Legacy

Prologue

She dreamed of him again that night. His soft, black fur and the piercing ice blue eyes that would be imprinted in her memory forever. She dreamed of her wolf. He had come to her whenever she called, would appear from nowhere on the nights that she snuck out of the orphanage. He spoke to her through her mind, an unimaginable feat, telling her stories of witches and wizards, and of a magical world. One day he told her that they were true, and that she was one of the witches of his stories. She was powerful, and could do things the others could not, such as talk to him. As a young girl, this delighted her. Soon, the telltale signs of magic in her began to show. He taught her how to use her gifts, and she took immense pleasure in performing the most simple of tasks with the help of magic. But her favorite lessons were with the animals. He showed her that she could speak to them without using her voice, but using her mind. During the day, and the nights he didn't come, she would talk with the mice and rats that inhabited the orphanage. They would bring her scrapes of food from the kitchen, and she would dismantle the traps set for them. The animals were her only friends, the only thing keeping her from succumbing to the depression the other orphans felt. Still, she hated keeping her gifts a secret, as her wolf said she must. Someday, he told her, someday she wouldn't have to keep it a secret. She held this statement close; always hoping that that someday would be soon. Then it came.

One day a young woman swept into the orphanage, and adopted her on site. Her new mother took her to her new home, a cozy town in Ireland. A few days after they arrived, her new mother took her aside and told her that she knew what she could do, what she was, and that she, her mother, could do these things also. That she didn't have to hide, because all her neighbors and friends could too. She didn't have to hide it anymore. The girl was elated. That is, until she realized her wolf could no longer visit her. That troubled her greatly, until she realized she could still talk to him in her mind. He whispered words of comfort, telling her how proud he was, and that she was safe there. He kept her magic lessons going, and she practiced diligently. In her town, she made friends with the other children, and practiced little feats with them. But as she grew, his visits in her mind became fewer and fewer, until one day he stopped coming at all. This effected her like nothing else could. For days and days she cried, the tears streaming down her face as if they would never stop. "Please," she wailed, "please, come back. I miss you! Come back!" They tried to comfort her, but only her wolf's voice could do that. When the tears finally stopped, so did everything else. She ceased to use her abilities, merely going about her usual business like the 'muggles' did. Her beautiful voice was always silent, she wouldn't speak to anyone. Not her friends, her family......not even her animals.

Chapter 1

A rapping on the door, and Anne's loud voice awakened Shea from her dream. Or memory, she should call it. Her memories had been coming back clearer for many months now, and they haunted her dreams. Memories of the orphanage, and of the awful months after it.

"Shea! I'm goin' to an Order meetin'!" Anne's announcement, in her Irish brogue, cleared the sleep from Shea's mind. Her adoptive mother was an active part of the Order Of The Phoenix, and Shea knew that as soon as she turned 18 she intended to join as well. Only one more year....she was 17 right now, and although she was only in her 6th year at Durmstrang, because of problems with her application, she was quite ready to join the Order's efforts against Voldemort.

"Okay!" she yelled back through the door. She heard Anne turn to go, then pause, and turn back to call,

"By the way, there's a young lad waiting for you outside! I'm guessin' he's from Durmstrang." Her heart leaped. She knew who it was; there was only one of her friends from Durmstrang that hadn't visited yet. Viktor Krum, her long time friend, as well as world famous quidditch player, had promised her in his letter that he would visit. Even though it was late, the chill of fall in the air already and she was about to go school shopping, she were still glad to hear of his arrival. Although she also guessed that she was his second priority. In his letter, and last year at school, he had spoken a certain 'Herm-own-ninny', which, Shea interpreted, as Hermione. He was going to visit her this summer as well, and that, as well as his quidditch schedule, had left only a little time for her. Not that it mattered, a little time was better than no time at all.

Jumping out of bed, she scrambled to her closet, quickly pulling out a pair of plain black jeans, and loose fitting dark purple t-shirt. Turning to the mirror, she ripped a brush through her long, thick smoky black waves. With a touch of eyeliner under her dark, velvety, midnight blue eyes she was done. A satisfied sigh escaped her lips, and she bounded happily down the stair to the door. Grabbing an apple along the way, she flung open the door, ready to embrace her old friend. But the boy standing there was not Viktor, nor anyone else she knew. His platinum hair was cut so it fell across his icy blue-gray eyes. He was extremely good-looking, she had to admit, and looked about her age.

"Um...who are you?" the Irish lilt in hervoice more pronounced as you stumbled over the words. He looked up at her, meeting her gaze, and she gasped.

His eyes were empty, like glass plates. "Are you alright?" Shea reached out to him, concerned. He jerked away, startled, and for a moment the eyes changed. Emotions flashed across his face, surprise, worry, then.... guilt. And for a moment she even caught a glimpse of unadulterated sorrow. Then it was gone, as quickly as it had come. He reached out for her, and she pulled away as he had done, observing his movements as he attempted to come after her. They were jerky, as if he was resisting, but couldn't help it. her mind working overtime found the conclusion quickly. He was under the Imperious Curse. 'Oh god..." she thought. There was no telling what he would do under the enchantment. she turned and began to run, filling her lungs for a good scream. Even though the closest neighbors were about 15 minutes away, surely they would hear and come to her rescue. But the boy caught up with her, and her scream was muffled against his hand as he grabbed her, pulling her back against him. Eyes wide, she kicked and struggled, while he stood there silently, still and strong as a stone. His hand was still over her mouth, the other arm wrapped around her waist, just below her ample breasts. Shea could feel him stroking stomach lightly in a comforting manner, perhaps unaware he was doing it, and it terrified her even more.

His hair brushed her face as he leaned forward. For a moment he was normal, and she ceased to struggle. "Please, stop. I don't want to have to hurt you. I'm so sorry..." and his body went rigid again. The curse was too strong for him to fight anymore. She nodded, resigning to the fact that it was useless to fight. She should save her strength. Besides, if she fought anymore, he would most likely force her cooperation. Knocking her unconscious was something he looked very capable of doing.

Tentatively, the hand on her mouth removed itself, ready to go back, in case she screamed. But she didn't, and it lowered to her waist as well. He moved then, downwards, and Shea gasped as he picked her up like a bride, as if she weighed nothing. Another hard, empty look from him chilled her to the bone. What was he going to do...where was he taking her. She took deep breaths, and trying to still her rapidly beating heart. Reaching insider herself, she forced her body to remain motionless, and kept her mind from wandering over the possibilities that her kidnapper wanted her for. But this boy was no older than she, and quite unwilling in her capture. She didn't want to hurt him in her struggles. Shea snorted derisively at that thought. She didn't want to hurt him...yeah right. She was very aware that she had a violent side. She was Irish, after all.

Above them, a hawk circled, and swooped down to land on a near-by fence. Cocking its head, it's yellow eyes focused on her. You have need of me? he inquired. Closing her eyes, Shea answered as evenly as she could. I'm....not sure. Not just yet though, thank you. But would you mind telling me which direction we're headed? The hawk gave her questioning stare, but took to the air again. About five minutes later, he returned to fly over her and the boy's head. The boy, oblivious to all this, was walking at a quick, even pace, apparently quite sure of where to go. It would seem to me that you are going to the old mansion, down in the forest. I cannot be sure, but he his walking straight toward it. Again, he questioned her with his eyes. Meeting his stare, she replied Thank you, thank you very much. At her dismissal, with a tilt of the head, he flew off.

The old mansion. You knew what he was talking about, and suddenly wished you didn't.