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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"𝐂𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲, 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠,"
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"This way, Slytherins." The Prefect called out from the front of the pack. Gemma was her name. At least, Ophelia thought it was. She paid little attention to the beginning of the tour, nor did she remember how she got this far down into the depths of the castle. She was living in her own little world inside her head, an escape from reality. As they descended lower towards the dungeons, the bricks got darker, and the lights dimmed low. It smelled strongly of wet loam and lake water, though the aromas of several potions brewing from Professor Snape's classroom muted the odours a slight bit more. Pansy Parkinson's shrill cackle interrupted her peaceful thinking, and she looked over her shoulder to see a rather smug Draco, with his two henchmen flanking either side of him.
"As I said, purebloods are the only true inheritors to that crown, and really are the only ones who deserve to go to Hogwarts." He smirked at his friends—followers who nodded in agreement swiftly. Ophelia derided at their daftness but listened as Draco continued on.
"I mean, have you seen that Granger girl? It's tragic, really." That was her breaking point. Sure, harmless gossiping was okay, but when it came to one of her "friends" she couldn't stand by and watch. She whipped around, causing Draco to stop in his tracks.
"Come to join in on the fun, Barrows?" Ophelia shook her head and scowled.
"I've had enough of your blether, Malfoy. Mudbloods deserve to go to Hogwarts as much as you and I." Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes and sharing a look with Goyle.
"I bet Hermione could pass you with flying colours." Ophelia plastered a smug grin on her face, leaving him dumbfounded upon the steps. She caught up to the ground, tuning in on the final rule that Gemma was reciting.
"–never bring another student into our common room. It is forbidden; therefore, you will face the consequences of detention and losing house points for Slytherin. Understood?" She looked through the crowd of eager children before turning to the vault door behind her.
"Pure-blood." Ophelia bit her lip. Of course, that was the password. The bricks peeled backwards, revealing a rather lengthy passageway that led to what she presumed to be the main room. Gasps and murmurs were tossed around the room as the group scrambled their way through the tight passageway. Ophelia placed a hand on the side of the gateway but was rudely bumped into by another first-year girl. She muttered an apology before squeezing past in her excitement. As they reached the end of the hallway, the dank scents of the dungeons began to vanish, replaced with the heavy smell of burning wax and fresh parchment. The room itself was beautiful, with relatively low ceilings and dark-stoned walls, ornamented with portraits of past Slytherins and suspended virescent chandeliers that glow brightly in the green-tinted light from the water-logged windows. She admired the intricate rugs and quilted, leather furniture that fronted the massive, elaborate hearth that held the crackling inferno, and where Gemma had guided the group to the middle of the room.
