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ricekirpsees · 3 months

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|| The Unfortunate Thing About Legacies: Chp 1 ||

Synopsis- Dear Student...

Notes- N/a

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We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a fifth-year student.

Term begins on 1 September.

Preliminary supplies have been collected for you and will accompany you on your journey to the castle.

As you may be aware, the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery prohibits the use of magic by those under the age of seventeen outside school. However, due to your unique circumstances, the Ministry has graciously agreed to allow Professor Eleazar Fig to help hone your spell-casting before escorting you from London to the castle for the start-of-term feast and the Sorting Ceremony.

Yours sincerely,

Professor Weasley

Deputy Headmistress

---

What a surprise it was, the letter in your hand.

You were rather curious as to why the brown and white owl was following you all around the county of western Carmarthenshire. You merely thought the cute thing believed something of yours was prey. However, your assumption was refuted when you sat down beside the crumbled bricks of what was a wall for a quick rest.

The blue Welsh skies had shifted into the coloured warmth of the sunset when you finally decided to find a spot to settle in. You had just made it to the ruins of a castle that caught your wandering interest, spotting it a few hills back, set between lush greens, old trees, and shattered stones. And so you lay against the grass, nestled against the curve of ancient roots shrouded in moss.

It was a little too early in the afternoon to doze off and a little too exposed to set up a temporary camp. Instead, you let your mind wander, dream, and lightly touch on the days before your adventuring. You dreamt of seeing those odd creatures again and wondered about the blossoming hamlet close to the sea, relishing in the simple peace of the sleepy meadowlands. Then all too suddenly, your daydreams scattered.

Startled, you quickly sat up feeling something plopped onto your lap. It couldn’t have been a leaf, it was far larger than what the tree could have dropped. You picked it up and to your utter bewilderment, you see it was a letter. Tan and square, it was sealed with a luscious red wax stamped with a decorative H and an emblem with four creatures printed delicately on the flap.

Peering closer at the letter, you could just make out the words and begin to sound them out loud, "Hogwarts… Draco dor- dormi-ens nunquam ti… ti-till-andus."

Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus.

Never tickle a sleeping dragon.

You snorted, amused. Someone must've dropped this, you thought with a small smile. Or at least, it might've been stolen by the wind. You looked around the darkening grasslands in hopes of catching someone nearby who could have lost the missive, possibly a postman, but it was just you and nature's awakening nightlife.

A gentle hoot from above caught your attention. You looked up to see the brown and white plumage of your little companion sitting on a branch, with large yellow eyes gazing down at you. Oh, and it seems he's here too. Your smile grew wider, delighted to see the owl again.

"Well, hello sir, good evening," You hummed lowly, so as to not scare him. Though he seemed comfortable, blinking slowly at your words. "It's very nice to see you again."

He blinked once more before turning his head and grooming his ruffled feathers.

You nod and turn back to the letter in your hands, "I'll leave you to it."

An idea popped into your head and you flipped the note around. You've been a good deal around the isle and the hamlets aren't at all big. You're sure you'll be able to recognize the address and give it to the person missing their mail, you think as you skim through the green-inked delivery address. Wait… You pause, fumbling over a particular name.

It took a while for you to process, as you had to reread the recipient's name over and over again because written on the envelope was your name.

But it couldn’t possibly be… Your brows furrowed, a trickle of fear seeping into your chest and you quickly moved to open the letter.

No one should know you. At least no one alive should know you, much less your name. Your whole life you’ve been significantly distanced from human civilization, a vagabond. You were sure that you’d never caught the attention of someone or introduced yourself anytime recently. Unfortunately, the piece of paper proved your hermit-ing was not as good as you thought it was.

Unfolding the last section of the paper, you begin to read and with each word, realizations and discoveries were made. Once the last word had been read you let the letter slip from your fingers and flutter back to your lap. And there it was, the surprise in your hands apparently delivered by your friend up in the tree. What was even better was the pocket full of confusion that came with it.

You leaned your back against the tree and attempted to come to terms with the contents of the letter, fiddling with the rough bark of the roots and listening to the tittering of the owl above.

There was a school. A school of witchcraft and wizardry. It's called Hogwarts and you supposedly were enrolled to join. Now you're accepted and a man by the name of Eleazar Fig will be helping you "hone your spell-crafting". You winced at your summary, finding it a tad unbelievable. How… far fetched.

