The Emerald Legacy // A Hogwarts Fanfiction

~ 3 ~

The oncoming days I am tied up into crossreading my parents' old notebooks; Mother's scrappy journals and Father's neatly stacked Grimoires.
At night I mostly lay awake, my head full to bursting point with all kind of random thoughts and upheveling anxiety.
Deeply torn between the process of somehow still denying the existence of magic and wizardry and on the other hand accepting my rank and appertaining liabilities as a witch and daughter of Ireland's magic ambassador, I seek peace by blankly staring at the starfilled nightsky.
But every time, every feckin' time my sight grows blurry and the stars go hazy, as I am right about to drift off into slumber, I endure another strange nightmare.
Tonight is no exception...

Winds howl in the flues.
While I climb out of bed a flash occurs admidst the tempest bank of clouds.
I tiptoe along, letting my gaze wander amongst the disheveld gardens and the ominous glowing horizon.The rain lashes against the windowpanes. Something moves inbetween the bramble woods.
I turn and find myself standing out on the drenched meadow, the soft blades of grass scratching my soles, facing the horrifying silhouette of a ferocious, black dog.
The raindrops drip along its pumping veins and muscles, down upon its fangs and vast paws. Its wild eyes glow like embers out of the fires of hells deep themselves.
I lift my chin towards the hound's gaze.
Lightning strucks. 
My lungs hurt. 
An unexpected calmness fulfills me as a stinging hot pain engulfs the palms of my hands. 
The hound tilts its head. A nervewrecking roar arises.
„No!" , I screech and flee.
„Wait!"
I push through the winds and sprint towards the forest until I face a clearing under a full moon surrounded by steep embankments, stumble and fall.

The beast is gone.
Back in my room again I manage to tear away from the bloodcurdling view of the sheet lightning.
Panting towards the bed I recognize the blurred outline of a person standing upright in the corner besides my chambers entrance.
His face grows pale.
"I'm sorry." The grown up male says and approaches.
His long hair and beard are unkempt, his eyes light up in dread as he calls out.
„Beware the Rat!"
My heart races to the point where my ribcage hurts as if it would burst any moment.
"Rat! Beware!", he cries through the clashing thunder.

The sun is just about to rise.
It embraces the early morning fog with its warming, golden beams of light as I awake, drenched in burning coldsweat.
Dizzily I slide out of bed and hurry towards the window.
The meadow and bramble woods look as calm as ever but I jump at a loud bark in the distance and the sudden creaking door.
„Rise and shine.", Baxter sings but grows concerned as he eyes me. 
"You feeling uncomfortable this morning, Missy?", he queries.
„I'm fine. Just a bad dream...again."
But this one was different.
I shudder upon how real this horrifying encounter had felt comparing to the other nightmares;  the rain, the pain, ...and this voice...
Baxter furrows his brows, inspecting the room, his wand brandished. 
„Probably. Nonetheless you're safe with me, Miss. Now, please, accompany me to an invigorating breakfast. Tonight is your night after all."
„How could I forget." I follow him dutifully with a bland smile.

Our carriage comes to a halt in front of a pompous manor.
„Ambassador ." an elderly goblin opens the cabins doors.
„Mylady.", he chivalrously sprawls out one of his scraggy hands. I accept his offer and take a careful hold of his pointy fingers.
Gatherings like this still remain as a vital element of the matrimonial market for the high society of the wizarding world as of which most of the tradition-conscious wizards and witches are still profoundly convinced.
The gravel graunches beneath our feet, as we make our way towards the building, which is surrounded by lush grass, sprinkled with vespertine dew.
We are warmly greeted by bowing maids and butlers who upon closer examination are exposed as delicate brazen figurines.
I smile at all the enchanted fairylights, the gilded stuccoe ceiling, glowing, crystalline candelabras, chandeliers and daedal tapestries, wafting in the breeze.
The mansion is filled with lavishing opulence which culminates at the entrance to its grand hall of mirrors.
Some grim goblins, neatly dressed in silk suits, watch the arriving guests precisely.
Blinding light embraces us. An extraordinarily huge grown goblin, dressed in herald attire, knocks his cauduceus three times on the marble ground, causing some sparks to fly. 
„Dear witches and wizards,
please give a warm welcome to some of our honoured guests.
Ireland's ambassador: Lord Horatius Mapleleaf with his wedded wife Lady Evangeline Plunkett and their only child and heir: Duchess Sonia Mapleleaf."
The crowd mumbles whilst we stride through the portal.
„I hereby have the honour to declare this ball as opened."
Again we hear the knocks of the heralds staff and the acclaim settles as we are eventually greeted by raised wands.

My mother is already caught up in a lively conversation with another lady. The witch is slim and beautiful. She has a narrow face and nobly groomed whiteblonde hair.
She beams at me and keeps pulling me in her embrace.
„Sonia! It's so lovely to see you again. You have grown up to be the belle of the ball, my dear! Darling!"
I shoot my mother a questioning look.
Meanwhile some harsh footsteps and a stray slow clap are growing closer.
A tall, elegant man is pacing towards us, looking oddly familiar with his fair hair and clear-cut features.
„Lucius.", my father acknowledges.
„Horatius.", he snarls. The creases in his tailored frock coat are so sharp they could easy be used to cut someone's throat. 
„Sonia.", my father turns towards me: „This is Lucius Malfoy, an old friend of ours. We often had him and his wife Narcissa over to dinner and our garden parties when you were small." 
"Long time no see.", Lucius faces me like a stalking predator. „Long time no see, indeed."
„How do you do?" I reply and bow as I duteously put my hand into his.
„Miss Mapleleaf, I am delighted."
„Me too." An enjoyable shiver runs down my spine as I recognize a velvetine growl.
I spin around: „...You."