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Time and Fate have a daughter named Destiny. Destiny has her mother's ruthlessness and her father's gift to overcome any obstruction in his way. You cannot hide from Fate, you cannot run from Time, and Destiny knew how to find her way. You cannot outrun Destiny.

Ever since Time and Fate fell in love, Time has written stories for fate. Fate who loved tragedies had turned through the pages and laughed. Laughed as he witnessed the eternal tragedy of good people going bad, laughed as he witnessed entire civilizations drowning in blood, laughed as the martyrs looked Death in the eye and greeted him like an old friend. Laughed as Destiny stood by, a somber look on her face, and relief in her eyes as Death brought their children home. His daughter never found tragedies as amicable as himself. Destiny was the mother waiting for her child's homecoming.

But Time had never batted an eyelash for anyone, let alone a mere mortal. She continued on her eternal path, blindfolded, never waiting for anyone. That was why Fate loved her so much. Time was ruthless. And Fate ? Sometimes he was just cruel.

In Ophiuchus's opinion, autumn was a beautiful season. He loved to imagine the conversations of Time and Fate as he watched the once tender and green leaves slowly turn yellow and dry before finally crumpling away with cold and crisp air. He found a certain serenity in the dew washed grass which was the only thing that remained fresh even as the plants shed their leaves. There would always be so much life around before the snow finally came. His mother used to pick up dry leaves and keep it inside the pages of whatever book she was reading. But not everything about autumn was good. He particularly despised the rain that came with the season. But he loved to see the palette of vibrant colours before they finally froze into white when winter arrived. 

He was sitting under a tree, reading a book when the woman in a pink cardigan had approached him. Her short stature and plump body and the obviously fake smile made her look so menacing that Ophiuchus could have puked, but Andromeda had taught him better. If he could tolerate Gilderoy Lockhart for almost an entire year, he was sure he could tolerate Dolores Umbridge for a year as well. After all their Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers never stayed for more than a year.

He was not aware of exactly how much he had underestimated Umbridge's ability to get on people's nerves.

"Mr. Black," she smiled.

"Professor," he greeted  while he stood up, making sure that she noticed the underlying annoyance.

"It appears to me that you clearly lack any interest in Defense Against the Dark Arts,"  Umbridge continued with that same uncanny sweetness in her voice, "Which must've been why you elected to not appear for my class ?"

"Oh on the contrary," he had said tilting his head slightly to avoid her eyes, " I do like that subject when a competent teacher is teaching." He clucked, to avoid rolling his eyes, " You see even our teacher with You-Know-Who on the back of his head assigned the 1st year students a better book."

"Are you claiming to be aware of all the ministry approved guidelines regarding magical education ?"

"Probably," He said, " I hope you are aware of the practical portion of our O.W.L.S ?"

" I'm afraid you've been deeply misguided. If you read the theory well you will have no problem executing a spell practically. One might claim that you are looking to avoid the ministry official. Perhaps you are hiding something ?"

  "Then this particular person certainly has a vivid imagination," he said, a smirk playing across his lips, "Just like Marianne Elmore who'd claimed that the ministry official had almost used an unforgivable curse on her in order to get some information out ?"  

That was what had landed him in detention. Ophiuchus knew well not argue with his professors, except for maybe Professor McGonagall who seemed to really enjoy it. But that did not stop him from making snarky comments here and there. But Professor Umbridge seemed to be particularly fond of giving people detention. Ophiuchus really needed to have a chat with Hermione.

There was darkness lurking around the edge of the town, like black clouds coming from the horizon right before the storm. A storm that would forever change their world as a whole. And almost no one seemed to notice.

 



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