The next few weeks were both exciting, yet dull all at once. Divination was insufferable—Ron still wouldn't let go of the grim concept, and Hermione's patience for it seemed to be hanging on by a thread. Ophelia didn't mind it; analyzing dreams and gazing into crystal balls wasn't the worst thing you could do with your time. In Care of Magical Creatures, the lessons were dull. After the incident with Buckbeak and Draco, Hagrid had seemingly lost all his confidence—and he only brought in harmless, boring creatures for them to observe. And in Potions, Snape was even worse than before after having heard the boggart story. He took points away when they did as much as breath the wrong way; and he tormented Neville more than ever before—not to mention the mere mention of Professor Lupin's name drove him up the wall.
As September morphed into October, their busy schedules only increased. Hermione was still tackling ten classes at once; and the three of them still didn't know how that was possible, but they stopped questioning her a long time ago. Still, their schedules didn't match up and they barley saw Hermione at all. Harry on the other hand was busy with Quidditch. Oliver Wood made their practices twice as long, and pushed them all the harder. It was his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, so he was insistent on them winning—which meant Harry barley had any free time, and when he did it was spent eating, sleeping, discussing Sirius Black and then repeating it all over again the next day.
Ophelia and Ron weren't busy though—it was only October. Homework was light, neither of them played Quidditch, and they weren't taking ten classes. They just played chess in the common room and hoped their friends could spare a few moments out of their busy lives to spend with them.
The only thing that was going well was Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Remus Lupin very quickly became the most popular professor in all of Hogwarts. His lessons were informative and enjoyable, he genuinely cared about his students and their well-being; and above all, he was kind. It didn't matter to him if you were the best in class, or the worst; his only priority was helping them in any way he possibly could. He was also patient, if you didn't understand something he worked with you until you did, if you couldn't master something he'd have you come by after class and he'd help you; and if you needed to talk about anything else, class related or not, he would listen. It didn't matter to anyone that he was quiet and reserved; or that his robes weren't expensive and new; but old, worn and patched. It didn't matter that his appearance was shabby at the best of times, or that his briefcase and shoes were torn and worn out—none of that mattered, because he was an excellent teacher. Very few people disliked Remus Lupin. It was almost impossible to do so with him having such a big heart. The only people that did were the Slytherin's; or Malfoy's gang, more like.
'He looks like my old house-elf when he wears those robes, they're so old and worn out.' Draco snickered to his friends one brisk October morning at the Slytherin table while he ate his breakfast, very well aware Ophelia was directly in front of him.
That was enough for Ophelia. She slammed her fists on the table as she got up and made her way to stand in front of him.
'Ophelia!' Hermione called after her, but she didn't respond.
'Did you want to say that again? Hm?' Ophelia asked as she raised her hand to slap him in the face.
The sudden confidence was a strange feeling. She was not a violent person, not a mean person—but if anybody said anything bad about Remus Lupin she just about lost it.
'Did you?' Ophelia pressed on, Draco didn't answer, just trembled underneath her. That's when she made the move.
George jumped up and grabbed her wrist just before it touched him, and pulled her back.
'Lupin, stop.' He told her.
Draco looked relived as he packed up his things and scurried out of the Great Hall with his 'friends' trailing behind them. Ophelia watched in fury until they were out of her sight—George not letting go, knowing very well she would run after them if he did.
She then tried to wriggle free but he didn't let her. 'Lupin, he's not worth your energy. Come on, let's calm down now.'
'Don't you care? He's being a jerk!'
'He's always a jerk. He's not worth it.' George sighed.
Ophelia sighed in defeat. He was right. She let herself be led back to the Gryffindor table and she sat down reluctantly—as the rest of the table was eyeing her.
'I'm fine. I just get angry when he says things like that.' She explained loudly, so that everybody at the table could hear; everybody was eavesdropping anyway.
At her words, people snooping like Lavender and Pavarti turned away and continued talking to themselves; and even Percy, with a huff and a scolding at her violent ways, went back to speaking with his girlfriend Penelope Clearwater, a seventh year Ravenclaw. She ignored the skeptical look Hermione was giving her from across the table, and she picked up her raspberry toast, decided against eating it, and placed it back down on her silver plate—she did this a couple more times indecisively, before she just pushed her plate away all together and sighed.
'Not hungry?' Hermione questioned out of concern.
Even that made her furious. 'I'm fine.' She muttered.
'Sirius Black's been spotted, not too far from here.' Seamus spoke up to the group, as he tossed Hermione the copy of the Daily Prophet he had been sent. She caught it and unfolded it as she began to read.
