𝐎𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧/𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧
𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞
"𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞. 𝐖𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲."
· · ─────── · ─────── · ·
Ophelia swung her leg back onto the windowsill, where it had fallen off a few minutes ago without notice because of her enthrallment with her new book. She set her foot beside Draco's knees and kicked him gently, shaking him from his depressive-looking pout as he stared into the yellowing pages of an old potions textbook.
"Hey, are you alright?" Ophelia asked, setting her book aside and scooched closer, leaning against the grating of the barricaded window. The two had chosen a semi-secluded spot near the courtyard to study—Ophelia with Transfiguration and Draco with Potions. Surprisingly, Snape graded Draco so harshly for having him as his godson. She guessed that being "family" doesn't change much. Even if Draco had been successful in brewing, the dark-clothed professor always found a way to scrutinise him, and no one was safe. 'You spilt a few drops onto the table, Mr. Malfoy. If you hadn't added the wolfsbane properly, it would have burnt straight through. We wouldn't want that, now would we?' 'You added Ingridroot, not Indridroot. They may have similar attributes, but alas, you weren't paying attention, now were you, Mr Malfoy?' She could go on and on forever.
"I'm fine." Draco said, sticking his nose back into his book.
"Are you sure?" Ophelia prodded again. The boy huffed and placed the book back onto his lap.
"Well, no. Professor will have my arse if I don't get outstanding on this exam." Draco glared off into the distance and then raised an index finger at the young girl.
"And don't even mention my father." He poked her shoulder and fell back against the limestone pillar.
"I'll try not to." Ophelia laughed, turning back to face her forgotten textbook. Where was she again? Oh right, the alphabet. It seemed she always forgot how to write the letter I. Was it swirled in? Out? And what orientation? She grabbed a piece of parchment and began to scribble out the scripture with a drying ink pen disguised as a quill. It was a new invention from overseas that her father had shipped to her from America. It was quite sneaky. Generic pens and pencils were not permitted as writing instruments at school. Ophelia had written a letter back to her father asking for another one for Draco as a gift. When she finally got to I, she stopped, wracking her brain for the answer but instead was interrupted by a pair of loud footsteps, ruining her train of thought.
Poking her head out from behind the column, she watched as Harry, quickly followed by Hermione and Ron, sprinted down the corridor and disappeared around the bend.
"What's got their knickers in a twist?" Draco exclaimed, laughing at his witty remark. Ophelia pushed his crude comment aside and hopped off the windowsill to chase after them.
"Hey! Where are you going?" She heard Draco call after her as she began to chase the three Gryffindors. Squeezing in between older students and jumping past teachers, Ophelia managed to catch up with the trio, who had ended up in Professor McGonagall's classroom. Apart from the professor herself, the room was empty, sitting at her desk at the front of the room, reading glasses on and pheasant quill in hand.
"We need to see Professor Dumbledore, now!" Harry exclaimed, slightly out of breath. The professor was taken aback by Harry's brash demand but composed herself quickly. Then, shaking her head, she spoke:
"I'm afraid Professor Dumbledore isn't here," The three Gryffindor's face's dropped and gawked at Professor McGonagall's face. Ophelia groaned. All that running for nothing.
"He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and left for London immediately." She continued, taking her glasses off and walking around to the front of her desk.
"He's gone?! But this is important!" Harry whined. He sounded more irritating than Fang did last night.
"What's so important?" The professor asked.
"This is about... about.." Harry spoke slowly, but Hermione butted in.
"The sorcerer's stone." The mousy girl spoke. Professor McGonagall's face morphed into one of shock and anger, and she stooped down to four student's levels.
"How do you know about-"
"Someone is going to try and steal it!" Harry interrupted but shut his mouth when the professor shot a cruel glare at him.
"I don't know how you three," The professor shook her head and turned to the side. Then, wanting acknowledgment, Ophelia raised her hand and shook it in the air, catching the attention of the older woman.
"Four of you found out about the stone, but I assure you it is perfectly well protected," She waved the students off. "Now would you all return to your dormitories... quietly."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione all put their best scowling faces on and shuffled out of the room. Ophelia was about to turn and follow after them, but before she did, she peered over to the chalkboard in the classroom, where Professor McGonagall wrote the alphabet beautifully with perfect script and rendering. "I," two bracketed crescent moons, concave sides facing each other. It looked like "G" and "H" combined and flipped on its side. Maybe that would help her remember.
