Second Chance - Hogwarts Legacy AU
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(this chapter is hella long. it was 17 pages on docs... you've been warned)
This was probably the most stressful summer Ciara had ever experienced in her life – and she spent the summer she’d turned seventeen constantly fearing her life and of those she loved. Now she just feared for her own life, but still the same amount of fear.
Apparently, her parents thought it would be better to learn Potions, Astrology and Herbology at home with private teachers rather than learn it at Hogwarts. Having a private teacher, however, was not at all the advantage she assumed it would be as even with her own personal tutors, she was just not a good student, terrible at following instructions and even worse at doing any kind of homework. She was good at actually doing magic and actually making potions, but she could not for the life of her write an entire essay about why Salamander Eyes shouldn’t be added to any sort of explosive potion, or who was the wizard that bred the first chinese chomping cabbage. Her tutors were not impressed but were clearly too scared of the Black’s to give her anything but good enough marks on her practical talents alone.
Alongside those summer courses, much to her dismay, were private Dark Arts lessons with Cassiopeia II, Phineas’s grandmother. Those were torture, literally. They were educational, sure (she was lucky she already knew quite a bit about Black Family history, but now she knew of even more people on the family tree) however, the fact that the woman wanted Ciara to actually use the curses, jinxes and hexes she learned on muggles made Ciara want to strangle Carina’s grandmother. Ciara had already been punished with the Cruciatus Curse multiple times for refusing to cast a curse on a muggle or administer a potion to some poor innocent child. If Ciara wasn’t already familiar with the effects of the curse, she might have gone insane.
Having Phineas Nigellus Black there was the cherry on top to her already torturous time in the house. Not because he was a grade-a, pompous arsehole, but because it took everything in Ciara’s willpower to not pull every prank she thought of on this clown of a man. He cared about nothing but himself and his image, both physically and socially. Ciara had to restrain herself multiple times from putting hair removal potion in his hair gel, or even just casting a small Furunculus hex on him at breakfast. She still couldn’t believe that the man was the Hogwarts Headmaster.
Magical theory tutor sessions were the only reprieve Ciara had from the suffocating atmosphere of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. At Professor Figg’s, she could relax. The man, thankfully, took very well to her being from the future. He helped her with some culture shifting and etiquette training. He even told her about the professors at Hogwarts and some of his students. When he tried to actually teach her anything about magical theory, a subject that she did not take in her first life, it was surprisingly interesting and she was fascinated by the content and how Figg taught. For once in her life, she was a decently good student.
Her favourite thing to learn about was Figg himself. He told her all about his late wife, Miriam. She was a researcher and adventuress that was searching for a long lost form of ancient magic. She sounded like a remarkable and wonderful witch. Ciara was almost sad that she wasn’t sent back another year just so she could meet her.
Today, however, Ciara and Figg were out on the town because they were getting what she needed for the start of term next week. Phoebe, who was a surprisingly chill mother, had no qualms letting Figg accompany her. They were just heading back to their carriage in a dark and empty muggle street after a long day of shopping in Diagon Alley and more discussion of what magic Ciara knew that no one else knew yet.
“You’re telling me the Slug-Vomiting Jinx hasn’t been invented yet?” Ciara gawked when Figg told her that he had never heard of one of her favourite jinxes. “That is far too much power for me to wield.”
“As long as you don’t cast it on me, Ciara, I won’t rat you out to your father,” Figg chuckled at her.
It took her a while to get used to being called Carina and accepting that Phineas Nigellus Black was technically her father now. She hated it, but she had to accept it if she wanted to blend in. But also, she reasoned with herself, it was better than her actual father.
Figg was the only one who knew her true identity and he called her Ciara – unless they were with other people – much to her relief. She needed the normalcy. Being called Carina on the daily was grating her nerves.
“I promise,” she told him as she was already thinking of ways to prank Phineas Nigellus with spells she now knew didn’t exist yet. It was a long list of fun hexes and jinxes, it seemed.
There was a sudden snap and a man appeared a few yards away.
“Ah! Eleazar!” He cheered when he turned around and saw the pair. Ciara jumped, hand going to Carina’s wand despite that using it is probably a useless venture.
“George! Glad to see my rather cryptic description of our location didn’t thwart your finding us,” Figg remarked, stepping forward to meet George in a handshake. Ciara didn’t know that Figg planned on meeting someone while they were out today.
“Well, I’ve apparated to far more vaguely defined places than this.” Ciara could tell this man worked for the Ministry. The way he held himself and talked reminded her of Ludo Bagman, only a fair bit more polite and less cartoonish. “Though, I confess, I may have slightly miscalculated on my first try. Gave quite a fright to some theatre goers in the West End.” He tried to steer the joke toward Ciara but she remained straight-faced, channeling her best Black family impression. He laughed awkwardly and turned back to Figg.
“It’s been much too long,” Professor Figg continued their greeting. “When I received your owl, I must say I was-”
“Eh, erm, best not speak here, Eleazar,” George interrupted Figg.
“Of course,” Figg agreed. “Why don’t we speak en route to my home? You could join us for tea!”
“Wonderful idea!” George exclaimed. “As long as your young charge here doesn’t mind me tagging along,” George said, aiming his words toward Ciara.
Ciara remained stone-faced through the whole exchange. She just wanted to know who this man was and why they had to meet with them here. It must have been an urgent matter if they couldn’t wait until Figg was alone. “Of course” she said flatly, stepping aside to allow him to approach the carriage.
“After you,” George insisted.
Ciara entered first, blocking out whatever other random smalltalk George was saying as she climbed the step. Professor Figg followed her and sat next to her in the front half of the carriage. George followed after them, after hesitating a moment at the door, as if looking for someone in the shadows.
Was someone following him? Ciara wondered.
The driver snapped the reins onto the thestrals pulling the carriage and they took to the sky.
“And who might your young charge be?” George asked.
Ciara put on her most proper act and reached forward to shake his hand.
“Carina Black,” she said as poshly as she could. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr..?”
“Osric,” the man shook her hand with a small glint of fear in his eyes. “George Osric. A pleasure to meet you. I work with your older brother, Orion, you know. Brilliant man. He has made so many discoveries in his potioneering career in so little time, it’s remarkable.”
