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.
Hey everyone, sorry for the late update. This chapter took me a while to update due to a lot of things going on in my life: work got crazy with changing my schedule so often, I decided to continue my college education, and I had to save up to buy a new laptop. I am very sorry-I wish I could update on a regular schedule like before and maybe that could happen again but who knows. I apologize for the late chapter. Also, if there are any typos please let me know so I can fix it.
I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think in the reviews. Thank you so much to those readers who stay and still read this series-I appreciate you all so much.
November 25, 1948
John Westing stared at the blank paper in front of him. He would pick up a pen think of something to write then completely drop the pen. A sigh of frustration escaped his mouth.
"Either write the letter or don't." Ruth called out from the kitchen of her home. "You're acting like a lovesick school girl." She then added. "Ask Ophelia how she is doing. Ask if she feeling like herself."
The American auror looked over to Ruth, a question bubbled in his mind but he wasn't exactly sure if he wanted to know seeing as the magic Ruth practiced and taught was the exact magic that landed him on suspension from the MACUSA. The question stayed and only lived in John's mind for a mere second.
John looked out the windows of the kitchen and looked on as the sun hung above Ruth's house. Was it right of him to even write to Ophelia? She was engaged and for all John knew, it was probably a happy arrangement. Maybe it was a bad day in an otherwise balanced relationship. John probably misread all the signals.
He stood up from the kitchen table, grabbed a brown wide bullhide buffalo hat and a hunting rifle all before he stepped outside. "If I bag an elk, would you cook it up for dinner?"
Ruth let out a dry chuckle. "Get a big one, we can have elk steak."
There was a rather odd but steady sensation of being overwhelmed in Tom's gut. Which was rather uncalled for. He was rather content at the moment-or as close to content as his naturally devious personality could be.
The Dark Lord was comfortable, sitting at the head of the table, among his loyal followers in the front room of Avery's home. It may have only been slightly past noon but spirits, liquors, and some stouts were scattered about in the presence of the wizards. Their conversations ranged from how their families respective businesses were doing, idiot coworkers at the Ministry, Quidditch, and their own personal endeavors. Still, that uneasy gut feeling was all too comfortable inside of Tom.
The wives of his followers took tea in the second parlor room located in the back of the Avery home. Ophelia went along too not for the promise of tea and baked goodies. She went because more or less Tom Riddle convinced her to start branching out and try to make more friends in the high class wizarding world.
At first, Ophelia thought the worst thing that could happen was possibly, one of the wives wouldn't be interested in talking with her due to her only being half-blooded. Upon being introduced to the wives, they seemed to show an unnerving amount of interest to speak with her.
"So glad you're feeling better."
"Riddle was rather worried about you-my husband was surprised your fiance found the motivation to even be able to work."
"I heard you like to travel, have you ever been to Spain?"
"No-not Spain! Italy is where all the luxury clothing and jewels are!"
"I prefer France, the countryside is nice and the chateau my family owns is one of my favorite things."
"Oh! There is little restaurant right by the Ministry there, they serve the best Quiche au Saumon et Crevettes! That means salmon and shrimp quiche, my husband told me that you don't speak French."
"How interesting, you don't speak French."
"Oh hush, Nadine. You don't even have a secondary language."
"You're friends with the Zolotovs and the Elwoods, why not ask them to teach you Russian or Albanian?"
"I heard you and Riddle took a short holiday to Albania-did you enjoy it?"
"Albania? Goodness, I haven't been there since...Maybe since I was five."
"I hear you go to the Americas and some countries outside of the modern loop. Do you stay with wizards like us or the more, primitive wizards I guess?"
"Hold on a tick, when you visit somewhere, do you visit the muggle side of things or do you visit the wizard side?"
"You know, Elsa, I was wondering about that but I didn't want to say it out right."
"Are you completely fine with being in the same outing spot as muggles? It doesn't bother you?"
"Ladies, she's a half-blood. Obviously, she's fine with muggles."
"I think I saw your family at the Elwood wedding, I was actually surprised they got invited into the Blaine estate. Your mum is rather clean looking for a muggle."
