Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. If I used any music or poems or any other medium you may have noticed from pop culture or music/books I do not own that source. I do not own the song used in this chapter!
I have no beta-reader so if you noticed any errors, please let me know so I can fix them as soon as possible.
This series is rated 'M' for a reason-there is a brief scene that has tones of domestic abuse (even if it is slight.)
Thank you to everyone who reads my story-I didn't think, when I first wrote this, that many people would care for it. So I want to take the time to say I appreciate those who read and enjoy this series. Thank you all for reviews you've all been dropping for me. I appreciate it. It keeps me motivated to write and update on this series of mine-it lets me know people are interested and want to see what happens. Please review if you can, let me know what you all think! Thanks again!
November 9, 1948
"Sorry, I stayed until the morning." Ophelia rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she tried to sit up from the impromptu bed she made out of the living room couch. "Thank you again for dinner and the carrot cake and the wine afterwards."
Hermia huffed and waved the girl off; she held out a glass of water towards the younger girl. She hadn't had company stay over since her husband passed three months ago and her children and grandchildren weren't due to see her until Christmas. "It's not good to roam alone, especially at night. The forest can guide you back but the eyes like to play tricks."
"Yes, I know-you mentioned." Ophelia took the glass from Hermia and took a long sip. As a child, going off strangers was a big thing NOT to do. I'll be sure to leave this portion out of my next letter to Mum and Dad... Maybe Poppa might find humor in this. The brunette recounted how normal and pleasant her chance encounter with the older woman went. Perhaps the only thing Ophelia was rather freaked out were the instructions she was given when traveling through the forest-and she'd heard that from Hermia at least fifty times now.
Hermia's tired hazel eyes scanned the witch who still sat comfortably in her home. "So you're looking for the Bardhi family, correct?"
"Yes!" Ophelia's eyes lit up. "Well, not me specifically but my-eh-but Tom is looking for them."
"Hm."
"Do you know anything about them?" Ophelia asked. "I know I mentioned that last night-."
"Yes, yes." Hermia raised a hand up in the air to get the brunette to stop talking. "But I am afraid I'll have to inform you that the last person by the name Bardhi who lived here die of consumption at age nineteen-."
"Were they a female?"
Hermia let out a chuckle. "No, a male. Roger Bardhi was an only child, fancied his drinks more than company. On the rare occasion if he wanted company trust me dear-it wasn't with pretty women. He's also been dead for over forty years."
Ophelia's eyes no longer lit up; there was an inexplicably slow and sinking feeling hooking itself deep, deep into her muscles and it filled her with a budding seed of anxiety. "Oh...I see."
"Your wizard friend-he's lied to you, maybe? Men, wizards or muggles, always lie especially the handsome ones." A petty sentence then escaped the white haired woman's lips. "My advice to you-marry a solid seven. I did and I was happily married for fifty-eight years."
Oh fuck! How did she know? Ophelia was about to open her mouth to protest the notion of magic and witches and wizards but Hermia merely held her out in the air again to keep the brunette from speaking.
"My husband and I attended Durmstrang when we were young. That's how we met." Hermia sighed. "If I had a time turner… I'd want one more day with that fool I married."
"Excuse me, but how would you know that I am a witch?" The brunette wasn't eager to share in a trip down 'Reminiscing Road' and straight on through 'Memory Lane' with the older woman about dead husbands right now! How did she get me to admit anything about witches and wizards?
"Easy, I drugged all the drinks with Veritaserum last night and listened as you spilled every little secret you had in that pretty head of yours."
That was possibly the most invading and terrifying thing the brunette heard. Ophelia's eyes widened as she suddenly tensed. Fuuuck me!
"Tsk." Hermia rolled her hazel eyes at the completely blank and frozen face of her guest. "Your wand, child. You pulled your wand and lit a cigarette with it when you thought I was cleaning up in the kitchen."
Ophelia put a hand over her heart to make sure she was still alive and that 'joke' hadn't sent her into cardiac arrest. "Oh, shite."
