Chapter 27: Duel of the GreatsNotes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextOphelia vs Voldemort.
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
Duel of the Greats
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
Ten paces apiece. Tom bowed, and Ophelia did the same. His lips twitched in a smile, and hers did the same as they both followed standard for wixen of their caliber, according to Mahalu.
They unleashed their auras.
Ophelia focused on the memory that incited her aura's birth. The blue lips of her best friend. Instantaneously the afternoon light seemed to vanish from the eyes of the assembled Death Eaters as a chill settled deep into their very bones. Their voices were silenced as their bodies became stock-still and their hearts hammered as the dread settled in. The Winter Queen indeed.
Tom's aura held no effect on Ophelia as it clashed against hers for dominance, but the way the bodies of the Death Eaters began to tremble and shake and their faces became green and flushed told her that it couldn't be anything pleasant.
The two auras battled one another, each fighting for dominance. While Tom's was an aggressive, burning-hot spear, Ophelia's was an ice cold hand that smothered any attempts at undermining or overwhelming the inner protective bubble.
They traded grins, Ophelia's lips taking on the same bluish hue that Hannah's had, while Tom's arms took on a red flush. She rolled her sleeves up, immediately overlaying interlinked runes of multiple languages onto her skin while Tom did the same. Once again, this was etiquette. Tom treating her as an equal was why, rather than simply delving into the spellfire as they might have done if Ophelia hadn't had his respect, they were both putting in their greatest efforts.
Mahalu told her this was simply how things were done. And besides, having a chance to let loose completely and simply wreak havoc…
'Anyone with power would relish and revel in a chance to go all-out and have fun.'
The first spell was Tom's, as he of course had more experience and practice applying runes meant for battle.
Ophelia caught the glowing orange curse at the tip of her wand and flicked it aside, causing the cauldron to implode when it struck and leave a melting puddle of brackish goo. She transfigured the charcoal and wood it had been lit by into an array of railroad spikes and banished them towards Tom. He created a shield that turned them into metal powder and then brandished his wand like a whip, coiling electricity pouring off of it and collecting the iron sand the spikes had been turned into!
He lashed out at Ophelia and she barely managed to erect a pillar of stone in time and enchant it with magnetic properties. The iron sand and electric whip went haywire in its presence, giving Ophelia an opening to unleash a concussive blast of electromagnetic energy paired with a blast of sound and light. A modified form of the flashbang spell Angelina learned for extra credit on her O.W.L. studies.
Tom looked impressed, though the umbrella - really? - he'd shielded his eyes with was quickly replaced with a snarling black lion that launched itself towards Ophelia.
She performed a partial animaga transformation of her throat and unleashed that famous Bengal Tiger roar. The lion faltered, clearly not expecting that just before she transfigured it into a giant log that she then banished towards a much-more-impressed Tom. He cut it in half as either piece fell by his side and smirked at her. "An Animaga, at your age? Impressive, Ophelia," he complimented before turning the log halves into wooden constructs that dashed towards her, bodies glowing with Serpent Runes. She thought she'd heard him hiss when he transfigured them.
She conjured some flames, lightning them on fire and increasing the heat to cause the wood to rapidly crack and crumble before manipulating the flames into a giant bull and sending it forwards. Tom overtook it with a much hotter, brighter flame that resembled a serpent… and reeked of brimstone.
"Fiendfyre, Tom? Kind of excessive, but okay," she muttered before animating the giant statue of the reaper and causing it to swing its scythe down to impede the serpent. It stopped its charge and hissed just before Ophelia cast the Anathema Curse.
Roarfrost.
A giant barn owl made of ice and snow appeared, though its movements weren't as fluid as the serpents, seeing as its nature as ice made it less susceptible to… well. Moving.
But simply by being conjured, the temperature around Ophelia dropped drastically as her breath began to fog. The air between owl and serpent began to vibrate. She grinned and launched it forwards just as Tom seemed to understand what she was aiming for…
And then the massive explosion caused by the two thermal opposites occurred. Ophelia barely managed to throw up a shield, but the blast caused several chunks of debris to scratch at her clothes, making tiny nicks that were only so small because of the runes woven into them.
She didn't wait for the dust to settle and conjured a tornado, barely noticing as the assembled Death Eaters were knocked back on their rears. The auras leaving them immobile had rendered them helpless, struggling to move whatsoever. And now with the tornado, they were being knocked around again. It was a bit sad, really. These were his elites?
Somehow she felt that something was off about that, but she chose to focus on the whirling winds she'd whipped up, the cloud of smoke and various hunks of debris darkening it as Tom stood, a feral grin on his face as he restored his robe with a flick of his wand. He waved it again and the tornado was expelled outwards, leaving them in a brief stillness.
"Roarfrost? I have to admit, I'd never known the two to react in such a way, Ophelia. Well done," he complimented as the two began to slowly circle one another, each obviously - even if discreetly - restoring and reapplying their defensive runes.
She gave a shrug. "Minerva taught it to me," she replied, before flushing. "I meant McGonagall… she gave me permission, but only in privacy." She grimaced, but Tom threw his head back and laughed.
"You're in a duel to the death, Ophelia. Perhaps you shouldn't worry about that," he replied casually before he hurled a dark violet curse at her that transformed into a spiderweb of energy, clearly trying to encapsulate her.
Ophelia thrust her wand forwards and a flash of white magic appeared as she cast a modified shredding curse, basically forming a sawblade on the tip of her wand and causing it to rev, utterly destroying the spiderweb. She then flicked her wrist like one would to crack a whip, and the sawblade flung at Tom - being hit with a duplication charm mid-air and forming numerous fellows.
Tom created a modified shield that resembled an actual medieval buckler despite still being made of magic, catching the sawblades as he took the magic and broke it all down - shield and sawblades alike - to conjure a dark red orb. Though Ophelia didn't waste the time he needed and reared back before thrusting her wand forwards. "Thorrdaïn!"
A massive thunderclap boomed as wicked chains of lightning lashed out wildly, the former rattling Ophelia's bones while the latter caused her hair to stand on-end. Tom looked alarmed and rapidly shifted his spellweaving, the energy turning blue and forming a protective hemisphere around him. Ophelia twisted her wand and the chains of lightning lashed out more violently, and more in his direction as she 'guided' them, using her visualization to turn Tom and his barrier into a lightningrod - and she was definitely dishing out the lightning. Each bolt sizzled against the ground and stone whenever it struck either, carrying enough power to blacken and shatter tombstones, even causing the ground to crack while the grass was scorched away.
The barrier cracked—
And then a massive explosion was let loose. Ophelia was sent flying, but she morphed into her Animaga form and managed to land on all fours, gritting her teeth and snarling as her claws dug into the dirt. Tom created a gust of wind to clear the area, observing Ophelia closely before sparing a glance to his Followers.
Several had smoking black marks on their body where the wildly lashing lightning had struck them, twitching a bit where they lay. She didn't know if they were alive…
Now wasn't the time to dwell on that. She was in a duel.
She morphed into a human again, grateful that she felt no pain. She actually felt a bit stronger… then again, she always felt like that after turning into Stripes. It was probably bleedover…
She really should've started using that form more often a bit sooner.
"I've never seen a spell like that, Ophelia. Where did you find it?" Tom asked curiously as he almost lazily caused the ground to become more level and less uneven and pock-marked after the numerous explosions.