Ophelia froze—she was shaking. Most of them didn't notice, they were too busy taking turns reading the newest article about the Wizarding World's latest scandal. Ophelia didn't need to read it, she didn't want to read it. All she wanted was for him to go back to Azkaban and leave everybody alone. She got up abruptly, taking her bag and her wand and leaving her full plate of breakfast at her spot as she rushed out of the Great Hall. She needed to be somewhere, anywhere else than around all those people. She went unnoticed, or at least she thought she did. Everybody was too busy fawning over the news. She didn't want anybody to follow her anyway, she wanted to be alone.
She passed a few people as she left; Professor Flitwick who was humming to himself as he left the Great Hall; and Cho Chang who was in her Ravenclaw Quidditch Uniform to come get breakfast before class after an early morning practice. Ophelia made her way down the nearest corridor, and she heard footsteps behind her but she didn't turn around.
'Lupin!'
It was George—she could tell, only George called her by her last name as if she was his younger sister. She didn't answer though; only picked up her pace to a speed-walk.
'Lupin! Wait up!'
She paused and turned around, clearly irritated, but she waited for him to catch up.
'You alright?'
'Why wouldn't I be?' Ophelia retorted.
'You're acting strange today.' George shrugged, as he pulled one of his hands through his long, flaming red hair.
'No stranger than usual.'
'You tried to hit Malfoy. And you just left without eating your raspberry toast.' George noted, as he handed her the two pieces of toast she had already spread with jam; he had wrapped them neatly in a napkin.
'Thanks.' She mumbled as she took a bite. Suddenly food seemed appealing right about now.
'Couldn't let you starve, Lupin.' George joked.
'Hm.'
'Something's wrong.' George noted.
'Nothings wrong. Why do you care?'
'I-I don't.' George shrugged, looking at his feet. 'You just seem different.'
'Well, I'm not.'
'Glad we got that sorted then.' George replied.
Ophelia sighed, and she fiddled with the butterfly ring on her finger. 'Sorry, I'm not being nice, I know that. I just hate talking about all this Sirius Black stuff, it's a downer.'
'We don't have to talk about him, then.' George offered.
Ophelia gave him a skeptical look, before sighing. 'Alright.' She nodded, 'I have Charms now though.'
'S'alright. Did you want me to walk you or are you okay to get there yourself?' George asked.
'I'm fine.' Ophelia nodded. 'See you later in the common room—or sometime, I think you lot have a Quidditch practice later.' She said, remembering how Harry had been complaining of having to go to yet another practice tonight.
He nodded, bid her goodbye and made his way back to the Great Hall. Ophelia turned back around and continued walking down the corridor. She contemplated going to her Dad's office instead; he wasn't teaching at the moment, and she wasn't sure if he heard the news that Sirius had been spotted. She decided against it though. She would tell him later—or maybe she wouldn't. He had just gotten into a good routine; he enjoyed teaching, the last full moon went well because of the wolfsbane and all things considered; he seemed to be in a good state of mind. She didn't want to be the one to mess it up, and the news surely would. He would get angry, or depressed and she didn't know if she could do that to him—not when he was genuinely happy.
Ophelia skipped Charms, actually she skipped all of her classes today. She had never skipped. Even when she wasn't feeling well, she forced herself to go. She needed space though. She needed to escape the constant talk about Sirius, she needed to escape Draco's nasty remarks; and she needed to get away from Hermione's sympathetic glances. Ever since the Boggart lesson, and her many outbursts, Hermione had been looking at her as if she was a bomb that could combust at any given time.
She didn't think about detention, or points lost or the yelling match McGonagall would surely give her when she got the chance—she just needed a day of peace where nobody could find her and she didn't care what price she had to pay for it. She left the castle and ventured down to the creek down the rolling hills, and she sat down at the edge of the grass; pulled out a book, and dipped her feet in the cool water that flowed. She knew it was against the rules. She wasn't allowed to be out here, at all, let alone unsupervised during class time.
She didn't care though—she knew the risks.
She didn't know when everything had gotten so complicated. Sometimes it felt like she was still a ten year old; not even at Hogwarts yet, in her backyard, with her toes dipped in the stream as Ginger danced behind her. It hardly seemed like any time at all had passed since she met Luna on the train, and got sorted into Gryffindor—or when she became friends with Harry, Ron and Hermione. It seemed like mere weeks ago she had been gazing into the Mirror of Erised with Harry, or playing the life-size chess game that night in first year—it didn't feel like it had been two years.
But she was thirteen now, and things were far from simple thanks to Sirius Black. Things were complicated, and messy; confusing, and dark. She struggled to wrap her mind around the fact he was out. Free. On the run and possibly seeking her, her family—Harry.