"Getting back to the topic though," Hermia's raspy voice took a serious tone. "The man who bought you the flowers-be careful, Ophelia. Whatever it is he came here for, it isn't to find some long lost relative, if he even has any."
A look concern took over Ophelia's face. Tom always did have a way of being sneaky and she knew for a fact he could charm and manipulate out of any situation...but what did he get out lying to Ophelia? To have her spend some time with him?
No...couldn't be that. A cold feeling ran up her spin, it pulled up a memory she had been repressing. The memory of feeling isolated and empty as she peered into Tom's soul. Terrible things...Souls don't turn dark on their own...A lot of terrible things have to be done first.
Ophelia opened her mouth but paused before fully asking her question. She had to think for a brief moment if Albania had anything to offer Tom-when she couldn't find the answer herself that is when she asked Hermia. "Is there anything about Albania, this part specifically, that I should know about?"
Hermia rolled her eyes at the child. "Took you long enough to ask me." She eyes the witch carefully, her eyes landing on the pocket of her dress. "Give me a smoke and meet me in the kitchen for tea and I'll tell you what I know."
Tom Riddle didn't have time to sit around and mope over some dirty, half-blood, filth of a witch to return back to the cottage. Nor did he care enough to make time to go out and find her-he wasn't Ophelia's damned keeper.
Why should I even care? I can figure it out on my own-what good is Ophelia anyhow? She's only had three friends her whole life, how would that make her any more approachable and sociable than a dog?...Hell, a dog would probably be more useful than her-I could have the dog fuckin' sniff out Ravenclaw's diadem if possible...
Tom scoffed as he went for another round of asking the townsfolk if they knew anything. This time he took to asking farmers, grocers, teachers, and the everyday group of men who went to and from their little office jobs and their homes.
He pinched the bridge of his nose as he realized he was starting to run out of options; so much to a point where he found himself back at cottage, in the office, writing a damn letter to his Death Eaters if they knew more than the muggles who lived in town of Vermosh.
In total, Tom only sent three letters. One for Malfoy, one for Dolohov, and one for Lestrange. Nott, Rosier, and Avery while more useful now as they'd gotten older were busy pushing Lord Voldemort's (i.e. Tom's) views on other pure-bloods.
The whole day Tom felt on edge and now as he sat in his office, at a desk, with nothing but quiet echoing all around him and it made him restless. What can I do? He thought angrily to himself as he noted how he made zero progress since yesterday. Nothing! Not a damn thing! You have no information, no starting point to get the end goal.
A little cracking sound snapped Tom out his thoughts, a groan of irritation escaped the handsome man's lips. Without meaning to, his magic got the best of him and the little inkwell on the desk shattered into pieces and ink splattered all over the surface.
"Shit." Tom backed away, pulled his wand out and with no other words coming out his mouth, he moved his wand through the air. The little inkwell fixed itself like it was brand new.
Whether or not the lack of Ophelia's presence at the moment added to Tom's whole attitude for the day was up for debate, but it did get the handsome man to leave the office and head back to the room the female was supposed to be in.
He'd already check her room when he woke up in the morning, right before he headed out to town. Tom knew in his head and heart Ophelia's room would be lacking Ophelia, but what her room didn't lack were her belongings.
Ophelia's suitcase on the edge of her bed, empty opened only to reveal a faux bottom. She'd used an extension charm. There was a slight relief on the Dark Lord's end to know that while Ophelia might have been somewhat decent (barely, in his eyes) student in Hogwarts, it seemed like she was better at applying magic out in the real world.
Tom walked into her room and again, with no qualms or even the slightest notion that maybe Ophelia wanted privacy, and stuck a hand through the bottom of the suitcase. At the tip of his fingers, he mainly felt fabric. He shifted his hand over the right and brushed his hand over what felt like a spine of a book.
A diary perhaps? He pulled the item out only to see a book written by a muggle author, William Shakespeare. Hamlet? He opened the book and flipped through the pages, there were no scribbles in Ophelia's handwriting.
"Useless." Tom tossed the book onto the bed. He plunged another hand back into Ophelia's suitcase. At first all he could feel was fabric of more clothing. Tom was shoulders deep in the suitcase before his hand felt like it landed on a handle. With a quick pull, Tom found himself holding a portable gramophone. "How trivial."
