Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I also do not own the classical music pieces listed in this chapter. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. I have no beta-reader so if you noticed any errors, please let me know so I can fix them as soon as possible.
So this chapter, I introduced two new characters in a different setting and such. Without giving everything away, I hope I was respectful of the Navajo culture. I really tried to keep it respectful. This chapter is more of Ophelia's journey after everything that happened so far in the year 1944. I think next chapter, I'll focus on 1945 and certain events during then.
Also sorry for the late update, my schedule at work is ever changing and as much as I'd like to quit-I got a dog to support and bills to pay.
Hopefully, you guys enjoy the chapter. I want to say thank you to those readers who leave reviews and favorite and follow this series. It shows me that people are interested this story and that I should continue. Please,please,please leave some reviews if you can! Thank you!
January 21, 1944
Colorado was nothing like Ophelia was expecting. In her mind's eye, she thought all parts of America looked like either Hollywood or New York. She did like how pretty the sky looked early in the dusty morning.
The British witch looked around her settings, she had never been on what was called a 'Navajo Reservation' but she did try to be very mindful of the Natives' home. Poppa had already warned Ophelia the Navajo people, their non-magic wielders and those who were called Medicine Men (who Ophelia supposed was the witches and wizards) might not have all too happy that they were there.
Right now, Ophelia and Gregory Darwin were in a medium sized house, inside a quaint little sitting space with an elderly Navajo member. Ophelia's eyes studied their host: from her long braided hair intertwined with shades of gray, white, and a soft black; the beautiful beaded earrings she wore, the wrinkles on her face were minimal but from her eyes-Ophelia could tell this woman had gone through more than enough of life experience.
She watched quietly as an older Navajo woman said something to Gregory Darwin in her native tongue. The older woman who had not given her name to Ophelia had her hands pressed on either side of Poppa's face; her voice growing louder as she spoke. A light orange aura surrounded the old British wizard before it faded into nothing.
The Navajo elder removed her hands from Gregory Darwin, moved over to Ophelia, placed her hands on either side of the young woman's face and she spoke in a whisper before allowing her voice to boom.
A little gasp almost ran through Ophelia's lips, as a sensation of energy pulsed through her muscles with a cold touch. Like her grandfather, a light green aura also radiated off her body before it disappeared.
The old woman released her hold on Ophelia and stepped back. No smile was on her face, but she did a slight nod of stern approval. "My name is Ruth." The Navajo woman kept her gaze on Ophelia. "I will show you the ways of my people and you will show us respect."
Ophelia did not take Ruth's tone of voice as cold, rude, or cruel even. "I understand, totally and completely." Instead, Ophelia took Ruth's voice as dignified, controlled, and willing to let a British witch learn a thing or two.
Ruth walked away from the sitting room and into the kitchen of her house. She came back with a faded brown wicker basket with frayed handled tightly gripped in her hand and an oxhide leather satchel hanging from her shoulders.
"Here." Ruth offered the basket to Ophelia, her voice held such an authority. "Follow me, listen to what I teach, and do not ask a question directly after I've taught you one thing. You must wait for the next thing I teach you."
Ophelia grabbed the basket gently, she nodded her head. Note to self: try not to talk Ruth's ear off.
Ruth looked over to Gregory Darwin, "If you want to go sightseeing, go to my brother next door and he will show you around."
Poppa smiled. "I was hoping to go fishing today. Any water close by these parts?"
Ruth arched an eyebrow at the British man. "Go next door and ask."
Poppa shrugged as he apparated off and away from the two witches. A good natured smile was on his face. "If I catch any fish, let's have some for dinner shall we?"
A low and deep yet short hum echoed from Ruth's throat. Her eyes were closed gently.
Ophelia quietly stepped forward to the Navajo woman, she placed her fair toned hand over Ruth's medium tawny colored hand. The former Hufflepuff student wasn't sure if she was supposed to speak or not.
Ruth's humming stopped, she opened her eyes, and took a light breath of fresh air in. "Come with me out to the meadows. Hopefully, you have a good understanding of nature."
Ophelia kept her overwhelming sense of disappointment to herself. Everyone knew 'understanding nature' was code for 'herbology'.
Tom Riddle looked at the grandfather clock that ticked away in the advanced potions classroom, it was late in the afternoon. He already knew the course material Slughorn had covered, but he didn't give a rat's ass about it.
Tom had always been great at displaying self-control, it was something he had to learn at a young age when to let his impulses out and when not to. He was getting impatient, restless, but most of all he was getting angry.
Every little thing irked him beyond reasoning. A wrong look from Dolohov; a stupid comment from Lestrange; Nott's inability to get anything into his thick skull as it went into one ear and out the other. Malfoy's own commitments to his actual studies even irritated Tom.
They don't have the slightest idea, Tom thought as he blocked out Slughorn's lecture. As to what loyalty is or how to properly obey and listen to orders. Tom was going to make sure that even one, just one, insignificant look, comment, or whatever shit those pure-bloods gave him tonight they'd learn to never do it again.