"I didn't," she replied, inclining her jaw. "There's a videogame Hannah showed me once. Uses lightning kinda like that. I got interested, so I invented the spell," she explained, unable to help her grin as she remembered Hannah's awestruck look when she'd seen Ophelia let loose. "It was worth the look on her face when I showed it off. I can't call it Kazap since that'd just be a flat-out copy, so I let Hannah name it. She called it 'Mjølnir'."
Tom's lip twitched before he let out a loud laugh. "After Thor's hammer in Norse Mythos? Clearly your friend has a talent for naming. I rarely see spells that powerful - what was the purpose, again? A lightshow? A present? You've invented one of the most destructive spells I've ever seen in my lifetime. I think if you make it out of this, that my invitation will remain open, Ophelia."
Ophelia rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I'm starting to realize you're not remotely as psychotic as Dumbledore painted you, and I'm not sure if that's better or worse," she grumbled before glancing at his underlings. "Is this really the best help you've got? Don't any of your Death Eaters have auras?"
Tom gave a shrug, his shoulders moving smoothly. "Some do. Severus, for example - though his obsession with your mother has always disturbed me," he replied, an annoyed expression flickering across his face. "He demanded she be kept alive for his own… reasons."
Ophelia felt nausea roil through her and shuddered. "Maybe I should've asked Mahalu to kill him after all," she grumbled with a shake of her head.
Tom's head shot up. "Mahalu? Mahalu Xochitecatl? She is here?"
Ophelia blinked before she frowned. "In the Isles? Not exactly. Mc– ugh, whatever. Minerva contacted her so she could teach me how to wield my aura. She didn't want me alone around Dumbledore. Mahalu comes by every week or so to teach me herself," she explained, slowly realizing that Tom likely knew Mahalu, based on how she'd spoken of him. Actually… his behavior resembled the Tom that Mahalu spoke of far more than the one Dumbledore did. Perhaps Dumbledore hadn't realized that the 'Mad Lord Voldemort' act was… just that? An act?
Tom shook his head and gave a more mirthless laugh. "Maybe I shouldn't be so surprised, then. Mahalu's one nasty witch when she wants to be," he mused before he straightened his posture and the glint returned to his blood-red eyes. "Well. Enough banter. Shall we get back to it?"
Ophelia grimaced and went back into the stance Minerva had drilled into her. "I suppose we shall," she replied just before both fired off powerful blasting hexes that struck one another mid-air and promptly imploded on one another, sucking the wind in before blasting outwards. Thankfully Ophelia managed to apply brief sticking charms to her feet, dispelling them when the blast settled so she could take a step forwards and draw her wand in an upwards arc, creating a fountain of water that blasted out as if from a fire hydrant.
Tom split the water, but Ophelia was prepared and twirled her wand, causing it to coalesce around him into a giant sphere of water to try and limit his movements. He kicked off the ground, shooting out with what must have been enhanced strength as he shot towards Ophelia, wand forming a steel blade he swung towards her–
And the stone construct she'd formed from the rubble of the reaper statue grabbed the blade, stopping it in its tracks while Ophelia unleashed a massively overpowered light charm. Tom shielded his eyes, but she saw him dispel the blade as the light died, jabbing his wand at her and loosing an ominous, sickly green hex that seemed foreboding in a way unlike, yet similar to, the killing curse. She conjured a mirror and it bounced off and to the side, striking a Death Eater… who screamed as he slowly transformed into a gnarled, twisted rosebush, the thorns shooting out of his skin before the transformation began.
She forced her eyes away, a twitch of her wand causing the construct to swing a fist at Tom. He dodged, but now they were close. Barely three meters apart.
Ophelia turned her throat into a tiger's again and roared, causing Tom to whirl and conjure a hasty stone barrier, likely expecting a tiger in his adrenaline-filled mind. She loosed a blasting hex on the stone wall, causing the debris to shoot out and knock Tom backwards, sending him sprawling. Unfortunately the blast was so close that Ophelia's ears began to ring and she stumbled, wincing and gasping a bit as she brought a hand up to her ear. She pulled it away and saw blood, so she gritted her teeth and cast the healing charms for her eardrums while Tom collected himself.
She was scarred enough, she couldn't afford to lose her hearing if she could help it. Especially since she heavily doubted she'd actually beat Tom tonight. At best she'd earn a draw or manage to escape.
He righted himself and shook his head, giving her a long, searching look. "Strategic, and tactical… that would be Minerva's education at play," he mused, his demeanor changing a bit. He looked more cold and calculating. "Though you show some different… habits."
Ophelia grimaced as she tore off the shredded remains of her sweater, realizing that the consecutive blasts had rendered it useless. Her blouse was still intact, at least. "That would be my best friend Hannah's influence. She's the one that taught me chess, and a lot of other strategy," she admitted. She wasn't sure why, but she felt that Tom wouldn't abuse the knowledge he got from her. There was some sort of unspoken agreement forming that her friends and family were off-limits, she felt.
Perhaps that was why Minerva's family was never at risk in the war. She'd mentioned that they were mostly mundanes and a wixen great-nephew and great-niece of hers that were, if Ophelia recalled right, two years below her.
"I see. Clearly, talent finds talent," Tom commented, causing Ophelia to look at him in surprise. Tom smirked. "I do happen to recognize talent regardless of whether I've met them, Ophelia. Your word is as good as Dumbledore's, if you ask me. Besides, I am well aware of the talent that has joined you. Miss Granger, for example?"
Ophelia stiffened, tightening her grip on the rosewood wand. "Hermione… You know her parents aren't magical, right? Isn't blood purity your entire motto?" She asked bitterly, not forgetting the cruelties enacted during the last war against mundanes. Not to mention the torture of mundanes during the World Cup, and what Susan said their Aunts called 'Death Mires'. Bi-yearly 'events' where Death Eaters tortured and murdered mundanes ever since the end of the war.
Tom arched an eyebrow. "I advocate for might, Ophelia. Might and magic. I don't generally care for mundanes, but those capable of producing a witch as powerful as your friend deserve a pass," he replied, and his eyes flickered to her side. She followed his gaze and saw the Cup, a frown on her face. It still glowed. She returned her focus to Tom, not wanting to take the risk.
"Give Hermione a pass all you like," she muttered, grimacing as she saw him begin to create a whip of flames. 'Though I don't think her parents deserve respect,' she thought before deflecting the crack of the whip of flames with a conjured wall of ice. It caused a massive blast of steam and she transfigured the steam into water before forcing it to become a wave that loomed over Tom. Then she shot a blast of lightning into it, meaning if it struck he'd be flash-fried.
So naturally when she saw a giant sphere of stone weather the torrent, she wasn't surprised. But he didn't dispel it rightaway to counterattack. Why?
Then it struck her. Was he… seriously?
…She turned and rushed for the Cup, grabbing the handle and feeling the familiar tug behind her navel just as the sound of crumbling stone came from behind her.
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
She was hurled out onto the green, sprawling. Ophelia cursed and hurled the Cup aside as she groaned and sat up. A brief glance down showed her shirt hadn't fallen apart, at least - but those grass and dirt stains looked horrible, and her jeans were shredded in numerous spots. No blood, though. Then again, the duel had very much been… a test.
If Tom had wanted her dead… well, she might still be alive, but she certainly wouldn't have come out primarily unscathed.
