The entirety of the students were soaking wet when they finally got inside the familiar castle. The rain had become increasingly heavier since they departed from Kings Cross earlier that morning, and had morphed into a raging thunderstorm that made it quite difficult for Hagrid and the first years to sail across the black lake.
The Great Hall was still a sight to behold as always though. Decorated for the start of term feast; it was finished with golden plates, goblets and hundreds and hundreds of candles floating in the sky. The four long, wooden tables were filled to the brim with chipper students and the staff were already at their separate table with smiles plastered onto their faces (except Snape, naturally).
It was much warmer in the Great Hall than it was outside in the raging storm, so there wasn't much to complain about, except that the beginning of the feast seemed to take forever to start. Nearly Headless Nick made his rounds and said hello to his fellow Gryffindors, Collin Creevy had come over to inform Harry his brother Dennis was being sorted today, and Draco had time to squeeze in a sneer and a insult on his way past them to the Slytherin table.
"They don't seem to have a replacement for Dad, yet." Ophelia frowned, eyes on the staff table as the others chatted amongst themselves, eager to see whatever no-doubt awful replacement they had put in his place.
"Maybe they couldn't find one." Hermione said thoughtfully, all of them now peering in the direction of the teachers.
Professor Flitwick sat on the very end of one side of the table. He looked the same as he did last year; youthful, chipper and tapping his toes even though there was no music playing. Hagrid was next to him, then Professor Sprout, the astronomy teacher Ophelia never did get the name of and then Snape; whom looked greasy and miserable as per usual. Next to Snape was the empty seat typically occupied by Professor McGonagall, who was presumably still with the first years who were yet to enter, and then the other empty seat that Remus Lupin had sat in for the first time a year ago today — which was yet to be filled by his replacement.
And then there was Dumbledore, the man that didn't seem to ever change. His silver beard was the same length as it always was, he wore the same periwinkle robes, had the same half-moon spectacles on the bridge of his nose and that same twinkle in his eye he so often seemed to have.
She must have been staring too long, or too intently, because eventually his lips quirked into a small smile; eyes twinkling a little more.
She bashfully looked away after returning the smile, feeling bad for staring, and not even a second later Ron let out a groan, "Oi, could they hurry this up? I could eat a freaking hippogriff."
"You ate the whole way here, Ronald." Hermione reminded him, "In fact, you were in such a sour mood you spent more time shoving your face with cauldron cakes than talking to us."
Ron chose not to reply to that, which was good, since at that very moment the grand wooden doors opened and Professor McGonagall strode in, the line of tiny first years following behind her.
Ophelia flashed them warm smiles as they passed, and the occasional wave, remembering how it wasn't all that long ago she was in their position; terrified, homesick and unsure of what was to come.
Professor McGonagall ceremoniously placed the wobbly wooden stool down in the same place it always sat for the annual sorting ceremony, and after a moment the torn and patched hat broke into song as per usual.
The song was always different, but it seemed to get progressively weirder each year. Still, everybody enjoyed it, or pretended to, since Dumbledore seemed to enjoy it so much — tapping his toes and snapping his fingers as if it was a David Bowie hit and not some random rhyme that hardly made sense.
The first years were sorted next. Gryffindor gained a couple new members; most notably Dennis Creevy, which Collin was over the moon about.
After, Dumbledore approached the golden podium to no-doubt begin his annual speech; where he would list the life-threatening dangers that happened to be apparent this year, and any other school rules.
"It is my painful duty to inform you all that the inner-house Quidditch cup will not be taking place this year."
Ophelia didn't catch much of the speech, but this she did. It was hard not to when Harry let out a sharp gasp from beside her, and the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team seemed very upset at the statement also — arguing almost immediately.
"This is due to an event that will be starting in October and will take up much of the school year, as well as our time and energy. This is why I have the great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-"
He was cut off, rather abruptly, by the doors being pushed open aggressively and a man walking in. It was hard to make his features out with only the candlelight from the sky, but that didn't stop every single student from whirling around to get a good luck at the disruption.
The man was short, rather stubby, leant against a wooden staff for support and wearing a black travelling cloak. Only when he lowered the hood of said cloak, did they get a good look at his features.
He pulled his grey hair out of the hood, and began to walk forward, his staff clanking with every step he took, as he made his way down the aisle. Upon him passing her, Ophelia came to the conclusion she had seen him before, but not like this. Every inch of his skin appeared to be scarred, as if it was harshly cut with a chisel, there was a silvery gash on his mouth and he was missing the better part of his nose. Not to mention the fake eye, which she tried to not focus on as he went by.
She knew this was Alastor Moody, whom she vaguely recognized from select photographs at home; the big group ones with countless people Remus always found it difficult to talk about, most of them having passed away in the first war. He had mentioned him once or twice, she knew he was an auror and that he was quite good. Years had passed since those photos were taken though, and he looked as if he had been through three more wars since then.
"Alastor Moody. Or Mad-Eye." She whispered into Harry's ear, "He's an auror."
His eyes widened as the man kept down the aisle, eventually reaching the golden podium. Dumbledore only hesitated momentarily before pulling the strange man into an embrace, laughing as he pat him on the back and reacquainted with what must have been his old friend.