"Clara, I don't think that needed to be said right in this moment."
"Why don't we talk about something else! Delphina, how are the renovations at Malfoy manor going?"
Very subtly Delphina shot a side glance towards Ophelia but didn't directly bother to look at her. Instead, Delphina looked down on her very pregnant belly and gently traced a pattern on the surface of her dress. "It's going alright, but Abraxas was so looking forward to having a new place all together. He thought he found a charming place a while ago in Dorset-no such luck though."
Ophelia moved her chair away from the table, her untouched cup of tea and small plate of biscuits and macaroons shook as she placed a decorative serviette on the side of it. "Excuse me. I need some fresh air."
"Of course! Take your time."
Ophelia didn't smile back to show any type of civility or politeness. Rather, she got up and trekked to the front. The light chatter the wives drifted out of her ears while the sounds of men talking amongst themselves started to filter into her senses.
The men folk, upon hearing the quick clacks and clicks of heels across the floor lowered their voices. As if a woman hearing their conversation would be a bad thing.
Tom placed his glass of cognac down as he saw Ophelia dart by. "Continue on. I'll be back."
The Avery's household had their garden off to the west side of their home; autumn loomed present and heavy in background and only a few flowers such as snowdrops, begonias, and primroses live there. There was even a row of tall birch trees, dressed in fall colors that lined along the garden's portion of the Avery's house. If the Avery's had any outdoor furniture, it must have been put away or simply not bought yet.
Before they came to this little brunch, there was already a knot in Ophelia's stomach that seemed to only grow bigger and uglier as the visit with the wives left her unwelcomed, tense, and for some reason feeling ugly. To add onto that experience: never- absolutely never- did Ophelia feel that it was possible to breathe wrong until the wives of Tom's 'friends' put her a magnifying glass with a bias tint.
That multiplied everything she felt to an extreme she wasn't used to.
Yes, she was still angry that Tom had gotten rid of the piano in their home in Dorset. Yes, she was still hyper aware of the all too realistic dreams she had from her time in her rather short coma which Tom was depicted. All those emotions kept amplifying negatively inside of her.
The best way the brunette half-blood could explain what she felt was simple: Ophelia physically wanted out of her skin. She didn't want to be herself anymore.
Oh, Lord. Now her pale green eyes were starting to sting.
Tom found his fiance pacing near the birch trees. He read into her body language: the way her hands tensely gripped into the sides of the dress she wore; the way her jaw seemed locked; and there was an almost comical stiffness to how straight she was standing.
"Ophelia." Tom called out to his fiance as he closed in on the distance between them by falling into the steps of her rapid pacing.
She didn't waste time beating around the bush with Tom today. "Those women are horrid."
The handsome wizard was taken aback for a slight second; there was no banter or gentle metaphor that escaped out of Ophelia's mouth. She didn't even try to explain what had happened-just that the wives of his associates were horrid.
"How are they horrid?" Tom was curious. If he knew Ophelia as well as he liked to think he did, she was agreeable in most normal social situations-what exactly made her reel away so hard in her interaction with these particular pure-blooded witches.
A rather uncharacteristically harsh scoff practically coughed its way out of Ophelia's mouth.
Tom's eyes narrowed at her and there was a lopsided frown on the corner of his lips. "What?"
Ophelia stopped her pacing and looked Tom straight in the eyes. "What do you mean 'what'? As if you don't already know."
Tom recognized the tone of voice she had used on him; he'd use it before on her multiple times over when he was irritated. "Apparently, I don't know. That is why I am even bothering to ask." Tom words while sounding concerned held careful notes of that dark authoritarian tune his voice naturally seemed to have.
"Why did you invite me here, Tom?" Ophelia asked back. "So your little friends' wives could pretend to tolerate me while they take turns jabbing at me?"
Tom almost let his guard down and reacted to what Ophelia said. He did feel a small twinge of pain of he looked into Ophelia's face and upon closer inspection he realized that she'd been fighting the urge to cry. He'd seen her cry many, many times but the fact she was actively bottling the urge away turned a red light in his mind.
