Serpent Lady

She did not know how much time had passed before there was a rap at the compartment door. She looked up and saw a round-faced boy with very pink eyes and an already-robed girl with bushy brown hair and large front teeth. The door slid open, and she could hear the boy's sniffles.

"Have you seen a toad?" the girl asked, her voice loud and a bit hard. "Neville here has lost his."

"Draco Malfoy has two," she muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" the girl demanded.

"No, sorry, I haven't," she repeated more loudly, putting her book down under her bag and jumping up. She patted the boy, Neville, gently on the shoulder. "I'm sure you'll find him though...he can't have gone far. Animals have a strange way of disappearing off whenever they're bored." She smiled, inclining her head slightly toward Duvessa, who was fast asleep with her head under her wing. "She likes her freedom, but she always comes back when she's ready."

Neville sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. Ophelia whispered a quick charm, plucked a handkerchief out of mid-air, and handed it to him. The girl's eyes widened.

"Where did you learn that?" she asked, her voice holding some respect.

"My mother," Ophelia replied quietly, taking the handkerchief back from Neville's outstretched hand and folding it up neatly.

"You can't make it disappear again?" asked the girl. She sounded a bit less respectful now, and Ophelia resented her tone of voice. She clamped her mouth shut and said nothing; while she knew perfectly well how to banish the handkerchief into thin air again, she didn't feel the need to prove anything.

"I can do that," said the girl, sounding very proud and know-it-all-ish. She pulled her wand out from her sleeve, brandished it, and made good her claim. "It's that wandless magic, you know," she said, returning her wand to her sleeve and gazing at Ophelia with an almost sympathetic look. "It's really unreliable, and it's not very powerful either. I've learned all our schoolbooks by heart, of course, and they all say that you shouldn't practice wandless magic without the right supervision or else you could seriously damage your potential as a wizard. It teaches you all sorts of bad habits, you know, giving you a false sense of security and drawing away from your inner power, as well as making it harder for you to channel your magic properly through a wand. I haven't been doing magic for very long - my parents are both dentists and they were ever so surprised when I got my letter, but thrilled of course - but I've learned loads of simple spells, and they've all worked for me. I can help you, if you like - help you break some of those bad habits so that you can start afresh and learn properly. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

Ophelia blinked in surprise, not sure whether to be flattered that she'd become privy to all this information or insulted that Hermione had just suggested Ophelia might be lacking in the magic department. Since she had been trained for many years by her parents and grandparents, all of whom were extremely skilled in the areas of wandless magic as well as all other forms of magic, and since she prided herself on her unusual talent (wandless magic was, after all, extremely difficult to do correctly - Hermione had been right there that doing it wrong could negatively affect your other magical abilities), she decided to opt for the latter option.

"Ophelia Ravenscroft," she replied coolly, holding her hand out. She also shook Neville's hand, although a genuine smile came to her lips at his tearful stutter, "N-neville Longb-bottom."

Hermione looked rather irritated that Ophelia was showing no signs of gratefulness or appreciation for her kind offer of help, and she excused herself rather quickly, claiming that they needed to continue the search for Neville's toad. Ophelia smiled as they left, liking Neville but glad to see the departure of Hermione, who had struck her as rather stuck-up and bossy. She shrugged and picked up her book again, and just as she was finally becoming engrossed again, the door slid open with a bang. Annoyed at being interrupted again, she looked up and was surprised to see Malfoy, rather flushed but smirking as if he knew the greatest secret of the world. He began tearing through his expensive leather bag, obviously searching for something. Ophelia raised an eyebrow.

"Where's the fire, Malfoy?" she asked a bit sarcastically, but nevertheless amused to see his out-of-character excitement.

"Harry Potter is on this train," he said breathlessly, "just a few compartments up, and I want to make sure I give him a proper Malfoy greeting. It's a chance for me to prove to my f--"

He trailed off, his cheeks turning red, and clamped his lips together, apparently embarrassed at what he had been about to say. Ophelia didn't need to hear the rest of his sentence. She deduced that Lucius had known Harry would be attending Hogwarts this year, and he had instructed his son to befriend him and reintroduce him to the wizarding world, the "proper" way. She ached inside to see Malfoy behaving like an overly excited child with the chance to show off to his father.