March 22, 1944
"Did I get it right this time?" Ophelia held up a rolled bundle filled with herbs and plants up to Ruth. Her hopes were high; Ophelia was almost certain she had gotten it right this time but then again Ophelia thought that got it right the first ten times she tried.
It was admittedly harder than Ophelia expected. There was a big sense of purpose when doing the things Ruth taught. Everything from the herbs, where they were found, the chants that needed to be said as they were prepared: Ophelia had to remember in order for her to get anything right, any spell, any potion Ruth was teaching, to remember the purpose and focus on her own intent on making sure that purpose was fulfilled.
Ruth took the bundle gently out of the foreign witch's hand. First, she brought it up to her nose and took in a deep breath to inhale the scent of the rolled bundle. Ruth hummed and she gave the bundle back to Ophelia.
"Well?" Ophelia tried not to sound too eager to get an answer out of the Navajo woman she came to respect so deeply.
"Its shit." Ruth answered in her ever so dignified and regal tone.
"Oh…" Ophelia frowned but her hands went back into the wicker basket that still had all the herbs and plants she needed to make another one. "I'll try again."
"Its shit," Ruth repeated again. "But this shit will do." A small smile, if one could even call it a smile, lasted on Ruth's face for only a fraction of a second. "I still want you to make another one."
Without arguing or feeling sorry for herself, Ophelia immediately went to work. I am going to get it perfect this time. Hope fluttered in Ophelia's chest, and a calm self assurance filled her soul as Ruth hummed and sang away.
I will get this perfect.
Somewhere on the Navajo reservation, Gregory Darwin was out and about with Ruth's brother, Matthew, hiking out and away from any magic lessons.
Margo sat down at the dinner table, poking at her food. Everytime an owl flew overhead, the blonde witch would look up.
William reviewed his notes for Arithmancy. The Russian's eyes were glazed over with boredom, but he had to keep reminding himself that he only had to be a Hogwarts student for a small while longer.
Peter was the only one at the moment capable of eating dinner, even if it was just tomato soup.
A small group of owls flew over their heads again, Margo looked up once more. There was a twisting in her gut.
Please, please, please. Margo whined in her head. Please let there be a letter for me. Please, please!
A little owl, one that neither of the Hufflepuffs had seen before dropped a rectangular box in between the group.
Margo nearly screamed with happiness. "Pipa remembered to write to us!" The Blaine heiress said that every time they got a letter or a package from their friend.
William was the first to grab the package and tear into it, he was so glad a distraction came to him. There were three objects in the box, three very unique objects William had never seen. His eyes flicked with confusion as he pulled object out and shoved the box over to Peter. "How neat," William said out loud. He admired the feathers that hung from a perfect circle, which had intricate pattern weaved inside it.
Peter immediately dug into the box, he was sure there was a note William ignored. He pulled out a piece of paper from the box, it was hiding on the sides, and read it out loud. "To my friends: Margo, William, and Peter. These are called Dream Catchers. Hang them above your heads when you sleep tonight, they are supposed to keep bad dreams away and only allow the good dreams to trickle down to the feathers and unto you." Peter took a pause before he read the next sentence. "I worked really hard to makes these for you-I had to redo each Dream Catcher at least eight times before I got the first one right. I miss you all and love you all. Best regards, Pipa."
Margo took one Dream Catcher and sat it by Peter. She took the last one out of the box and happily declared it for herself.
The blonde witch admired the details of the woven work within the circle. Margo smiled as she ran her fingers over the pattern. "Pipa is doing so good out in the world, don't you two agree?"
March 27, 1944
Tom Riddle was irked. 'Irked' was not the best way to describe how much anger and frustration was festering inside of him.
"This is fucking ridiculous." Tom muttered under his breath as Dippet began to list off morning announcements.
"In addition to expanding the restricted area of the library, intensive studies in Defense of the Dark Arts-I have decided, as headmaster, that apparition within Hogwart grounds for the time being is prohibited." Dippet took a breath while a chorus of upset groans and whines erupted all around. "The current sixth years have already completed their tests and licensing, so until next year comes about with new sixth level students-no apparition on school grounds."
The Slytherin pinched the bridge of his nose. Ophelia wasn't even in Hogwarts anymore, yet she somehow managed to stick a thorn in his side.
"You give one half-blood a wand," Tom muttered. "Then she makes a little bit of a scene, and everyone tries to limit a little bit of everything." Perhaps, if the illusion of rules made everyone feel safe-Hogwarts would stay up and running. So maybe, just maybe, Ophelia didn't stick a thorn into Tom's side.
March 29, 1944
Ophelia's eyes watered and she pulled her hands away from Ruth's face. Heat radiated off her hands, small burn marks were painted on Ophelia's palms. The burns on her hands hurt, and each time she failed to get the spell right they grew bigger and stung more that the first few failed attempts.
Ruth narrowed her eyes at the British witch. "Find the center of your soul before you try to dig into another's." The Navajo woman grabbed Ophelia's hands, eyeing the damage carefully. "Your mind wanders too much and that disconnect between mind and soul will hurt you."
