The Forgotten Heir

Hogwarts had always been a place of wonder and mystery, but beneath its enchanted ceilings and winding corridors, secrets still lurked in the shadows. Secrets that even the greatest wizards had failed to uncover.

Amelia Rosier never wanted to return. She had spent years hiding from the legacy of her infamous family—one of the last pureblood lines loyal to Voldemort. But when an unsigned letter arrived at her doorstep, bearing only five words—"The castle still remembers you"—she had no choice but to come back.

Now, standing at the gates of Hogwarts once more, she felt the weight of the past pressing down on her.

Professor McGonagall, ever watchful, greeted her at the entrance. “Miss Rosier, I assume you received the message.”

Amelia nodded. She had been a student here once, a Slytherin with no interest in blood purity or war. When the Battle of Hogwarts began, she had vanished into the shadows, unwilling to take a side. And yet, the castle had not forgotten her.

“The letter—who sent it?” Amelia asked.

McGonagall pursed her lips. “That is what we must discover.”

As night fell, Amelia wandered the corridors, drawn toward a familiar path. The dungeons had always felt like home, but something was different now. The air crackled with ancient magic.

Then, she saw it—etched into the cold stone, a name that had never been there before: Morgana R.

Her breath caught. She traced the letters with her fingers, feeling the hum of energy beneath them.

A whisper slithered through the air. "You abandoned us, but the blood calls you back."

Spinning around, Amelia found herself staring at a figure cloaked in shadows. Their voice was eerily familiar.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

The figure stepped forward, revealing piercing silver eyes—eyes identical to her own.

“You don’t recognize me?” The woman’s lips curled into a smirk. “That’s disappointing. We share the same blood, after all.”

Amelia’s heart pounded. This was impossible.

“Morgana… Rosier?”

The woman laughed softly. “You always were the clever one. I had hoped you’d come back sooner.”

Amelia took a step back. “You’re dead. You died centuries ago.”

Morgana tilted her head. “Death is a matter of perception, dear sister.”

Sister? The word sent a chill down Amelia’s spine. “That’s impossible. You were my ancestor, not my sister.”

Morgana sighed. “The Rosiers have always been gifted in ways others do not understand. Blood magic. Time-woven curses. You didn’t think you could simply walk away from your lineage, did you?”

Amelia swallowed hard. She had spent years trying to forget what her family had done, trying to forge her own path. But now, it was calling her back.

“The castle remembers,” Morgana murmured. “And so do I.”

A sudden gust of wind howled through the corridor, and when Amelia blinked, Morgana was gone—only her name remained on the stone wall.

But now, beneath it, a new name had appeared.

Amelia R.

And she knew then—Hogwarts had never truly let her go.