She thought about the Mirror of Erised. What she had seen in it; and him escaping only made it all the more painful to think about the image she had seen reflecting in that mirror. It was always a dream, an ideal—that they were a family, that he wasn't a murderer. But he was. And the fact he was out, right now, made her want to scream and cry.
Sirius Black could ruin her life, he could kill her, and things could get dark; but right now, she just wanted to be a ten year old again. She wanted to not be found, and to be obliviously happy, if only for one day. She would deal with her furious teachers, her questioning friends and her no doubt worrisome Dad at another time—but right now, she was only thinking about being alone.
She pushed him out of her mind as she opened her book and began to read—it was called Little Women. She had always liked it; it was about four sisters—Jo, Beth, Amy and Meg March. Her Dad liked it too, he read it to her when she was smaller, and it quickly grew to be one of her favourites.
Ophelia always claimed herself to be most like Beth. Beth was the second-youngest sister, and she was quiet; she had many passions, but never spoke about them. She was reserved at best—a good listener, and an astoundingly kind human. Remus always told her she was most like Jo though. Jo was the second-eldest, she was passionate and fiery. A feminist; who not afraid to break boundaries, stereotypes and gender ideals. She was bold, she paved a path to success for herself, and was rather determined. She thought if anything, she was most unlike Jo—she wasn't bold, she wasn't brave. She wasn't any of the things that made Jo who she was.
Ophelia spent some time thinking about who some of her friends were most like, though she wouldn't tell them because most of them weren't familiar with muggle books. Ophelia thought Hermione and Ginny were a lot like Jo—determined, passionate, empowered. Lavender and Seamus were undoubtedly Amy—whom was the youngest, most peppy out of the four sisters. Pavarti and Dean reminded her a lot of Meg—they knew what they liked and stuck to it. And she thought Luna and Neville were most like Beth; kind and more on the quiet side.
She wasn't sure about Harry and Ron. They were both either Jo or Beth, two polar opposites, yet there was no in between either.
She sat there for hours, contemplating her book, life and everything in between; at the edge of the creek, feeling the water on her feet and the blades of grass in her hands. She felt at peace. Though her entire world was dark, messy, complicated and cloudy; today she felt at peace—as if she found a part of herself that had been lost in the midst of this year.
It was a perfectly imperfect day.
She made her way to Gryffindor Tower when it started to get dim outside. The dinner feast was likely just starting, but she made no plans to attend it—she hadn't eaten all day, except for the bite of toast in the morning, yet she didn't feel like it either. She could raid Lavender's sweet stash later, or just eat more tomorrow if she felt like it. And she had almost gotten to the portrait hole when she of course, was caught.
'Miss. Lupin.'
She groaned at the sound of Dumbledore's soft, recognizable voice. How did he know where she was all the time anyway? She spun around, and her gaze immediately was cast downwards at her feet. She didn't want to look him in the eye, she hated doing that—it made her uncomfortable.
'Care for a walk?' He asked gently.
Ophelia looked up. 'Sure, Professor.' She nodded as she scratched the back of her neck; a habit both Ophelia and Remus Lupin did when they were nervous.
They walked slowly down the corridors, and for the first few minutes, they were silent. Dumbledore had his hands interlocked behind his back, as they strode on. He was wearing what he usually did—periwinkle robes, half-moon spectacles, and the shimmery hat with the tassels on it. He never changed, it was always the same outfit; she wondered if he had a closet full of the same clothes. Snape probably did too.
'I saw you coming towards the castle.' Dumbledore said finally.
'Oh.' Ophelia nodded—that explained it.
'You were absent in all of your classes today, and at lunch.' Dumbledore noted, as if she wasn't aware she herself had been missing.
She didn't reply.
'Your friends said you were acting strange this morning—Miss. Granger seemed most concerned about you.'
'Of course they did.' Ophelia murmured.
'Not on good terms with them at the moment?' Dumbledore inquired at that.
'No, we are.' Ophelia sighed. 'They're just always concerned about me.'
'And is there good reason for their concerns?' Dumbledore pressed on.
'I don't know.' She paused and sighed, 'Well, yeah. I know they mean well, I've been getting more irritated lately.'
'About?'
'Everything, kind of.' Ophelia shrugged. 'Somebody's always talking about Sirius, and it's hard to listen to it all. It's difficult to pretend something doesn't affect you.'
