Twisted | Tom Riddle

two

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Darkness.

Ophelia was once again consumed in it. But this was a different kind of darkness. A waiting darkness. The type that comes when a train enters a tunnel, traveling through and it somehow becomes darker just before reaching the other side.

Darkness.

Silence.

Waiting.

Anticipation.

The sound of knocking dismissed the scene, causing Ophelia to realize she was sleeping.

Her emerald green eyes scanned her environment and she found herself in a place she swore she'd never return to. Her prison. Her hell. Number 4 Privet Drive. Specifically, the cupboard under the stairs.

But like the darkness, it felt different this time around.

Her small princess figurines were still hidden on the top shelf. Dried flowers she plucked from her aunt's garden when she wasn't looking still hung on the back wall. Bruises still scattered her arms and legs. Everything seemed to be the same.

The small room began to shake, indicating her cousin Dudley stomping down the stairs. As she looked up to where he would be standing, she noticed it. The light in her cupboard was on.

A small smirk came to her lips. This time was going to be different. Much different.

Ophelia looked at the small calendar she had stolen from the Dursley's post and noted the date. July 24th, 1991. The day she received her first Hogwarts letter. She silently thanked Death that she wouldn't have to consciously suffer the abuse her aunt, uncle, and cousin subjected her to.

Quietly, she opened the door to the hallway and picked up the pile of mail that had fallen to the floor in front of the outside door. Ophelia rummaged through it, quickly looking for her letter so she could tuck it away safely in her crawl space.

A postcard from her putrid Aunt Marge. Several bills and notices. At the bottom of the pile, just as she had remembered, she found it.

Miss Ophelia Potter

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

She fought back a smile and slid the letter under her door before making her way to the sitting room where the Dursleys were lounging. She would re-read the contents tonight when the coast was clear and make her escape to Diagon Alley. Then, her plan can begin.

But for now she had to play her role, she couldn't let the Dursley's ruin everything before it had already begun.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

In the dead of night, when she was positive the house was asleep, Ophelia quietly opened the cupboard door and crawled out into the hallway. She played her cards right with her Aunt Petunia earlier that afternoon, asking if she could leave the door unlocked so that she could mop the floors while they were asleep.

She was hesitant at first, but with the assurance that she wouldn't make a sound and that the floors would be dry by the time they awoke the next morning, she reluctantly agreed.

Ophelia stood up, letter in hand, and made the short trek to the front door. She opened the door and paused for just a moment, taking a look at the house that held such horrible memories.