Though you shake your head, dismissing the school from your thoughts as best as you can and ignoring the bubbling curiosity that had begun to boil from within. You must stay focused on the more pressing matter of an institute knowing who you are. For your safety.

But, you confess, you've never been to a proper school, having only ever seen them from a distance, but you know your basics; reading, writing, and math. You think you're rather decent at it.

And it's a rather strange name, maybe the witchcraft and wizardry part is a metaphor.

A sudden crack echoing from the side had you whipping your head around and leaping up from your seat. You turn towards the direction, tense and ready to run if need be only to come face to face with an odd sight. There stood an old man dressed in odd blue robes lined with gold holding an unnaturally straight stick in one hand and a leather bag in the other.

You watched in fearful surprise as he stumbled a bit, barely catching his footing before straightening up. You squint. How strange, he seemed to have just appeared out of nowhere! You quickly scanned the forest wondering where on earth he came from, as the man dusted his sleeves off with a pleased hum.

Though his back was facing you, you could see his content turn to displeasure as he let out a groan, his shoulders dropping. Shaking his head he turned around only to pause when he saw the figure behind him.

Once he seemed to, unfortunately, recognize who you were, the man's face lit up with relief, "Ah! There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you existed at all! Though I suppose a Welsh meadow is not exactly specific, it's very lovely to finally meet you. I am Professor Eleazar Fig."

You merely stayed silent, perplexed by a sudden appearance and social interaction being thrown right at you, like a skipping stone to a fish. A moment of quiet passed but the man didn't seem too fazed as he began to talk again.

"And I presume you are our new student?" Professor Fig asked, holding out a hand, a pleasant smile dawning on his face.

You tensed and eyed the man’s hand. With a hop of courage, you spoke, “Uh, no, sir…” You replied, darting your gaze to meet his, “Unfortunately I must inform you that there has been a mistake in your… system. I shouldn’t be going to your school or anyone’s school for that matter…”

That seemed to have baffled the man and Professor Fig let out a breathless laugh, “A mistake? I can assure you there have been no mistakes, as there can be no mistakes.” He then gestured to the letter, “May I?”

You nodded tersely and handed it over. He gently took it from your grasp and began to read while you took a step back farther from the stranger for a comforting distance.

“Ah see? No mistakes.” He smiled, finding what he needed from the paper, "Now, there are plenty of things to discuss and plenty of things to do." He adjusted his grip on the bag, "Is your guardian nearby?"

"But there must have been one, sir," You argue, ignoring the strange question. "A misspelling or- or the wrong address… "

"I can assure you, young one, that the quill makes no errors," The man said kindly, a gentle look on his face, "And if so the book will not allow one to pass on to a letter."

Despite the calming voice of the stranger, it only made you more confused and a tad bit miffed. It was like he was speaking in tongues! Never straightforward, are all humans like this?

With furrowed brows, you grumbled, "What does a book and quill have to do with errors? I'm saying whoever is in charge made a mailing mistake and the letter was placed in the wrong hands. My hands. Now it is in yours and can be delivered to the right person."

You repressed the urge to roll your eyes, settling for flexing your hand. How irritating it was to have to spell it out.

"So, you are indeed not Miss (Y/n) (L/n), residing beside the castle ruins of Caldicot, Wales, beneath the great ash tree of 300 years pass?" The man inquired lightly, clasping his hands together in front of him.

You blinked, shifting your widened eyes to him. "Well, yes. That is me, but…"

He held up a hand and said, "I must apologize, I was under the impression you were aware of our world. Allow me to give a proper and appropriate introduction." Placing the bag down, he gave a crooked bow, "I am Eleazar Fig, a professor at Hogwarts, a school for wizardkind and magic alike and I have been tasked with mentoring you in preparation for your fifth year at Hogwarts."

"Wizardkind…?" You muttered, "You mean staffs and potions wizardkind?"

Professor Fig nodded with closed eyes, "Yes, though I must say the majority of us prefer the familiarity of the wand."

Ah, so it wasn't a metaphor.

He opened his eyes and soon after an earnest look replaced his calm, "And you, my child, are a witch."

You couldn't help the laugh of disbelief that burst from your lips, "Ha! No- no, I am no witch, but it certainly does give clarity to some mysteries I've seen flying about." You eyed the owl, who seemed to be closer than before.

"Well of course you are a witch. You see them don't you?" Professor Fig gestured to the ancient tree behind you.

