The Barrows. Another pureblood family from the long lines of Slytherin ancestry. It's 1991, and Elmira and Clyde Barrows' daughter's first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has arrived.
The Wizarding World is not safe to our young O...
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"𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?"
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Murky light danced along the dormitory walls, illuminating the hoary brick that sealed the stagnant room away from the rest of the common house. Mere meters away, Pansy and Daphne slept peacefully in their beds. It was about an hour after curfew, Ophelia estimated, staring up at the canopy, patterns indecipherable in the dim lighting. Inhaling deeply, she sat up, peeling the covers off her bare legs, and stood quickly, grimacing at the brisk air that surrounded her. She moved towards the edge of her bed with a soft step and crouched down to unlatch her trunk. Her clothes were monochromatic in the absence of light, therefore resorting to rummaging around until she found something fitting for the January air.
A few minutes later, she was latching her cloak around her shoulders and slipping through the heavy door without a sound.
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"We'll get in trouble for this!" Hermione whined, dragging her feet as she, Harry, Ophelia, and Ron all made their way across the castle grounds, Hagrid's hut coming into sight, sticking out like a sore thumb in the dark of night. A brand new mission, and more dangers at every corner, yet the four pressed on. Ophelia had been briefed, just barely before the Gryffindors were whisked away to their table by their Prefect, "Perfect Percy" was what Ron called him.
"Ophelia you promised you would talk some sense into them." Hermione poked the girl's shoulder, causing a breathy laugh to escape Ophelia's mouth. Shrugging her shoulders, she began to catch up to Harry and Ron, who were already lost in their own little world. They approached the door fast, to which Ron knocked rapidly. Clangs and clatters erupted from the house, with a few muttered words, easily deciphered as the Hogwart's Gatekeeper because of his strong accent. Suddenly, the door swung open, the sack of herbs that hung on the door smacking against the splintered wood. Staring him up and down, Ophelia was puzzled by his attire: a tarred green apron and seemingly domestic oven mitts, various fabrics stitched together by some vibrant red string that untwined in some places along the seams. Hagrid seemed a little on edge, his eyes darting back and forth between the four students before him and someplace back into his home. He shook his head before he spoke,
"I'm in no state to entertain today..."
Beginning to close the door, Harry stuck his foot between the jamb and door, sticking his head through and exclaimed,
"We know about the Sorceror's Stone!" Hagrid whipped around, eyes blown wide and mouth agape. He hesitated for a few moments before opening the door again and ushered the students inside. As the four settled down and untied their cloaks, Harry spoke again.
"We think Snape is trying to steal it."
"You think Snape is trying to steal it," Ophelia corrected him, following everyone inside, sitting down in a large armchair beneath the quarreled window, slightly ajar and let the cold air into the warm cottage. Hagrid scoffed at Harry's abrupt remark, beginning to pour some tea into domestic-looking mugs as well, steam rising and disappearing into thin air.
"Snape is one of the teachers trying to protect the stone, he's not about to steal it." The giant said, turning back to his stove and placing the kettle back then retreated to his fireplace, bright and ablaze, illuminating the entire cabin. Ophelia sucked on her bottom lip and stuck out her arms, gesturing to no one in particular.
"See?" She exclaimed, lounging back into the chair and studied the hut as the trio continued to talk with Hagrid, who was blocking the fireplace intently. Turning to the other side of the home, Ophelia examined the miscellaneous bobbles and trinkets that lined the walls, haphazardly stacked on teetering shelves and upon mismatched furniture and tables. Amongst the mess, she attained a sense of tidiness, at least for Hagrid. It suited him well. Sighing, she ultimately tuned back into the conversation on the other side of the room.
"-other things protecting the stone, aren't there? Spells, enchantments?!" Hermione exclaimed, holding onto every single piece of vague detail Hagrid gave them. Harry and Ron exchanged knowing looks before turning back and continuing the conversation. Ophelia was about to pipe in before a strange croaking sound emerged from the giant cauldron that hung on axels above the rapt flame. Hagrid immediately jumped, tugging on his oven mitts and reaching into the boiling pot and emerging with an egg! He exhaled sharply and tossed the egg around in his hands, similar to a child playing hot potato as he desperately tried to cool it down. Eventually, he placed it upon the table, steam still rising into the air as the four students peered at the strange object. Ophelia knew precisely what it was, and so did Ron it seemed, as his eyes lit up with excitement. On the other hand, Hermione was inching away quietly, and Harry had a grim, furrowed look on his face as he examined the strange object.
"I know exactly what that is! But Hagrid, how did you get it?!" Ron exclaimed, eyes glued to the sable egg. Suddenly, it rattled and shook, scaring everyone, Hermione releasing a little yelp of surprise. The egg continued to move, knocking against the table and breaking its shell in clean in half.
"Is that... a dragon?" Hermione asked timidly, holding her hands close to her chest. Hagrid pulled the newborn animal out of the remnants of shell, disposing the broken shards into the bin.
"It's a Norwegian Ridgeback, my brother works with them in Romania!" Ron stated, wiping a bit of mucus off the table that flung off the dragon's wing. Hagrid retook his seat and smiled at the baby, the skin around his eyes scrunching up tightly.
"Isn't he beautiful?" He said, scratching the dragon's head with one of his massive fingers, only to have them singed by a rogue fireball. Then, he raised his head to the window, face falling immediately. "Who's that?" He nodded to the paned window, and all four students watched a familiar blonde disappear.
"Malfoy!" Ophelia spoke sternly, snatching up her cloak and following Harry, Ron and Hermione out the door.
The four of them bolted across the grounds, boots sloshing in the dampened grass and clacking on the limestone bricks that lined the corridors. Turning a sharp corner, they stumble backwards when greeted with Professor McGonagall's strict frown, and a smirking Malfoy by her side.
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"–as punishment for your actions, fifty points will be taken from each," Ophelia wanted to protest, opening her mouth to plead with the Professor, but was silenced with a wave of the older woman's hand and bowed her head along with the three Gryffindors.
"And to ensure it doesn't happen again, all five of you will receive two weeks detention." Her head shot up, turning to face Draco as he pieced together what the Professor had just said. His eyes widened, stepping up to the teaching dais.
"Excuse me, Professor, perhaps I heard you wrong. I thought you said the five of us?" He raised his eyebrows as McGonagall turned to the young Slytherin, pouting her lips in thought before saying anything.
"As honourable as your intentions were, Mr Malfoy, you too were out of bed after hours," She nodded to the other four students. "You will join your classmates in detention."
Ophelia stifled a laugh as Draco scowled, abruptly turning around and frowning at the Gryffindors, stalking past them and to the back of the classroom. Hermione and Ron took the lead, Harry lingering back to share one last look with Ophelia before running off to catch up.
It was certainly an unfortunate way to start off the new year, and their prefects were going to kill them in the morning.