Ophelia struggled to her feet as a cacophony of sound erupted - cheering. But she also noticed Minerva rushing over with obvious worry on her face, Dumbledore hot on her heels.
"Miss Potter - Ophelia," Minerva said as she closed in, expression one of visible concern. "What happened? A witch of your abilities shouldn't have…"
Ophelia grimaced, "The Cup was rigged." Minerva paled and Dumbledore's brow furrowed deeply. "I'll explain it later - not here. Too public. But Minerva? Dumbledore?" Both adults met her gaze, the older woman not bothered by the more familiar address. "It's big. Big and bad. We'll want everyone we can get who's important. This is… it's major, alright?"
She winced and brushed herself off while Minerva guided her to the medical tent, obviously concerned as she pushed the flap back and they entered. Krum was unconscious and so was Cedric, but Fleur appeared to be awake, if a bit groggy.
"Miss Potter! There you are! I must say, your slumbering jinxes did a nasty number on Mister Krum and Mister Diggory," Poppy commented as she looked the girl up and down. "You don't seem hurt, but come on. You'll need a diagnostic."
Ophelia complied, sitting on the assigned bed while Poppy cast several diagnostics before declaring her healthy, just tired and a mess. Though the latter was at least solved with a handful of cleaning charms before the Matron went to speak to the parents that had begun to amass at the tent's entrance. Lord Abbott and Hannah looked at Ophelia with visible concern, but she gave a shaky wave and a weak smile.
She was a bit shell-shocked, but… ultimately unharmed, really. Shaken, for sure. She'd just duelled Voldemort - and he told her to call him Tom. Suffice to say, it had left her with a lot to think about. Especially since he'd…
"Miss Potter," Dumbledore's voice caught her attention and Ophelia looked up sharply. After everything… she very much did not trust the man. He seemed to catch on to her apprehension, but didn't react much beyond a slight rise of his eyebrows. "What occurred in the maze? Do not worry about privacy - I've placed a few wards."
Ophelia noticed she couldn't hear anything beyond her own breathing and Dumbledore's words, despite the way Poppy was talking animatedly to Krum and Cedric's parents. Both sets of parents seemed upset with… oh. Ophelia. Right, they'd probably seen her knock their sons out. Oh well, whatever.
"I was transported to a Graveyard. The Portkey location was chained and rerouted - two activations. First to the graveyard on first contact, then to the pitch on second contact," she explained before snorting softly. "I realized it was a trap, so someone had to summon it onto me. Hit me in the head. Didn't really hurt, but it knocked me unconscious. Woke up gagged and bound to a statue."
Dumbledore's brow furrowed deeply. "I see… most troubling… did you happen to see who summoned the Cup?" He asked, hopeful. "The observation snitch was disabled just as you entered the clearing. We lost visuals around then and you didn't reappear for a half hour…"
"No, didn't catch them," she replied before frowning. "I suspect Moody, though. I doubt he is who he claims to be. Mahalu doesn't trust him, and much as you may not like her, Headmaster, she's a talented witch," she said, shooting a glare to silence his rebuke. She wasn't in the mood for his opinions on her mentor. "Anyway. Some… man was doing a ritual. Bones, flesh, blood - blood alchemy, I'm pretty sure," she continued, yanking down her sleeve to show the jagged, dark red scar. "Wouldn't have hurt so bad if it wasn't an athame enchanted for Blood Magic, and the involvement of a potion? Alchemy. Especially since it was for the creation of a keyed homunculus."
Dumbledore's head snapped up. "A keyed homunculus? Are you sure?" Ophelia nodded. "For whom?"
Ophelia rolled her eyes. "You and I both know, Headmaster. Tomas Gaunt," she replied, to which his brow furrowed and he frowned.
"You use his birth name? Considering your… condition…" He trailed off, visibly confused. "And his last name is Riddle, Miss Potter - not Gaunt."
Ophelia bristled. "Identity, Headmaster. Not condition. And regardless, Voldemort is just a false name he uses to instill fear. He answers to Tomas Gaunt. As for his last name…" She glared at him before giving a disgusted shake of her head, "He uses his mother's name rather than his father's, Headmaster. Big deal. Blaise's Dad took his Mum's name when they married." She huffed and looked at the tent ceiling. "Not really the big picture here, anyways. He's back."
Dumbledore sobered and gave a nod. "Yes… I suppose he is… this warrants much thinking, Miss Potter. Thank you." He stood and gave a small nod of his head before canceling the privacy ward, letting Ophelia hear the shouting. Half of it was in Bulgarian, but she doubted it differed from the English. It didn't escape her notice that Dumbledore didn't ask how she escaped or what else happened. Maybe he had his assumptions? Or secrets he wanted to keep. His distrust of Mahalu had influenced how much he told Minerva and Ophelia.
"She's hurt my son!"
"This isn't right! How can she be the winner?!"
"She cursed my son! Why else wouldn't he be awake?!"
"She's a liar and a trickster! A monster!"
Ophelia sighed, but smiled softly at how Lord Abbott ignored them. He and Hannah seemed irked, but more intent on checking on her.
Though…
Ophelia stood with a grimace, ignoring the gasps as she raised her wand and aimed at Cedric. "Finite." She did the same for Krum, and both groaned as they woke while she shot an annoyed look at the now confused parents. "They were sleeping jinxes, thank you very much," she told them, pocketing her wand smoothly and sighing as she glanced at her arm before yanking the sleeve down. "They attacked me. I fought back. Though if its any consolation, your sons were under the effects of some form of compulsion. Confunded, maybe?" She shrugged, "Beats me."
Hannah smirked as she walked over and drew Ophelia into a hug. "Glad you're okay, Ophie. Scared us to bits," she murmured, squeezing tightly.
Ophelia smiled, hugging her right back. "Trust me, it was no less scary being on the other side of things," she muttered before they pulled apart and Ophelia sighed, dusting herself off. "I had a duel. A really crazy one. It was someone… equal to Mahalu, if you catch my drift." She glanced between Hannah and her grandfather, hoping they'd understand.
Lord Abbott paled before his brow furrowed. "How on Earth did you escape, Ophelia? You're certainly a powerful witch, what with your aura, yet…"
She grimaced. "That's the thing… I think he let me," she murmured, to which both Abbotts looked alarmed. "He looked at the Cup, as if trying to tell me something. Then he… he just didn't take down his shield after my attack failed. I dunno what his game is… but he didn't want to kill me. Something's… off."
Lord Abbott glanced at the receding figure of Dumbledore, his gaze hard. "I don't like this… something is very wrong about all of this," he muttered before he shook his head. "Bagman and Karkaroff are both gone. Maxime said Fudge would be giving you the reward…"
"Ah! There she is! Our victor!" A jovial voice called out practically on cue. Annoyance spasmed across Lord Abbott's face but he turned, standing subtly in front of Ophelia and Hannah while the blonde girl kept one of Ophelia's hands in hers and fixed Fudge with a distrustful glare. The stout woman in pink behind him shot a glare in return, but paled when she saw the look in Ophelia's eyes. She wasn't in the mood for people bothering her best friend.
"Minister," she greeted coolly, placing a grateful hand on Lord Abbott's forearm but giving him a nod as she stepped forwards, perching her glasses atop her head and activating a rune she'd permanently tattooed behind her ear. The clear vision rune. "There was a bit of a complication, but I guess you're not wrong that I got to the Cup first."
