hero. And she loved you very much. She wanted you to be safe." My hands clenched, but I didn't dare let the emotion show. Not now. Not when I had to protect this child.

I knelt down to her level, careful to keep my voice steady. "She made sure you would be looked after, by someone who cares for you. You'll always have a safe place."Eleanor's lips trembled as she looked up at me, a small, hesitant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I miss her," she whispered, her voice so soft I barely heard it.

The weight of that one sentence struck me like a physical blow. I wanted to reach out, to hug her, to tell her it was all going to be okay—but I couldn't. Not when I was the reason her world was shattered.

Eleonor's aunt, sensing the heaviness of the moment, stepped forward. She placed a hand gently on Eleanor's shoulder, her voice barely a murmur. "She understands, sweetheart. It's hard, I know. But you're not alone. You'll never be alone."I stood, blinking rapidly to clear the tears that were threatening to fall. I couldn't cry. Not now. I had to do something. I had to make this right.

I reached into my pocket, my fingers trembling as I pulled out the check. I handed it to the aunt, my eyes not meeting hers. "For Eleanor's future," I said quietly, my voice shaking despite my efforts to remain composed. "For her care, her education... everything she needs."The aunt's fingers brushed over the check, her expression unreadable for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was thick with emotion. "This... this is too much."

I shook my head, my chest tightening with a guilt I could never escape. "She deserves it," I said, my voice hoarse. "She deserves to be happy. To be safe."

A long silence followed, and the air seemed to thicken with the weight of our unspoken words. Eleanor had returned to her blocks, her small fingers moving absentmindedly over the wooden shapes, her eyes focused on her toy world, blissfully unaware of the conversations happening around her.

I stood there for a moment, just watching the little girl, thinking of all the things I couldn't tell her. Of all the things she would never know. Finally, I turned to leave. The door clicked softly behind me as I stepped out into the dimming light of the evening. I walked away from that house, away from the family I had shattered. And all I could think of was how much more I had to do, how much further I still had to fall before I could undo any of the damage I had done.