"I apologise for the commotion, Professor." Ophelia turned to the older woman and went on her way.
The trio was waiting for Ophelia outside the classroom. Bringing her into a tight huddle, they placed their foreheads against one another's.
"We have to go, tonight." The four nodded in agreement and went their separate ways.
· · ─────── · ─────── · ·
Ophelia snuck up the stairs, seemingly as light as a feather. Her steps didn't make a sound, breathing almost incoherent. The muffled grumbling of the moving staircases accompanied the soft mumbling of the night. Surprisingly, she made it to the Gryffindor commons without getting spotted before taking a crumpled wad of paper from her pocket that Hermione had hastily written out for her. The ink was smudged, but Ophelia could make out two words, "Cah-put Druh-cone-is," which the girl spoke phonetically to the painting. The Fat Lady was drowsy but let the girl past, and Ophelia stepped inside. The room was very, well... red—lots of red with hints of gold and brown here and there but practically drowning in the primary colour. The fire from earlier that evening was dying, its embers shrouding the room with the thick scent of ash and burnt oak wood.
"You shouldn't be here," said a young voice. Three figures came bounding down the stairs, which Ophelia could make out to be Harry, Ron and Hermione.
"And neither should you!" Replied Harry, frustrated that his plan was now foiled. The young voice appeared to be a boy in blue, striped pajamas. Neville, was his name? Ophelia remembered him to be the boy who lost control of his broomstick and broke his elbow. Or was it his wrist?
"You're sneaking out again!" Neville accused, to which Harry tried to explain, but the brown-haired boy wouldn't have it.
"No! I-I won't let you. You'll get Gryffindor in trouble again." Neville put his hands up in a fighting stance. "I'll fight you!"
Ophelia scoffed, and Hermione took out her wand.
"Neville, I'm really, really sorry about this." She raised her wand and completely petrified the stubborn boy. He went rigid and fell flat onto his back with a thump. Ophelia winced as she saw his feet fly up before falling back down. That had got to hurt.
Emerging from the shadows, Ophelia frightened the trio but was greeted with open arms.
"You're a little scary sometimes," Ron poked Hermione's shoulder.
"But bloody brilliant." Ophelia spoke, linking arms with the brunette and stepped through the painting.
"Come on!" Harry said, pulling out a rather distasteful floral fabric. Confused as to why they would need it, Ophelia poked Ron's shoulder.
"What is that?" She asked. Ron smiled.
"It's an invisibility cloak." The ginger said, following in after Hermione, who completely disappeared beneath the cloak. Ophelia gasped and brushed her fingers against the silky fabric. It was cold but not uncomfortable to the touch, and tentatively she placed the cover over her head and let the trio lead the way. How did the four of them fit under the meagre cloak? She didn't know. Now was not the time to question the laws of magical physics.
The four of them proceeded down hundreds of hallways until they found a door, to which Hermione opened with a spell, softly speaking alohomora, a charm which Ophelia would have to study a while longer before attempting anything. Entering inside the room, it was quiet. Too quiet. Ophelia could make out a colossal paw and drops of mucus on the limestone floors as she looked into the dark edge of the room. Then, music began to play. A magical harp, strumming a high-pitched tune that was placed expertly next to the monstrous dog's ear, blocking out anything except the harp. Someone had already been here. Slowly lifting the cloak away, Harry gathered the fabric into his arms and tucked it away into his jacket.
"Snape's already been here." Harry said. Ophelia furrowed her brows at the boy.
"It's not Snape, Hagrid said so!" She huffed.
"Just because you have a certain grudge against him doesn't mean he's to blame for everything." Ophelia pointed, pursing her lips and looked around the room. Harry opened his mouth to object, but Hermione jabbed him in the arm and pointed towards something behind Ophelia. Then, turning around, she saw what the Gryffindor girl was gesturing towards, a trapdoor obstructed by one of Fluffy's massive paws, sharp nails scraping along the stone floor.