Fudge's brow furrowed and he looked concerned. "A complication? Whatever do you mean, dear girl?" He frowned visibly, "Surely nothing major, yes? You've not a scratch on you!" He gave a bit of a laugh, but Ophelia didn't bother returning his smile.
"Maybe so," she agreed, keeping her expression neutral. "But all the same I consider it major. The Portkey was chained and rerouted with two locations set. The pitch was set as the second location. The first location was some kind of graveyard where I witnessed and had my blood used as an ingredient in a Blood Alchemy Ritual." She yanked her sleeve up, showing the scar. "Revelaris Aetis," she whispered after tapping her wand to the scar. The time that appeared was '30m'. "Thirty minutes. Yeah, that about tracks with when he cut my arm."
Fudge looked bug-eyed and the woman behind him took on a sour expression. "I… who, Miss Potter? What happened?" Fudge asked in alarm. "Was it one of the other Champions? Did Bagman or Karkaroff enter the Maze when we lost sight of them?" He began fiddling with that bowler hat of his, but Ophelia shook her head.
"No, Minister. I don't know who it was, but it certainly wasn't one of my fellow Champions," she replied, deciding that now the bloody Tournament was over her legitimacy was neither here nor there. "My suspicions are actually on Alastor Moody - or rather, someone I believe impersonated him. I saw a wooden leg in the graveyard, and a robe that looked like his coat. Didn't recognize the man at first, but he called himself Barty… I don't know if there's any relation to Crouch, but that's what he said," she elaborated at Fudge's incredulous look.
"Hem, hem," the woman cleared her throat. Oh, that was an annoying sound. "Pardon, but how on earth could you tell it was Blood Alchemy? That is incredibly Dark Magic. Yet you recognized it so quickly…"
Ophelia arched an eyebrow. "And you are?"
"Delores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to Minister Fudge," she replied with a touch of pompousness. Though Fudge had fixed his gaze on Ophelia now, seeming concerned. So the woman had influence on him, then. Wonderful.
"I see… well, Miss Umbridge, the simple answer is that my mentor taught me how to identify various types of dark magic. Blood Alchemy requires a ritual athame that hurts far worse than a regular one due to its cursed nature, as they need to align the blood to the Dark. It's separated from Blood Magic by the usage of a potion, and considering he was putting everything into a giant cauldron, I'd say I'm on the mark," Ophelia replied coolly before turning back to Fudge, ignoring the woman's souring expression, though before she could speak the woman interrupted again.
"And just who would this mentor be that is willingly teaching you Dark Magic?" She asked icily, her black eyes glinting with no small amount of malice.
Ophelia turned back to the woman, and this time she let her annoyance show. "Interrupt me one more time and I will not let it stand, Miss Umbridge. I am explaining the circumstances behind the extended period of time when your event got out of hand and I ended up the sole witness to the consequences. Either let me finish my story and ask your questions afterword, or I'll find my friend Susan's Aunts and speak to them directly. They work for the DMLE, and I'm sure they'd be happy to alert your Internal Affairs unit," she told the woman coldly, not bothering to let her disdain show. She was tired, exhausted, thoroughly aggravated, and flat-out confused after everything she'd experienced in the last hour.
The woman flinched and stepped back, visibly subdued, but her eyes spoke of annoyance. Ophelia felt a hand on her shoulder and saw Lord Abbott give her a look of concern. She gave a weary smile back before turning back to Fudge.
"Right. Where was I…?"
Fudge shifted, brow creased tightly. "You mentioned a Blood Alchemy Ritual," he replied, studying her carefully. Probably reevaluating her now that he'd seen her snap at Umbridge.
Ophelia nodded as she got back on track. "Right, yes. Well, it was to create a keyed homunculus. I didn't know for whom, and I have no way of confirming, but he claimed to be Lord Voldemort," she explained, not caring about the way everyone flinched save Hannah - who just gripped her hand tighter - and Lord Abbott - who seemed unperturbed. "I know it's a dangerous claim, and I get that you don't want to believe me. Fine. Whatever. Just… investigate it, I guess? Something's off and if you don't want to publicly address it that's your choice, but it should be looked into."
Fudge stared at her long and hard before he shook his head. "No… no, he can't be back," he muttered before glancing at Ophelia. "...No. He simply can't. I'll take your word into account, Miss Potter, but…" He continued to mutter to himself as he left, Umbridge hot on his heels.
Ophelia sighed and was about to say something to Lord Abbott when a woman that strongly resembled Fleur stepped over, concern etched on her face. She pulled him aside and they began discussing something quietly in French, so Ophelia let Hannah pull her aside to the bed she'd been in earlier.
"...He's really back, isn't he?" Hannah whispered, her back straight yet her tone soft and accepting.
Ophelia nodded. "He is. He… he isn't insane like Dumbledore says. He's mad, sure. But… calculating. Like how Mahalu describes him," she murmured back, looking hard at the scar on her arm. "He's… confusing. We can't take him lightly."
Hannah was pensive for a moment before she looked anxiously at Ophelia. "Why would he let you escape? He tried to kill you as a baby… in first year… Hell, because of whatever that diary of his was in second year, Hermione got petrified for two months and Ginny's still a squib. I…"
Ophelia sagged, looking down at her hands. "...He wanted me to join him," she whispered, looking up at Hannah with fear in her voice. "He wanted me to help him. He said he'd protect my friends, I… I think he's… giving me time to think it over?" She muttered before giving a shake of her head. "But that's insane. I'd never join him."
Hannah was quiet until she took Ophelia's hand in her own again. "...I guess we'll have to pay attention, then. This Voldemort… whatever he's like… we need to know more. Something's wrong. Very, very wrong."
Ophelia grimaced. She appreciated Hannah's objective view. It reassured her. And the blonde was right, too. Something was wrong.
But the question remained…
What?
Notes:WOOOOOOO. Ophie being a badass makes me happy. Action scenes make me happy. Ginny being a squib reveal has been on my mind for AGES but that's a long-term storyline-
Anyway.
Discord: https://discord.gg/w5k4TfFRGG
Next Chapter: Lord Abbott vs Dumbledore
Chapter 28: Plots DiscoveredNotes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextCW: Blood Purism Mention, Adults Manipulating Children, Unlawful Imprisonment Mention, Mental Breakdown
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
Plots Discovered
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
June 20th, 1995
"I'm sorry… you want me to… what?" Ophelia managed, barely able to restrain her incredulity. She really wasn't too sure she was hearing the Headmaster correctly… Well, no. She knew she was. She was just hoping he'd take advantage of the opportunity to realize how stupid that plan was, apologize, and think of something remotely intelligent.
"Your story is proof of Voldemort's return, Miss Potter. It needs to be shared. That will force him into hiding and give us time to prepare for the inevitable war," Dumbledore replied, sounding tired but moreso with Ophelia than the aforementioned 'inevitable war'. "Cornelius will likely fight you on this, but the more that know, the better. Most may not believe you since the Prophet will inevitably deny your story, but some will."
Ophelia took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. After getting changed, she'd been given a message that Dumbledore wanted to see her. Now she was in his office along with Hannah, Lord Abbott, Minerva, and for whatever reason Snape. She kept her eyes away from him, not keen on meeting his eyes at all.
The young witch pinched the bridge of her nose before abruptly standing as she began to pace back and forth. Mainly out of frustration, but it was also one of her most common stims when she was agitated and needed to think.
