#luminita | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sayafics · 10 months

Text

Her Muse - Prologue

I wrote this a while back but didn't think it was needed, but I thought just in case anyone would like to know more about the OC before reading the story then this would be great for context. You don't need to read the prologue for the story to make sense, it's just a bit about how the OC got into Hogwarts

Next Chapter

Masterlist

Ophelia Luminita is a muggle-born witch, and it just so happens she was a late-bloomer too. Most children would be recognised for their magical capabilities as infants and on the day of their eleventh birthday, they would receive a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry allowing them to nurture the magic they were gifted and channel it into something controlled, something beautiful.

Ophelia’s first experience with magic had happened at the age of fourteen, a small accident that had razed through the wizarding world like wildfire. And as a result, she had caught the attention of an omniscient Dumbledore.

Dumbledore hadn’t seemed surprised by her show of power, nor had he been terrified either. There was a knowing smile blooming across the old man’s face as he handed Ophelia a cream envelope, sealed with wax that was stained a deep red.

“Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.”

Ophelia peered down at the envelope, her nimble fingers scratching at the edges of the seal. Her mouth parted, ready to spew an onslaught of questions – instead her gaze stopped at the empty space the man had previously stood in.

Her brows drew together in confusion, a weary sigh escaping her as she finally regarded the envelope in her hands with unguarded curiosity. She neatly opened it, pulling out a letter from within and scanning the words it held.

She had a strange feeling not all Hogwarts students received a letter like her’s. Any other time and perhaps she would have felt special, instead she felt like her place at Hogwarts was a gamble – one Dumbledore seemingly had a lot of faith in.

Dear Miss. Luminita,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You will find all necessary books and equipment have been brought to you. Term begins on September 1st, but I shall be looking forward to meeting you a day earlier so we can retrieve the last item you require for the upcoming year at Hogwarts.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress.

The letter was signed by someone other than Dumbledore, the lively wizard she had the brief pleasure of meeting, and she found herself hoping that it would be him who she greets instead of the woman who wrote her letter.

Dumbledore simply had a disarming presence, and she did not know if the Deputy Headmistress would be the same.

Ophelia’s eyes found the pile of belongings Dumbledore had brought with him. A trunk laid strewed next to her bed, the top opened to reveal several books packed neatly within, and next to it sat a gleaming cage with an owl.

A great horned owl.

That was what Dumbledore had said, he had also called the animal a fierce predator, its aggressive nature being its defining trait and the irony of being gifted such a creature did not go lost on her. Still, she found herself laying the letter on her nightstand, inching towards the owl despite her hesitation.

She crouched towards the ground, eyes meeting the owl’s apprehensive gaze, as she brushed her finger slowly against the cage testing the animal’s aggressive nature for herself.

The owl did not move, its eyes never straying as it perched extremely still and ever cautious.

“C’mon now, I won’t hurt you,” her voice was just a whisper, but even she could hear the plea in her own voice as she tried to convince herself her words were true.

It seemed the owl had determined them to be, dawdling closer to push its feathers against the bars of the cage in a show of trust. Ophelia felt her breath shutter, an inkling of unfamiliar joy burning through her as she brushed her fingers against the soft feathers atop the owl’s head.

“You know, we’re more alike than you think. But that doesn’t make us bad, right?”

The owl turned its head back towards her, as though it could understand her words and wished to reply. So, Ophelia continued in its stead, “we’re fighters, you and I.”

A childish grin blossomed across her face, “we’re warriors. So, I think it’s only fair you get a name that fits. Don’t you think so?”

The owl pushed its head further into her scratching fingers in response, the motion causing Ophelia to sigh out in delight – “I think this year will be a good one Artemis, just wait and see.”

***

The days had gone by swiftly, and as August 31st drew closer Ophelia could feel her heart clenching in dread at the prospect of meeting Deputy Headmistress McGonagall.

Her clothes had been carefully folded into her trunk, trinkets and traces of her childhood that littered her scarce bedroom now laid gently within its confines too. Her entire life had been packed away into one small trunk, and in a matter of hours Ophelia would pick up the scraps of the life she had left and never come back to the house she grew up in.

Ophelia laid back on her bed, the coarse fabric was a comforting feeling against her skin as she lazed her last few hours away, eyes tracking Artemis’ curious adventures across her room.