He laid it carefully on the bed and opened it; there were no records placed in the gramophone so Tom spent about an extra fifteen minutes more digging in the half-blooded witch's suitcase until he found one.
He placed the record on the portable gramophone and placed the the needle on to hear a song.
"...The crowd sees me out dancing, carefree and romancing, happy with my someone new. I'm laughing on the outside, crying on the inside, cause I'm still in love with you…"
Interest concept-too bad it's a muggle song.
"...They see me night and daytime, having such a gay time, they don't know what I go through. I'm laughing on the outside, crying on the inside, cause I'm still in love with you…"
Yet with how useless and trivial Tom Riddle found the two items in Ophelia's possession were, the heir of Slytherin let the muggle music play through the cottage as he found himself looking through the muggle book. It's not like he had anything else more productive to do.
For all the heir of Slytherin knew, the half blooded witch was more productive than him.
If it's been mentioned once, it's probably been mentioned at least ten other times by now-Ophelia loathed forests. Why she originally wandered off into one in the first place was because there was a destination in mind-there was a located at the end of that first walk.
Hiking through the forests of Vermosh, Albania with no guaranteed destination in mind or even as to a rough time estimate on how long it took to get where-the fuck-ever only reminded the brunette how much she hated forests.
She had to bite her tongue down as to keep herself from asking Hermia if they were any closer to what the older woman wanted to show the younger one. Blisters were forming on the young witch's feet but if older witch wasn't going to complain then neither would Ophelia. It bring up a question however.
"Are you positive-one hundred percent sure-we cannot apparate to wherever it is we have to go?" Ophelia stopped and placed her hands on her knees and took a deep breath. They'd been walking uphill for roughly three miles.
Hermia paused, put a hand up to a tree closest to her and mumbled into its bark.
Ophelia inched closer and listened intently. She heard Hermia mutter to the tree: 'Could you give us a quicker way to what we seek?' Without even a second going by, a chorus of twigs cracking and leaves rattling in the wind was all Ophelia could hear.
"Come on." Hermia clapped her hands at Ophelia. "I've asked the trees for a short cut!"
"What in the actual bloody hell?" Ophelia whispered to herself as she trudged along. Maybe my mind is playing a trick on me...but I could have sworn… She looked over her shoulders as she hurried to stand by Hermia. I could have sworn some of the trees moved.
The tree Hermia muttered too was no longer in the spot it was once was. Ophelia could understand an enchanted forest...but why was it enchanted?
"So a young woman died here?" Ophelia was trying to piece the some information together from what the older woman told her earlier during tea time.
"Murdered-she was murdered here." Hermia had no issue walking and talking as they ventured off. "Her lover did her in."
That sent shivers down Ophelia's spine and the hair on her skin prickled up. "But she did die here? In these woods?"
"Ophelia, keep up please. I thought we've already established that part." Hermia stopped walking and pointed at a tree that was only five feet away from them. "See that?"
It's hard not to miss. Ophelia narrowed her eyes to a point where she looked angry; it didn't look out of the ordinary. "It's a tree." As much as Ophelia wanted to see what was so 'different' or attention grabbing about the tree Hermia seemed so excited about-there was no way to distinguish it from any other tree in the forest.
It didn't look dark with rotten roots or bare branches that twisted every direction. Where this tree stood, it looked healthy. Green leaves, strong trunk, and it was tall enough to nearly blot out the sun.
"No." Hermia took the younger witch's hand and walked closer to this particular tree; it felt like a grip a mother would have on her child. "Touch it."
Ophelia wasn't curious and more scared at that moment, her mind process that as fear but her body didn't make the connection. She moved her hand up to the tree with expectation of feeling wood with rough imprints on the skin of the bark; a gasp escaped her mouth when her hand went right through.
She yanked her hand out of the tree and looked at Hermia. Trees weren't supposed to do that! Or at least, a person shouldn't have been able to put their hand through a tree. "Did you cast some spell before I got here? Is this your doing?"
