No One Mourns the Wicked

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"Ooookay."

Emerald said slowly as she removed her hand from the broomstick and once it had lost her touch it clattered to the ground lifelessly. Harry picked it up and examined it at once.

"This broom is ancient." He said. "Unlike anything I've ever seen." "Harry be careful with that!" Hermione snapped. "Why?" "It's a magical artifact!" "It's an old broom." "An old broom that belonged to one of the most renowned witches of all time!" Hermione continued. 

"What else is in there?"

Hermione asked as she leaned over Emerald's shoulder to get a look at the inside of the chest. Emerald reached inside and pulled out what looked like a diary. On the cover of it was written in silver cursive letters:

"𝒯𝒽ℯ ℒ𝒾𝒻ℯ 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒯𝒾𝓂ℯ𝓈 ℴ𝒻 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒲𝒾𝒸𝓀ℯ𝒹 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽 ℴ𝒻 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒲ℯ𝓈𝓉 ."

"Ew a diary?" Ron raised a brow in disgust. Hermione gasped.

"A first hand account of the life of the wicked witch of the west???" "Do you want to read it?" "I shouldn't.... It's yours." She said slowly to Emerald, who handed her the diary. "Please be my guest."

Hermione tried to silence the squeal that fell from her lips as she snatched it and instantly began flipping through the pages.

Once again Emerald reached into the trunk and this time she pulled out a hat. Her hat. It was black as night and it's cone was shaped into a perfect point.

"A witches cap? You can get one of those in Hogsmead."

Ron said.

"This was her hat." Harry said. "Who's?" "Who do you think?" Harry replied.

Emerald dropped the hat back into the chest as if it had bit her. The hat struck fear into her heart. She did not want to be associated with the Wicked Witch of the West. Her mother was Dorothy. She was the child of Dorothy, killer of the Wicked Witch of the West. Not the heir of wickedness.

✮ ⊹₊ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊₊ ⊹ ✮

She reached into the trunk once more and pulled out another book. Only this one looked much older, ancient.

"Another book?" Ron grumbled but upon hearing her favorite word, Hermione was summoned once again with curious eyes as she observed the book in Emerald's hands.

"I don't believe it." "What?" "That's the Grimmerie." "Bless you." Ron replied. "No, the Grimmerie." Hermione persisted. "It's an ancient book of spells. It's been lost for years. Your grandmother must have found it and when she died it had to have been lost with her." She said.

"What's so special about some old spell book?" Harry asked. "This one was written in a lost language of spells." Hermione explained. "Very few can actually read it and use it." "Great. Another dusty old book." Ron said and Emerald reached for the last thing in the chest.

She pulled out an emerald green envelope with cursive writing on the back, her name had been scrawled in gold ink. Hesitantly she opened it and out of it she retrieved a yellow weathered piece of paper.

"Well," Hermione spoke, "What does it say?" She asked. "It's- It's from my grandmother." Emerald said. "It's from the wicked witch of the west."

Emerald,
By now I have no doubt that my reputation has been tainted by the people of Oz. Not only that, but Liir tells me your mother's father has written books on her adventures here in Oz and has made me out to be some wicked old hag. I know it must be hard to convince you of this, but that is simply not true. I know the lies have gotten to you before I have, but I would like to beg of you Emerald, read my account of things. I have left it for you. You must understand the power you posses. You are stronger than you know. You are the heir of Oz, the key. Please, keep yourself safe. You will be hunted as was I.
With the love of your Grandmother,
Elphaba Thropp
the Wicked Witch of the West

Her hand shook as she held the letter.

She felt hatred. Pure hatred. That the most wicked and vile woman in history, according to her mother, thought she could leave a letter to her like this and claim that was wasn't as evil as the stories had made her out to be.

Dorothy wouldn't lie to her, would she? Mother's don't lie. Or do they?

"Here."

Hermione handed her the copy of Elphaba's diary. "I think you should read this, not me." She told her. Emerald took the book without a word but she looked down at it with disgust.

The Wicked Witch was just that, wicked. And she deserved everything that she had coming for her. Every threat, every wound, and every drop of water that had been thrown on to her by Dorothy Gale.

Wickedness must be punished for good. So her mother had always said. She was torn from her whirlwind of thoughts when another student entered the common room.

"Harry,"

The group looked up to the new student. Neville Longbottom handed him a slip of paper. "It's from Dumbledore. He said to give it to you. It's for the new student." His eyes drifted to Emerald.

"Which I'm now guessing must be you." He said nervously. "Hi." Emerald said as she offered a wave but Neville squeaked with a fright.

"Is she really- is she really the descendant of the Wicked Witch?" He asked Harry. "She is." He replied as he handed Emerald the note. "But she doesn't bite." He added with a kind smile to Emerald.

She felt a warmth blossom across her chest. To have someone defend her. Finally. It was nice.

"I saw what happened in charms..." Neville continued slowly, cautiously. "I am every bit Dorothy's daughter as I am the Wicked Witch's Grandaughter." Emerald stated.

"Dorothy? Who?" "Dorothy was the girl who slayed with Wicked Witch." Hermione said. "Talk about family drama." Ron muttered. "Ron!" Snapped Hermione. "It's fine." Emerald dismissed it with a wave of her hand.

"Well it was nice meeting you." Nevile said, a little less nervous, before he left for the boy's dormitories. "So what does it say?" Harry asked. "Hm?" Emerald replied. "The note. From Dumbledore. What does it say?" "Oh." she opened it quickly and began to read.

"He wants to see me. After dinner." she said and her eyes found Harry. "And you. He wants you to come as well."