There had not been much in her room to begin with. It was a wide space, but it lacked in comfort, in furnishings and a sense of comfort which had been snatched from her long ago.

She didn’t stay lost in her musings for long, as it seemed she had a visitor much earlier than she expected. There was a light tapping against her window, twisting her head to the side she saw a silver tabby cat preening at her. Curiosity pinched at her as she rose from the bed and headed towards the window, pushing the stiff window open she reached out towards the cat to pet at its silver fur. Instead, it ducked under her eager hands, trotting inside unafraid of the owl’s venomous hoots.

As the striped cat leaped to the floor to continue its steady trot, the animal began to morph into an elderly woman dressed in robes. Her glasses were small with round lenses, a set of intrigued blue eyes gleamed from underneath, and greying hair was hidden by a tall and pointed black hat.

Ophelia felt her mouth part in shock, cheeks burning with heat as she realised the animal she was about to fret over was a woman.

The woman met her baffled gaze with a stern stare, her eyes full of wisdom and expectation – “good afternoon, dear child. I am Professor McGonagall. I believe Professor Dumbledore handed you my letter.”

Ophelia found herself nodding vigorously, intimidated by the magical proficiency the woman held.

“Do speak child, it is quite rude to not return greetings.”

Ophelia cleared her throat harshly, “of course. I’m sorry Professor, I’m Ophelia. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

A grimace of a smile painted itself across her face, and she prayed that Professor McGonagall would not notice the façade she forced.

“I know I am quite early, but Dumbledore believed it best to help you find your way to Hogwarts before the start of term, and we still have one agenda on the list.”

“What would that agenda be, Professor?”

“Why, it is to find you a wand, my dear.”

Ophelia’s eyes widened, a wand?

“How do you expect to perform magic without a wand?”

Ophelia’s eyes fell to the ground, her shoulders tensed as guilt flooded her features.

“Oh. My apologies, dear. It w-“

“It’s okay.”

Her voice was now timid, conscious of how the professor stood across from her eyed her with pity in place of the curiosity she had radiated previously.

“Hm, perhaps we should start our journey then?”

Ophelia looked towards her trunk, eyes then bounding across the room in search of her owl before McGonagall stopped her.

“Pay no mind to your belongings, Dumbledore will have someone collect it in time for your arrival to Hogwarts with the other students.”

Ophelia nodded, “okay.”

“Come then, child.”

McGonagall stepped closer towards the girl, a hand raised in offering, “we are going to apparate. That means whatever happens, do not let me go - is that understood?”

The younger girl eyed her with infinite interest, reaching out to clasp the professor’s hand as she nodded in consent.

As McGonagall collected herself for a moment, Ophelia allowed herself to listen.

The hoots of Artemis and the sounds of late afternoon traffic nudged at her, but the most daunting sound was the silence.

Artemis was not sure if it was a reality she found relief in or whether it would haunt her for days to come.

But it was different. A welcomed variation in the series of changes she had faced already.

And then… whoosh.

Her life had been left behind, hidden in every crevice and corner of a house that was not her home.

The pair hand landed in what was revealed to the younger girl as Diagon Alley, and as though they were on a strict time limit McGonagall herded her towards a shop – Ollivander’s.

Stumbling through the door Ophelia regarded the boxes which littered the place in mounds and mountains, “ah, here for a new wand? You must have been up to some mischief to need a new one so soon.”

The jovial voice and boisterous laugh came from a man who stood behind the counter, his ecstatic countenance caused Ophelia to step back in unneeded discomfort. McGonagall placed a hand on her shoulder, ushering her forward as she spoke in her place, “actually, this would be Miss. Luminita’s first wand, Ollivander. It seems she is one of the few witchlings that has managed to escape Dumbledore’s sights.”

An amused smile was exchanged between the pair as Ollivander regarded her with a teasing smile, “not many can escape that man’s foresight. You must be a special one.”

Ophelia forced a smile as she waited to see what would happen next, and seeing that the girl would not speak Ollivander gave a small sigh as he spoke gently, “let us try a hazel wand, yes? It is a more sensitive wand, and this one in particular,” he brandishes a light brown wand, “contains unicorn hair. I believe a wand like this should do you well.”

Ophelia reached towards it, excitement building in her heart at the idea of owning a wand, but McGonagall’s hand reached to land over her’s. The girl found herself frowning at the action, questioning eyes peering at the older woman, but she received no acknowledgement.