“Yes, he has,” Ciara pretended to know exactly what Osric was talking about. “What is it you needed to show Professor Figg?”
Osric pulled out a Daily Prophet and showed it to Figg and Ciara. Ciara always loved how the magic that made photos move had a red, shimmering outline on the subjects photographed. “Have you seen this?” he asked. The headline of the paper read: Ranrok’s Goblin Rebellion: Truth? Or Gobbledegook?
“I have,” Figg answered, glancing at Ciara. “Opinions differ as to how great a threat Ranrok really is.”
Ciara recognized the goblin on the front page immediately as the goblin she was after. Unfortunately, despite how hard she tried to remember this past month, she couldn’t recognise his name from anywhere else. She supposed she should have paid more attention in History of Magic class. But in her defence, Binns made everyone fall asleep in class. It didn’t matter anyway, when she defeated Ranrok, his little rebellion won’t even make the history books.
“Well, despite my failed efforts to convince my colleagues at the Ministry, I believe he is a significant threat,” Osric said. “And… it was your wife, Eleazar, who alerted me to his activities months ago.”
“Miriam? How?” the old man asked breathlessly.
Osric sighed. “She wrote to me about Ranrok before she died… Wondering what the Ministry knew about his activities.” Osric set the newspaper down and reached into his pocket. “Before I could respond, I received this. It was the last thing she sent me, Eleazar.” He held out a container of some kind. Small, cylindrical and with a strange rune symbol on the front that she didn’t recognise. It looked like a swirling flame. But most interestingly, the rune was glowing with a curious dark blue magic that reminded her slightly of a locking charm, but locking charms, though a similar colour, were usually a bit lighter than that.
“It came to me via her owl,” Osric continued. “But with no correspondence. I can only assume-”
“That she needed to get rid of it quickly,” Figg finished for him, taking the container from Osric’s hands. “To keep it safe.”
“Presumably, from Ranrok,” Osric added.
Osric and Figg continued to marvel over the container, mentioning how it’s made from goblin metal and how powerful magic must be keeping it locked tight, unable to open.
But Ciara was focused solely on the symbol on the container. The swirls that formed a mock flame felt like it was reaching out for her.
Without saying anything, Ciara held her hand out, silently asking Professor Figg to hand her the container. He didn’t hesitate before placing it in her hand. She remained silent, running her fingers over the symbol. The second she did, she recognised that it definitely was locked by magic, but it had to be a spell. A charm could never be this powerful, thrumming in her hands with low vibrations.
With a deep breath, she tried to overtake the locking charm with her own magic, willing it to open. She felt the moment her own magic snapped the hold the locking spell had on the container. The glow shifted, moving from the central symbol to the caps on either end of it. It opened easily, revealing a key, the bow of it bearing that swirl symbol. And it also glowed, this time with a light gold colour that she recognised instantly as a portkey.
“Merlin’s beard! What did you do?” Osric asked her, astonished.
“I opened it,” Ciara answered flatly. “Though the locking spell was quite powerful.”
“Locking spell? How did you know?” Professor Figg asked.
“I could see it,” Ciara said casually. “Couldn’t you?”
When neither man responded with words, only confused gazes, Ciara elaborated. “You know, the bluish glow of a locking charm? It was similar but a bit darker than a charm would be, so it was a spell. Or do you see different colours than I do? Is the key glowing gold for you?”
“Glow?” Figg repeated. “Different colours- Ci- Carina, can you see magic?”
Ciara was baffled. “You can’t?” Now she was very confused. She thought everyone could…
“The key is glowing?” Osric eyed her and the key suspiciously.
Ciara nodded. “It’s a portkey. Portkeys glow a light gold. Can you really not see it?”
Before either of them could answer her, the back half of the carriage was suddenly ripped from the front, Osric going with it.
Huge wings flapped, the wind sending Ciara’s hair out of its low bun. A massive Hebridean Black dragon had snatched the carriage. Ciara had half a mind to see the large, glowing, metal collar the dragon wore, but she was mostly focused on not falling to her death.
“George!” Figg yelled after his friend. Ciara may not know the man very well, but she still cared about his life. But before any of them could cast any spells to save him, the dragon clamped its jaws shut and crushed the back half of the carriage and Osric in the process. Her first thought was “OH FUCK!” Her second thought was of the container in her hand.
“Jump!” Figg called as he grabbed Ciara’s hand and leapt from the seat. Right after they jumped, the front half of the carriage was engulfed in flames.
Ciara was panicking. Why was there a dragon? What the fuck was happening? In her panic, she didn’t notice the key had flown out of the container in her hand.
“The key!” Figg exclaimed when he noticed it. The wind in her ears was deafening. “Hold onto me!”
Ciara didn’t think twice as she grabbed a hold of his hand while he summoned the key to his other one.
She felt the familiar tug at her stomach she associated with teleportation, telling her that the two of them were being teleported to who knew where.
At least it’s not the jaws of a dragon, she thought to herself. Before slamming into the ground.
The lack of roaring wind in her ears was deafening. But the ringing in her head hurt like a bitch. Groaning, she sat up, rubbing at the back of her head which had slammed into the rocky floor.
“Are you hurt?” was the first thing Figg said to Ciara when they got their bearings.
“No,” she lied. “Are you?” The man shook his head. “Good. Now, where the bloody hell are we?”
“Language, young lady,” Figg scolded out of habit. She swore so much in front of him that it had become normal in the weeks they’ve known each other.
Ciara and her elderly companion seemed to have been transported into a cave. There wasn’t anything to the cave, nothing in it save for the skull of some bovine animal and a squirrel running out through the mouth of it. There weren’t any signs of human activity here, just rock, moss and a bit of gravel.
“Oh, poor George… It was a portkey,” Figg said to himself, getting his thoughts together.
Suddenly, he wheeled around to look at her, as if scanning her entire body for something.
“The container and the key were glowing?” he asked her. Ciara nodded.
“You can see magic?” Again, she nodded. “How?”
“I’ve always been able to,” she said slowly. “Well, at least since I was fourteen.”