Ophelia's eyes narrowed when she watched him sit down in the empty seat that used to belong to Remus, and unscrewed a bottle from his trousers, taking a large sip. She scoffed. He didn't even have the decency to show up on time. He already wasn't as good.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, "May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody."
He didn't garner an applause like most new teachers did; rather, only Hagrid and Dumbledore himself chose to clap for him, and quite enthusiastically as if to make up for the lack of applause from the others.
"He sure knows how to make an entrance." Ron scoffed.
"As I was saying," Dumbledore went on, "we have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, and event which has not been held for over a century. Now, it is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
"YOU'RE JOKING!" Fred exclaimed, jumping up from the bench excitedly.
Nearly everyone laughed, even Dumbledore's chuckle rang through the Great Hall, "I am certainly not joking, Mr Weasley. Now, let me explain."
He went on to explain the history of the tournament, most of which Ophelia knew a lot about from the various books on the subject in their study at home. What made her brows furrow though was the fact this competition was deadly, hence why it hadn't been held in over a century, and she couldn't help the pit she felt in her stomach that something was going to go wrong.
"I'm so entering!" Fred announced after he was finished.
"Me too!" Lee piped up.
"Wicked." George just breathed.
"Your mother will kill you." Ophelia mumbled, though they didn't hear it — nobody could over the excited chat of the hundreds of students that didn't seem to share her worry.
"Not so fast." Dumbledore put up his hand, rather sympathetically, "Unfortunately, due to incidents in the past, we are implementing an age restriction this time around. No individual under seventeen shall be permitted to enter, so I suggest you do not bother to try."
"Are you KIDDING?" George huffed.
"So unfair." Fred muttered bitterly.
"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive in October." Dumbledore went on, unfazed by the twins comments, "I know that you will all treat our foreign guests with the utmost kindness and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion that is chosen."
He paused, "But now, it is late, and I know how important it is for you all to be alert and rested for your classes tomorrow morning. Chop chop! Off to bed!"
The benches made a scraping noise as the students sprung up to make their way back to their common rooms and dormitories, as Dumbledore returned to the staff table to speak to Moody. The prefects and head boys and girls lead the way, as some of the Gryffindors lagged behind.
"So unfair. Rubbish." George muttered, coming to stand next to Ophelia and Harry.
"I think it's good." Ophelia shrugged, which elicited a sharp glance from Harry and Ron, who both seemed excited, "I'm sorry, but I don't fancy any of you dying."
"While that's somewhat charming, it's still unfair." George mumbled back, which Fred agreed with as they began to flood out of the Great Hall.
...
"Dish the gossip!"
Being back with Lavender and Parvarti meant returning to their usual rituals, which for Lavender meant milking every possible bit of information about other people's personal lives she could grasp.
"Gossip?" Hermione scoffed, folding her blankets neatly onto her bed as she plopped down onto it, flipping open a textbook already.
Lavender was putting her wet hair from showering in braids at the moment, the key to her always perfectly curly look, as Parvarti was already snug and cozy under her blankets, her hair done in a messy bun and wearing pink pyjamas.
"Yes, gossip! Anything. You were with boys all summer weren't you?"
"Not all summer." Ophelia spoke up, "Only for two weeks."
"Still. Dish!"
"Dish what?" Hermione asked.
"Anything. Are you and Ron together yet?" Parvarti blurted.
"Ron and-I-I'm—what?" Hermione stammered, and Ophelia tried not to grin, "Ron is my friend. That's it. Honestly, what you two do to find gossip..."
"Ugh, fine. You?" Lavender asked, turning to Ophelia as she fluffed her pillow.
"Harry is like my brother, Ron is one of my best friends and all of the other Weasley's are much too old for me. Sorry to disappoint, but there isn't much to 'dish'."
"Honestly, you have so many boys that fall at your feet and you don't want any of them?" Lavender sighed, as if the prospect of being independent was unheard of.
"I don't care about that stuff." Ophelia shrugged, as she rolled over to turn off her lamp.
"I'd take any of them if you aren't going to." Lavender sighed, and Ophelia didn't register how Parvarti's face fell slightly at her words.
"Sadly I hardly think they're up for auction, Lav. But you're gorgeous, both of you, and kind and funny, amongst so many other wonderful qualities. There's so much more to you both than what a boy thinks." Ophelia explained, the raging feminist in her taking the wheel.
"I'm sure you'll find the right people for you if you give it time, but don't dwell on it. You're just as interesting and worthy with or without a boyfriend." She informed them both.
"Tired of waiting though." Lavender sighed, falling back against her pillows, "Isn't that a lot to expect out of people? That we just wait years and years for our soulmates? What if we never find them?"
Ophelia paused, for a long time, she thought. She didn't know what to respond with.
"There's somebody for everybody, I'm sure of it."
That seemed to be a good enough answer, since nobody responded.
"Well, night guys." She murmured sometime after, when she was sure nobody had something to say. They were presumably all pondering the same thought.
"Night." The other three replied in unison.
She rolled over again, eager to fall asleep as the room was plunged into darkness.
Her parents were each other's soulmate, and she could tell that from the two interactions they had with each other in twelve years. Mr and Mrs Weasley had to be soulmates. James and Lily. Mr and Mrs Granger. What if she never had that? She didn't claim to be somebody who cared about this stuff; love or dating, but she found Lavender's words etched into her mind.
She hoped she'd find that person.
What she didn't know was that she already had, though.