“Might I suggest a spruce wand in its place?”

Ollivander’s eyes coloured in understanding, pupils blown as he scampered off to find a wand he thought would be perfect.

Ophelia wanted to question McGonagall about her intervention, but the older woman was much more astute than her, so she settled for believing that McGonagall had simply done what she thought was best. Instead, she asked, “Professor?”

“Yes, dear?”

“How am I to pay for this?”

“Don’t worry about that, child. Dumbledore has a special talent when it comes to talking and it seems he was able to convince the right people you were in desperate need of the money your mother left as inheritance.”

Ophelia turned to her in confusion, “I’m not supposed to get that until I’m eighteen.”

McGonagall placed a gentle hand on her cheek, her other hand raising to tap mischievously at her nose as she says, “like I said, Dumbledore has a special talent for these things.”

A shy smile tugged at the corners of the girl’s mouth, “thank you, Professor. Both of you.”

“Not to worry child.”

Ophelia turned back towards the desk as she heard Ollivander’s advancing footsteps, a cheery smile on his face as he waved a box in a show of success. Now Ophelia found herself returning his smile with a joyful grin.

Ollivander handed her the box, his voice filled with unbridled satisfaction as he spoke, “spruce. I haven’t given one of these wands in quite some time.”

Ophelia’s head tilted in confusion, “why is that sir?”

“Oh, call me Ollivander, dear. And it’s because a wand like this needs a firm hand. It’s a fussy old bugger, let me tell you, wands like these are dangerous in fumbling fingers. Seems like Minerva and Dumbledore think you’re just the person for a wand like this - it needs someone bold, someone loyal and reliable.”

Ophelia could feel her eyes burning at the words, after all that had just happened McGonagall thought she was brave? That she was trustworthy?

A traitorous laugh escaped her, one filled with glee and tinged with tears as she pulled the wand from its box and inspected it. Ollivander continued, looking at the girl as his eyes pooled in sympathy at her grief-stricken joy, “dragons heartstring core – capable of powerful magic.”

“Heartstring? Does that mean a dragon was killed to make this?”

Ollivander’s voice was grim, “maybe. One never questions where they get their resources from, but it is possible. Especially this one in particular, this core came from a Hebridean Black dragon.”

Ophelia felt like the name was supposed to mean something to her, but simply shrugged it off as Ollivander spouted, “it is twelve and a half inches with pliant flexibility. Give it a wave.”

At his command, Ophelia shook the wand in a circular motion, several orbs of light bounded out the end before hovering above her head to spin in an elegant dance.

Fascination glowed in her eyes, a surprised laugh filling the air as she spun in her place to look eagerly at each shining sphere.

“Perfect, this should be enough for the wand Ollivander.”

“Thank you, Minerva.”

After handing Ollivander the appropriate number of galleons, McGonagall held the pouch out to Ophelia, “this is only a small portion of your fortune, do keep it safe. The rest is held securely at Gringotts Bank, accessible to you whenever you choose.”

Ophelia took the pouch, holding it close to her chest as she marvelled at the weight it held. Soon she was directed out of the building by McGonagall, so she questioned her.

“Are we going to Hogwarts now?”

“No. Dumbledore thought it best you arrive with the other students, so we shall find a room for you to stay the night and then tomorrow I shall drop you off at Platform 9 ¾.”

“Platform? I have to take a train?”

“My dear,” McGonagall looked towards her with a hesitant gaze, “your magic and your presence was discovered quite late I’m afraid, and the Hogwarts curriculum is strict so it can teach students to perform the basics of magic safely from a young age. Taking the train from London to Hogwarts would be one of the few chances you have to make friends your own age.”

Ophelia frowned, “my own age?”

“Well, it seems the Ministry did not want to make an exception to have you placed with peers of your age, given the circumstances your magic was revealed.”

Ophelia felt her heart sink in dread, “no, but I could take extra classes, can’t I? Please, Professor McGonagall I would be a laughing-stock.”

“No such thing shall happen under my watch, Ophelia.”

Her words were firm, her eyes unrelenting as she met the girl’s anxious gaze, “it is safer for you if you start Hogwarts in first year with the other students.”

“Safer for me or safer for everyone else?”