Figg began pacing. “I’ve never heard of someone being able to see magic before. I mean, of course there are spells you can see after they've been cast, but to see the magic on enchanted objects… to be able to differentiate the colours…”
Once again his gaze snapped to hers. “You said you gained this ability at fourteen?”
“How is that possible?” he breathed, though the question was rhetorical. “All unique magical traits are supposed to manifest before the age of seven, when the magic in your body has developed to the point of manifestation. How could you gain a new ability at age fourteen? Magic isn’t supposed to continue developing past age eleven…twelve in the rarest cases….”
She shook her head to clear it and regretted it immediately as her skull felt like a maraca with her brain as the rice, and moved on to the seeing-magic thing.
“I thought everyone could see magic,” she told him. “My headmaster knew but he didn’t really say anything about it, so I thought it was normal.”
“Curious,” Figg mumbled. “Well, you’ll have to tell me more about all of that later. For now, let’s figure out where that portkey sent us. I do not want to upset your mother by not being home when she comes to collect you.”
Ciara hummed, her gaze went to the mouth of the cave. “After you, Professor.” She gestured for him to take the lead.
He gladly did so, walking out of the cave with the confidence of a man who had plenty of exploring experience. He and his wife were explorers before he became a teacher, so she supposed it made sense.
They walked along a long faded path out of the cave and into the terribly strong winds outside. They appeared to be on the side of a cliff overlooking the ocean. The salty air stung Ciara's nose a bit and she scrunched her face against both the salt and the wind. In the distance, on a sea stack that stood a few hundred yards out from where they stood, was an old ruin, a castle or manor of some kind.
“Where do you suppose we are?” Ciara asked, internally wondering who might have lived in that house, why they would live in such a remote area and how she could fix it up to live here herself.
“By the looks of it, I’d say somewhere in the Scottish Highlands,” Figg answered. “My guess would be the western coast. But Miriam sent that portkey to George for a reason. And now I believe and she – and now George – died in pursuit of whatever it is it leads to.”
“Am I safe to assume that you’re also thinking the portkey was meant to lead us to that ruin over there?” she asked with slight cheek, pointing toward the ruin in the distance. She didn’t expect to become so comfortable with this man, but it’s hard not to become close with the only person that knows who she really is. He was certainly a better guardian than Phineas.
“You would be correct,” Figg smiled at her. “Let’s find out where we’re being led to.”
Taking the lead again, Figg led Ciara along the run-down, barely-visible, and actively breaking apart path. They had to duck under fallen stone slabs and leap up small cliff faces. The old professor was far more spry than Ciara had expected and even had trouble keeping up with him at times. She supposed that was a good thing. It meant she had a very capable partner by her side along this unexpected journey.
They followed the path until they stopped at a destroyed stone bridge. It was constructed between smaller sea stacks connecting the larger one with the house to the cliff side. The bridge was decomposed to such a degree that their only options were to fly across somehow or to repair the bridge.
“Steady yourself!” Figg yelled to her over the wind. It was nearly blowing her off the cliff. His forearms and wand shone with a gentle pink as he cast Reparo on the bridge and Ciara was astonished at how easily he had performed the spell. The bridge could have been hundreds of years old. He was certainly a powerful and gifted wizard if he could repair such an old structure with such grace.
They crossed the bridge to the ruined house. It was a very very very old house. The architecture reminded her of the Renaissance period, though it was so decrepit from countless years exposed to the elements that it was impossible to tell what era this house was built in.
The pair explored the ruins, deducing that the person who lived here must have been a Seer. The statue of a mediaeval man holding a crystal ball and the decaying mural of a man making prophecies and reading palms were the main giveaways. But Ciara also noticed the torn pages and a few whole books that were stuck under debris. The pages had water stains blotting out some of the hand written text and most of the books only had their cover intact with the pages being damaged beyond repair or recognition, but the little she could read mentioned palm reading and visions in dreams.
But something else was making her curious mind spin. How did Miriam Figg come across the locket? Why did she send it to George Osric? After gathering her courage for a few moments, she approached Figg and asked exactly that.
“A good question,” he responded. The way he said it was a clear sign that he’s been teaching for many years. “Miriam spent years searching for evidence of a long forgotten form of ancient magic.”
Ciara nodded her head. “Yes, you told me she was really close to a discovery.”
“Yes, she was,” he said enthusiastically. “The magic she was researching was powerful, wielded by a rare few. It seems to have been lost to time. Hogwarts itself was built by, and is itself, a stronghold of, that ancient magic. I do not know where she came into possession of the portkey, but I am now certain that it might have been her discovery.”
Ciara’s mind was reeling. If Hogwarts was a stronghold of that magic, why had she never encountered it before then? If she could see related magic when others couldn’t, why hadn’t she ever seen anything strange at Hogwarts? Well, anything strange that only she could see.
“Sir, why exactly was your wife looking for evidence of lost magic?” Ciara decided to ask. It seemed a better question than simply ‘then why haven’t I seen it before?’
Figg looked at the mural in front of them as if he was having a moment to remember his wife. “Miriam wanted to understand why such powerful magic disappeared from the wizarding world. Spoke of the good it could do,” Figg answered with a hint of fondness and longing in his voice. “But magic is no different than any power. What really matters is the one who wields it.”
You could say that again, Ciara thought to herself with a laugh. She herself, as well as her heritage, was an example of that concept.
The conversation ended there with Ciara nodding to the man and thanking him for answers.
Upon further investigation, Ciara discovered a path to an area behind the main room. She followed the path to a small alcove with one wall intact. On that wall was the rune symbol. The two strands of silver metal swirling upward together, posing almost like a flame. Instead of a locking spell or portkey signature, the symbol was glowing with a soft gold colour. It was similar to the sparkles left behind by Disapperation, but instead of sparkles, the gold colour rippled under the surface of the rune.
As she got closer, the stone wall that held the symbol slowly became transparent, rippling with the gold colour and showing a grand room behind it with a podium and tall white pillars framing the circular room. She couldn’t tell if the wall had become transparent or if it was showing her a scene like a television screen. It looked as if she could walk through right into that circular room.