Hermia shook her from one side to other slowly, to signal that she hadn't used any spell.
Ophelia said nothing as she took a small minute to take the whole situation in. Magic was definitely being used in the forest, but it wasn't Hermia's and it sure as hell wasn't Ophelia's either.
With a shaky hand Ophelia reached back in, amazed at how hollow the tree actually was compared to how it looked. Her fingers brushed against something cold; a yelp nearly escaped her lips but she refrained from making any sounds. Ophelia gripped the item lightly and yanked it out of the tree.
In her hand, a silver tiara with the deepest blue sapphire and on it was etched a quote.
Ophelia looked at Hermia, to the silver wreath in her hand, back to Hermia. The half-blooded witch was stunned, unsure if the events happening at the moment were real or made up.
"Hermia…" Ophelia's mind was reeling. "When you say a young woman died here-you forgot to mention she was-."
"A pure-blood, Ravenclaw's daughter?" Hermia took the diadem out of Ophelia's hand and placed it back into the tree. "Do you know how many witches and wizards from Hogwarts have come to Albania and sought out Ravenclaw's diadem? More than I can remember and more than I care to count."
Ophelia heard the sound of twigs breaking and leaves on branches shaking once again, this time she could have sworn even the dirt beneath her feet shifted slightly. She looked to where the tree that Ravenclaw's diadem was only to find like earlier, the trees moved. This time Ophelia was sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her.
"Why did you bring me here? If other students have been here what makes me so special?" Ophelia stayed in her spot in front of Hermia. Yes, the brunette knew about the whole Helena Ravenclaw thing. Yes, she knew about the diadem missing too. Did she know Albania was where these events took place-no. Did she have an ulterior motive to claim the diadem for herself-again, no.
Was it her fault for not being perceptive enough to put two and two together when Hermia said a woman died by her lover in the forest-it was a possible maybe.
"You're not out for fame and glory are you, Ophelia?" Hermia gave a gentle pat on the girl's shoulder. "You have an honest enough face with hands that show you mean no harm."
"I don't really understand what that means when you phrase it like that, Hermia." Ophelia thought it sounded sweet but why too poetic and abstract for her to understand right away. "It's a good thing though, right?"
Hermia nodded her head slightly up and down to sign 'yes' at the witch in her presence. "It means I can trust you to put it back where it belongs! This responsibility of keeping Ravenclaw's diadem hidden will no longer be mine!"
"Then why didn't you lead someone else to find the diadem in the first place?" Ophelia frowned. "Couldn't anyone have done?"
Hermia frowned back. "Anyone? No, you don't want anyone coming into these woods and finding something that could make them a worse person. Wisdom is neither evil nor good. It all depends on who wears it." A raspy chuckle came from the older woman. "You didn't even bother to put it on your head when you saw the diadem. I can trust only you to put give it back to Hogwarts before you go."
This is a lot to process...Ophelia sighed and began to twirl her hair. "So you think this is what Tom lied to me about? He is still an orphan with no family and is only seeking-." Ophelia was going to point at the tree that held the diadem in its trunk but she forgotten it had vanished. "He is seeking that?"
Hermia shook her head; the former Hufflepuff student finally got it. "I told you," The older woman said. "All men are liars. This one lied to you."
"You know this is all," Ophelia threw her hands up in the air, "a lot for me to handle."
"Imagine how I've felt." Hermia replied. "I'm old, I want it off my hands."
Ophelia kept to herself as they walked back towards Hermia's cozy home in the woods. Why would Tom lie about his intentions? Why would does he even care about Ravenclaw's diadem any how?...How would I even approach him about any of this? A cold chill ran up her spin again; as if her body was warning her not to confront Tom so casually about this issue.
"...Blue moon, you saw me standin' alone. Without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own…"
Ophelia returned to the Dolohov cottage by five o'clock in the evening-Hermia was kind enough to feed the brunette dinner and had even allow Ophelia to take a small baskets of leftovers back to the cottage. The sound of the music in the cottage confused the half-blooded witch.