"That's the way she's always been," Gregory Darwin was lying comfortably on the long couch in the sitting room. "Ophelia, the day dreamer."
"My mind was focused." Ophelia sighed, "But then I didn't know exactly what I was supposed to be focused on first, the center of my soul then yours. I thought maybe I supposed to find your soul first then mine."
Matthew, Ruth's brother, shook his head. He sat on a recliner a little bit away from the long couch in the sitting room. "Find your center first, then the person's."
"Okay, okay, okay." Ophelia traced an aching finger over her burnt palm. "Can I redo that please?"
"Your hand is going to fry, take a break." Ruth placed a hand over Ophelia's shoulder. "Follow me into the kitchen, your hands need cold water."
"I didn't know trying to sense another person's soul would be hard," Ophelia told Ruth as her burns were being tended to.
Ruth chuckled. "A soul is a very personal thing, things that are personal usually are hard." She placed a rag soaked in cold water over the young witch's hands. "Some people don't like the thought of their soul being sensed-some people don't like the thought of someone knowing their true colors."
Ophelia took the cold rag off her hands and dried them on her skirt. "Please," Ophelia held her hands up close to the Ruth. "Let me try one more time."
"Oh, honey." Ruth put the cold rag back over Ophelia's hands. "No."
Ophelia sighed and hummed and then her mind go off somewhere beyond where she physically was.
Her mind drifted off, over to England, close to her family home on the country, then finally her mind landed on Hogwarts.
"Ruth?"
"Hm?"
"Please, just once more?"
Ruth sighed, "Just this once more."
Ophelia dried her hands on her skirt once more, and place her hands on either side of Ruth's face. She closed her dull green eyes, slowed her breathing pace down and relaxed her muscles.
An electric echo inched throughout Ophelia's muscles, the sensation left a cold chill all around her senses. Ophelia took in another breath and did her best to recite the spell in the Navajo language, each word was filled with respect and careful pronunciation.
The British witch opened her eyes and allowed her breathing pace to go back to normal.
A blinding white aura beamed from Ruth's body.
Ophelia took her hands off from Ruth's face, and stepped back from nearly being blinded. "I did it!"
Ruth rolled her eyes at the teen, a small part of the Navajo woman almost wanted to admit that maybe Ophelia was a likeable kid. The older woman was definitely going to miss the brunette with palest set of green eyes she ever saw.
April 15, 1944
Ophelia looked over at the watch that was on her wrist, she still had it set to Colorado's time zone. She scratched the side of her head, Ophelia was either seven hours late or seven hours early. The former Hogwarts student sat in the Three Broomsticks waiting for her friend, she had already helped herself to four servings of butterbeer by putting it on William's running tab.
Her hair was pulled into a tight and low braid and she wore a plain white blouse with a long, black circle skirt. The table around her surrounded with three empty beer mugs, with three empty chairs.
The door chimed as it opened, Ophelia smiled, stood up from her chair, and waved at a pretty blonde witch. "Margo!"
"Pipa!" Margo ran over and embraced her friend. "It's so good to see you!"
"Sorry we're late." Peter's voice was gentle as he pulled a seat out for himself. "I overslept."
"I see you've gotten comfortable without us." William's voice chimed in happily. "Now, let's start with food, get everyone even more comfortable."
Ophelia smiled and sat settled back down into her chair, she turned her attention to Peter. "How's life in Hogwarts, classes, and whatnot?" She teased. "Breathing is stale air and roaming in pretty corridors."
Peter rolled his eyes but a smile was there. "You know, not too long ago you were so hurt at being expelled. Now you love to rub it in our faces that you don't have to go here."
"Yes," Ophelia nodded her head in agreement. "No more exams, test, essays, quizes, or anything else for me."
"Really? Then how do you learn anything at all, Ophelia-dearest."
Margo looked over to the source of the voice. "Tom, hello?" She looked over to Ophelia, "I didn't know you invited Tom as well to this little get together."
I didn't invite him, actually. Ophelia looked over to Peter and William, her smile not as big as before. She tensed up and drank up the reminder of her butterbeer. Her mind calculated her next decision.
Tom sat down next to her, he leaned in close to her but stayed still and reserved. He was lucky, he caught a glimpse of her in the window while he was walking around Hogsmeade. It was like Tom's heart expanded a small bit at the sight of her, the wonderful scent of cinnamon was all too familiar to his senses.
The heir of Slytherin wanted to say he missed the half-blooded witch, but he didn't. The words never came out.
"Excuse me." Ophelia stood up and stepped away from the table, she looked at the watch on her wrist. "I lost track of the time, now I am going to be late. I have to go if I want to make it on time still."
A sad look came on Margo's face. "Do you really? I know we were late but-."
"Sorry," Ophelia interrupted as she already began walking away from the table. "I really have to go. Family related event, my mum wants me home now."
Tom Riddle saw through Ophelia Darwin's lie, he almost always could...He never thought though, that Ophelia would be so cold and brash towards him. The heir of Slytherin watched as Ophelia walked away from him and the home he found in Hogwarts.