“Professor!” She called for her companion. “You should come see this!”
Figg showed up seconds later behind her. “That symbol again,” he remarked. “What does the magic look like?”
“It’s like golden ripples,“ Ciara explained. ”And there’s a room behind it.”
His eyes widened. “A room? How curious.”
Ciara thought back to the key. If this wall was similar to Apparation, and the portkey, then it’s possible it would activate at her touch and teleport them somewhere. She ignored Figg’s curious glance when she looped her arm through his and then reached forward with her other hand. When nothing happened, Ciara’s brows pinched in thought. After a moment, she made an impulsive decision and just Apparated on the spot, hoping the magic on the wall took her to where she needed to be.
The familiar sensation of Disapperating twisted her gut and when she and Figg popped back into existence, she saw the little golden sparkles fluttering down around them.
But then she noticed the lighting. They had gone from outside on a bright sunny afternoon to a dark room, dimly lit by many overhead candles.
Thank god, her impulsive decision was correct.
When she turned, Figg was already gawking at their new location.
“Godric’s heart,” he exclaimed in awe. “You can Apparate?”
“Yes. Is this… Gringotts?” Ciara ignored his astonishment and looked around the room, wondering why this room was so secluded. She recognized the white walls and columns, and even the candelabras and chandeliers that made up the space, matching the décor of the main lobby only without the windows. Wherever this was in the bank, it was somewhere she’d never been before, not that she was well-travelled within the caverns of Gringotts. She’d only been inside it a handful of times and none of them were particularly pleasant trips.
On the stand at the end of the room was a sleeping goblin. Ciara was unfortunately too short to see over the stand, but the goblin’s snores made her smile slightly. She can’t remember seeing a Gringotts goblin having a nap when she was last here. It was a strange sight to behold.
“Hello?” Ciara tried to wake the goblin gently, but the goblin just kept snoring.
Figg placed a hand on her shoulder, silently telling her to let him handle it. He cleared his throat a couple times, each attempt getting more aggressive, until finally the goblin jolted awake, the quill in his hand getting launched in the air.
The goblin gripped the top of the large book open on the stand, blinking the sleep from his black, beady eyes, which widened to the size of dinner plates when he saw the pair of wizards.
“It can’t be!” he said in a gasp. The goblin’s voice wasn’t as gravelly or low as many of the goblins she’d met before. This goblin was quite cute, if she had to admit it. Large ears that flopped a little at the ends and his long fingernails weren’t nearly as gnarly as some others she’d seen. He looked sweet and kind and she almost instantly liked this person.
“Oh, uh, just a moment,” the goblin said to them as he made his way down from the stand. He mumbled to himself as he made his way down the steps and Ciara did her best to keep the endearing smile off her face. This banker was the cutest goblin she’d ever seen.
“Welcome to Gringotts Wizarding Bank!” the goblin announced when he made it to the floor, giving the pair a respectful bow. “Vault number twelve, I presume.”
Both Figg and Ciara were very lost, but Figg gained his bearings first.
“Yes, precisely,” he said, folding his hands behind his back.
“The key?” the goblin prompted after neither Figg nor Ciara said anything more.
Ciara elbowed Figg and muttered “Your wife’s portkey.” Figg quickly pulled the key from his pocket and handed it to the goblin. Thankfully, the light gold glow that had surrounded it was gone.
The goblin happily took it and gave it a quick once over before gesturing to their left. “This way, then.”
The goblin led the pair to a massive hole in the wall, leading to a deep and dark cavern. Running all throughout the cavern were railways, precarious looking rail carts zipping on the rails.
“Stay close,” Figg told Ciara before they took a seat in the cart. Ciara didn’t have to be told twice. All of her experiences with the Gringotts’ mine carts were a nightmare, one of which resulted in her being dropped a hundred feet and nearly dying. She hated this thing.
With the three of them settled, the goblin kicked the cart into gear. It felt like a rollercoaster from Hell and she actually liked rollercoasters. Her hands gripped the small handles on her sides with tight fists, knuckles going white from the force.
She tried to keep her eyes open so she could see just how deep into the bank they were travelling, but it was hard when the wind kept bringing tears to her eyes. This is why she always wore goggles when playing quidditch.
“Are private entrances common at Gringotts?” Figg asked the goblin banker.
“They are most uncommon,” the goblin answered. “Only one with great wealth or power or both could have arranged such a service.”
Ciara opened her eyes for a moment and looked around. Up ahead she saw a familiar shimmering sight: the thief’s downfall.
“You’ll want to take a breath,” the goblin said casually.
“Pardon?” Figg asked, confused. But he must have seen Ciara, the shaking ball of anxiety at the moment, take an unusually large breath and hold it. He copied her just before they drove right through the waterfall.
“The thief’s downfall,” Figg said, recognizing the defence measure. “Washes away all enchantments.”
“I know!” she yelled at him, waiting for the moment for the cart to drop her. But thankfully, that moment never came. When she opened her eyes, she saw that the water that soaked them was sparkly, like it was full of opalescent microglitter. The same as it was the last time she was hit by it.
“These are the lower vaults that we’re passing now,” the goblin supplied as if he was a tour guide.
She recognised the plateau that the Black Family vault was on, but they continued to race on by before she could even see what kind of dragon they had there, if any.
“How deep are we going?” Ciara asked.
“Vault twelve was commissioned shortly after Gringotts was founded over four centuries ago. It resides in the deepest part of the bank. So settle in! We’ve quite the distance to go.”
Ciara grumbled to herself, already dreading how long this ride is going to take. Her stomach was doing flips and she had a thought about how riding a dragon out of the building was far easier and less nerve-racking than plummeting to the centre of the earth on a cart with open sides and no seatbelts.
After another ten minutes of riding the cart, Ciara opened her eyes when she heard the brakes squealing. She pleaded in her head that the motion-sickness torture was over, but cursed in her head when neither the goblin nor Figg made any move to exit the cart. It appeared they had been stopped by a security goblin, wearing a blue buttoned suit with an officer’s hat.
“Vault number?” the fairly large goblin demanded. This goblin’s voice was far more like the ones she was used to in her time. Deep, growly, and sounded like their vocal cords were made of sandpaper.