"We have to move it's paw." Harry motioned towards the sleeping dog, and Ron swerved his head rapidly.
"I'm sorry, what?!" Ron whispered, eyes wide and his pupils dilated.
"Come on!" Harry beckoned the three other children over to help him move the colossal paw. Ophelia swiped her hands on her thighs, internally gagging at the rancid smell of sweat and drool. Hermione lifted the hatch open, and they all crouched down, peering into the dark entrance. Harry obliged to go first, and Ron and Hermione right behind him. Just before Harry jumped in, Ophelia felt something stirring behind her. Ophelia was slowly turning around, face-to-face with a full mouth of very, very sharp teeth, glistening with layers of saliva. As the dog rose onto its feet, a wad of drool dripped out of Fluffy's mouth and onto Ron's shoulder, to which he gagged at and turned white.
"Ugh, yuck!" Ron cried, desperately trying to wipe the viscous liquid off of his knitted sweater. The dog growled lowly, and all of the children turned back to the hatch.
"Jump!" Harry cried and hopped down into the dark abyss, quickly followed by Hermione and Ron. Ophelia felt Fluffy's hot breath on her neck as she barely escaped his clutches, falling into the hatch. She thought she fell a good three meters before landing on a pile of black vines, which Ophelia immediately recognised. Before she could react, the vines began to wrap around her ankles and knees, elbows and chest, attempting to devour her with its deadly tendrils. In a desperate attempt to escape, Ophelia began to wriggle around and slide her limbs away from the plant. But much to her dismay, the coiling of the vines grew tighter, slowly cutting off circulation in her forearms and feet.
"Stop moving, all of you!" Hermione yelled at the other three students.
"This is Devil's Snare," Ophelia began to feel something moving behind her head, slowly inching across the nape of her neck and making her hair stand up as the vine started to wrap itself around her throat.
"You have to relax. If you don't, it'll only kill you faster." Hermione spoke. Ophelia watched in horror as her friend was swallowed by the sable plant, disappearing below. She could hear Ron whimper beside her and try to reach out to grab her arm. Ophelia wracked her brain and took a deep breath in, remembering Herbology and what Professor Sprout told them, or at least what she could remember. Draco made a valiant effort that morning to have all the attention on him. Slowly, her vision disappeared, obscured by darkness as she moved down through the plant. Ophelia could hear Ron cry out to her for help as she dropped onto a pile of dirt and rubble.
"Just listen to what Hermione says, Ron!" Then, calling out to him, Ophelia could see the vines begin to open up, and Harry dropped right on top of her. He immediately got up, brushed the dust off his pants, and held out a hand to her.
Ophelia almost reached up, but it somehow felt wrong, like a betrayal, so she just shook her head and got up herself.
"He's not calming down is he," sighed Hermione.
"Not one bit," said Harry. Suddenly Ophelia remembered the morning in the greenhouse, a relatively short visit because of Longbottom's incapability to stay out of trouble, but she remembered learning about the Devil's Snare. She gripped Hermione's forearm and stared directly into the mousy girl's eyes.
"Wasn't there something that Professor Sprout taught us? A chant, a poem of some sort? About the Devil's Snare?" Ophelia spoke. Hermione's eye lit up, and she began to recite the poem:
"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare. It's deadly fun..." Hermione paused for a moment, turning to Ophelia.
"But it will sulk in the sun!" They both chanted. Hermione slapped her forehead.
"Of course! How could I be so stupid?" Pulling her wand from her skirt, Hermione raised it to the coiling plant and shouted,
"Lumos Solem!" A bright flash of light emerged from Hermione's wand, temporarily blinding Harry and Ophelia, who both shielded their eyes from being permanently damaged. The plant groaned loudly, shrinking away from the light and back into the darkness, releasing a faltering Ron and let him fall to the ground with a thump. Harry rushed over to his friend and slung Ron's arm over his shoulders, slowly helping him to a standing position. Then, a sound began to echo from down the hall, which turned the heads of all four explorers. With Ron still by his side, who was slowly mumbling incoherent sentences, Harry took the lead, shuffling down the dingy hallway. Ophelia could barely make out the inscriptions on the walls as they walked past, slight scars etched into the worn limestone, thousands of them by the touch. Ophelia lifted her hand off the wall, tucking it into her pocket and clasping it around her wand, having it at the ready. The sound grew louder and louder, eventually morphing into a bunch of tiny sounds, a buzzing of some sort. Finally, the four approached a big latched door with rusty iron hinges that squeaked shrilly when Hermione tugged the door open.