"Headmaster, you're trying to incite panic," she began, her frustration building with each sharp turn on a heel. "If anyone believes me - and the Ministry would see to it they don't - that doesn't accomplish much. Tom justcame back, and the only proof I could actually conjure is… what? Memories? Everyone knows those can be forged or altered." She began to move faster, running a hand through her hair as she began thinking of the myriad ways this could and would blow up in their faces. "Plus there's all the ways the Isles dislike me. I'm trans and that's already not good in the eyes of others, even in the magical world. I'm young and also heavily associated with the Light despite the fact that only seventeen percent of wixen in the Isles are Light, and I most certainly am not one of them—"
Snape's head shot up, "What? You're not a Light Witch?" Dumbledore seemed similarly alarmed.
Ophelia ignored them.
"—so of course the majority is going to assume I'm being manipulative and don't have their best interests at heart," she continued before groaning out of frustration and yanking her glasses off, activating her eyesight rune and propping them atop her head. "I mean, seriously. I'm fourteen - I don't even have my O.W.L.s yet. The fame I'll get from the TriWix is paltry and you know it. I'll become an ostracized laughingstock, Headmaster - and I'm not in the mood for that," she finished hotly, bracing her hands on the back of the chair she'd previously sat in as she finally stopped pacing. "All your plan would do is cause us massive setbacks and lose us any chance we have at gaining allies and support. We should do that in other ways. The Greengrasses, Signora Zabini, the Boneses, the Boots, Patils, and so on. I can help you convince my friends and their families to work together against Tom, but I can't help you with the general population. Especially considering around eighty-two percent of wixen from mundane or even just half-mundane origins, while still registered to the wixen world, barely even use magic because they left the magical world within two years of graduating because of prejudice. Headmaster, as far as they're concerned, you're just as bad as Tomas Gaunt because you have all this power and don't lift a finger to help them. Your plan would do nothing but convince them they were right to not trust you."
While she composed herself, Dumbledore gave her a piercing look… one Ophelia narrowed her eyes at. "Something to say, Headmaster?" She asked icily. She knew he was an accomplished Legilimancer, and Minerva had taught her Occlumency in the meanwhile. It didn't seem like Dumbledore was making an attempt, but if he were to try… well. Ophelia certainly wouldn't take kindly to it.
Dumbledore took a breath before sighing as if he were disappointed. "Very well, Miss Potter. If I cannot convince you otherwise, I won't waste either of our time on the matter. I shall see what can be done without your help," he said resignedly, as if she were a misbehaving child who he was playing along with. It irked Ophelia immensely, but she just scowled and prepared to leave.
"One question, Miss Potter," Dumbledore said just as she had brushed herself off and was about to turn. "You say you are not a Light Witch. How have you discovered this? Most wixen do not undergo the testing required for such until they are sixteen."
Ophelia shot him a withering look. "I underwent the testing two months ago, Headmaster. Ministerial Records had me turning sixteen on April fifteenth due to my usage of a Time Turner last year. Mahalu took me to get tested and it was discovered that my alignment is Grey. I know Jamie Potter was a Light Wizard, but I can only assume Lily Evans was a Grey or Dark Witch," she replied scathingly.
Snape's brow furrowed deeply. "That cannot be. L-Lily Evans was a Light Witch. I… I have seen her records," he said cautiously, only slightly stumbling over her mother's name.
Ophelia arched an eyebrow. "Then clearly they were falsified. I wouldn't put it past my mother to lie to her stalker," she shot back over her shoulder as she went to leave, but the doors shut before she could make her exit. Ophelia took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Let me out, Dumbledore. I am not in the mood for this."
Dumbledore rose, his usually twinkling blue eyes now cold and sharp. "You have disrespected a Professor, Miss Potter. That is hardly appropriate behavior - especially in my office. Apologize to Professor Snape for that outlandish claim. Especially seeing as it has no basis."
Before Ophelia could reply, Lord Abbott stepped in. His silver-streaked hair fluttered a bit as he tapped his cane against the floor with enough force to make the sound echo through the chamber. "Enough of this, Albus. Severus is not one of Ophelia's mentors, so she has no reason to show him respect. Especially with the school year being over. As for them having no basis…" He gripped the top of the cane tighter, lip curling back to show his disgust. "I wouldn't say that. You see, my daughter-in-law was quite close with Lily Evans. I had the privilege of meeting that lovely young woman more than once. Calling the way Severus obsessed over her the behavior of a stalker is actually rather tame."
Ophelia was a bit stunned at his interjection, but the way Hannah wrapped an arm around her and seemed totally relaxed helped assuage her anxieties. Plus… it was kind of nice having an adult go to bat for her. She'd not had that to this degree before. It was… reassuring, and caused a bit of an awkward, unfamiliar warmth to blossom in her chest.
It was nice.
Dumbledore met Lord Abbott's gaze with his own. "Be that as it may, Joshua, Severus taught Miss Potter for three and a half years. That begets respect, and the matter of his relationship with Lily Evans is one for them to discuss in private, not amongst others," he shot back.
Lord Abbott laughed. "I believe what you mean to say is that Severus cultivated an environment in which Ophelia had to teach herself for three and a half years. I've received regular letters from my granddaughter ever since she began at Hogwarts, as well as her monthly report cards. Her first month here she barely scraped by an A in Potions. Ever since, she's struck E's and O's, and she places the responsibility for that on Ophelia's shoulders, not Severus'." He shook his head, disgust visible on his face as he looked between Dumbledore and Snape. "Besides. Everyone here knew of Lily and Severus' relationship - besides perhaps Hannah, but I think we all know better than to assume Ophelia wouldn'ttell her best friend everything."
Minerva seemed to suppress a snort. "That's an understatement, Joshua. I rarely see friendships as close as the one between Ophelia and your granddaughter. It rather reminds me of the one between your daughter and another young woman by the same name," she remarked with a smile, earning a confused look from Ophelia.
"Susan's Mum was named Ophelia," Hannah whispered to her, causing the confusion to clear. No wonder Susan had seemed a bit shaken the first few times she used Ophelia's name. That was a bit embarrassing. Maybe she should apologize…? Hannah swatted her shoulder. "Don't apologize, Ophie. You didn't know," she hissed, obviously catching Ophelia's train of thought. The raven-haired girl gave a slight huff followed by a grateful smile.
Dumbledore looked frustrated before it gave way to that same tired, disappointed look as he waved his hand and the door swung open. Lord Abbott gave him a withering look before glaring at Snape and nodding to Minerva. Then he turned and headed towards the exit, nodding to the girls, who then followed him out of the chambers.
Ophelia had to admit, it was nice being protected like that
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
"He isn't wrong, Ophelia," Lord Abbott said with a strained voice as they walked through the halls of Hogwarts. "Lily was a Light Witch. Jamie was, too. You being Grey is… problematic. Not to say you're the problem, but…"
Ophelia felt her stomach twist into a knot. "But… Jamie Potter may not be my father?" She asked softly, unable to help the pained expression on her face. Hannah wrapped an arm around her to provide comfort, but it did little to help.