“Vault twelve,” the banker goblin answered in his much more ear pleasing voice. “Momentous day!”
His comment briefly made Ciara wonder just how long this poor banker has been waiting for someone to come calling on vault twelve for him to be so excited about it.
The security goblin growled again, raising an arm to signal them forward. Ciara heard him tell the group to continue their journey, but she wasn’t focused on his words at all. Her attention was grabbed by an intricate band around the goblin’s bicep. The band was detailed and eye-catching on its own, but what rang alarm bells in her head was the fact it was glowing. The same red and black glow that had been on the dragon’s collar.
She brought this up to Figg, whispering as best she could without the goblin above them listening in.
“What was that?” the goblin asked when Ciara said something a little too loud.
“We were wondering about that goblin back there,” Figg smoothly answered.
“He overlooks the oldest section of the bank,” the banker answers.
“Rare anyone goes there anymore.”
A few more minutes pass until they finally reach their destination.
“Here we are,” the goblin banker said joyfully.
Ciara could not get out of the cart fast enough. She hated those things. She was already dreading getting back onto the damned thing to leave this place when they’re done exploring.
“When was the last time this vault was accessed?” Figg asked the goblin as he led the pair of wizards to the vault door.
Ciara, finally getting over her motion-sickness, looked at the vault door. The small plateau that held the vault door was exclusive to vault twelve, surrounded by stalagmites and stalactites, a few old trolleys that had been discarded over the years were skewered on a few of them. Two decrepit columns framed the rock face that held the vault door, pieces broken off to add to the other loose gravel that gathered on the stone. The floor itself had its own design engraved into the flat stone. Though Ciara couldn’t tell if the pattern of the design was chosen by whoever made the vault or if it was just a feature of Gringotts grandeur.
The door itself was… ordinary. Nothing immediately special about it from what Ciara could tell. Apart from being an older design than the one that was sealing the Black vault.
“A goblin has been stationed at my desk for hundreds of years,” the goblin banker answered Figg. “In that time, no one has visited vault twelve. Until today.”
Ciara tilted her head. She supposed this was why the goblin banker was so excited for someone to come calling. Of all the goblins that have served at his very desk, he was the one that got the chance to open this sealed vault for someone.
The goblin approached the vault door, sliding the key into the teeny tiny keyhole in the centre of the door at the perfect goblin height. The door opened as every other door in Gringotts did. Metal clicked and clanked from inside and outside the door, the visible bits and bobs slid towards the centre of the door, allowing it to swing open.
“Vault twelve,” the goblin announced as the door opened, stepping out of the way for Ciara and Figg to enter.
“Thank you for your help,” Figg said to the goblin as he crossed the threshold. Ciara also gave the goblin a quick word of thanks before following the man.
When Ciara stepped in, she was thoroughly underwhelmed. It was completely empty. No treasure, no gold, no glowing artefacts, nothing. Just a pile of lit candles on each side of the corridor and a few loose pieces of blank parchment scattered about.
“What do you suppose we are looking for?” Ciara asked the professor, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice.
“I’m not sure,” the man replied. He turned to the goblin standing outside the vault. “Sir, I wonder if you might-”
The goblin interrupted Figg. “The instructions for vault twelve state that I am to grant access to the key holder and then close the door.” The goblin waved his hand and the door slammed shut, small sky blue wisps floating down like little wispy hairs, locking Ciara and Figg inside.
“Best of luck!” his muffled voice came through the door.
“Fuck,” Ciara muttered to herself.
“Language, young lady. Though this is certainly unexpected,” Figg added onto her unheard sentiment. “What now, I wonder.”
Ciara took a deep breath. She’s locked in a vault with no obvious way out. What does she usually do in this scenario? She looked back on every instance where she’s been caught between a rock and a hard place. She couldn’t blast or punch her way out of here, there was no lock or door to use Alohomora on. So what was her next option?
“You said you knew of the Thief’s Downfall?” Figg asked casually.
“Went through it when I broke into Gringotts,” she answered honestly, having no reason to lie to him.
Figg’s jaw dropped. “You what? How? Why?”
Ciara continued to look around the room for any clues when she answered. “Needed something from my family vault, but couldn’t let anyone know it was me or else I’d be killed. Bit of polyjuice got me in, a dragon got me out.”
“This is a story you have to tell me when we get out of here,” Figg implored her, a flabbergasted smile on his face.
Ciara chuckled. “I have many stories I think you’ll find fascinating. Like my entire fourth year when we held the Triwizard Tournament.”
“They brought that back?”
“They shouldn’t have. It killed a student and brought a genocidal warlord back to life for a second try at taking over the world.”
Then, in a stroke of genius, Ciara pulled out her wand and cast Revelio. She always loved the shimmering, silver waves that spread out from around her whenever she cast that spell.
The issue was that Carina’s wand decided that Ciara was scum of the earth. The Revelio she cast with it was so weak and sad that she could only see a glimmer of something at the end of the corridor. With a huff, she moved closer and tried again, this time, the wand cooperating enough that a door materialised into existence. The centre of the door was encrusted with the same symbol as before. This rune, however, was rippling with a soft lilac colour. She recognised it, but her brain was still overwhelmed by the cart ride that she struggled to remember what that colour meant
“Brilliant wand work!” Figg cheered. “This is an excellent start. Well done.”
The two of them approached the door, Figg examining the door as if trying to see it glow as Ciara was.
“I don’t suppose this glows too, does it?” the man asked Ciara.
She nodded. “It does. Light purple.”
“Something new. Well then…” Figg stepped out of her way so she could access the door. “You seem to have better luck with these things than I.”
Ciara chuckled as she approached the door. It was relieving to see him be so upbeat and easy going with this whole ordeal. Though he was a magical theory professor, so she supposed her being able to describe the way magic looks to him was nothing short of a dream come true.
She linked her arm with his and reached forward. She pushed the doors open to reveal nothing but darkness. Figg and her stepped into the room, but as soon as they did, the door slammed shut behind them and vanished, shrouding them in pitch black.