"Ophelia, what did they say to you?" Tom's voice was deep, low, and there was a strategical drip of danger as he spoke.
The former Hufflepuff's eyes looked down to the ground before skirting back to Tom's face. "I will not repeat anything of what they said to me. I will let you know that it is very evident to me that Clara Nott, Delphina Malfoy, Tabitha Rosier, Florence Avery, Elsa Dolohov, and Katrina Lestrange know I am a half-blood. I can also tell you that those women more than likely do not like me because of that."
The first question that popped out of Tom's mouth was the first one that came in his head. "Did you let on you were a half-blood?"
"Excuse me?" Ophelia felt like she'd been slap in the face. How did Tom's question relate to anything I told him?
"Did you tell them you were a half-blood?" Tom restated his question and for an extra effect, he gripped onto Ophelia's wrist.
"They brought that up themselves, Tom. They already knew I was a half-blood!" Ophelia then added. "Also what difference does it make if I brought it up? Is there any shame in me being part muggle? Am I supposed to sit there and just take that?" There was a spark of lividity lit up in Ophelia's soul. It took over her face as a look of complete disappointment struck features. It took over her body as she ripped herself away from Tom's hold. It took over every aspect of Ophelia and for whatever powers may be: she wanted to soak in that anger.
"No." Tom felt the heat of indignation that radiated off Ophelia easily threaded and weaved itself into him.
"You can stay here if you'd like, Tom. Obviously, these are your breed of people. I'm going home." Ophelia made a beeline back to the Avery's home; she was certain the floo system was somewhere in that house.
A loud crackling sound filtered through the air and Tom placed himself in front of Ophelia's path.
"You don't have to leave, Ophelia." Tom tried to reach for her hands, but instead his fingertips just met with the air surrounding where Ophelia used to be.
"I want to leave so I am going to!" Ophelia apparated only a mere five feet away from the former Slytherin prefect. "I am going home!" She was shaking; did Tom not understand anything she said. Didn't he understand even a little about how that felt?
Hold on. Ophelia stopped in her tracks, one hand on the front door and another hand tucked like shield in front of her stomach. She turned to Tom. "I could be wrong, but please correct me if I am wrong." Ophelia paused, trying to find the right words. "You and I are alike. We might not have been put in the same house and we didn't run in the same social circles during those Hogwart years but you and I are alike, Tom."
The heir of Slytherin stood still in silence and was slightly curious as to where the half-blooded witch was going to take this conversation to.
"You didn't spend your summers during Hogwarts in France, Spain, or Italy like them. You spent those summers in muggle side of England like I did." Ophelia went on, her head shook as she tried to still piece her words together. "How can you tolerate being in these peoples' company when they show that they can be so biased? Being born from a muggle isn't a crime nor is being born a half-blood."
That last statement irked the heir of Slytherin. "What the fuck are you insinuating, Ophelia?"
Was there a nerve I hit? Ophelia was caught a little off guard. It was her turn to be silent.
"I'm not a some filthy mixed wizard, Ophelia-darling." Tom hissed out at the brunette; he took no more than eight menacing steps towards the witch. "That's where we differ. Your blood, no matter whatever positive merits you have as person, your blood will never be as clean as mine."
First Ophelia wasn't sure she heard correctly. Next, the arm that acted as a shield around her stomach went limp down to her side. The third thing that happened was Ophelia became slack jawed and her head tilted off center. "Excuse me…" She blinked and kept her eyes closed a fraction of second longer than usual. "What are you insinuating now, Tom?"
"I am willing to look over your blood status," Tom spoke with a calmness in voice but an overall tone of condescension. That was normal, that was expected of Tom's general behavior and mannerisms. It was the sickening flow of pure honesty and sincerity that was so odd. "I was alway willing to look over that, Ophelia. Your loyalty, while at the moment could be questionable, is your best quality."
"My loyalty?" Ophelia scoffed out, the word left a rancid taste in her mouth. Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty-that was all Tom seemed to care about with her. "Also, what-what-what do you mean mean that's questionable?"