Lord Abbott's grip on his cane tightened, turning his knuckles white. "Maybe. Mutations can happen, even with magic. But with you being sixteen - even if only physically - you're eligible to request a Lineage Test from Gringotts. Your school year is over. I understand you're worried about your friends, but this is… concerning. They'll be taking the train back tomorrow. You'll be more than welcome to invite them over the summer, but…"
Ophelia's brow furrowed. "I-I don't understand. Why do I need the Lineage Test now? Why not on the weekend?" She asked, more curious than anything. Though she wouldn't deny being a bit upset, either.
Lord Abbott sighed and stopped as they neared the Floo Hall, turning around with a weary expression. "Because if we don't get in front of this, it could get bad. If Jamie isn't your father… you don't have a claim to the Potter Liegeship. In such a case, with you being sixteen and thus eligible to claim Heirship or be proclaimed Heiress, you could be found guilty of Line Theft. They could use that to manipulate you and control you. If we get in front of this and publicize your parentage - whether it's Jamie or not - we can get the moral high ground, the favor of the public for transparency, and have a leg to stand on when pinning the blame on Dumbledore, who was the one to claim Magical Guardianship over you until you were removed from your relatives' care."
Ophelia felt an icy chill run down her spine. Line Theft.That was one of the worst crimes in the Isles' Wixen Society. It earned you a lifetime sentence to Azkaban due to the immense amount of importance placed on lineage and bloodlines. If she were found complicit, it would ruin her public image forever.
Hannah's grip on her shoulder became tight as she paled and looked at her grandfather. "We need to go. Now. I don't trust either of them as far as I can throw them, Grandpa," Hannah hissed, her expression more panicked than Ophelia'd ever seen it before. "If we're lucky, nobody will question this. It's a really good thing you held your ground, Ophie. If you played along with him, then as long as you were on the Ministry's bad side, you'd be screwed."
Ophelia felt bile rise in the back of her throat. "Let's go. Now. Does Gringotts have any Floo Connections, or do we need to go to the Leaky?"
Lord Abbott shook his head. "Gringotts has their own fireplace for private meetings. Each office has one. I'll bring you both to the Abbott Account Manager, Goldclaw. Ophelia, with me being your Magical Guardian, you can have him perform the Lineage Test. That's better than you meeting with the Potter Account Manager, which could cause complications. Have you taken anything from the Potter vaults beyond the amount necessary for school supplies?"
Ophelia grimaced. "A bit. I think the extra amount over the last four years comes to around 400 Galleons."
Lord Abbott relaxed considerably as they reached one of the fireplaces. "Good. That's easy enough. If you're not supposed to have access to those vaults, I can repay that without issue. Of course, knowing Jamie, he gave full control of the vaults to Lily, Sirius, or Remus - in which case it'll either be fine or an easy fix. Still, the less improper it looks, the better it will be for your public image," he explained before grabbing a small amount of Floo Powder and tossing it into the fireplace. "Abbott."Immediately the flames erupted into… gold, rather than green. "Only my voice can unlock this connection. When she claims the Ladyship, it will be Hannah's voice. Regardless, take my arms and let's go through and handle this as quickly as possible."
Ophelia and Hannah traded nervous looks before they separated and each took one of Lord Abbott's arms. Ophelia on the right, Hannah on the left as they strode into the flames as one.
Thankfully, the twisting, spiraling sensation was incredibly brief and Ophelia barely trembled as they landed, though Lord Abbott still steadied her since she stumbled a bit.
A kobold with gold claws and bronze scales looked up, arching an eyebrow as he looked between the trio. "Lord Abbott. To what do I owe the pleasure? It's not often you come through the private Floo connection," he said conversationally, but there was a sharp glint to his eyes that showed his curiosity.
Lord Abbott inclined his head as he sat in one of the chairs, gesturing for the girls to do the same. "Apologies, Goldclaw, but something's come up. Goldclaw, this is Ophelia, my granddaughter's best friend who has become my charge. She needs a Lineage Test immediately," he told the kobold, setting his cane aside and lacing his fingers together. "We have reason to believe someone is trying to frame the girl for Line Theft."
Goldclaw immediately straightened before he gave a sharp nod. A snap of his fingers had a long roll of parchment shooting out of a drawer and unfurling on the table - it was completely blank. He also withdrew an athame by hand, setting it on the table. "Miss Ophelia, it's a pleasure to meet you. I am Goldclaw, the Abbott Account Manager. Based on your scar, I believe I can guess which Line you are being framed for 'stealing'. Have you ever performed a Lineage Test before, or witnessed one?"
Ophelia shook her head. "No, sir. I haven't."
Goldclaw nodded. "Of course, no worries. That actually works to your advantage, as it means there's no chance of any genuine records existing out there that could frame you. If you could, please prick your finger and allow seven drops to fall on the center of the parchment. That's all it takes," he told her before gesturing to the athame.
Ophelia glanced nervously at Lord Abbott and Hannah, but her best friend gave her a reassuring smile and placed a hand on her back. Ophelia sighed. Well… she may as well get it over with.
She picked up the athame and opened up a small cut on her left index finger, letting the drops fall onto the parchment. After the seventh fell, the cut sealed itself and the red blood melted into the parchment, swirling around and forming a great deal of words.
It wasn't long before Ophelia's eyes went wide and her heart hammered in her chest as the results were shown.
Ophelia Johanna Collette Meadowes née Harry James Meadowes
Parents:
>Dorcas Zoe Meadowes née Charis Pantelis Meadowes (sire)
>Lilian Beatrice Evans (mother)
>Marlene Johanna McKinnon (stepmother)
>Marianne Collette MacDonald (stepmother)
Siral Relatives:
>Konstantin Asterios Meadowes (grandfather)*
>Sofia Irida Meadowes née Athanasiou (grandmother)*
>Leo Oliver Meadowes (great-grandfather via Konstantin)*
>Phoebe Calliope Meadowes née Galatas (great-grandmother via Konstantin)*
>Charis Chrysanthos Athanasiou (great-grandfather via Sofia)*
>Pavlina Areti Athanasiou née Raptis (great-grandmother via Sofia)*
Maternal Relatives:
>Roger Harold Evans (grandfather)*
>Elyse Phoebe Evans née Monroe (grandmother)*
>Winston Dudley Evans (great-grandfather via Roger)*
>Beatrice Genevieve Evans née Gauthier (great-grandmother via Roger)*
>Blair Finlay Monroe (great-grandfather via Elyse)*
>Angharad Bronwen Monroe née Gwilym (great-grandmother via Elyse)*
Pseudo-Maternal Relatives (1):
>Lennox Ainsley McKinnon (grandfather)*
>Johanna Adelheid McKinnon née Albrecht (grandmother)*
>Evander Irving McKinnon (great-grandfather via Lennox)*
>Elspeth Sorcha McKinnon née Gunnach (great-grandmother via Lennox)*
>Anselm Pankraz Albrecht (great-grandfather via Johanna)*
>Leonie Brunhilde Albrecht née Wagner (great-grandfather via Johanna)*
Pseudo-Maternal Relatives (2):
>Raphael Mylan MacDonald (grandfather)*
>Charlotte Eleanor MacDonald née Laurent (grandmother)*
>Lorcan Niall MacDonald (great-grandfather via Raphael)*
>Collette Madeleine MacDonald née Dumas (great-grandmother via Raphael)*
>Regis Anthelme Laurent (great-grandfather via Charlotte)*
>Bernadette Manon Laurent née Moulin (great-grandmother via Charlotte)*
*Relatives are mundane.