"...Blue moon, you knew just what I was there for, you heard me sayin' a prayer for someone I really could care for…"
She knew for a fact she didn't break out her gramophone the other day, so why was her music playing? Ophelia kept calm as she walked to the kitchen to drop the basket of leftovers on the table, a frown formed on her face. "Tom?"
No answer.
"Tom, are you here?"
No answer again.
What if he is in town?...Then who is here? The calmness she had when she walked into the cottage was gone. Without thinking, Ophelia made a bee line for her room, threw the door open, and had her wand at the ready.
Ophelia was expecting to see a strange man in her room, rummaging through the dresser she hadn't unpacked her clothes and things into. That wasn't the sight she got.
Instead, her eyes were greeted with the sight of a dark haired man asleep in her bed. She noticed how her gramophone was at the foot of her bed, right next to her suitcase which was now closed. She looked over at Tom who slept with her copy of Hamlet opened and on his chest.
A strong wave of relief washed over Ophelia as she stuck her wand back into her pocket. The brunette decided to leave the wizard in her room asleep and the let the music play on, she was about to close the door before a voice called out to her.
"Where have you been?" Tom sat up in an instant causing the book on chest to fall, his voice was heavy and gruff from sleep while his eyes looked angry, and his hair was a bit of a mess from the back. He leaned over and with one quick movement, the music completely stopped playing.
"Outside." Ophelia answered softly, she averted her gaze away from his body. She might have been relieved a few moments ago but the idea that Tom possibly lied to her about his intentions...Well...that made her rather suspicious about the young man.
"Look at me when we speak to each other, Ophelia." Tom didn't raise his voice at her but it sounded like he wanted to. His browns scanned Ophelia over. He was looking for any cuts or bruises on her body or any tears on her dress. No signs of any physical damage done to her...Tom's eyes went down to her legs, a sneer came to his face when he saw a couple of tears in the fabric of her stockings. Then there were her shoes, Tom saw how heavily caked in dirt they were. "So where were you, my darling?"
Ophelia closed her eyes and covered her face with one hand for a brief second. She was stressed, she knew way too much than she wanted to know, and for all she knew-Tom was lying to her about his intentions here.
Why me, Merlin? Why me?..You know what Ophelia, it is fine. Lie! You've lied to Tom before out of fear to survive right? He's probably lying to you too anyways, right. Keep the cycle of lies going! A small whimper escaped her lips as that stress that engulfed her emotions made Ophelia physically want to get out of her own body.
She was so tired of lying.
"I was outside, Tom." Ophelia removed her hand away from her face and made sure to make eye contact with the dark hair man on her bed.
However, even with being tired of lying, Ophelia still needed to...At least until she figured Tom's angle out.
No...something isn't right. Tom rested his chin in the palm of his hand and this time he took to analyzing the witch's face. Unlike the other day when Ophelia's face seemed to be neutral for the most part, to him, it was obvious she was upset about something. The heir of Slytherin looked her whole physical appearance over again. No blood, no discoloration on her skin, dress in tact. He found himself glaring at the girl. "You mean to tell me you've been outside? All day and most of last night?" Tom stood up from the bed and walked towards Ophelia, he scoffed at how her face went from merely looking upset to looking devastated. "Did you go camping in a meadow on a whim?"
It was probably a those rhetorical question but Ophelia didn't care. You can tell the truth here...but that's all for now. Say nothing else.
"Forest." Ophelia stated flatly with her eyes locked steadily on Tom's brown eyes. "I wasn't in the meadow, I was in the forest."
She what! A small flare of anger went off in Tom. Not because Ophelia wandered off alone into the forest by herself-but what if she found what he'd been looking for?
"And?" Tom had to contain the bitterness in his voice-he was conflicted. If Ophelia found it, did she have it in her possession? He could easily over power her and take it from her-do a spell and make Ophelia forget she ever found the diadem. Though what if she didn't? What if she just got lost in the forest? Tom would still have nothing to build any information on. "Did you find anything?!"
"No." Ophelia's eyes widened with fear for a slight second, but Tom caught it. He even caught how she flinched at only his words.