Tom was quick to answer back. "You're my fiance! You're supposed to stand by me. It's nice you've traveled and you're 'cultured' but your place as a wife is by me!" He pointed an angry finger at his own chest before he gestured that hand to the Avery household. "The pureblood women in there understand it . You can think they are horrid all you want but at least they know their place!"
There was only so much Ophelia Mae Darwin could take in one day. There was more anger than ever in her body and her movement processed without her conscious trying to stop it all.
Ophelia's hand moved quietly and at a maddening speed and it made its mark spot on Tom's face. On his perfect, symmetric, handsome and irritating face. Yet, Ophelia felt a similar pain flashed onto her own face.
Tom Marvolo Riddle who received the worst of the physical impact still caught the quick flash of pain that echoed in the eyes of the former Hufflepuff. What just happened? He doubt Ophelia was in those 'this hurts me more than it hurts you' moods.
What did you do? Ophelia screamed in her head. Why did you do that? She wasn't done yet though, she still wanted to hurt him. Without thinking, with letting angry impulse take over her whole being-she ripped off the ring from her left hand and threw it right at Tom's chest.
With a ragged and breathy tone, she could only muster a simple sentence. "I think we're done here."
As soon as passed through the threshold of the Avery's home, it was easy to spot an audience. The wives were giddy at first when Ophelia excused herself from their little tea session; it only took them a good three minutes to make the half-blooded witch feel on the outs. Where she belonged anyhow.
When the women heard and then saw the argument they reached peak and full levels of ecstasy.
"Leaving so soon?" Florence Avery tried to fake the concern in her voice, but the smile of being thoroughly entertained was all too present on the dusty blonde's face.
"Maybe some biscuits for the road?" Delphina was all too happy to see how upset the half-blood witch was. "We should do this again. Totally worth the fun." Delphina tossed her chocolate cherry toned hair over her shoulder and soon tossed a look over to her husband. "We can host next time right, Abraxas?"
Ophelia Darwin tried to pretend it was all white noise to her ears but it was all to clear and distinct. She walked right up to the fire place in the Avery home and grabbed a handful of floo powder from a chimney pail that was fixated in midair.
Green flames engulfed over her and in a blink she was gone.
Tom Riddle felt as if everything was playing out in slow motion, 'West Berkshire' rang in his ears. He clutched the engagement ring in the palm of his hand. The uneasiness that bubbled in his system earlier was gone, yet the strong sensation of shame shot throughout Tom's body.
"Good riddance." Tabitha Rossier scoffed as she took a sip from her cup. "Being around her made me feel dirty."
"Why did you lot do that?" Tom spoke before anyone else took the chance to complain about Ophelia's presence. His eyes were completely blank as he stared at the empty fireplace but slowly those eyes shifted from brown to red.
No one answered him.
"Why did you that?" Tom asked again. He zeroed in on the Avery couple, more specifically on Florence. "Are you inept as a hostess that you can't control a conversation amongst your guests?"
Silence rang out, the fun the beautiful pure and pedigreed witches had was gone. No more giddiness, no more excitement.
"I thought I told you all that Ophelia was to be treated no different than anyone else in here." Tom echoed out coldly.
"That filth you want to play house with will never be like us, My Lord." Clara Nott felt Graham's eyes immediately on her. The witch with sherry red hair was going to say whatever she felt like-she always had and no one was going to ever prevent her to do so. She already felt like her tongue was still for much too long. "If you want a worthy bride My Lord, I know someone in the Black family-."
"Bombarda!"
"Mum!" Ophelia walked around her parents' home in West Berkshire. "Dad?" She ran upstairs, her wand in hand as she came across the hidden door. "Poppa?"
"Pipa?" The was the rustle of footsteps were heard right before the office door opened. "Pippa? What are you doing here-visiting?"
The rushed scent of mint and oolong tea was a great comfort to the senses.
"Hi, Poppa." Ophelia put her wand away into her dress pocket. The muscle memory of her legs immediately led her into her grandfather's office and she soon planted herself on the gray ottoman as to save the recliner for the older wizard.
