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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"𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬?"
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The hustling and bustling of King's Cross Station was placid, the many muggle suburbanites unaware of the countless children who would pass through that barrier between platforms nine and ten. Blissfully unaware of the enchanting world of witches and wizards that was just under their noses. Ophelia held her cloak close to her body, shielding herself from the coming month's polar winds. Her mother and father in tow, they arrived at their ostensibly fictitious destination. She smirked casually, glancing up at the bulky timepiece that was closing in on quarter to eleven. Only minutes to go. The trio stopped in front of the masoned column, the wheels on her trolley squeaking to a halt. She glanced back at her mother, who only nodded and pushed her forward a little bit more.
"Well, go on then." Ophelia studied the column again. It seemed completely solid! Surely she would just crash into it and land on her back. Her father chimed in.
"Come on, we don't have all day now, do we?" She shook her head and gradually made her way forwards. She shut her eyes tight and held her hands out in front of her, attempting to block the cold brick from breaking her nose. Gaining momentum, she anticipated the wall, but it never came; only the muted pop when she stumbled through the barrier.
A loud whistle was heard, including the release of steam. Ophelia's eye popped open as she whirled around. There it was: The Hogwarts Express. It looked quite magical, with its vermillion and sable colouring, complimented with gilded lettering and the school crest atop it. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from squealing for joy. The train whistled again—ten minutes until departure. She spun around, almost knocking herself over when she made contact with her cart.
"Is everything accounted for?" Her mother asked. Ophelia checked again. Her trunk was labelled with her initials, including her weathered chest of books. There was her snakeskin satchel, cauldron, and her owl Apollo. The rest of her items were crowded inside her suitcase. She nodded quickly at her mother before returning her gaze to the train. It was better than she had ever imagined. She leaned down and took her trunk, digging through it until she found what she was looking for: her copy of Magical Theory. Weaving her way through the packed crowds, there were parents waving goodbye to their children, giving final words of assurance, and good luck. It was Ophelia's turn to do the same.