The heir of Slytherin took a deep breath in and let out a sigh. She's lied to me. Tom reached for her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. He brought his mouth close to her ear. "You're such an ugly liar."
"You won't like what I tell you." Ophelia felt her heartbeat actually slow down as she stitched her next move together.
Tom hissed and angry reply into the brunette's ear. "Try me."
"There is no Bardhi family in Vermosh, Albania." Ophelia yanked her hand out of Tom's hold with a vigor that wasn't expected. "The only one who could even come close to who you might have been related to has been dead longer than we've been alive. To top that off, he didn't have any siblings, my darling."
Fuck! Tom wasn't expecting Ophelia to actually care enough about the lie he made up. He wasn't expecting her to actually go out and find him a family! This also put him a strained position in where Ophelia had the rare opportunity to have the upper hand over him.
"I'll be leaving as soon as possible." The brunette took a step backwards. "I don't plan on staying longer than two more days, maybe less, if you don't need me around to help you." She then pointed in the general direction of the kitchen. "There's some dinner on the table for you if you're hungry. In the meantime, I'd like you to get out of my bedroom."
"That sounds a lot like a goodbye, Ophelia."
"That's what I was aiming for, Tom."
There was an odd feeling in what was left of Tom's soul. It wasn't anger, he knew that familiar emotion. This sensation that left him frozen and made him feel alone and distant from Ophelia. He might have been terrible by all means and definitions to the witch but never did he feel like he was completely alone with Ophelia...Deep down, somewhere in Tom's dysfunctional heart-he found enjoyed the consistency in having the same human being in his life. It was always hard for Tom's calculating mind to process that but still, he acted on having Ophelia in life somehow.
Maybe she wasn't Tom's friend (he never wanted her to be). Maybe she wasn't as capable as he thought she could be (but he figured she got along fine enough). She certainly wasn't a pure-blood or had any notable ancestors in the wizarding world (and that did bother him greatly). Ophelia Mae Darwin was his...plain and simple.
"No." Tom shook his head at her. "You're staying longer than two days. You don't get to up and leave like you're so accustomed to."
His voice was controlling, smooth, and calm all in once and that only made the brunette livid.
"Why not!" Ophelia yelled. "You don't need me! You don't need my help! You've lied to me! You've lied to me this entire time about why we're here!"
Silence settled in the room. Ophelia's heart dropped...She didn't mean to confront Tom about lying, especially when there were no accusations of him being a liar at the moment. Shit.
With no words, Tom waved a hand through the air and Ophelia felt a sudden force push her body into Tom's arms. The door to her room shut in an instant. Tom easily threw Ophelia unto her bed before he trapped her underneath his body.
Tom's first move was to use Legilimency on Ophelia but nothing. He couldn't see in her mind or even read her thoughts. A scary thought of his own echoed in his mind. Ophelia's good at Occlumency…. He tried to play a familiar scenario in his head in which he'd used the Imperius curse followed by the Obliteration charm. More than likely she'll tell me everything but if she forgets then what use is that to me? I might need that information later down the road.
Ophelia pressed her hands on Tom's chest and tried to shove him off of her, but he didn't budge.
"If you know anything, it would be in your favor to tell me now."
"I know you lied to me about having a family." Ophelia was still trying to push Tom off of her; he grabbed her hands and pressed it down into her bed.
Tom tightened his grip on her, to a point where his fingers are pressing hard into the bones of her wrist. "No. What do you know?"
"Nothing!" Ophelia was fighting to get out from under Tom.
"You need to stop fussing before I hurt you." His brown eyes stared into pale green of Ophelia's eyes. "Before I really hurt you." The fear in Ophelia's eyes was obvious to the heir of Slytherin.
She started to thrash her body around, her legs started to kick about from under Tom. One leg after the other would relentlessly kick up and down until her right leg made contact with a specific area in between Tom's legs.
While he didn't groan at the pain surging through his body, his body tensed and immediately he pulled away from Ophelia. The witch took that as her chance to push the wizard off of her and went sprinting out of her room, away from the living room, clear out of the Dolohov cottage. She could hear Tom behind her trying to get back on his feet and regain control of the situation.