Godparents:
>Sirius Orion Black (primary godfather)
>Remus John Lupin né Gabriela Daniela Lupin (secondary godfather)
>Arjun Chittin Patil (tertiary godfather)
>Rhys Theodore Greengrass (quaternary godfather)
>Arthur Franklin Weasley (quinary godfather)
>Alice Hannah Longbottom née Fortescue (primary godmother)
>Ophelia Maria Bones née Granger (secondary godmother)
>Gwenog Morgan Jones (tertiary godmother)
>Katrina Melody Insom (quaternary godmother)
>Minerva Caitlin McGonagall (quinary godmother)
Liegeship Rights:
>N/A: Due to blood status, Ophelia cannot claim any Liegeships.
Magical Gifts:
>Metamorphmagus (dormant via Independent Manifestation)
Notice: Due to a change of gender, middle names for Ophelia Meadowes were chosen based on familial naming patterns. Previous middle name of 'Euphemia' is a Familial Name in wixen society only associated with the Potter line, and cannot be used.
Secondary Note: The Potter Vaults were signed into Lilian Evans' name. With her passing, legal ownership of the vaults has been passed to Ophelia.
Ophelia heard Lord Abbott speaking, but the blood was roaring her ears and making it impossible to understand what he said. She tried to breathe and was failing miserably, her heart hammering in her chest as she began to shake and tremble. She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, burying her face deep within as a sob broke out of her.
A lie. Her entire life was a lie.
She had never been 'Harry Potter'. She had never been a 'Potter' at all. All she had was the money, but she had no right to the name. The man she thought was her father - who she had looked up to the memory of - had never been her father at all. It was a transgender woman named Dorcas. A woman she'd never even heard of. And what was with the two stepmothers? What was she missing? What was going on?
She tried to scream, but it just came out as a strained, agonized hiss as she dug her nails into her thighs and another sob broke out of her. She barely registered as Hannah enveloped her into a tight hug and called her name, trying to calm her.
Her entire world had just been upended. Lord Abbott had been right. Dumbledore had falsely labeled her the Potter Heir. If they hadn't gotten ahead of this, she would have been destined for Azkaban. She would have been left there to rot and die.
Why? Why would he do this to her? What had she ever done to him? She was a girl. A kid. Was it her parents? Was it the mysteries surrounding her family?
All this paper had done was leave her with more questions than answers, and utterly shatter her heart.
~~~~~Ophelia~~~~~
When she uncurled, everything ached. She couldn't speak and just let out one last weak, choked sob as her legs ached and she felt immensely lightheaded.
Goldclaw was gone, but the parchment remained. The parchment with her name. Her new name, since apparently she wasn't allowed to use the name Euphemia since it was only allowed to be used by Potters. She wasn't a Potter.
Ophelia Johanna Collette Meadowes
It was a beautiful name, to be sure. But she felt as if so much had just been torn away from her. She had never had the right to the Potter name. It wasn't allowed. Because in the eyes of wixen society, she wasn't even a half-blood. Her parents were magical, sure… but even her two stepmothers only had mundane parents and ancestors. She wasn't 'muggleborn', so-to-speak. But from the prejudice she'd heard, she had no doubt she would be called the same thing they called Hermione.
Mudblood.
"Ophelia?" Lord Abbott called her softly, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. She barely managed to turn her head towards him, exhaustion making it impossible to speak. "I… I am so sorry, Ophelia. I had hoped…" His shoulders sank as he seemed to deflate. "...I had hoped this wouldn't be the case."
Hannah looked at the parchment as well. Her own eyes were red and puffy. She'd probably cried because Ophelia had. It was something the two had a tendency to do. Sympathy cry and all that. "Grandpa… there's so… muchto this, even if her parents are all from mundane families," the blonde muttered hoarsely. Her eyes drifted to the top, where Ophelia's true name was. "...Meadowes, huh? Grandpa… aren't those three women in Azkaban?"
Ophelia looked at Hannah in alarm, and even in spite of her exhaustion she managed to speak. "Azkaban? My… they're… alive?" She croaked, not having expected any of her apparently new parents to actually still be alive.
Lord Abbott sighed softly, touching a hand to the paper. "...Yes. Dorcas Meadowes, Marlene McKinnon, and Mary MacDonald are all alive. Powerful witches, all three of them. It was well known they were close friends with Lily… and involved with one another. I'd had my suspicions about Lily being a part of it… but I suppose Jamie fulfilled the role of 'beard' rather well," he spoke slowly, and with great pain in his voice. Ophelia could only guess how close he had been with them. "All of them were in the order… 'The Marauders Unit', as they called it. Those four women, Jamie, Sirius, Remus, and Pettigrew."
Ophelia looked at the names again. Her parents… her godparents… there was so much information just from that. Remus being transgender. Susan's mother might be related to Hermione. Minerva was one of her godmothers. Insom… that name was familiar, too.
But inevitably her eyes drifted back to those of her mothers…
"What did they do?" She whispered, looking at Lord Abbott again. "Why are they in Azkaban? Is… is there a chance they were framed? Like with Sirius?"
He looked at the parchment, his expression forming into a frown. "...It's possible," he murmured softly, his expression becoming pained again. "If anyone could have gotten Sirius a trial, it was Albus. But he didn't… and with Alice Longbottom indisposed, he could have claimed there were no secondary godparents and on… legally, he could have sealed the will so he could control you. But only if those women were out of the way…"
Ophelia clenched her hands into fists as they rested on her knees. "...Why are they in Azkaban?" She repeated softly, feeling… something burn inside of her chest. If these people were innocent… people who might have loved and cared about her… who would likely have ensured she never spent a day with the Dursleys… who, based on Dorcas being transgender, would almost definitely have accepted her identity…
Then Albus Dumbledore would have hell to pay.
Even on top of this, she had six godparents who would likely have agreed to take her in. Maybe seven, depending on what Remus was like back then. Maybe even grandparents. She felt so… cheated. Cheated… and used.
Lord Abbott sighed softly, removing his glasses and rubbing underneath his eyes before resting his hand over his mouth, looking at the names with a great deal of exhaustion showing in and around his eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and hollow - as if he felt similarly lost and broken.
"I'm sure by now you are aware of how certain… individuals… escaped an Azkaban sentence by claiming to have been under the Imperius?" Ophelia nodded, remembering a conversation to that effect she'd had with Percy Weasley in the past. "Yes… well, that wouldn't have worked even with their blood status if they didn't have someone to blame. They accused… well. They accused Dorcas, Marlene, and Mary of being responsible. That wouldn't have been too hard to deny, even with them being Muggleborn… if Albus hadn't made some public speech about his efforts. He claimed there had been traitors in his midst. He decried the three of them as having been agents of the Dark, using the Imperius to ingratiate themselves with Voldemort regardless of their blood status… Bagnold and Crouch wasted no time sending them to Azkaban without bothering to use Veritas Serum to prove anything."
Ophelia took a slow, deep breath as she curled her legs up close again. Tears slid down her face as she rested her chin on her knees, an agonizing ache throbbing within. "So… they were probably…" She murmured, not sure whether she wanted him to agree or disagree.
