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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"𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐰?"
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☽
Suppose one was walking amongst the busy crowd of shoppers, filling the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley. In that case, one could look into the various shop windows, all perfectly manicured to draw the wandering eye. The brightest store in the entire district, its striking green door, polished golden letters spelling out Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour, and the giant bay windows that let anyone look at whom was inside.
It was a bright and sunny day, much different compared to the dreariness of yesterday, and it seemed anyone and everyone was visiting the wizarding emporium, and how better to get away from the suffocating crowds than to sit down with your best friend and enjoy a milkshake together? So that's exactly what they did.
Ophelia and Draco tucked themselves into the front booth, its worn-down blue leather stripes holding memories of past patrons. The two had eventually decided on a strawberry milkshake, layered with a mountain of whipped cream and two scarlet cherries on top. Ophelia watched as Draco slurped down the rest of the pink dram, the paper straw buzzing with the last few dregs. She laughed at his newly achieved moustache, entirely made out of whipped cream, watching as he blushed and wiped his face with his napkin, laughing with her as well. Finally, the two dug into their money bags, still heavy with galleons and sickles, waiting to be spent. Placing a single galleon on the end of the table, Ophelia slid out of the booth and smoothed her skirt down while she waited for Draco.
"Where to now?" Ophelia asked as the two descended the few steps, staring over the sea of people.
"Let's buy our books now and get it out of the way," Draco suggested, thumbing through his list of school things.
"That might be a problem..." Ophelia frowned.
"Why do you say that?" Draco looked back to her, furrowing his brows in confusion.
"Look!" Ophelia pointed towards the resident book store, Flourish and Blotts, which was currently swarmed by what seemed to be a restless mob of middle-aged witches, all craning to get a look inside at something spectacular. Through the crowd, Ophelia could make out the heads of three familiar people but was quickly dragged away by Draco, who was pushing his way towards the bookstore.
"I think we can sneak in, we're small enough." Draco said, pulling her arm as he started to push past his first wave of people. The two weaved in and out of the crowd, trying to find a way inside, and after a bit of trial and error, they made it, backs aching with pain from hunching over. The inside was just as hectic as outside, so Ophelia made her way up to the second level, where the two could have a clear view over the crowd, plucking the books that they needed on the way, strangely all placed on freshly polished podiums around the store. After placing the last book in her cauldron, Ophelia turned her attention to the crowd below, which was getting more restless by the minute. Then suddenly, a tow-headed man appeared from behind a large stack of books, donning freshly pressed azure robes with a matching cap atop his head. The crowd began to clap and whistle, but all Ophelia could notice was Draco, who rolled his eyes so hard that they might have fallen out of his head.
"What?" Ophelia asked.
"That's Gilderoy Lockhart. He's supposed to be this some brave, wizarding hero, but I don't buy it for a second. Look, all of our school books this year are written by him." Draco pointed at the list in Ophelia's hand, and surely enough, when she read the list of authors, the most frequent name was none other than Gilderoy Lockhart. Break with a Banshee, Gaddling with Ghouls, Holidays with Hags, and so on. All of them were written by him. Admittedly, the names were rather cheesy, but Ophelia didn't care. As long as she had a good, undisturbed year, everything would be fine.
Suddenly, the crowd parted in two, and Lockhart descended the raised platform and took the shoulders of someone in the room. Ophelia could recognize that unruly dark hair and oversized flannel anywhere. Turning the boy to face the room, Ophelia watched Draco sneer at the startled face of Harry Potter, the most famous boy in their class. Harry seemed rather frazzled by Lockhart's frantic handshake and blinding smile as they posed for a photo by an angry, dancing little elf. The older wizard said something to the younger boy through his teeth before taking him under his wing and announcing to the crowd.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I have great pride and pleasure in announcing that this September I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" Lockhart spoke, arm outstretched and squeezing Harry in the other. Ophelia's jaw dropped open. No wonder all of their school books were written by him. He seemed to be the egotistical type. As soon as Lockhart let go of Harry, the young boy hurried back into the reconvened crowd, hidden underneath the balcony that Ophelia and Draco were standing on. Draco was watching Harry like a hawk, quickly descending the stairs to block the departing Weasley's passage. Ophelia chased after him, already dreading what would ensue, and barely arrived in time to stop the engagement.
"Bet you loved that, didn't you Potter?"
"Draco-" Ophelia tried to interrupt, unsuccessfully.
"Famous Harry Potter. Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page." Ophelia frowned, staring holes into the back of Draco's perfectly greased head.
"Leave him alone. He didn't want all that!" A young girl piped up, approaching from behind Harry, with Ron and Hermione in tow. Ophelia could make out multiple similarities between Ron and the girl, so she automatically assumed another Weasley. Draco scoffed, eyebrows raising at the defiant little girl.
"Look at that Potter, it seems you've got a girlfriend!"
"It looks like you've already got one yourself." Harry spoke up, casting a sideways glance at Ophelia, who immediately went rigid. Draco went pink for a moment, squinching his face furiously at Harry, ready to blow up in his face. Ophelia liked Draco, but she was always sure that it was just friendship, and now she wasn't as confident. The ways that Draco had acted around her whenever she grabbed his arm, hand or shoulder, she thought about them differently now. But weren't they too young? Ophelia shook the thoughts from her mind, pursing her lips and staring into Harry's cold face.
"Well, well, well. Arthur Weasley." A cool voice spoke from behind them, and Ophelia spun around to see who it was. Of course, it was Draco's father, coming in to save the day, obviously having seen the hostile exchange between the children. He placed a pallid palm on her shoulder, smiling down at the young girl.
"Hello, Ophelia dear." Ophelia smiled up at the older man, whose facial expression changed immediately as he looked back up. She tuned out of the conversation that the older men had started, knowing it was probably filled with passive-aggressive comments and sly insults, as Mr Weasley was growing redder by the second. Ophelia turned her attention to the Gryffindor trio, attempting to make eye contact with Hermione, but the mousy girl was avoiding looking at anyone, it seemed. Instead, she was looking down at the floor, toeing her boot against the wooden floorboards trying not to be seen or noticed. Suddenly, she was pushed aside by Mr Malfoy, who was abruptly pushed back into a bookshelf by a fuming Mr Weasley. Draco had received the same motion as Ophelia, swiftly regaining his balance and began cheering on his father. Ophelia frowned at the brutality of it all, books falling off the shelves and a struggling tangle of arms. Then, a giant figure pushed through the crowd, yanking the two men apart. It was Hagrid, who was sporting an angry scowl to both of the men. Mr Weasley was attempting to nurse an allegedly bruised eye, and Lucius a busted lip, a trickle of blood dribbling down his sharp chin. Mr Malfoy grinned evilly, shoving back a stolen book into the Weasley girl's cauldron, along with a small, sable journal that Ophelia didn't fail to notice, but didn't mention anything. Mr Malfoy wiped his lip with a neatly folded handkerchief, tucking it neatly inside of his suit pocket before pushing the two Slytherins out of the door.
"Come along Draco, Ophelia. I think we're done here." Ophelia nodded reluctantly, writing a slip to her parents swiftly and handing it to the archon before shutting the door behind her.
