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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬."
☾⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☽
Tomorrow was Draco's first quidditch game. By the end of lunch, Ophelia felt butterflies in her stomach as she watched Draco be dismissed from their final block of Defense Against the Dark Arts to get some early practice in with the team. With everything that had been going on; The Chamber of Secrets, Harry's voices, and Draco's gloating, even if he wasn't the heir to Slytherin, watching a quidditch match would be a break from all the fear and worry.
Draco hadn't said a word to Ophelia about the heir, and it seemed to be all she wanted to talk about, she couldn't get it off her mind, and it frustrated her to no end. By the end of class, Ophelia was so fed up with Lockhart's theatrical smile and agonizing ego that she snapped her book shut with a loud thwap as soon as he said: "dismissed."
As she pulled her bookbag's strap over her head, Ophelia watched Hermione approach the professor's desk, a small slip of paper clenched in one hand, the other wrung tightly around her satchel's band. The mousy girl stuck out the parchment rather rigidly, her elbow pointing outwards in an awkward fashion. Then, of course, the jubilant professor happily signed, plucking one of his towering peacock quills to write that fluttered in the air as his hand swiped across the paper quickly. Hermione snatched the slip away once the professor had barely finished and pivoted rather freakishly towards the door. She was up to no good.
Now eagerly curious, Ophelia followed Hermione out the door, who had met up with Ron and Harry, who she suspected had been waiting for the brunette girl. The two boys flanked her, walking quickly to wherever they needed to be, and Ophelia followed quickly after. As she walked through the halls, Ophelia kept looking over her shoulder, hoping that no one would notice that she was following the three Gryffindors. But, to her surprise, the three turned sharply into the library and walked straight to the librarian's desk, where Madam Pince was. Unfortunately, her desk was at head height for them, so Hermione had to stand on her tippy toes to place the piece of parchment in front of the black-robed witch. Madam Pince had a tall, towering hat adorned with feathers and wrapped with a mix of olive and bottle green netting, which made her stand out at administrators' table during mealtime. She was a stoic woman of about fifty with sharp features, her cheekbones cutting across her face and connecting in a slim-lipped simper. As Ophelia walked into the library, she watched the older woman point towards the opposite end of the vast room, which was lined with shelves and shelves of books that all floated around themselves and organized in an orderly fashion.
"The restricted section is that way, dears."
Ophelia paused for a moment, stopping in her tracks and staring after the three, who quickly made work of getting over to the restricted section without causing too much commotion.
"Is there anything I can help you with, dear?"
Ophelia turned her head towards the librarian, who was staring down at Ophelia from her tall desk. Ophelia shook her head no accordingly and made her way towards the back of the library. The restricted section... Why? What in the world would they need something there for? Deciding to try and be as inconspicuous as possible, Ophelia chose to weave in between the shelves, all of their bindings inscribed with gold and silver lettering, organized by author, subject, and naturally, alphabetized. Like her father's study at home, Ophelia would read each book by section depending on its first letter. By the time she was eight, she had finished sections A through G. Though, when it had got to "X," "Y," and "Z," it got harder to understand, as most of the books were in old, runic languages that she didn't understand.
As she waltzed through the sections, Ophelia made sure to keep out of sight of the three Gryffindors. She watched as Harry unlatched the rope that blocked off the area, holding up a sign that wrote in intricately painted but fading words that said "RESTRICTED SECTION." She settled down at a table, just one table away from the area, leaving an empty table that the three could sit down at and discuss while she could eavesdrop from behind a bookshelf. Waiting for the three to return, Ophelia skimmed the section that she had sat down in, shelves lined with shades of maroon and blue and green covers. Some had a proudly smiling wizard on the back with various drawings on the fronts, but there wasn't anything too interesting that she could find to flip through. Luckily, Harry and Ron and Hermione had returned quickly, with a girthy book in tow. Just as she planned, the three sat down at the empty table that Ophelia had set up for them. So she wouldn't look strange, she grabbed a random book from the shelf to look down into when Ron lifted his head to look around the room.
"-you sure this is the right book, Hermione?" Harry asked.
"Of course I am! I'm sure it's here..." Hermione spoke, flipping through the pages rapidly. Ophelia peered through the shelves, watching as the mousy Gryffindor tore through a large, black book, silver lettering that she could make out to be Moste Potente Potions, and its pages littered with rather unpleasant illustrations. One particular one that Ophelia glanced at for just a moment was a wizard covered in blue, oozing boils all over his face and body. She knew why this book was in the restricted section now.
"Here!" Hermione whisper-shouted, just loud enough for Ophelia to hear. The girl placed both of her palms on the book, at the top of the page was perfectly printed script:
"Polyjuice Potion..." Ron spoke slowly, attempting to read upside down from the opposite side of the table. Ophelia was puzzled. She'd heard the name before but had no clue what it did, so she listened closer.
"A complex and time-consuming concoction... enablers the consumer to assume the physical appearance of another person... in order to transform, the brewer is required to obtain a piece of the individuals body; toenail clippings, dandruff, but most commonly used is hair... effect of the potion is only temporary... depending on how well brewed the potion is, the effects can last from ten minutes to twelve hours..." Ophelia listened carefully, listening to Hermione drawl on about the confusing and complicated brewing steps and ingredients that they needed. But why would they need to morph into different people? And who would willingly give a strand of hair or toenail clipping unless it was just taken? She had so many questions.