She knew she could talk to him; he knew all their darkest secrets. Remus' furry little problem, Sirius Black—he knew it all. If there was one person that she could undoubtedly talk to about anything, it was him. But still, she found him absolutely infuriating at the moment. He managed to reflect calmness at the most stressful times, he was kind when people were harsh, and what was most aggravating to Ophelia was that he was always right. It was funny how somebody being calm and collected made her so angry—perhaps it was because she envious of those who weren't affected like she was.
'You don't have to pretend it doesn't affect you.' Dumbledore offered.
Ophelia looked up, questioning.
'It affects everybody. He is a mass-murderer at large, you do not need to conceal your fears—they simply cannot know what he is to you.' Dumbledore explained.
'That's not as easy as you'd think.'
'I never said it was easy.' Dumbledore said softly. 'I know it must be extremely hard, and I don't take that lightly—but I have faith in you.'
Ophelia didn't answer—they just kept walking on. The corridors were empty—the entirety of the school being at the feast. It was quiet, but serene. And Dumbledore, though she didn't quite understand it, always seemed to have faith in her abilities. It was kind, she was flattered—but she didn't understand it.
'Are you going to ask me where I was?' Ophelia questioned.
'I was going to wait for you to tell me yourself.' Dumbledore smiled.
'Right.'
'Or you could tell your Dad, and he could tell me. But if you wanted to tell me without him here, that's understandable.'
Ophelia sighed. 'I just needed a break. From all the gossiping, everybody being concerned about me, and from rude remarks. I just needed a break, I went down to the creek and I read all day.'
'Hm.' Dumbledore nodded contently.
'You can give me detention if you feel like it. Minnie's probably cross with me.' Ophelia said quietly.
'She was worried, not cross.' Dumbledore explained.
Ophelia looked up to meet his crystal blue eyes. 'You weren't supposed to be out of the castle unsupervised—she thought you were taken, as did some others, but she wasn't cross. Just worried.'
'Oh.' Ophelia said softly. 'I didn't mean to worry everybody.'
'I know you didn't.'
Ophelia nodded, her mind on her Dad. He'd be worried too, she knew that much.
'Breaks are vital, Miss. Lupin. And you will never be punished for taking one—but they need to be taken safely, especially now.'
'I understand.' Ophelia said softly, nodding.
'I know that, too.'
Ophelia smiled weakly as they kept walking.
'You're not going to receive detentions either, Miss. Lupin.' He added.
'I'm not?' Ophelia questioned.
'Not this time, but I'd advise you to adhere to the rules to prevent this from happening again.'
'Yes, sir.'
Dumbledore paused, before speaking again,
'Why didn't you want to tell your father the things you've just told me, if I may ask?' Dumbledore questioned.
'It's not that I don't want to, but I shouldn't. He's happier when we aren't discussing Sirius.' Ophelia explained.
'Some things need to be discussed.'
'There isn't much to discuss. I didn't want to be the one to break the news about his sighting today—I didn't want to be the person to tell him.' Ophelia argued.
'I think you're the person he'd rather hear it from though.' Dumbledore offered.
If somebody was going to talk about these things to him, Remus would always prefer it to be her, she knew that. But that didn't make the conversations any easier—she hated seeing him struggling.
'It hurts us to talk about him.' Ophelia said quietly.
'Forgive me if it isn't my place, Miss. Lupin, but I think it's damaging the both of you more to not talk about it.'
Ophelia considered this. He was right, like he always was—perhaps that's what made it so frustrating. The avoidance of the subject was doing neither of them much good—she knew eventually they had to have the conversations, about Sirius Black, but at the same time it was easier to avoid them. Even if the relief was temporary, she relished in it. The two of them had always spoken about everything and anything; pointless conversations, meaningless ones and everything in between. Not talking to him was strange, especially since you would think that this would be something that would come easy for them to talk about together—after all, they had talked about Sirius before. It was just real now—it was no longer a 'what if' scenario, it was their reality; and somehow, that made all the difference.
'Just something to think about.' Dumbledore said softly, eyes twinkling.
Ophelia nodded, still entranced in her thoughts.
'I'll leave you here Miss. Lupin.'
Ophelia looked up to see that they were standing in front of the wooden door that led to Remus Lupin's office. She would no doubt have to explain everything all over again to him in a moment—but first she had a question.
'Professor...Hogsmeade weekend. It's coming up.' Ophelia stammered, hoping he understood what she meant.
'I'm sorry, Miss. Lupin. It is simply not safe for you or Mr. Potter to attend. I wish I could give you a different answer, but given the circumstances...' Dumbledore shook his head. 'Besides, it's the 31st. I presumed you would be spending it with your father.'
The 31st of October. Halloween.
'No, of course I will. Goodnight, Professor.' Ophelia smiled.