Hogwarts Legacy One Eyed Witch Novels & Stories

her voice trembled. The weight of her words submerged the room in a deafening silence, everyone too stunned to speak. I flexed my fingers. "There're no such things as witches," my cousin Lucien broke the silence, his voice a low whisper. "She claimed to have seen it with her own eyes," Isabella continued. “A girl with strawberry blonde hair." I tensed. “And a rogue were locked up opposite her cell. She said they were rude, barely paid her any mind, and then they argued. The strawberry girl yelled at the rogue, and then walls started to fall, the iron cells bending in unnatural ways. She claimed the girl's eyes glowed blue."

Einer said to the woman. The woman narrowed her eyes as she looked me up and down before replying to Einer, "There's no flaw in our magic, Alpha Einer. She shouldn't be able to heal that fast." "Let's hope that she won't break those new spells, Demelza. Otherwise, I will cut your and your sisters' heads," he snarled, and the old witch flinched. I didn't say a word. I couldn't. I was paralyzed by Einer's predatory gaze. He stepped closer and smirked. "Do you think that she can still heal, despite those cuffs and chains?" he asked Demelza, keeping his gaze on me.

I was a witch, a Silver Witch, with powers and a heritage that I had never known about. But as I sat there, trying to process everything, I remembered the prophecy that the prophet had told me. I sighed, realizing that I had always underestimated myself. I was more than just a werewolf, more than just a girl with strange powers. I was a Silver Witch, with a rich history and a powerful legacy. The Silver Wizard's eyes shone with happiness as he looked at me. "I'm so glad to finally reunite with my long-lost granddaughter," he said, his voice filled with emotion.

I spat out, “well played.” My feet shuffled as I walked towards the wall, the sigil staring at me—and I could swear I saw it blink. With wide, triumphant eyes. The white, blue-eyed serpent that was the emblem of only one person that ever lived, the most sinister and shrewd of all that ever practiced sorcery, whose beauty concealed the evil that hid beneath the shadow of her very existence—the witch Orchid.

His chest rose in shallow but steady breaths. I knelt beside him and took his hand. "Stay with me," I said, determined not to let my fears hold us back this time. "I'll follow your voice," he said. "Even into the dark." Lucien was flanked by Soren, Tyrone, Mason, and Maya. They were all tense, bracing for the unknown. Then there was her. The thousand-year-old witch who moved with the slow grace of immortality. Her name was Elizara, and her eyes were so pale, they were almost a pure white. If I didn't know better, I would think she was blind. Her gaze met mine, and a chill ran down my spine.

At its center, encircled by ancient ruins, the stone bier lay surrounded by thirteen witches, their silver robes glistening with dew. As Ryker and Nova dismounted, the head witch stepped forward. Her eyes were blind and milky. “You have come to witness a miracle, Alpha.” Ryker narrowed his eyes. “What kind of miracle?” She gestured to the bier. “The return of blood. Of legacy.” There, beneath a sheer veil of glowing silk, a figure lay still. Slender. Familiar. Her chest rose and fell in slow, unnatural rhythm. The witches began to chant.

Sensing our apprehension, she added, “But remember; it’s not just the words. It’s the intent behind them. You’re doing this for Alvin, for your friend. Let that guide you.” My throat tightened at her words, and I nodded. “We just want to set things right.” The witch tilted her head back, causing her hair to fall away from her hidden eye. There was nothing there; just an empty divot where her right eye used to be. I was startled, and it was all I could do not to gasp in shock at the sight; but something also told me that she wouldn’t have been offended if I had. Her gaze, however, shifted between the two of us in a way that almost made me forget that she only had one eye… As though she could

The meek, happy-go-lucky little witch was rarely mad but when she was… With glowing violet eyes, Morgan stomps over the muddy terrain, her hands lifting and fingers curling into claws “We need to stop her Leneve. At whatever cost.” Morgan begins to chant an incantation, Leneve quickly joining her as they aim their sights on the sorceress by Aodh’s side. My eyes cast over the battle and see Kellen and Lamia advancing on Aodh who finally moves, pulling a long staff from his back.

My heart skipped a beat as I strained to listen, praying it was something — someone — coming to save us. The witch’s eyes narrowed, sensing something. She turned toward the door, her smile faltering for the first time since we entered. For a moment, the room seemed to freeze, the oppressive weight of her presence lifting just slightly. “What is that?” she hissed, her voice sharp as she darted toward the door. My breath caught in my throat as the door creaked open. Was it someone coming for us? Had someone heard our cries?

It was a secret she had concealed, for she didn't want the witches to know about her werewolf offspring. Ever since, every descendant, whether male or female, has possessed the haunting mark of lavender eyes, reminiscent of the enchantress Morgana herself. The power of her legacy lay dormant in female offspring, hidden from the watchful eyes of the world. And now, she stands as the first known girl descendant with this power.