Her voice was a whisper, her heart twisting in agony as she realised that even if McGonagall and Dumbledore trusted her to be good, others did not.

“I believe you will do great things in Hogwarts, dear. Do not let the opinions of small-minded men stop you from doing so.”

McGonagall’s words were a rare comfort, one she basked in as she decided that she would make the best of the cards she had been dealt. If the Ministry thought of her as dangerous, she would show them the extent of the power she held.

Ophelia patted her pocket lightly, the outline of her wand solid against her hand – a powerful wand for a powerful witch.

She met McGonagall’s worried gaze, her own pooled in bright determination causing her dark brown eyes to gleam fiercely against the shadows of her past.

Ophelia was good, and now she would prove it.

***

The following morning the skies were lustrously lit, hues of delicate blues and dense clouds spread across, painting an intricate picture for all to admire.

Ophelia’s body was wracked with nerves, today was September 1st which meant it was the day she would go to Hogwarts. It was not the prospect of going to Hogwarts which made her uneasy, in fact she looked forward to learning how to hone her magic, to nurture it into something good and kind.

It was the students.

How was she supposed to fit in with those who were three years younger than her? How was she expected to make friends her own age? Who would she sit with on the train? Who would she talk with? Who would help her find the rooms all other students her age would be able to navigate with ease?

She didn’t have long to collect her thoughts, as just as she had finishing taming her hair and pulling the inky strands into a loose braid McGonagall had apparated into her room.

Ophelia jumped from her seat on the bed in fright, a hand clutching her chest as she composed herself, “Professor,” she spoke, breathlessly, “good morning.”

“Oh my, sorry for the fright dear.”

“It’s quite alright, I needed to be up anyway.”

“Yes, well the train leaves at exactly eleven O’clock. I have brought you your school uniform, do hurry and change.”

Ophelia accepted the bundle of robes from McGonagall, glancing at the time to see she only had ten minutes to get ready.

“Right, I shall be waiting downstairs.”

“Of course, Professor.”

At the professor’s exit, Ophelia scrambled to change into her uniform, she pulled on her tights and skirt, slipping her feet into the flats McGonagall had also brought with her, fingers fumbling as she flitted on her shirt, buttoning it up and tucking it in her skirt before doing the same with her cardigan and finally slipping her arms into her robe and clasping it shut.

She took in her appearance in the mirror across from her, admiring how perfectly her uniform fit. Another glance to the time showed her she had mere minutes before the train departed, so bundling her spare clothes in her arm and pocketing her pouch of wizard currency, she raced down the stairs of the Leaky Cauldron and came to a halt in front of an impressed McGonagall.

A pleased smile pulled at the corners of Minerva’s mouth, happy to see the girl waiting with much anticipation at the upcoming journey, despite her hesitancy of going.

“Right on time. But you will not be needing these.”

With a simple tap of her wand, Ophelia’s spare clothes dissipated from her hands leaving only her wand in its place – “now that is definitely something you should try to not lose.”

A sheepish grin was sent in response, “sorry Professor.”

“Not to worry, dear. Now do hold on tight, the train station is not far from here but every attempt to apparate is equally as dangerous as the last.”

Ophelia held onto Professor McGonagall’s arm with renewed vigour, the excitement of seeing Hogwarts slowly outgrowing her fear of being lonely and without friends.

It happened within the space of a breath… whoosh!

Ophelia did not know when she had closed her eyes but opening them now revealed the bustle of an early morning at the London train station.

Professor McGonagall led her out from behind the beams, walking her through the crowd as they reached an archway between Platform 9 and 10.

McGonagall stood back after nudging the girl forward, “that there will be your way to the platform you need.”

Ophelia’s nose twitched, brows furrowed in confusion as she followed the professor’s pointed finger to a brick wall, she blinked slowly wondering if McGonagall could see something she wasn’t.

“But… But that’s a wall.”

“It looks like a wall. Not all is as it seems, especially in Hogwarts. Close your eyes and run through the barrier, quick before it closes. The train leaves soon.”

“Are you not coming with me?”

“I am afraid this is a journey you shall have to face on your own, but I am sure you will be victorious at the end.”

“When will I see you again.”

Minerva could see the sadness that tinged the girl’s features, her heart heavy in sorrow at how desperate Ophelia was to keep a connection, “don’t worry dear, I shall see you in a few hours.”