Them? You narrowed your eyes at the man and turned around to face it, noting some strange little bugs that scampered about along the branches. Taking a closer look you see that they weren't bugs at all, but rather the sentient green sticks with a leaf or two upon their bodies that you've seen before in another tree. Luckily, these seemed much more friendly than previous encounters were with the few who noticed you, curiously watching from afar.

"Strange little things aren't they? And quite cute," You hummed, turning back to Fig, "but I'm not sure what looking at them has to do with being a witch."

One particular creature dared to get closer, inching its way over to you with a tilted head. You copied the little leaf, tilting your head as it crept closer down the branch’s tip and up to your face.

From behind you, you hear Professor Fig speak up, "It has to do with everything, for muggles– non-magics– are unable to see magical beasts such as the bowtruckle, the creatures inhabiting that tree."

"Oh…" You mumbled, the bowtruckle reaching up a little twiggy arm and patting your cheek.

Satisfied with the encounter, it turned back around and climbed back up to its friends sitting higher up in the tree. In turn, you looked back towards Professor Fig who now held the bag once more.

“So, I am a witch… and you are here to tutor me.” You say, sceptically, “But why was I admitted so late as you and the letter have told quite fervently?”

Taking a deep breath, Professor Fig replied, “That, my dear, is a mystery of ours. Unfortunately, I have not been informed much, merely that I have been requested to help you assimilate and even then, information on yourself was scarce.” He seemed hesitant to continue, but nevertheless asked, “… And I can assume it is just you?”

You nod, your heart thumped harshly. You hoped he wouldn’t ask any more questions. You didn’t have it in you to explain things to a stranger.

But he just sighs and offers you a smile, “Come, there is much to teach and a whole new world of possibilities for you.”

Professor Fig offered out a hand for you to take and just as before you eye it with distrust, but a part of you, that little voice of hope, was just enough for you to take it. With a warm hold, you walk together for a moment, just a little farther from the great ash tree as he takes out his wand and with one swish, the two of you disappear from the ruins. Nothing but a whisper left.

The owl cocks his head, before spreading his grand wings, and with one giant beat, he lifts off. Gliding over the forest and into the night sky, he heads home, hoping to see the new student soon.

---

The summer had passed in what felt like moments and yet in forever. It was an extreme transition for you from wandering lonely, away from people to now temporarily living at Rotherly’s Hotel in London, a hotel for wizards and witches alike away from Muggles.

It was an amazing place and the rooms were grand filled with enchanted items, sweeping, washing, and folding themselves. But everything was grand to you as, apparently, this was common in the Wizarding world as Professor Fig had explained, amused.

Professor Fig was a great teacher, kind patient, and fun. He had no qualms about spending nearly most of the season explaining the workings of the Wizard world and how they lived. Some things sounded vaguely familiar to you, as you believe you might’ve seen a few examples from your travels. Unfortunately, your millions of questions left not much time for the actual schoolwork and you only have recently truly started to work with a wand.

Less than two months isn’t a lot of time to learn about a whole new magical world. But you did receive a second-hand wand at the beginning and it was quite a surprise when you felt it the moment you touched the handle. It was as if there was a presence within the wand, a being or something somewhat conscious. And, at best, it tolerated you.

Honestly, maybe that was the other reason why you were now starting wandwork. Even at the moment, as you pack your minimum items into a knapsack, you could feel the brown-wood wand wish ill on your person. To at least have you trip and hurt your leg. It was a very fussy piece of wood.

And of course, you haven’t told Professor Fig, who now knocked on the room’s sturdy door. You didn’t want to trouble him over a bad relationship. Setting in the last item of clothing, you swing on the sack that would very soon become your bookbag and open the door with a smile to see your mentor.

“Good evening, a leanbh, are you set to go?” He greeted with a nod.

“Yes, Professor.” You said, fidgeting with your coat sleeves.

“Good, good! And how are you feeling?” Professor Fig asked as you began to walk down the lamp-lit hall. You were careful not to step too loudly on the noisy floor despite the thin decorated carpets that lined your steps.

Tilting your head, you considered how you felt at the moment and decided, “Feeling alright and a little tired, sir.”

He chuckled, “It is quite late. The carriage is just in the back alley with all of your school materials. Down this way.”

You made it to the stairs of the building and stumbled your way down the flights of steep steps. You were relieved once you made it to the first floor, certain you were going to roll your ankle at least once. Rather than turn left towards the lobby, Professor Fig led you out the backway on the right. It was even darker than the hall but half as long and soon you made it out into the brisk London night.

