Just as the last traces of sunlight sank into the night, Vera Black jolted awake from a dull ache.
Cold sweat had soaked through the silk pillowcase. She struggled to open her eyes, and only after seeing the old, intricate decorations above her head did she finally remember where she was.
Even though she had already been in this world for three days, she still occasionally forgot her new identity—Vera Black, supposedly the posthumous daughter of Regulus Black.
Barely managing to prop herself up, she coughed softly a few times, an unhealthy flush rising across her delicate features.
Vera braced herself against the edge of the bed. The familiar dull pain in her spine returned, like countless needles crawling through her marrow, and the phantom agony in her legs—which no longer seemed truly hers—made everything feel even more unreal.
These were the aftereffects of the car accident, torment that had never ceased since she had awakened in this body.
Biting her lower lip, she reached out and fumbled for the wheelchair beside the bed, her slender fingers trembling against its leather armrest.
Vera took a deep breath and used every bit of strength she had to shift herself into the chair. Only then did she finally gain a moment to breathe.
After steadying herself, she rolled toward the window and pulled back a corner of the curtain. The deep night outside poured in at once, illuminating her pale face.
Beyond the glass lay the desolate garden of the Black family estate. Beside an overgrown fountain, a nightingale was pecking at berries among the weeds.
"Miss, did you have another nightmare?"
Kreacher's voice came from outside the door, hoarse and low, carrying a careful sort of reverence.
"It's about time for your medicine as well."
He did not need to remind her. The bitter smell of potion had already slipped through the crack in the door, making her stomach tighten on reflex.
Vera's fingers paused. The dark green velvet curtain slid from her hand, covering most of the outside world once more, leaving only a narrow line of cold silver moonlight outlining her frail profile.
"Come in, Kreacher."
Her voice, still thick from just waking, sounded rougher than usual.
The wooden door let out a faint creak as the elderly house-elf shuffled in, hunched over, carrying a silver tray. On it sat a crystal bottle filled with emerald liquid that bubbled with an eerie fizz.
"There was a letter this afternoon. I hadn't had the chance to give it to you, Miss."
Kreacher placed the potion bottle on the bedside table. His voice sounded slightly more animated than usual. He lit the candle on the desk, then produced a sealed envelope and respectfully handed it over.
It was a pale yellow envelope, addressed in emerald-green ink:
Miss Vera Black,
Second Floor, Left Room,
No. 12 Grimmauld Place
Vera narrowed her eyes and lifted her gaze from the envelope to Kreacher's cloudy, tear-bright eyes.
Silently letting out a breath, she bent slightly to take the letter. As her sleeve slipped back, it exposed her wrist—covered in dense, overlapping potion burns, souvenirs from earlier failed treatments.
Her fingertips brushed over the embossed Hogwarts crest. She opened the letter, scanned it quickly, and found that it was exactly the same as the Hogwarts acceptance letter she had seen in her previous life.
She set the letter down and noticed Kreacher's ears trembling. In his large, watery eyes flickered a complicated emotion she could not quite read.
"It was summer like this too," Kreacher said in a hoarse, choking voice, his knobby fingers twisting the ragged tea towel he wore. "When Master Regulus received his letter, it was the same season…"
He kept muttering on, until he seemed to realize something.
"Kreacher has said too much…"
"It's all right."
Vera interrupted him softly. She placed the unfolded letter on the table, picked up the potion bottle, looked at the strange green liquid inside, and tipped it back.
The instant the potion slid down her throat, her back snapped taut.
It felt as though hundreds of fiery ants were crawling from her esophagus through the rest of her body, nesting in the gaps between her bones.
Her nails dug deep into the armrests, making the leather creak under the strain.
"Miss!"
Kreacher cried out in alarm. Seeing her beautiful pale face twist in pain, he instinctively stepped forward.
"Get out!"
Vera forced the command out between clenched teeth. Cold sweat streamed down her temples, soaking the loose strands of hair by her face.
No one could help her. She could only grip the wheelchair with all her strength and endure the searing agony through sheer force of will.
The house-elf hesitated for a second, then vanished with a crack.
The burning sensation from the potion gradually changed into a strange numbness. Vera felt her consciousness beginning to drift, as if it were being pulled free from her body.
She saw her own reflection in the mirror, her face twisted beyond recognition.
She saw the rainy night that had haunted her dreams ever since—blinding headlights, her Muggle adoptive mother screaming as she shoved her out of the car, and then…
…then a blur of blood and mangled flesh.
That was the memory the original Vera had left behind for her, the nightmare she relived every night since crossing into this world.
Vera bit her lip so hard she could already taste iron, yet she still refused to let go.
She had to completely take control of this body. She had to live properly in this world.
She could not pass out. Absolutely not.
And just as her consciousness was about to be swallowed by the pain, the potion's burning suddenly vanished.
Vera's eyes flew open.
She found herself suspended in a pitch-black void.
The wheelchair, the room, even the pain had disappeared. Beneath her feet lay a vast magic circle woven from silver light.
At the core of the formation, a diamond-shaped crystal slowly rose into the air. Upon it appeared a line of text:
[In the name of Ancient Magic, O inheritor of the bloodline, thou hast passed the trial and obtained the qualification to receive the inheritance.]
Ancient Magic?
Vera frowned, but before she could react, the words dissolved into streams of light and shot into her body.
In that instant, she seemed to see ancient wizards casting spells beneath the stars. She saw massive stones symbolizing covenants buried beneath the foundations of Hogwarts. She saw countless motes of magic scattering like stardust, falling across the land at her feet…
Then the pain struck again—but this time it was different.
It felt as if molten metal had been poured into her veins, only for ice water to wash through her marrow the very next second.
In a daze, Vera thought she saw golden lines like spiderwebs spreading beneath her skin, beginning from the scars on her wrists and gradually extending across her entire body.
Before she could get a clearer look, her consciousness dropped sharply, as if some unseen force had yanked her back into reality.
She collapsed forward against the wheelchair's armrest, gasping violently. The crystal potion bottle rolled onto the carpet with a dull thud.
Trembling, Vera raised her hand and squinted at it in the candlelight. The potion burns on her wrist were healing before her eyes.
The vicious scars vanished without a trace. In their place was a layer of faint golden纹路—lines that moved slowly beneath her skin like living things before gradually fading from sight.
"…Ancient Magic?"
She murmured the words in a daze, unable to stop herself from sinking into thought.
-------
My : pat*eon*com/RuneA
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