Ophelia’s hesitancy was placated as she turned towards the barrier, eyes closing in a show of bravery. Not even attempting to say a goodbye, hoping to see the Professor soon, she ran at the wall, her body tensing as her closed eyes screwed further shut, waiting to feel her body crash against a solid wall.

A cold feeling washed over her, as though she walked through a mist, and she stumbled to a stop and forced her eyes open when she realised, she had passed through the barrier.

Her mouth parted in astonishment, her eyes darting back to the wall she had just walked through before a sharp whistle snapped her attention back towards the train.

She had, perhaps, thirty seconds to scramble onto it before it left her behind.

The realisation caused her to nudge and push her way through the masses of parents and children gathered on the platform waving goodbye to the students, racing to get through any open door.

A hand stuck itself in her line of vision and her eyes began following it to the inside of the train, she didn’t care to see who it was attached to before gripping onto it tightly as they hauled her into the train just in time.

A sigh of relief escaped her as she tilted back her head to meet a set of shy, grey eyes.

“That was a close one.”

A tentative laugh left her, “it was. Thank you for helping me, I’m Ophelia.”

“I’m Cedric.”

Ophelia now realised she was still grasping tightly onto the boy’s hand, she pulled back as she coughed to cover her embarrassment, cheeks heating as she glanced at the inside of the train around them.

“Say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at Hogwarts before. And you don’t look like a first year, are you a transfer student?”

Ophelia’s face twisted in a grimace, her blush growing heavier as she let out a frustrated sigh, “no, I actually am a first year.”

It was now Cedric’s turn to look away, a hand coming to scratch the back of his neck as he looked at his shoes in embarrassment, “I’m sorry, that was quite rude of me, I didn’t mean to imply you look old.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be wrong about that, if you meant to.”

“I wouldn’t?”

Cedric looked confused now, and Ophelia struggled to string her words together in an attempt to placate his curiosities.

“I only found out about my magic a few weeks ago, Dumbledore said I escaped his radar,” a part her of was proud at that, Dumbledore paraded himself as a powerful and knowing being, and she had been the one to escape his sights, “but the Ministry couldn’t let me join students my age because I don’t know the basics about magic yet.”

“Oh. Well, that makes sense. How old are you, then?”

“I’m fourteen.”

A pleasant smile broke out on Cedric’s face, “we would have been in the same year. Maybe we can still be friends?”

Ophelia returned his grin, “I would like that very much.”

Cedric nodded his head towards the train compartments, “come on, I’ll introduce you to some of my other friends.”

A weight in Ophelia’s heart had settled, she had been so worried about being unable to make friends and being judged that she had gotten herself worked up and left herself feeling worn out.

But McGonagall was right. It had all worked out.

***

The train ride had been a few hours at most, the train running steadily over the tracks through the countryside, over bridges and across lakes and rivers. The scenery was beautiful and proved to be a great distraction for how slowly time passed.

However, the new friends Ophelia had made during the trip had proved to be an even bigger and better distraction. The people she had met wore robes of different colours – red, blue and yellow.

Each set of eyes as kind as the next, each voice as encouraging as the last.

When they learnt that she was a first year student instead of a fourth year student like them, they grew enthusiastic making promises to help her with her studies and homework.

Ophelia’s heart swelled with gratitude, appreciative to have met such kind people.

Although the journey had been a long one, she still felt it had ended all too quickly.

She soon had to part from her newfound friends to follow the giant among their midst who beckoned the first years his way, Cedric had promised he would see her inside and she left the group of four with a parting smile.

As she joined the group of lively first years, a deep voice called out to her – “Oi! I said first years only, you best go with the other students.”

Ophelia frowned at the several eyes which turned her way, voice raised in indignation, “I am a first year.”

A knowing look bloomed across Hagrid’s face, and he had the propensity to look ashamed by his loud words, “ah, ye’ must be Miss. Lumini’a. Dumbledore’s told me all about y’.”

She shifted uncomfortably as more eyes turned her way and whispers began to ripple across the crowd, but Hagrid continues, “apologies miss, situations like this aren’t normal here.”

Hagrid received a strained smile in response, Ophelia hoped the man would get the hint and quieten down lest she face more embarrassment.

It seemed a bushy-haired girl with bright eyes and a kind smile took notice of her discomfort, pushing her to distract Hagrid, “I think we should make our way to the school now, don’t you think Hagrid?”

