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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"𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐮𝐝𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝?"
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☽
Hermione burst through Hagrid's door, nearly knocking over a frazzled but delighted-looking Lockhart, swiping away his sunset-colored robes from snagging in the door jamb. Hermione mumbled a quick apology, burning bright red, and the Professor left as quickly as he came. Ophelia and Harry kept a lock on Ron's upper arms, dragging him over to a bench near the fireplace. Hagrid didn't look particularly happy, peering out the door after the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Finally, turning to the four students who had hastily made themselves at home, the giant's sullen face turned from sullen to shock. He grabbed the nearest bucket and placed it under Ron's dribbling chin, who belched soon after that. Unfortunately, one of the slugs had missed the bucket by a few inches and landed on the floor in front of Ophelia's boots, spattering them with slime and mucus. Hermione quickly spelled the slug away and tossed Ophelia a scratchy rag from the windowsill, sitting down on a stool and began to wipe off her boots as Hagrid started to talk.
"What can we do, Hagrid?" Hermione asked, rubbing Ron's back as he hurled into the bucket again.
"I'm afraid there's not much we can do except wait until it stops, dearie." Hagrid said, frowning at Ron's sallow face.
"Better out than in, I always say," Hagrid let out a little chuckle before realizing that no one was laughing with him and stopped, covering it up with an ill-fitting cough. "Who did Ron try to curse, anyway?"
"Malfoy,"
"Draco,"
Ophelia and Harry spoke simultaneously, Harry spitting Draco's name with a hint of irritation. Ophelia snapped her head towards Harry and looked at him with a bit of confusion but shook it off quickly. Harry kept on:
"He called Hermione a... well... I don't exactly know what it means."
"He called me a mudblood." Hermione half-shrieked through her clenched teeth, eyes beginning to water and threatening flood. Hagrid's jaw dropped, his eyes widening as big as saucers.
"He did not!" The giant turned his head towards Ophelia, frantically looking for someone to tell him that it wasn't true. Ashamed, Ophelia nodded her head grudgingly and watched as Hagrid's face turned into one of disappointment and disgrace.
"What's a mudblood?" Harry asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. Ophelia was rather shocked that Harry hadn't heard the word before, especially if he was friends with Granger.
"From what I've heard, it means dirty blood. It's a foul name for someone who has muggle parents. A muggle born if you will." Ophelia spoke, passing a patched handkerchief to Hermione from Hagrid.
"Someone like me," Hermione frowned again. "It's not a term you hear in civilized conversation." The mousy girl wiped her tears and sat down again, beginning to rub Ron's back once more. Looking at Hermione, Ophelia felt ashamed. She'd heard her family use the word hundreds of times growing up; it was a normal word to her, though she had never dared to use it at all, especially not in school.
"You see Harry," Hagrid spoke smartly. "There are some families, like the Malfoys, who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-bloods."
Ophelia winced, thinning her lips tight and wringing her hands in her lap. Then, Hagrid realized who was in the room, turned to the young Slytherin, and took her hands in his massive palms.
"Oh dear, Ophelia. I didn't mean anything towards you," The giant rubbed her head. "You're one of the nicest little witches I've ever met."
Even after Hagrid's comment, Ophelia was still hurt. But, of course, she still associated herself and her family with the Malfoy's and the other twenty-eight pureblood families. Hell, even the Weasleys were one of them, yet they were disgraced years ago.
"It's codswallop. Why there isn't a wizard today who isn't halfblood or less. More to the point, they haven't yet to find a spell our Hermione can't do." Hagrid said reassuringly. Ophelia turned to Hermione and smiled gently, who was also smiling through her watery eyes.
"Come here." Hagrid beckoned the mousy girl over and placed two palms on her thin shoulders.
"Don't you think on it for one minute, okay?" He smiled at her, and the young girl pulled the large man into a hug, wrapping her arms around what she could, burying her face into his oily beard.
"Alright you three, back to the castle. Not you, Ron. You stay here with me. I'll bring you up to Madam Pomfrey later." Hagrid pushed the three students towards the door, waving goodbye to Ron. He nodded weakly back before hunching back over the bucket again. But before they could leave, Hagrid called out to them.
"Oh, Harry! I forgot!" Harry turned around swiftly, his red robes swishing around his ankles.
"Could I get an autograph?" Harry turned bright red, his fists curling in embarrassment. Hermione and Ophelia began to giggle, but Hagrid only smiled.
"I'm just kidding. Now you run off, then." Hagrid waved a hand, pushing them out the door like baby birds. Ophelia waved goodbye one more time, feeling a slight off feeling in her stomach. She would have to talk to Draco later, and that was something she most definitely dreaded.
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☽
Ophelia was now walking back to the common room after supper, successfully finished brushing off Draco, who was bearing down on her with questions about earlier that afternoon. Ophelia had said the words "later," and "not now," so many times that she thought she might die if she had to utter those words ever again. Having worn out her vocabulary, Ophelia was worried that she wouldn't even have the energy to explain when she got back. All she would want to do was sleep. Then Draco would really have it in for her. Just as she was about to descend the stairs into the dungeons, Harry Potter passed by her, who was undoubtedly in a rush to get someplace.
"Going somewhere?" Ophelia asked, causing the brunette boy to whisk around, his glasses nearly falling off his nose with such velocity.
"Belated detention," Harry said, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. Ophelia furrowed her eyebrows and frowned. What had he done to get detention? Harry realized her confusion and kept talking.
"You know, for the car?" The boy tilted his head. Ophelia let out an exasperated sigh.
"Ohhh, I thought it was for something else. Who is it with?"
"Lockhart," Harry groaned. Ophelia tried not to laugh and put on her pity face.
"I am so, so, sorry." She covered up a giggle by tensing her lips together. Luckily, Harry shrugged, laughing it off with her. He waved goodbye and began to walk off before stopping short. Ophelia descended one or two stairs before the boy called out to her.
"Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Ophelia looked at the boy in confusion, who turned his head all which ways, looking for something in the corridor. Harry paused for a moment, looking back at Ophelia before shaking his head and rubbing between his eyes.