Gregory Darwin scratched what reminded of his hair and peered out into the hallway before. No one else was there with them it seemed. "Where's Tom?" He closed the door and retreated back to the comfort of his recliner. He might have cared for the lad but he was going to have maintain some sort of civility. "Will he be joining us for dinner tonight?"
"I doubt it, Poppa." Ophelia scoffed. "I doubt he'll be coming by ever." She brought her left hand up to her face.
Gregory had to squint at the hand being held up but as soon as he saw what he wasn't looking at he was quick to pick up on. "Why is the engagement off, Pipa?" There was concern in the wizard's voice.
The brunette shrugged and a sad pout graced her face, a sharp inhale and the threat of vexation tried to rear its ugly presence to the surface. "Personal differences."
"Can't say I understand but it was your relationship and that was your call, Ophelia." Poppa snapped his fingers and a rotary phone levitated towards him. "What I can gather from this that your mum will be unhappy if she doesn't fix enough food for all of us tonight, so I'll let her know you're moving back in." The old man then grumbled under his breath. "She is going to throw a fit though since she had her heart set on turning your room into a sewing room."
There was a light scratching sound coming from the office window; Ophelia turned and saw an owl impatiently waiting for her to open the window.
"You best get that because I am not, deary." Poppa stated firmly as he squinted his eyes at the rotary phones dials and tried to remember what Wendy Darwin's work number was.
Ophelia got up from the ottoman and marched over to the window and upon closer inspection, she recognized the owl. Margo? Ophelia arched an eyebrow as she grabbed the envelope from the owl's talons. What could she be writing about? They didn't make any plans recently to visit with each other. Her heart plummeted down to the deepest pits of her stomach. What if it has to do with her baby? Is it the baby? Something could be wrong? She ripped the envelope open and began to quickly read through the letter.
Pipa,
I am not too sure what's going on right now. I heard some rumors about you that I hope isn't true...You've been out of it lately but I'd like to think I know you well enough.
Anyways, Peter and I have been persuaded to throw a last minute dinner party. I didn't know Tom and you were close to some of the guests. Please be by the house by three thirty at the latest. Dinner will be served at three thirty. I know that's early for a dinner party but Peter and I do have a newborn to look after.
P.S-I hope you have a decent enough dress to wear for tonight. I'm afraid I don't have anything for you to borrow this time.
-Margo.
Ophelia read that letter three times over to make sure she comprehended everything that printed out on her friends' letter. For a brief second, Ophelia wondered how or why she was even friends with Margo but she put that train of thought out of her mind merely by burning the letter.
She threw it up into the air, her wand drawn out in an instant. "Incendio."
"Wendy?" Poppa spoke into the phone. "Ophelia's moved back -."
The brunette walked back over to the older wizard in the room. "Excuse me , Poppa." Ophelia reached over and pulled the phone away from her Poppa. "Mum, I can handle dinner tonight. Chicken pot pie sound alright?"
"That sounds fine, dear, but-er." Wendy's voice heavy with concern. "You feeling okay, Pipa?"
A soft grunt escaped out of Ophelia. "I'm not too sure, Mum."
"Do you want to talk about it when I get home?"
"No."
Wendy sighed but she accepted her daughter's answer and moved the subject along. "Well if you are going to make chicken pot pie, please don't over salt it."
"Yes, mum."
"Your father should be home shortly." Wendy Darwin stated over the phone. "Then I should be home roughly thirty minutes after that. Do you want anything from the shops-."
Gregory Darwin yanked the phone out of his granddaughter's grasp. "Could you pick up blancmange on the way home, please Wendy?"
Even as Ophelia roamed back down the kitchen, she could hear her mother scolding Poppa.
The familiar scents of the Darwin home gave a small comfort to Ophelia as the heat of shame and anger rolled off her shoulders. Ophelia loved how everything was just as she remembered: the kettle was on the stove as always, the spice rack in disarray, how her mother's oven mitts hung over the stove, most of all she appreciated how her family kept a full tin of coffee.
Ophelia fixed herself a hot cup of coffee after she pulled the chicken out and leaned into the pale blue walls of the kitchen. Her eyes scanned over to the fridge and from away she noticed something that she didn't even recognize up close.