And there it was, a carriage piled with precariously stacked luggage and a familiar owl preening its feathers. What truly caught your attention was the six dark, strange, bat-winged beasts that stood restlessly at the front of the carriage. They looked like skeletal equine, but their faces did not resemble those of a horse. Rather, it looked like a beaked reptilian adorned with two stubby horns. And they looked absolutely beautiful.

Professor Fig went to check on the luggage, greeting the coachman. And you, utterly enchanted, gently walked up to the beasts, keeping your posture low to not startle the gorgeous creatures, though they didn’t seem to mind your presence. A few turned their heads over to look at you, curious of the new person coming close and once they deemed you harmless, shook their heads, or stretched their wings.

“Amazing, innit?” A voice asked.

Startled out of your trance, you looked up towards the coachman who wore an odd pair of goggles and a grin.

“It’s a carriage pulled by nothing too most wizardkind. But I got these things to see what others can’t.” He seemed to gloat, gesturing to the goggles.

You furrowed your brows, confused as to what the man was talking about, and turned to face the creatures once more. Pulled by nothing? You couldn’t help but ask, “What do you mean?”

“Exactly!” And he burst into a fit of roaring laughter.

Even more confused and a tad bit worried for the man, you backed up from the driver’s seat and closer to Professor Fig, who came back from the luggage end with a smile.

“Ah! It appears we are almost ready to depart,” He informed you, walking over to where you were standing. “It’s a pity we didn’t have a bit more time to spend on spell-casting. I presume you’ve been practising the spells we worked on.”

Oh, yes, that. The reason for such annoyance. You only got to touch upon the most basic of basics and that was all that you could practice in the alleyways. You believe that’s the reason the wand was so mad today.

“I have, Professor.” You said and lifted the ever-so-angry stick.

“Well, I’m quite sure I’ve never seen anyone take so quickly to a second-hand wand,” Professor Fig remarked, looking quite proud, “You’ll be a force to be reckoned with when you get your own.”

What a compliment that was, having only been introduced to this world in less than two months and yet having such potential that a well-rounded educator comments on it.

Flattered, You beamed, “Thank you, Professor Fig. I… appreciate your working with me before the term begi-”

A familiar cracking pop rang out and a well-dressed man appeared, facing away from the two of you. With a quick turn, he found two pairs of eyes gazing at him, one with familiarity and the other in dulled confusion, and exclaimed, “Oh! Eleazar!”

“George!” Professor Fig happily greeted him before giving me a hushed introduction, “An old friend.” Turning back to the man in glasses, he continued, “Glad my rather cryptic description of our location did not thwart your finding us.”

“I’ve apparated to more vaguely defined destinations than this.” George chuckles as he walks closer, “Though, I confess I may have miscalculated slightly on my first try. Gaver quite the fright to some theatre-goers in the West End.” He gave a friendly wink to you and you smiled back awkwardly.

Professor Fig laughed along, “It’s been much too long. When I received your owl. I must say I-”

“Uh- Best not to speak here, Eleazar, hm?” George quickly interrupted his friend, an odd look darting across his face.

The air chilled and you and Fig shared a glance.

Clearing his throat, Professor Fig nodded, “Of course. Why don’t we speak en route to Hogwarts? We have a start-of-term feast and a Sorting Ceremony to get to.”

“Wonderful idea. As long as your young charge here doesn’t mind me tagging along.” George asked, his cheerful grin returning.

“Not at all, sir,” You quickly responded.

Professor Fig gleamed a smile at you as he opened the carriage door, stepping aside for you to crawl in, “After you.”

As you made your way into the carriage, George looked toward Professor Fig with a nostalgic glaze and a light chuckle.

“Ages since I’ve been to the castle. Would be good to see the old pile of rocks,” He mused, helping Professor Fig in with a hand.

Just as he makes his way in, he gives one last glance to the midnight London street with that odd look returning before hopping in and giving the signal to the driver, shutting the door.

The reins whip and the carriage takes off, and the shadowed figure watches it in the darkness before disappearing in a hazy twist.