“Lumos!” Professor Figg cast, illuminating the space with his wand light, though Ciara could see his veins faintly glowing with the same pale blue of his wand tip. The room had changed from a small corridor to a vast room that was so large that nothing but an endless void lay beyond the wand light. Marble pillars erupted from the ground reaching high up to a ceiling that was beyond where their light could reach.
Undetectable Extension magic, Ciara remembered. That’s what the lilac colour was. Like the locking spell on the container, it was a darker shade than the charm version, meaning in it was a spell – something far stronger and more permanent. Whoever set this path for them to follow had to be insanely powerful to leave all this behind without having to come back and maintain the magic.
This whole adventure was honestly reminding Ciara of her adventure in the Department of Mysteries in her fifth year. Room after room, lost in a maze with no idea where to go other than forward and hope for the best.
“This is no ordinary vault, I see,” Figg said, mostly to himself. “I suspect we’ll have to earn our way out.”
Ciara let out an exhausted sigh. Of course this wasn’t even close to being over yet. Just her luck.
In the distance, something caught her eye and her curiosity. In the middle of a circle of pillars, was a sort of blotch on the floor. A blotch of silver magic that made the stone swirl about and slosh around as if that one circle of stone was made of liquid. Gaseous wisps drifted from the spot along with what Ciara could only describe as bubbles of the substance floated out before dissolving in thin air.
Ciara, with no other ideas, stepped onto the spot. The moment her foot touched the fluid, she first felt slightly motion sick from her feet being on a moving substance but she herself was completely stationary, but more importantly, she recognised the magic as something similar to Revelio.
She closed her eyes and envisioned her own magic intertwining with the magic she was standing on. With a deep breath, she waved her hand (not trusting Carina’s wand) and silently cast Revelio.
The sensation threw her off balance. It felt as if she was the conduit for this magic to travel from its hiding places into reality. It was more magic than she was used to possessing. Her knees hit the ground as she breathed through the sensation.
“Lumos!” Figg’s voice brought her back into her body. The force of her activating the blotch of magic must have extinguished his illuminating charm. “Are you alright? What happened?”
Ciara took a few deep breaths before explaining to him what she saw and what she did.
“Well, you seem to have caused the floor to change,” he observed. Ciara looked up and noticed the change as well. The floor seemed to be made of that transparent stone just like the wall to Gringotts had been. Only there were no shimmering ripples. It simply looked like a glass floor.
The biggest thing she noticed was the statue of a large kneeling knight in the middle of the floor. She looked around and saw multiple of these statues. Each seemed to have a mirrored image underneath the glass floor.
“What are these for, I wonder,” Figg mused as he held his lit wand high and examined the kneeling stone knights.
“Do you see their reflections?” Ciara asked her companion as she stood up again, doubting that he did. He shook his head. She sighed. Of course he didn’t.
Figg began moving between them, studying their appearances, but Ciara noticed that the reflections spun in place so the knights’ helmets were facing him. No, they were following his wand light.
“Professor, hold on,” Ciara stopped the man. “The statues’ reflections are following your wand light.”
Ciara grasped his shoulder and started leading him around, the reflections following his wand light, until she noticed the faintest of glimmering lines leading from all the statues. She led him to where all the lines converged, where all the reflections lined up with their respective statues. The statues began to stand and once they all made it to their feet, they tapped their swords on the floor. The knights were coated in so many different spells that Ciara only saw a blanket of rainbow covering each knight. They had a myriad of enchantments that she couldn’t even identify them all if she had the time. All she could tell was that these things were meant to fight.
A surge of that rainbow magic cocktail emitted from each statue in a wave. It reminded Ciara of the bell rung at boxing matches to signal the beginning of the fight. That comparison instantly made Ciara’s guard go up.
The statues attacked just as magical knights would. Swinging their swords and even throwing them in some cases. Charging at the two wizards and Ciara was suddenly appreciating her skills with a wandless Protego now more than she ever did before.
Together, Ciara and Figg made a fantastic team. Over a dozen statues came to attack them, but each was dealt with swiftly. Either with a well cast Bombarda or a simple Depulso, the two of them were a force to be reckoned with. Even though she could feel Carina’s wand protesting with her every cast, making her magic far less powerful or accurate than she was used to.
Ciara exploded the last stone knight with Confringo (one of her favourites) and immediately ran to Figg’s side.
“Stay close!” he shouted to her over the sudden winds that swirled about the pair. It was as if the two were in the eye of a hurricane.
Then the winds got closer and closer to them and Ciara tensed all her muscles, waiting for the hit to come, but it never did.
It only became incredibly dark.
She quickly cast Lumos. The light that sputtered out was dim but enough to see a few feet around her. When Ciara could finally see her surroundings, she realised she was alone.
“Professor!” she called out, keeping her sudden panic internalised as best she could while pointedly ignoring the rapidly rising anxiety. “Professor Figg? Where are you?”
When she received no reply, she cursed very loudly into the voids beyond her flickering wandlight. She kept swearing at every pillar she walked by as she speed walked around, trying to find an exit or her only friend as fast as possible.
A particularly passionate, “Are you fucking kidding me?!” left her mouth when she came across another blotch of silver magic on the ground.
She solved the puzzle again, feeling Carina’s wand practically shaking with what Ciara could only interpret as disgust and rage.
When the knights started attacking, the Protego Ciara cast was easily shattered by the offending sword. In a panic Ciara dodged and tried to explode the knight with Confringo, but the fiery magic didn’t leave the wand. Instead, Carina’s wand self-destructed in her hand.
“OH, FUCK YOU!” Ciara screamed in frustration at the splinters and shattered emerald pieces.
With nothing but her hands and a desperate will to live to defend herself with, Ciara performed more wandless magic then she ever had in her life to keep from being decapitated or crushed. She’d never really cast offensive spells with only her hands, so it was really a testament to her rage and adrenaline that she managed to survive the fight.
After finally destroying the last knight, bloody, bruised and sweating buckets, Ciara was once again shrouded in darkness. With no wand to cast Lumos with, her only option was to try holding a flame in her hand as Remus did in her third year. It took a few tries, but eventually, she succeeded in holding a small flame in her palm as it licked at the milky orange Flame Freezing spell protecting her hand.