"Poppa!" Ophelia yelled as she removed folded stack of articles from the fridge's surface. "Why do you have an American newspaper?"
"Why not, eh?" Poppa yelled back.
"Is it a Muggle newspaper?" Ophelia asked back.
"Read it and find out yourself!"
Ophelia took her cup of coffee and newspaper to the living room and settled into her father's recliner. The first page she opened up to was a classified ads and her brows rose up. Help Wanted in New York?
Margo Blaine Elwood was besides herself with stress. The baby was at her parents home for the night'; dinner was sorted: duck breast with apricot chutney with grilled asparagus and baked potatoes; three bottles of the champagne were brought up from the cellar; Peter was dressed; she was ready; and everything seemed decent.
Except for maybe the music selection-soft jazz probably wasn't the best choice as the guests flooded into the Elwood home. Everyone had a serious expression on their faces, the wives especially and it caused Margo to feel nervous in her own home...Still, Margo wasn't going to let her feelings get in the way of being a good hostess.
"Clara," Margo handed a champagne flute to Nott's wife. "What happened to your arm? Why is it all wrapped up?"
"I tripped." Clara answered back as smoothly as possible before she took a sip from her champagne glass.
Margo arched an eyebrow in curiosity at that answer. "You tripped and now have a completely broken arm? What did you trip over?"
"The stairs." Graham answered promptly for his wife. His tone was notably sour and he looked rather angry over all.
"Huh." Margo stepped away from the Notts and made her way to Peter. "Has Pipa showed up yet?"
Peter shook his head. "Maybe she's running late?"
Margo started to tap her foot. "No. Pipa is never late for my dinners-she knows how these things mean to me….She isn't coming."
"She'll come." Tom Riddle butted into their conversation.
"Let's give her a few more minutes before we start dinner off, then." Margo forced a strained smile at Tom. "I'll try and see if I pop over to her parents' home and get her." She scurried off the a little office on the first floor of her home.
Floo powder in Margo's perfectly manicured hands, she threw it down onto the fireplace as she stood in the center. "West Berkshire."
Nothing happened. No green flames came. Margo repeated the process and again nothing happened.
"You've been sealed off, honey." Delphina Malfoy commented as she watched Margo attempt a third time. "You won't be going to West Berkshire any time soon. Can't see why you want to-there's nothing Muggles all over there."
Margo stepped out of the fire place but said nothing to Delphina, instead Margo scrambled around for paper and something to write with. She could send an owl over to the Darwin residence, it would just have to be a very extremely fast owl.
"Margo, if I can be honest with you," Delphina started off as she watch the Elwood witch scurry around. "Ophelia Darwin never deserved to be your friend. We all heard how your best friend broke your brother's heart; missed the birth of your daughter; and isn't here for a lovely dinner you're hosting." Delphina then added. "Or think about how she never even considered to take the offer to come back to Hogwarts for seventh year. Did your so called friend ever ask you what you thought when she didn't take it?"
Margo stopped dead in her tracks and looked over to . "Excuse me? What?"
A smirk came over to Delphina's face. "Darwin never even told you about it?" She walked over to Margo and gave her a tight squeeze on the hand. "Look, you're an adult and making new friends can be hard but if you ever want anyone to talk to- a real friend-I am here."
Dinner was served shortly there after. Conversation was fun and polite. Desert was a wonderful dark chocolate ganache tart. Clara Nott was particularly thrilled that Ophelia didn't show up-it spared Clara from having to apologize to the muggle born witch.
One guest remained quiet for the duration of the whole evening. Tom Riddle forced a smile, ate the food in front him, chimed in every now and again but he wasn't actively participating or leading the conversation. The heir of Slytherin expected a storm of anger to echo through him, because truth be told he was extremely angry.
Yet for some reason there was a small extremely misplaced feeling of hope lingering within him.
Not one incident to happen today made Lord Voldemort have any inkling of hope! Unless I'm feeling someone else's emotions. Tom thought to himself as tuned out the mindless chatter around him. He scoffed at the thought. There is no known spell for that nonsense. None. No studies done, no records nothing. Simply does not exist.