Inside, thousands of small flying insects flapped around the room, shrouding the children in an uproar that they could hardly hear each other over.
"How peculiar, I've never seen bugs like these before." Hermione spoke. Ophelia inspected one of the flying creatures more closely and found that they weren't insects at all; they were keys! With shiny bodies that had gone unpolished for years and wings with sparse feathers that were covered in dust and grunge.
"They're not bugs, Hermione, they're keys," Ophelia shouted and pointed to another matching door to the one they came in, except this time it had a lock on it.
"And one must fit that door!" Ron shouted, running his way over to it and shouted alohomora. Nothing. Hermione groaned, staring up at the hoard of flying keys.
"What are we going to do?!"
Ophelia looked up into the masses as well, scanning the room for something strange, something different. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw it. A copper key, shining in the moonlight with a broken wing. She took Hermione's hand and pointed towards the key, which was flying quite pitifully at the tippy top of the room.
"There, that one," She yelled.
"The one with the broken wing!"
Hermione stared up into the room, looking perplexed.
"But how are we going to get it?!" She questioned. Ophelia smiled, turning around to face Harry, swatting off a smaller key that seemed to like his hair. He looked up at the Slytherin girl and raised an eyebrow.
"What are you looking at me for?" Harry asked. Ophelia shook her head and started to move around the room, searching for something, anything that could help them at all. She scoured every corner, every nook and cranny, and on the very far side of the room, she saw it. An old but seemingly stable broom, nothing like the racing brooms she saw on the Quidditch pitch during games. Still, Ophelia reached for it and tossed it to Harry, still bewildered by her request. But he didn't jump to get into the air again. Instead, he stood there, staring up into the hoard of keys, which seemed to be getting more restless.
"Is something wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He shook his head, closing his eyes and frowning.
"It's too simple." Harry stated.
Ron scoffed, standing up from where he was resting on an old piece of rock that had fallen from the wall, shattering upon impact.
"You are the youngest seeker that the wizarding world has ever seen in over a century, Harry. If anyone is up to the task, it would be you." Ron placed his hand on Harry's other shoulder, which put a smile on the young Gryffindor's face. Harry stepped back, slowly mounting the broom and raising just a few inches off of the ground. The keys began to screech, zipping down towards Harry with lighting speed, who darted off just the same as the keys swerved towards the flying boy, who was just about to reach the copper key. One sliced Ophelia's cheek, which made her stumble back and clutch her bleeding flesh. Removing her fingers from her cheek, she saw them tainted with blood, which made her whimper and turned back to Harry, who now had the key but was narrowly escaping the hoard of keys behind him. He weaved in between the crumbling pillars and spandrels, managing to keep just out of reach. When he could get close enough, he threw the key to Ophelia, who was holding out her hands, ready to catch the faulty key. She wrapped her fingers tightly around the squirming object and jammed it into the keyhole. Turning the key sharply, Ophelia swung the door open and pulled Ron and Hermione inside.
"It's open, Harry!" Ophelia called out, peering up into the room and making eye contact with the young seeker. He swerved sharply into a nosedive, the keys following shortly after. She watched as Harry held onto his glasses, and possibly his dinner, as he raced towards the ground. The tip of the broom barely scraped the floor before he yanked hard, and the broom righted itself a few feet above the floor. Though now, it was heading straight for Ophelia. She jumped behind the door, narrowly missed by Harry, who tumbled off of his broom. Ophelia immediately slammed the door, leaning against it for a few breaths, listening to the clattering and clinking of metal banging against the door and falling to the ground. After everything died down, Ophelia let out a sigh and removed herself from the door, now staring into a room filled with monstrous statues. Ron backed away slowly from the door, then turned around and tried to weave his way through the room to the other door but was stopped immediately by two sword-brandishing statues, creating a mock blockade.