More loud swear words of varying offensiveness later, she found yet another blotch of magic. Only this one was in front of a large three-dimensional statue version of the symbol. Once again, she activated the magic and instead of the floor changing and statues appearing, the large symbol statue liquified and an arch re-emerged from the ground. Ciara, still shaking from both fear and adrenaline, unintentionally stomped in a circle around the arch, trying to figure out what it was.
The sight of it gave her flashbacks to the Department of Mysteries. Of her beloved cousin, Sirius, falling through an arch smaller than this one. Despite one side showing nothing and the other showing her a hidden path, Ciara was hesitant to enter the arch. Green lightning flashing through her mind as she approached it uneasily.
After a few seconds, she shoved her traumatic memories down and marched through the archway.
Thankfully, she didn’t drop dead instantly, but the opening she had entered through was suddenly a wall. She had no way back. Though, in all honesty, she wasn’t all too eager to go back into the endless void of darkness and pillars.
Ignoring where she came from, she tread forward into a very intricately designed room. The material it was crafted out of what seemed to be the transparent glass-stone the floor was made of before. Only it wasn’t transparent. The crystal and marble-like stone was full of swirls and golden streaks. It was beautiful.
In the middle of the room was a birdbath. Well, at least it looked like a birdbath. Upon further investigation, Ciara discovered it to be a pensieve. Levitating above the pensieve was a phial. Ciara assumed it to be a memory. Carefully, Ciara plucked it from the air. The moment she did, a door behind her opened on its own. She turned, her free-hand flinching, but then immediately relaxing when she saw Figg standing there.
“Ah! There you are!” he said, relieved. The room behind him seemed to be the vault corridor they first entered. He looked around the room with wonder. “How did you-? What is this place?”
Ciara shrugged. “I dunno. But I found a pensieve and a memory.”
“You know what a pensieve is?” he asked.
She nodded. “I used one a lot in my sixth year.”
Ciara’s shoulders tensed for a moment before thinking of a decent enough half-truth. Figg didn’t need to know the finer details of her personal life. She didn’t want to worry him with all the various traumas she’d lived through. “I was searching for something in various memories. I found it eventually. But, my god, there was a lot of searching.”
“Interesting” he said before ushering Ciara toward the pensieve. “What are we waiting for?”
Ciara nodded to him. She stepped forwards, uncapped the phial, and poured the silver contents into the pensieve. Together, she and Figg leaned forward and submerged their faces into the magical fluid.
In the memory, two men appeared to be building the room that Ciara and Figg stood in. Swirling shades of grey like liquid mercury flowing and bubbling, leaving behind intricate pillars and décor. These two men were simply conjuring this room into existence, but part of the magic looked different than what Ciara thought was conjuration. The texture of the magic was smoother, more airy than the liquid mercury. And why was it all so grey? Not all the deep silvery-blue of what she knew as conjuration.
“All is in place,” the shorter of the two men said to the other. He wore a flat cap and matching set of robes in warm colours. The other man looked like the statue she had seen in the house on the cliff side. Perhaps the second man was the Seer that lived there.
“The portkey is well hidden,” the Seer replied to his friend.
“Perhaps too well,” the first man remarked. “I fear the path we’ve created-“
“May be impossible to follow,” the Seer finished the sentence. “It will only be impossible for those who cannot see ancient magic as we can.”
“Our ability to see what others cannot will not be enough, Percival,” the first man chided. Percival, Ciara repeated the name in her head. Her first thought when hearing the name was about Dumbledore and his ridiculously long full name.
But then their words registered. They called the magic they were casting ‘ancient magic.’ Ciara scrunched her nose in confusion. They were using what looked like simple conjuration, at least that's what it looked like. The only special thing about the magic they were wielding was that it was incredibly advanced and powerful compared to what even some of the most talented Conjurers could accomplish.
The memory of when she first started seeing magic popped into her brain. At fourteen years old, she saw basically what the memory was portraying. The colours she saw now kind of developed as the years went on. Why were two wizards, much older than her, basically colourblind to magic if they could see it like she could?
“We are entrusting the one who embarks on this path with powerful secrets. With knowledge that others will do anything to obtain.”
“Yes,” Percival replied. “And if we are correct, Charles, the witch or wizard who completes the Trials would have proven themself worthy of that knowledge… and the responsibility that accompanies it.”
Charles, the first man, sighed. “We’ve done all that we can.”
Percival then touched the tip of his wand to his temple and extracted a memory. The memory Ciara and Figg assumed to be the one they were watching now.
The two were suddenly expelled from the memory and they both stood stalk straight when they returned to their world.
“That’s what you're seeing,” Figg immediately gasped. “That glow, those swirls, that surrounded them. That is the ancient magic you can see.”
Ciara hummed, still a little hung up on the two men calling it ‘ancient magic.’ It could have been a new technique, but that didn’t feel right, not after seeing what she saw them welding. “Yeah… it appears so.”
Figg began to pace, his typical thinking habit. But after a moment, he stepped forward and took her hands in his. “Whatever this magic is, Miriam, and George, died in pursuit of knowledge that has been dormant for centuries. And you, Ciara Figg, are the key to understanding why.”
At that moment, the vault door slammed into the wall with a bang. A heavily armoured goblin walked through, flanked by two more goblins, the security goblin with the arm band and the goblin banker trailing behind. All their armour was glowing that red and black colour (except the banker). This close though, Ciara could see a more opalescent sheen mixed into the shifting red and black glow. An opalescent sheen that reminded her of something, but her panic at suddenly being in the presence of this goblin pushed that familiarity from her mind.
Ciara’s heart beat began racing as her body was buzzing with the urge to attack. That goblin was the reason she was here. All she had to do was defeat him and the world would be saved and she could go home.
The only reason she didn’t leap at the goblin right away was because a tiny voice in her head was telling her to wait. All villains give monologues, so might as well let him talk and give her more information.
“I was right,” the leading goblin said slowly. His voice was deep and gravelly. Ciara thought it sounded like the rumble one feels when near a landslide.