Hagrid peered down towards the girl, “good idea Hermione, come on first years. This way.”

Ophelia sent a grateful smile to the younger girl who waited for her as they headed towards the lake, “I’m sure Hagrid meant well.”

Ophelia sighed, “I know, doesn’t make it any less embarrassing though.”

Hermione’s eyes were filled with intrigue, and Ophelia knew the girl had questions of her own. Ones she hoped she would not have to answer today.

Hermione must have been a very observant child, because one glance into Ophelia’s eyes had dimmed her fascinated gaze as she politely introduced herself, “I’m Hermione Granger.”

Her voice stood proudly amongst the scattered whispers and excited mumbles of the students around them.

“I’m Ophelia Luminita.”

The pair didn’t have long to continue talking before Hagrid began shepherding them towards the small boats.

Hermione held Ophelia’s hand as she led her towards a red-headed boy with pasty skin and a wide grin, and another boy with a black mop on his head and round glasses perched atop his nose.

“This is Ron,” she pointed towards the red-headed boy, before looking at the other one “and this is Harry. We can ride with them.”

Her words left no space for an argument to be made, and Ophelia huffed in amusement as joined the three of them in the wooden boat.

As they sailed across the dark lake, the trio kept sneaking glances her way until a begrudged sigh escaped Ophelia and she spoke, “if you have anything to ask, now is your only chance.”

The words seemed to have set Hermione alight, “if you’re older than us, why are you a first year?”

“Well, my magic was hidden from me even after I turned eleven. I only recently discovered it.”

“So why not put you with the other students your age?”

That had been Ron, so she looked at him as she answered, “the Ministry thought it was best to have me learn the basics first.”

The three of them seemed content with her answers, and the rest of the journey had been spent talking about their hobbies, likes and dislikes.

Hermione’s eyes glowed in admiration as Ophelia revealed she also shared a deep interest in books and writing.

When they had finally docked at the other end of the lake, the group of first years were led into Hogwarts.

The students’ eyes marvelled at the architecture within, tracing the intricate design of the school before they reached a set of stairs. Climbing up the stairs, Ophelia found a familiar face.

Professor McGonagall.

Her face broke out into a beaming smile, one that was returned by a quainter one from McGonagall as she tried to maintain her image as a stern and strict professor.

It wasn’t long before they were brought into the Great Hall, Ophelia’s eyes wandering over the masses in search of the friends she had made as Hermione’s hand gripped her’s tighter in dread.

She had failed to find her friends, her eyes darting the meet those of an animated Dumbledore. He nodded his head at her eloquently before explaining the Sorting Ceremony to all that were present.

It was not long until Professor McGonagall began to read aloud the names of students, prompting them to sit on a stool and have a hat placed atop their head so their houses could be decided.

When it had finally gotten to her name, she felt her heart stutter to a stop. Hermione had left her side now, already sat proudly at the Gryffindor table, leaving her alone on the stage.

She released a slow breath, moving towards the stool to perch upon it precariously. As McGonagall placed the hat upon her head, she turned to the older woman, she was terrified she wouldn’t be good enough for any house. McGonagall sent a reassuring glance her way.

As the hat began to mumble atop her head, whispering about what group she would thrive in most, Ophelia began to recall the words of the friends she had made on the train.

They wore red, blue and yellow – Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

Mallory, the rambling Ravenclaw she had met, had told her the history of each house being formed – Salazar Slytherin’s house only accepted those with the purest ancestry, Rowena Ravenclaw only acknowledged those of the highest intelligence, Godric Gryffindor only recognised those with brave deeds to their name and it was Helga Hufflepuff who said she would take the rest and teach them all she knows.

Ophelia was a muggle-born so to be in Slytherin would sentence her to years of humiliation, but she was not the smartest and she was definitely not the bravest.

She didn’t fit.

But perhaps that was the whole point.

The hat seemed to come to life at that point, its body twisting in upon itself before stretching and yelling with a glorious cry, “Hufflepuff!”

Ophelia felt her shoulders sag in relief, cheeks burning under the raucous round of applause sent her way. As McGonagall lifted the hat from her head, she sent a proud smile to the girl as she nodded her head in the direction of the Hufflepuff table.

A pleased laugh bubbled out of her as she skipped down the steps, her eagerness growing at the sight of Cedric’s waving hands and excited smile.