"...Innocent," Lord Abbott replied, his own voice obviously aching with no small amount of emotion. "Gods, I should have seen it… I should have known…they objected so strongly, and practically destroyed part of Kriemhild when they were taken. Some claimed it had to be Dark Magic… they used something so powerful, that the old Potter Manor they'd been living in was frozen solid. It still hasn't melted after all these years…" He got a faraway look in his eyes before he closed them and gripped his cane tightly. "...I had Goldclaw go to verify the Potter accounts are in your name. If they are, he'll take over their management for the sake of privacy. Ophelia… do I have your consent to notarize a copy of this with the Ministry, and publicize the contents?"
Ophelia's face was warm and wet with tears as she nodded. Lord Abbott placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. It was strong and comforting - she thought it was exactly like a grandfather's hand was supposed to feel.
Hannah pulled her up and over to a couch, rubbing her back and pulling her close while Lord Abbott addressed the now-returning Goldclaw. Ophelia wasn't able to pay attention to their words as she looked down at her hands, an immense sense of weakness pervading her.
"...Do you think Remus knew?" She whispered to Hannah, unable to get the thought out of her head.
"That… that you're trans?" Hannah asked, visibly confused.
Ophelia shrugged. "That I'm trans… that I'm not a Potter… that they might be innocent… all of it, any of it? Ever since he scratched me, he won't even talk to me… I-I could talk to Sirius, since he's been in Azkaban. But Remus… he's got to know something, right? He… he has to. He's… he's got to…" She sniffled and wiped her eyes dry, feeling the exhaustion seep in again. How was she supposed to handle all of this?
Hannah looked thoughtful for a moment before she spoke. "I don't know that it matters, really." Ophelia looked at her in bewilderment, so Hannah continued. "I mean, think about it. For one, he's incredibly distressed because of your par– Jamie and Lily's deaths," she corrected herself with a grimace. "He genuinely believed Sirius was guilty because of how distressed and depressed he was up until you and Sirius proved otherwise. Maybe he'd question it with… I guess they'd really just be your Mums? Well anyway, maybe he'd question it, maybe he wouldn't. As for you being trans… even if he is, too, it doesn't matter if he's not going to talk to you, now does it?"
Ophelia wanted to say something, but couldn't really deny that… well, Hannah had a point. It wouldn't matter if Remus wasn't actually talking to her.
She sighed and leaned against Hannah, feeling boneless. "...How can we help them?" She whispered, thinking about how poorly Sirius had handled Azkaban. "They're stuck there in that… awful prison. With Dementors all over, draining their happiness… how can we help them? We can't just let them rot. They… they're my M-Mums," she forced herself to say, even as her voice cracked on the word. She still had Mums. Three of them. They'd been dragged to Azkaban, torn away from her.
She had family. Of course Hermione was her sister in all but blood, and of course the Abbotts had taken her in. But… the circumstances had changed so drastically. She actually had a blood family - the people she was supposed to have been raised by - still out there somewhere. Alive and… trapped. Trapped in the wixen equivalent of a maximum security prison. And… sent there by Albus Dumbledore, a man she'd once trusted… yet now knew to be heavily responsible for the suffering she'd endured. He'd forgiven Snape, damned her mothers, and trapped her with the Dursleys. He'd been actively forming a plan to blackmail her into doing his bidding by trapping her in a plot for Line Theft. He'd lied at every single step of the way.
…Tom's offer returned to her mind. To join him. Why would he do that? He had to be out of his mind… if Dumbledore's words were to be believed. But Mahalu always said he was fiercely intelligent and knowledgeable, while Dumbledore was manipulative and monstrous. Should she trust Mahalu? Or should she trust what she herself had experienced? Admittedly, the two aligned well. Tom's mind was sharp, and Dumbledore's motives and plots were… cold and cruel.
She couldn't think of why she should join Tom, though. Yes, they both held power… but he was a monster. He tortured his own followers, and employed monsters such as Fenrir Greyback, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Severus Snape.
…What would he do with Dorcas, Marlene, and Mary if he decided to break his followers out of Azkaban? That sounded like the type of ploy he would go for…
She began to think of how she could help them… and it began to fall into place. Tom wanted to ingratiate himself to her - he wanted her to join him. Would he… try to impress her? Try to please her? That was what people did with those they wanted to help them, right? Show that they're willing to help that person? That's how Vernon used to ingratiate himself to his superiors so he could get a promotion. Maybe…
"Excuse me, Lord Abbott?" She croaked, eyes flicking up to where he still sat and was speaking to Goldclaw. Both looked at her, visibly curious. "When you publicize the contents… Can we release a statement? I'll help write it, but… I think if we make sure to imply I want to help Dorcas and the others, then…" Her eyes flicked to Goldclaw and she grimaced.
Lord Abbott followed her gaze and gave her a gentle smile. "Goldclaw can be trusted, Ophelia. He won't share what is said in this room with anyone without explicit consent," he reassured her, to which the kobold gave a nod.
"It would be bad business to not ensure privacy, Miss Meadowes," he told her, causing a shudder to run through her body at the address. "Feel free to say whatever you need. As long as it is not an open threat against the Kobold people, it will not leave this room."
Ophelia relaxed a bit and nodded, clasping her hands together before she spoke. "I think Tom wants to impress me. To make me want to join him. That's probably why he let me escape. I don't know if he'll do anything else… but he needs followers. His best chance at getting more is breaking into Azkaban. They're in Azkaban - my M-Mums," she said, watching as Lord Abbott's eyes widened and even Goldclaw's eyes narrowed.
"I see," the kobold mused, stroking his chin. "So if this Tom were to successfully break into Azkaban… you would like for him to be under the impression that their safety is important to you. So he would leave them, or perhaps rescue them. Even if he were to blackmail you… they would be safe, in the end."
Ophelia grimaced and nodded. "Yes. In the meantime it would be good if we can try and exonerate them… but with Dumbledore as an enemy, that won't be easy. But Tom can act outside the law. If this pays off… then if nothing else, they'd be safe," she admitted, wincing and drawing in on herself a bit. "I know it's risky… a-and Tom has done horrible things… he shouldn't be trusted, but… I-I couldn't– I can't– I–" She sobbed while Hannah hugged her tightly. She felt so horrible and guilty for saying this. It was a massive ask, and incredibly dangerous in the end. But…
"It's okay, Ophelia," Lord Abbott said softly, and she looked up to see him on one knee, taking her hands into his own. "If you ask me, that's a genius plan. Good or bad, the only way we get answers is by ensuring their safety. We can deal with Tom when we get to that bridge. In the meantime… don't worry, Ophelia. I'll do as you ask. This is important to you, right?"
She nodded, a shaky sob breaking out of her as the tears fell and the gentle ache of relief began to spread through her. "Yes… yes, it's… it's really important," she admitted, guilt wracking her.
Lord Abbott smiled and squeezed her hands gently. "Then it's important to me, too. I'll even give you a cheap price for it," he told her with a wry smile. "Stop calling me Lord Abbott. Grandpa will do just fine.
Ophelia managed a wet giggle, unable to help the massive smile appearing on her face. "Okay… thank you, Grandpa," she whispered.
He drew her into a hug. It felt immensely warm, gentle, and secure. "Of course, Ophelia. Whatever you need."
Notes:WHABAM. YEAR 4 IS OVER AND Y'ALL JUST GOT PUNCHED IN THE FACE WITH A PLOT TWIST.
DEAL WITH IT.
Your kudos cheer for Grandpa Abbott and your Comments call for Dumbledouchecanoe's head.
Goldclaw's Office: https://discord.gg/w5k4TfFRGG
Next Chapter: Mahalu Returns.