Slytherin Quidditch team:
Seeker/Team captain . . . Charles Avery (backup: Ophelia Pierre)
Keeper . . . Alphard Black (backup: Caiaphas Purdy)
Beaters . . . Caiaphas Purdy & Antonin Dolohov (backup: Gregory Rowle)
Chasers . . . Castor Lestrange, William Nott & Ophelia Pierre (backup: Oliver Parkinson)
OPHELIA grinned at the noticeboard with pure glee. Not only was she a chaser, but she was also the backup seeker - one of the best positions available.
She was so happy that she barely noticed all the whispers around her. Making the Quidditch team was the best thing that had happened to her since arriving at Hogwarts.
Saturday morning in Hogwarts was a strange one. Professors weren't seen as most of them returned to see their families on weekends or shut themselves in their offices. Most students were trying to sleep in for as long as possible before being disturbed by their dormmates.
Ophelia grabbed the letters from her nightstand and headed off to the owlery. Climbing up the frosted steps to the little tower, she slipped and crumpled to the ground. Swearing profoundly, she picked herself up and hobbled up the remaining stairs.
Hundreds of pairs of beedy eyes stared at her as she entered the small room. The lingering smell of seed and feathers was enough for her to wrinkle up her nose. Limping, she managed to find a school owl without difficulty, as all the owls seemed to want to take her letters. She had no idea why owls liked her – she didn't particularly like them. It was the same with toads, newts, cats, rats and other specific animals.
"Take this to Stephan Pierre," she handed the letter over to a big barn owl and another to a snowy one, "and this one to Nicholas Beauregard."
Please reply, Nicholas. I need you.
She watched both owls fly off, hoping her brother or his new girlfriend wouldn't get too scared when they received the owl.
Ophelia looked down at her right leg and cursed, it had started to turn blue and purple. She waved her hand over it, but it only healed slightly.
Dark magic, she realised, a silly little prank.
Unfortunately, this silly little prank meant that she could barely walk. She slumped down onto the floor as she couldn't found the motivation to move.
She hated it here. She was almost as miserable here as she was at home – almost, she was always happier around magic. France was being bombed by the Germans, especially Rouen, which meant Stephan wasn't safe, Nicholas hadn't sent her a single letter since September and everyone treated her like shit at Hogwarts, even Abraxas Malfoy.
"Abraxas!" Ophelia called, running down the corridor to catch up to the boy.
"Go away, Ophelia," Abraxas mumbled keeping his head down and hurrying forwards.
Ophelia paused, unsure what to say or do. "Why won't you talk to me anymore? What have I done?"
Abraxas didn't stop walking, so Ophelia followed him.
"Please," she grabbed Abraxas' arm to make him stop.
Abraxas snarled, "get your filthy hands off me, mudblood."
Ophelia wasn't a muggleborn, Mrs Lesvasque told her that her mother was a witch, but the comment stung– she was too powerful to Bea muggleborn. She'd avoided Abraxas since them, and his two friends, Lip and Liam. She didn't miss Liam, but she did miss Lip's bluntness and honesty.
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Daughter Of Hecate | HPFanfiction
September 1st, 1942. Ophelia de Foix-Bourbon arrived at Hogwarts after living in France and attending Beauxbatons for the past several years. She transferred to the magical Scottish school to take her O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.S.'s. As one of the smarte...