“Ranrok,” Figg said with a bite, stepping forward. Ciara followed, keeping the man at least beside her, not letting him get in front of her. Her need to protect him was strong. But she also wanted to be in a better position to attack.
“Seems my reputation precedes me,” Ranrok drawled.
Ciara wanted nothing more than to leap at him and strangle him like he did to Carina. Figg must have noticed her flinch and discreetly grabbed her blouse as a signal to stay where she was. She both appreciated and hated how quickly this man learned to read her.
“I was beginning to think no one was going to visit Rackham’s vault,” he continued. Rackham? Must be one of the men’s surnames, Ciara briefly thought before focusing again.
“And why are you here?” Ciara asked in a growl, raising her arms a little to point in his direction, the purple crackling of the Full Body Bind curse buzzing under her skin.
Ranrok raised an open hand. “No need for that,” he continued in his monotonous drawl. “Just give me whatever it is you found here and we’ll let bygones be bygones.”
The banker goblin interjected before Ciara could spit the first smartass comment that came to mind.
He tapped Ranrok’s shoulder gently with a small ahem. “Sir, er, they had the key to the vault,” he tried to say politely.
Ciara saw a muscle in Ranrok’s jaw tick. “Choose your next words wisely,” he said threateningly, giving the banker a vicious side-eye.
“I… I only meant that the instructions for vault twelve were quite clear,” the poor banker stuttered. Ciara had a really bad feeling about this. “Sir, I must insist. I was to grant access only to one with the key and you didn’t have-“
Ranrok interrupted the banker by raising an arm, his whole body suddenly glowing red with magic. The banker is lifted into the air and Ciara’s eyes widened as Ranrok swung his arm down, the banker slamming head first into the marble ground. He remained there unmoving, staining the marble beneath him.
“I have no patience for traitors,” Ranrok said casually to no one in particular. “Now,” he said directly to Ciara, “where were we?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ciara said, giving into the rage and heat building up in her body. “And fuck you again, because even if I had anything to give you, I wouldn’t.”
Ranrok smirked. “Quite the mouth on this one.”
Ciara snarled. “Go to hell. Levicorpus!” she cast on the goblin next to him. The spell distracted Ranrok enough to give her time to non-verbally cast Depulso on the entire group.
But when her spell landed, the group didn’t go flying, Ranrok had caught her spell and was holding her in a duel with one arm. His other hand punched out and sent her and Figg both against the far wall of the room.
A low ringing echoed throughout the room. Everyone was confused as to where it was coming from. The pensieve in the middle seemed to melt, falling into the circular design on the floor that also turned to fluid. Then the largest knight Ciara had ever seen emerged from the circle. It was massive, made of ancient magic and metal. Ciara quickly rushed to help Figg up and away from the fight.
She looked frantically around for a way out, spotting a stone wall that rippled with that golden Apparition magic again. She tried to grab Figg, but the man had started sending spells at the goblins and the knight. Ranrok raised his arm to cast at Figg and Ciara quickly threw a non-verbal Bat-Bogey Hex at the goblin, the purple and orange sparks nailing their target. She unfortunately didn’t get to see just how ridiculous the goblin tyrant looked, but she did hear his roar of rage and confusion as she cast Accio on Figg’s clothes wandlessly. Her silver lasso attached to his clothes and she yanked him back. He came flying toward her and as soon as she wrapped an arm around him, she slammed her fist into the enchanted wall and Apparated, leaving the vault behind them to be destroyed by goblins and ancient magical knights.
She felt the telltale sensation of Apparition for a solid two seconds before her feet hit solid ground again.
When the sound filling her ears was replaced by silence, she opened her eyes. Her arm was still around Figg’s torso, his arm around her shoulders.
“Are you alright?” Figg asked, letting her go only to grab both her shoulders to give her a once over.
Ciara nodded, also looking the man over for injuries. She pointedly ignored the burning ache in her knuckles from punching the wall. “I’m okay. You?”
“I’m fine,” he answered, though immediately got distracted by what they had witnessed. “I’ve never seen such a powerful goblin. Your magic and mine seemed to have no effect on him.”
“He had that glow on his armour,” Ciara told him. “The red and black glow. The same as I saw on the dragon’s collar and the guard’s armband.”
Figg tapped his chin in thought. “I wonder why he was after what was in Rackham’s vault. Why would he want a memory?”
Ciara thought back on the conversation. “I don’t think he knew what was in the vault,” she said, looking up at the night sky in thought. “He didn’t mention the memory. He only seemed to want whatever was in there.”
“Well, whatever he’s after, we need to make sure that we get to the end of this premeditated path before he does.”
Ciara nodded, she couldn’t agree more. But, after reflecting on the events of the night, she decided to look around at wherever they ended up now.
The wall they teleported through was part of an old ruin, one she didn’t recognize at all. She spun around in place until she spotted the pointed roofs of castle towers in the distance.
“Is that… Hogwarts?” she wondered aloud. She’d recognise that view anywhere.
“I don’t believe it,” the man chuckled as he processed the information.
“It appears whoever laid this path wanted someone with your ability to end up here.”
“Well, wasn’t Carina already a student at Hogwarts?” Ciara asked. “Why hadn’t she noticed anything before?”
“If Carina is like you, then her ability to see magic didn’t develop until age fourteen, so she only would have started seeing magic at the end of last school year,” Figg theorised. ”In any case, we are here a week early.”
“End of last school year?” Ciara repeated curiously. “When’s her birthday?”
She had to refrain from groaning. Of course Carina had the same birthday as her. Why wouldn’t she? Carina was her past life after all.
Ciara thought about going back to Grimmauld Place for the last week of summer and shuddered. “Can’t we just stay here until the start of term?”
Figg chuckled. “Unfortunately no. You must take the train like every other student.”
“Ugh, fine,” Ciara groaned. “I’m just grateful we decided to have all my school supplies delivered. Would have sucked to have to buy it all again.”
“Right, you are,” Figg smiled at her. “Now, let’s get back home shall we?”
“If we must,” Ciara sighed.
And with a chuckle from Figg, they Apparated back to Figg‘s home, thankfully, before Phoebe came to collect Ciara.
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