She sat at the table with a delighted huff, a smile stretched so hard across her face that her cheeks were slowly beginning to ache. But she couldn’t find it in herself to let it sink, reprieve and thrill painting her cheeks a blossoming pink as Cedric introduced her to his friends.

The dinner had been lively and joyous, Ophelia was enamoured by the food presented and the company she had the luck of sharing. When they had finished for the night, she left with a satiated appetite and a spirit that was bursting at the seams with eagerness.

It wasn’t long until they were headed towards the Hufflepuff common room, Cedric leading the party of first years as she took to standing by his side. They meandered downstairs, walking past what they had been told was the kitchen – it was eerily quiet now, but Cedric said that it was typically occupied by House Elves.

The entrance to the common room was pointed out to be hidden behind a stack of barrels which were placed neatly in a nook of the kitchen corridor.

Although the other common rooms require a password, the Hufflepuff common room only required students to tap the barrel which laid two from the bottom, in the middle of the second row.

“Now, if it’s done properly, the lid of the barrel should open. To open the passageway, you have to tap the lid in the rhythm of ‘Helga Hufflepuff’. You want to try, Ophelia?”

Ophelia was shy to try in front of all these people, not wanting to feel humiliated if she failed to succeed, but at Cedric’s nudges she gave in with an exasperated sigh.

She walked up to the barrel, it was quite large but even then, if the passageway were to open, she would have to crawl through it.

Suddenly, the emblem of Hufflepuff being a badger began making more and more sense. An underground common room they were required to crawl to? She rolled her eyes in amusement as she raised her first, then she brought it down in a rhythmic pattern - first two sharp knocks, then a small gap before three consecutive knocks followed.

She hardly had time to step back before the lid popped open, and Cedric patted her back as she beamed at him, proud of her success.

“What are you waiting for then? Go!”

She couldn’t say no to the blatant enthusiasm rolling off the boy in waves, so she lowered herself to the ground as she began to crawl through the wide berth.

Travelling the short distance, she soon came into a room decorated in shades of copper, bronze, yellow and black.

As she stood up, venturing further into the room, she embraced a warm and welcoming feeling. The ceiling was low, and the room was large.

Broad wooden arches led the way into the main area, worn armchairs and overstuffed sofas in colours of burnt oranges and bronze littered the room in an orderly fashion.

And plants.

Plants of all species and origins could be found, twines twisted onto arches and railings, potted plants at every window and table, flower beds anchored to the ceiling to hang delicately just out of reach.

It was night now, but there was a burning fire that lit the room is varying shades of yellow, and lanterns dropping from the ceiling to highlight a path to the staircases which up to the dorms.

The room was so cozy and so warm, Ophelia felt her heart settle into a gentle rhythm at the idea that she would be living here for years to come.

As it turns out, some of the friends Cedric had introduced her to have a spare bed in the girl’s dorm. Ophelia accepted their offer graciously, ecstatic at the idea she would not have to share a room with those younger than her for quite some time.

Everything would be okay.

***

It turns out, everything was not okay.

Over the years at Hogwarts, Ophelia had grown a tentative friendship with Hermione, admiring the girl’s studious nature and maddening intellect.

Consequently, she was inevitably dragged along in their antics at Hogwarts, and even moreso the dangerous situations they landed themselves in as a result.

They had battled a troll, escaped the clutches of an overgrown three-headed dog, almost suffocated to death in the clutches of Devil’s Snare, came close to losing their lives in a game of chess, outran the eight-legged beasts that were friends of Hagrid’s, were haunted by Dementors and almost torn apart by Lupin in his werewolf form.

It had been a troublesome three years, and she was sure it would be a pattern that continued for the rest of her time at Hogwarts.

And perhaps it would start again now.

Ophelia sat amongst hundreds of students a few weeks into the new year as a fourth year student, watching as the Goblet of Fire bubbled and burst, waiting with a bated breath to see who’s name would be chosen.

A small and frail and frightened part of her wished it wouldn’t be her name. A traitorous thought that bloomed into unabashed fear.

#regulus black x reader #regulus black fic #regulus black #regulus black x oc #regulus black x ofc #harry potter #hp fandom #hp fanfic #hp marauders #hermione granger #ron weasley #cedric diggory #draco malfoy

18 notes · View notes