"What is this place?" Questioned Hermione.
"It's a chessboard," Ron spoke.
"And what am I supposed to do with that information?"
"It's simple. We play."
The three looked at Ron with puzzled looks. Then, rolling his eyes, and took a step forward and faced them.
"Hermione and Ophelia, you be the queenside castle. Harry, you take the empty bishop square. I'll be a knight."
Ophelia took Hermione's hand and led her over to the empty square, squeezing it tightly as a way to comfort her distressed friend.
"Now what do we do?" Ophelia asked, just as Ron had mounted the mock horse, perpetually suspended in a frightening buck.
"Well, white moves first, and then... we play."
· · ─────── · ─────── · ·
Another piece smashed to bits, ceramic flying through the air. Hermione and Ophelia ducked as a large piece of shrapnel came flying at their heads, screaming as it did so. Ophelia thought they were losing, but she couldn't tell. Chess wasn't really her forte. She watched as the White Queen slowly turned back around, sheathing her sword and back to her stoic, regal stance. Ophelia turned to Ron with a fearful glance, and he began to suck his lip. Then Harry piped up.
"Wait a minute..."
"You understand Harry. Once I make my move, the Queen will take me... then you'll be free to check the King." Ron said, looking around the board for different options. Ophelia raised her hand to her mouth, muffling a gasp she didn't want the rest of them to hear.
"Ron, no. NO!" Harry screamed. Hermione shook Ophelia's arm.
"What is it?"
"He's going to sacrifice himself." Ophelia spoke through her hand, clasping her free one with the brunette Gryffindor. Hermione let out a shriek and turned to Ron, not daring to step off of her square.
"No, you can't! There must be another way!" Hermione screamed at him, but Ron didn't listen. Ophelia pulled Hermione into her arms and watched everything unfold.
"Harry, it's you that has to go on. You know it." Ron stared at Harry, who gave a pitiful nod and turned towards the Queen. Ophelia watched as Ron began to speak.
"Knight to H3."
Ron held his breath as his piece began to move, scraping the ceramic tiles and pushing through layers of dust and debris. Taking his place just three tiles away from the Queen, Ophelia watched as she slowly turned to face the ginger boy, who was now visibly shaking. The white statue, still stoic as ever, began its deadly victory march. Everything started to happen in slow motion. The Queen unsheathed her sword, drawing it across her torso with unmatched elegance, brandishing it high in the air for just a few moments before dropping down, slicing straight through the belly of Ron's horse, sending both him and the horse flying. Hermione's shrieks of terror were the only thing that kept Ophelia on her feet and the tightening of her grip on Ophelia's shoulder, a cinching vice that wouldn't let go. Shrapnel flew everywhere, shrouding Ron's unconscious body with ceramic dust and glass.
Time sped up again, and Hermione rushed right to her friend's side while Ophelia and Harry stayed in place. Then, taking a deep breath in, Harry took a confident stride forwards and faced the King.
"Checkmate." Harry spoke, just loud enough for Ophelia to hear. Hermione lifted her head just in time to watch the longsword, interlaced between the White King's fingers to fall forward, dropping to the floor with a clatter and crumbled to pieces. The game was over. Ophelia let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and ran to embrace Harry, who was shaking. They both watched the door to the other room open wide. Stepping back, Ophelia placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and glanced at Ron and Hermione. She was hunched over the ginger boy, who was gently stirring as she inspected his head and arm, which a stray piece of shrapnel had crushed.
"It's time." Ophelia spoke. Harry nodded silently, smiling weakly before disappearing into the depths beyond, the door shutting behind him. Turning back to the other children in the room, Ophelia rushed to Ron's side. His forehead was bruising badly, a mix of purplish-blue slowly creeping across his forehead.
"I can't do anything for him, it's far too advanced," Hermione concluded.
"We need to take him to Madam Pomfrey."
Ophelia heard everything Hermione had said but was too focused on the door that Harry had disappeared behind to care. She knew she couldn't help him now, but something inside her wanted to. Ophelia felt a hand on her bicep, which jolted her from her daydream, and she turned back to Hermione, who was now looking directly into Ophelia's eyes.
"He'll be okay. I know it."