"Ah, here it is," he said triumphantly, extracting his signet ring from his bag. He slipped it onto his finger, smirked, and turned his gaze on Ophelia. She studied his face in that brief moment before he turned and breezed out of the compartment, perplexed by it. She was finding it very difficult to read his expressions, and she gathered that her task of befriending him was going to prove to be much more difficult than she had anticipated. She settled back in her seat, contemplating. It was obvious to her that Malfoy was a boy who had been bullied his entire life, which would of course turn him into a bully. He was proud and resilient, two qualities that would significantly help him survive abuse and neglect, but he was also often a walking contradiction. While his face, at most, showed carefully cultivated neutrality that had probably been adopted over the years to hide his feelings from his parents, his eyes spoke volumes, and she had seen glimpses of Draco hidden inside the cold Malfoy shell.

She sighed, opening her book again, but almost dropped it when what he had said really sunk in. She had been so preoccupied with Malfoy, she had almost forgotten what he had said. Harry Potter, on this train! She had known he would be in the same class as her when he attended Hogwarts, but the reality of it was just beginning to hit her. She had heard countless stories of the Boy Who Lived - his rendezvous with the Dark Lord, the Muggle family with whom he had reputably been sent to live, the various sightings of him throughout the years - and of course, most recently, his return to the wizarding world. She had been amazed when she had heard he had been in Diagon Alley the same day as her, and with Hagrid, no less!

She stared out the window, remembering her girlish daydreams as a young child when she had fancied herself an irresistibly charming eleven-year-old, meeting Harry Potter for the first time and knocking his socks off. She had dreamed that he would be a charming, intelligent, powerful gentleman with the wits to match hers and the same drive to succeed. She had had a lonely childhood, living in the Highlands with none but her family and the House Elves for company, and she longed for a companion who could match her in talent and intelligence. She had long since grown out of her fangirlish tendencies, but she was still highly respectful of this wizarding legend, and she hoped to find him as charming and incredible as he was reputed to be.

She was debating going to introduce herself to him when a fuming Malfoy stormed back into the compartment, slamming the door shut behind him. She would have been concerned, but the look on his face was too priceless - he looked positively insulted, something she never would have expected from a Malfoy.

"Meeting not go as planned?" she asked, trying to keep the amusement from her voice.

"He was too busy fraternizing with a Weasley to see straight. He made a big mistake when he refused my friendship..." He trailed off, his pale face pink with rage and frustration. He seized his robes from his trunk, shrugging into them and flopping down onto the bench. Ophelia watched him passively, pretending to read her book but really trying to guess at what had happened. She assumed Malfoy had swaggered into the compartment, introduced himself, and expected Harry Potter to swoon at his name and his obvious superiority to all others present. Harry had refused, Malfoy had lost his temper, and had then tried to bully Harry into accepting his friendship, which only would have made Harry more angry. She sighed, shaking her head. For someone with the impeccable culture and breeding that Malfoy obviously had had, he had a lot to learn about tact and social skills. She guessed that he had learned his poor habits from his father, and she snorted quietly, rolling her eyes.

Her eyes followed his gaze to the signet ring on his finger, which he was twirling around absentmindedly. After a moment, his whole body tensed, and, with a disgusted look, he ripped the ring off his finger, tossed it into his trunk, and slammed the lid shut. His head instantly snapped up to examine her, but she remained "buried" in her book, not betraying that she had seen any of what he had just done. After a few moments, she cautiously turned one eye toward him only to see him staring out the window.