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Notes- I refuse to believe the Wizarding World is this woke in 1892, they literally had blood supremacy in the 1990s

#fanfic #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #wizards #wizarding world #witchcraft #witches #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #hogwarts houses #dragons #magizoologist #magic #1890s #creatures #legacy

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glitterytrashcan · 1 year

Text

Proud

Severus snape x reader/oc

!!!! trigger warning !!!!! - mentions of depression, burn out, death (of an animal), putting down of a creature is mentioned-

prompt: Reader/Oc is a magizoologist who just had to put down an injured creature that had no hope for surviving despite them putting all their heart and soul into rescuing it.

characters: Severus snape and Roman Dawning (Gender Neutral oc)

The letter had arrived during breakfast interrupting his rather dull morning, though regarding its contents he would have much preferred the dull morning over the lingering worry that wrapped around his heart for the rest of his day. Jareth hadn’t left his side since the arrival, a painful reminder that his love was alone facing the aftermath of weeks of work thrown away.

With a low trill Jareth tilted his head staring blankly at Severus as he rereads the pain filled letter. I failed him Sev. I tried to get him to drink. There was nothing else I could do. I ended his suffering. With Sorrow, Your love. Such a pain filled letter with so few words, he didn’t need them to know they are suffering greatly. Jareth trills louder and something in him snaps with his resolve to ignore the owl and his love. The letter is left on the table as he storms out transfiguring a feather that had fallen from Jareth into a sign on his door simply saying all potions classes were canceled. the students would find themselves in Minerva’s class instead.

His feet knew the path all too well till he found himself standing outside their shared quarters. With a final breath out, he opens the door finding his poor lover curled up on their window cushion looking utterly exhausted and lost in thought. The sight alone caused his chest to feel a little heavier, time to get to work. The doors closed, teaching robes are vanished, and Severus finds himself in the familiar room of his partner’s “bag of magic” as they like to call it. Inside is a dead Aethonan winged horse laid beautifully on a bed of honorary flowers. As Severus looks at the magnificent beast, he feels a small pang of anger and sympathy.

Anger that the beast gave up so easily after only a week of fighting under his loves care, and sympathy in understanding the struggle of trying to survive when one’s own body is dying slowly. Looking away he manages to find a Draught of peace in the unorganized chaos of the workspace and returns to the bedroom starting a pot of tea. And finally, after he believes he is ready he moves to the lifeless looking figure in the window and embraces them firm and comforting.

Just as he begins to doubt himself in his decision to hug them, they hug him back just as tight and begin to sob into his chest. Hours of pent-up pain, anger, sorrow all come rushing out in broken sobs while he just rubs slow and methodical half circles with his thumb along their shoulder. Steady even strokes providing grounding, humming an unknown tune he once heard them sing while cooking. Knowing full well that his poor love won’t hear his words he simply provides a voice to hold onto.

When he feels their breathing becoming regular once more, he lifts them off the cushion where they had been seated for far too long. “feeling a little better love?” Severus knows there is no feeling good after this, he doubts they will truly feel better for days to come. In his professional opinion slightly better is better than nothing at all. They nod softly seemingly choosing to be nonverbal. A coping habit Severus taught them on accident though he doesn’t mind much. His lover’s mind is always open for him to look around and find what he needs to communicate with no words shared. Shifting on the bed they get comfortable making space for Severus and in return he offers the draught of peace which they take and drink quickly.

At least they will find some peace in this time, Severus seems satisfies for now slipping away to retrieve the tea he had brewing. Returning shortly after with a sleep blend of his own creation he takes note of his darlings slightly relaxed state. Looking into their mind isn't his favorite thing to be doing but he wants to make sure they are in some form or fashion okay. When the results of his digging show somewhat promising results he hums out in content offering them the tea and sitting up against the headboard. The book of poetry off to the side floating up into his field of view as he starts reading slowly and clearly. His voice deep and soothing for his love only to hear in such a state.

Sipping slowly on their tea they find themselves steadily falling asleep. They curl up close with their head on his lap and listen as he speaks. When they do finally fall asleep Severus reads one more poem for good measure and takes the teacup setting it off to the side and allowing the book to return itself on the table, he finds himself running his fingers through their hair. “You did good my dear, i just wish you hadn’t put everything you had into it. You forgot to leave a little for yourself.” his voice is rewarded with comfortable silence which gains a small smile from him, “It’s alright, ill love and care for you till you can love and care for yourself again. Sleep well.”

(Inspired by a comfort character letter i ordered once. this may not be well written, but it made me happy so ill share it)

#severus snape x reader #severus x oc #comfort #this is my comfort fic and i write what i want #pro severus snape #magizoologist #hufflepuff #oc is angry scottish with a big heart #professor severus snape #severus snape #not edited #severus lives au

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