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.
"𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐝..."
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The wind was brittle against Ophelia's face, stinging her eyes and tinging her cheeks with warmth as she made her way down to the Quidditch pitch. She trailed behind a group of older Slytherins, talking cheeky banter about the Gryffindor captain. Wood, was his name. A rather strange one at that. The skies were a clear cerulean blue, though in the distance sterling storm clouds drifted impending. She'd never been to a quidditch match, although Draco talked non-stop about it, especially the British team, Puddlemere. She didn't know much about the game but listened to him anyways.
"Ophelia!" Someone called out to her. She surveyed the ever-growing crowd of students, all flooding their way into the stadium. Eventually, she caught sight of Ron and Hermione, each sporting a knitted Gryffindor scarf and pendants. Flashing a radiant smile at the two, she weaved her way through the crowd to pull them into a hug.
"Hello," She said, craning her head around to look for a certain ocularly-impaired boy through the sea of black robes.
"Where's Harry?"
"He's in the locker room with the rest of the team. We wished him good luck for you," spoke Ron.
"Are you ready to go?" Ophelia nodded quickly, eager to get out of the cold and tucked her hands into her robe pockets, following after Hermione towards the admission gate. They planted themselves at the back of the cue, only to immediately be shoved forwards by a group of rowdy Hufflepuffs. Ron fell forward, causing Ophelia to crash her face into the back of the person before of her. Rubbing her sore nose, she apologized profusely, moving back a few steps. The person in front of her turned around, revealing themselves to be the same Ravenclaw boy she bumped into on Hallowe'en. He raised an eyebrow and smirked.
"Hello, again." He chuckled. Ophelia blushed gently, thinning her lips into a flat simper. Now that she could see him in daylight, his features even more defined. His ears poked out more than usual, flushed in the brisk air, giving him a rather charming, elfish look. His crooked nose was lovely, and his pallid skin spotless that contrasted his sapphire netted scarf that hung around his neck. He was attractive, though he appeared much older than she was. Realizing she was staring too long, jolting out of her trance, she replied.
"Hi," She stuck out a hand, which he graciously accepted, shaking it lightly.
"Jonah Nettle. Second-year." Oh, he wasn't that much older.