"Ophelia!"
The goosebumps covered all over the brunette's body, she was too scared to look over her shoulder. She looked in the general direction of the thick trees of the forest. I can make it there.
A crackling sound echoed around the outside world as Ophelia apparated into the woods. She scurried over to the closest tree she could find, put her hand on the trunk and whispered into it. "Hide me, please or at the very least-."
Another loud crack shot through the air-it meant Tom wasn't too far behind. Adrenaline shot through her veins and it quickly allowed her to finish what she wanted to say. "Please hide me or make it so Tom cannot find me. Please."
From roughly twenty feet away, Tom saw Ophelia's back, it looked like she was hanging on the tree as if it was supposed to protect her. "Ophelia! Get back here now!" Tom apparated towards the brunette.
As the heir of Slytherin did that, he heard a boom in the air that signaled Ophelia had apparated off somewhere else in the forest. That part was normal-but something happened as Tom was apparating-he merely stopped mid-apparition.
He had no intention of stopping at the time it happened. Tom found his feet planted on the group of the forest floor, no sign of Ophelia anywhere near him.
"Darwin!" Tom began to venture in the forests looking for the witch who slipped from his grasp. "Ophelia, show yourself now and I promise we can talk about this reasonable!"
The dark haired man's words didn't fall on any ears besides his own.
For the second time in a week-he couldn't find her...Tom Riddle found that he didn't like-not one bit.
He was going to really hurt me...He was going hurt me…
Ophelia Darwin found herself in front of Hermia's brick cottage. Tears of relief escaped from pale green eyes but they soon turn into heavy sobs. The half-blooded witch knocked weakly on the door to the house. "Hermia." Sobs choked Ophelia's words as she tried to speak, her body was gasping for air through tears while fighting to communicate. "H-Hermia!"
The door to the brick cottage swung open slowly, the white hair woman knew just by the sights of the younger witch, everything was wrong. She figured not only did the handsome young man lie to the British witch but Hermia figured she probably also had been correct about what his intention were. Ravenclaw's diadem was what the man wanted.
Much like Ophelia's own mother, Hermia took the younger female into her home without hesitation and placed the young witch on the couch for the moment.
Hermia made a proper bed for the young woman out of one of her children's old rooms, she placed a spell on her kitchen to make a kettle of tea make and serve itself should Ophelia want any. Hermia also took out some old dresses that used to belong to her daughter and placed it in the closet for Ophelia.
"Whenever you're ready to go to sleep, the first bedroom off to the left is yours. I also have tea out if you want any." Hermia thought about Ophelia a hug but decided against it. " If you need me, call out. Help yourself to whatever you'd want in the kitchen. Good night."
With that, the white haired woman excused herself off to bed while it took Ophelia roughly twenty minutes to stop sobbing. Her brain was pounding against her skull and a genuine sense of melancholy shook her body. Her eyes felt sore and hot from all the crying she did on top of feeling heavy but Ophelia couldn't sleep just yet.
In her time in New Orleans, Ophelia had learned a spell taught to her by a Louisiana Creole wizard. It was simple enough and effective and it was what her conscience needed to do before she went off to bed.
Ophelia's feet were quiet as she ventured into the kitchen and picked out a skinny looking paring knife and after a minute of holding her breath, she found the will to make a cut on her right thumb. She'd cut deep enough to make sure blood would immediately flow to the surface of her skin. The brunette walked to the front door of Hermia's house, knelt down, and in front of the door: a line of her blood was drawn straight across before she stamped her blood covered thumb in the center of that onto the floorboards.
As she did that, Ophelia chanted to herself softly. "Protéjé -çilakoté." (Protect this home.) She watched as her blood sunk into deeper and deeper in the floor until it finally disappeared-a sign that the spell worked.
There, Ophelia told herself as she stood up and headed to bed. You're safe...for now. Her mind drifted off to sleep as soon as it came into contact with a pillow, but another thought slipped into her mind before she finally passed out.
Tom wouldn't really hurt me...would he?