She sighed, snapped her book shut, and kneeled in front of her own trunk, digging out her spotless robes and shaking them out. She slipped them over her head, smiling to herself as she noticed how her shirt sleeves fit perfectly inside the large sleeves on the robe. She carefully marked her place in her book, slid it into her bag, and placed the bag into her trunk before swinging the lid shut and shoving it back under the bench. She paused to slide her wand into the pocket inside her robes that she had sewn in herself, and then settled herself back into her seat, absentmindedly reaching her fingers into Duvessa's cage to stroke the snowy feathers. Duvessa opened a sleepy eye, hooted softly, and promptly went back to sleep.

Ophelia gazed out the window, admiring the purple sky and the swiftly darkening landscape. The loudspeaker crackled to life: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

She felt anticipatory butterflies in her stomach - she was almost there! She had been waiting her whole life to attend Hogwarts, and her dream was about to come true. She looked over at Malfoy and saw an odd, placid sort of look on his face, coupled with - relief, maybe? She couldn't be sure. He seemed to have cooled down though, as he shot her a malice-free smile. She smiled back, as genuine a smile as she could muster. But before she could speak, she felt the train screech to a halt, and they looked at each other for a moment before moving to join the huge crowd of students packing into the corridor. She waited patiently as everyone made their way out the door, and shivered, drawing her arms around her as the chilly night air sliced straight through her clothing.

She stepped out of the train and onto the tiny, dank platform, watching everyone around her with huge eyes. She reached up to fiddle nervously with her necklace, suddenly wishing she had her book, but had little time to think about it, as that moment, a huge, booming voice cut through the din.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" called the voice. Ophelia looked up and smiled as she recognized Hagrid's familiar face beaming at the crowd. He caught her eye and winked before calling out, "C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years?"

Ophelia glanced around at the group of children huddled around Hagrid's huge figure, noticing a mixture of fear and anticipation on their faces. Now that they were in public, Malfoy was totally ignoring her, and she noticed him, a prideful expression on his face, engrossed in deep conversation with a prettyish girl with long black hair and a snooty expression. She rolled her eyes, turning back to face front.

"Mind yer step now! Firs' years follow me!" Ophelia joined the crowd of people as they slipped and stumbled down a steep, narrow path surrounded by darkness. She heard a great sniff as Neville surreptitiously wiped away a tear, and she smiled at him sympathetically. Hermione, who was on Neville's other side, shot her a contemptuous look that she proceeded to ignore.

As they neared a bend in the path, Hagrid's voice filled the air: "Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec, jus' round this bend here."

Ophelia felt her chest begin to tighten, and she grinned as she noticed the other, shorter first years standing on tiptoes, straining to be the first to catch a glimpse of the castle. As soon as she rounded the curve, however, all other thoughts left her mind. She gazed in wonder and admiration at the scene before her, the night sky just the right shade of deepest blue-violet, the stars sparkling fiercely, the windows of the huge, multi-turreted school glinting like small beacons in the sky as the castle towered over the wide expanse of lake that stretched to the edge of the horizon.

She stared at the scene with huge eyes, her breaths coming fast and shallow, feeling the cool breeze blowing through her hair. She was so engrossed in her thoughts, she didn't hear Hagrid's instructions, and would have stood there forever had Hagrid not nudged her gently.

"Yeh'd best find yerself a boat, young Ravenscrof'," he grinned, gesturing toward the mostly full boats before her. She sighed, not wanting to leave the scene behind, but slowly made her way down to the edge of the water, peering around for a boat. She was painfully shy in large groups, and did not have the stomach to ask anyone if there was space left in their boat, so she was very relieved when she heard a voice call out to her.

"Hey," it said. She looked over and saw a boat occupied by three boys - one with sandy hair, freckles, and playful eyes, one tall and dark-skinned with the whitest teeth she'd ever seen, and one with luminous blue eyes and golden hair. They were looking at her with friendly expressions, so she smiled back and climbed gracefully into the boat, aided by the sandy-haired one.

"Thanks," she breathed, unaware that they were all staring at her. "I'm not very good with big crowds. My name's Ophelia."

The dark-skinned boy blinked, flashing his teeth again as he grinned easily. "Dean Thomas," he said, his voice soft and pleasantly accented. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Me name's Seamus," said the sandy-haired boy, his Irish lilt extremely endearing. He beamed, flashing adorable dimples.

The third boy still had not spoken, but he finally remembered his manners and introduced himself simply as "Blaise." Ophelia reached out to shake his hand, and, finding it icy cold, flinched in surprise.

"Are you all right, Blaise?" she asked quietly.

"I'm actually a bit nervous about the Sorting Ceremony," he admitted a bit sheepishly. "My parents have very high expectations of me - I want to do well, of course, I've always been top of my class and I'd like to work for the Ministry of Magic after I graduate - but I'm always afraid of disappointing them. Imagine if I ended up in Hufflepuff!"

Ophelia smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure you will do marvelously wherever you end up," she said. "Your parents must be very confident in your abilities if they have such high expectations, and their confidence has to stem from some proof."

"I suppose," Blaise mused doubtfully. She noticed that Seamus looked a bit ill as well, and Dean just looked confused.

"Sorted?" he asked quizically. Ophelia laughed.

"No worries," she chuckled. "It's a long-standing tradition. First years get placed into a house based on personality traits and tendencies."

Dean nodded slowly. "And Hufflepuff is a house?"

"Yes, the houses are Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. They were all named for their founders, and each has its qualities and characteristics."

"What's so bad about Hufflepuff?" he asked.

Ophelia shot Blaise a look of mock aggravation before replying, "Nothing! Hufflepuffs are known for fierce loyalty and for being good-natured, hard-working, and just. Some people, however, consider them dull and slow-witted. Then again, all houses have their "bad" qualities."

Seamus, who had been hanging on her every word, finally spoke up. "Like what?"

"Oh, Ravenclaws are aloof and stuck-up because they only care about their studies. Gryffindors are overly proud and have a total disregard for the rules, choosing instead to goof off and embark on adventures. And Slytherins--"

"--are evil, slimy gits," Seamus broke in, but with enough of a grin on his face to show the others that he was just joking around. Ophelia smiled and swatted him.

"So they say," she said agreeably.

"Is it true that all witches and wizards who have ever gone bad were in Slytherin?" Seamus asked with wide eyes.

"No, actually," she replied mysteriously. "That would be a commonly misrepresented fact. After all, the Ministry of Magic would hardly have such a catchy phrase if they said 'Almost all the witches and wizards who have ever gone bad were in Slytherin'!"

Seamus and Blaise laughed while Dean stared at her with huge eyes. It was evident that he came from a nonmagical background, and he was enthralled by what she had to say. On the outside, she appeared proud and aloof, a result of her aristocratic blood and very proper upbringing, but, with a small group of people and the right kind of encouragement, she had opened up significantly in just a few minutes.

"How do you know so much?" asked Blaise curiously, his nervousness forgotten as he listened to Ophelia talk.

"My elder brother graduated Hogwarts a couple years ago, and my mother attended Hogwarts as well. My father went to Durmstrang, and--"

"Heads down!" Hagrid's voice boomed across the waters as the boats, which had started moving without everyone's knowledge, passed through a tunnel hewn into the cliff which acted as the foundation for the castle, and then into an underground harbor where they drifted to a halt.

"Sorry, you were saying?" Seamus asked as they filed out of the boat and lined up, waiting for their next instructions.

"Oh...I was done," Ophelia blinked, smiling a second later. Seamus grinned back.

"Well, you're awfully smart - bet you end up in Ravenclaw."

Ophelia bowed her head slightly. "Thank you," she said graciously, before adding to herself, We shall see.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad!" Hagrid called, and Ophelia watched a blissful Neville collect his toad - Trevor, he'd called out - and then followed the group through another passageway and up a steep flight of stone stairs.

"Everyone here?" Hagrid asked as they came to a halt in front of a gigantic, richly polished wooden door with iron hinges. "You there, still got yer toad?"

Ophelia took a deep breath as Hagrid raised his huge fist and pounded three times on the castle's front door.