Tell her that she's sinful

✩₊˚.⋆☾╶⃝⃤☽⋆⁺₊✧

𝕋ℍ𝔼 classroom buzzed with chatter as students filed into the makeshift Dueling Club arena. Gilderoy Lockhart stood on the platform, his smile so blindingly bright that Ophelia wondered if he had enchanted it to sparkle. She crossed her arms, her expression unimpressed. "Gather round. Can everybody see me?" Gilderoy called out, his voice carrying over the murmurs. "Wish I didn't," Ophelia muttered under her breath, earning a stifled snort from Violet, who stood beside her.

"Can you all hear me? Excellent." Gilderoy beamed, looking as if he'd just discovered a mirror nearby. "In light of the dark events of recent weeks... Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this Dueling Club... to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves. As I myself have done on countless occasions. For full details, see my published works."

He struck a pose that could have been straight out of one of his book covers and whipped off his cape with dramatic flair. A group of starry-eyed girls caught it eagerly, clutching the fabric like it was a national treasure. Ophelia rolled her eyes so hard she thought she might strain something.

Violet leaned in. "Is he always this—"

"Yes," Ophelia cut her off, her tone flat. "Every day. Like clockwork."

Gilderoy, oblivious to the eye-rolls and muffled laughter, lifted his sleeves. "Let me introduce my assistant... Professor Snape." The room collectively fell silent as Professor Snape ascended the platform, his black robes billowing ominously. His expression could have curdled milk.

"He has sportingly agreed to help with a short demonstration. I don't want any of you youngsters to worry."

"Trust me, we're not," Ophelia muttered again, making Violet suppress another laugh.

Violet nudged her. "How much do you want to bet Snape destroys him?" Ophelia smirked. "Bet? Violet, that's like betting on whether water is wet. It's a foregone conclusion." Up on the platform, Gilderoy turned to face his reluctant partner. "You'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him. Never fear."

Ophelia snorted. "Yeah, through with him how? By dazzling him to death?"

The two professors bowed to one another with the grace of two people who absolutely did not want to be doing this. Snape's bow was a curt dip of his head, dripping with disdain, while Lockhart's bow looked as though he'd rehearsed it for an audience of thousands.

They each retreated to the edges of the platform, wands drawn, facing each other. The tension in the room thickened as Lockhart raised his wand with exaggerated confidence, while Snape remained as still as a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"One. Two. Three!" Gilderoy shouted.

"Expelliarmus!" Snape commanded, his voice sharp and commanding as he aimed his wand at Gilderoy. A burst of magical energy erupted, striking Lockhart squarely in the chest and sending him flying backward with a loud thud. Gilderoy landed awkwardly on the hard floor, dazed and gasping for breath.

From the gathered crowd, a concerned girl piped up, "Do you think he's alright?"

Ron, grinning from ear to ear, leaned toward her and replied, "Who cares?"

Gilderoy, ever the showman, scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off and forcing a smile as he strode forward. "An excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape... but if you don't mind me saying, it was obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you, it would have been only too easy," he said, his voice full of bravado.

Snape, unimpressed, folded his arms. His tone was dry and cutting. "Perhaps it would be prudent to first teach the students... to block unfriendly spells, Professor."

Lockhart's confident smile faltered as he shifted nervously under the amused stares of the students. Quickly regaining his composure, he clapped his hands together. "An excellent suggestion, Professor Snape! Let's have a volunteer pair. Potter, Weasley, how about you?"

Ron's eyes widened in alarm, but before he could object, Harry stepped forward. Snape, his expression like a cat who'd just spotted a cornered mouse, intervened. "Weasley's wand causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending Potter to the hospital wing in a matchbox. Might I suggest someone from my own house? Malfoy, perhaps?"

At Snape's signal, Draco sauntered onto the platform, his trademark smirk firmly in place. He and Harry squared off, their eyes locked in silent challenge.

"Right then!" Lockhart announced cheerfully, stepping back. "Wands at the ready!"

"Scared, Potter?" Draco sneered.

Harry's jaw tightened. "You wish."

The two opponents took their positions at opposite ends of the platform, wands raised. Lockhart, oblivious to the rising tension, began his count. "On the count of three... cast your charms to disarm your opponent. Only to disarm. We don't want any accidents here. One. Two—"

Draco wasted no time. "Everte Statum!" he shouted, a jet of light shooting from his wand. Harry was lifted off his feet and hurled through the air, landing heavily on the platform with a loud thud. Laughter erupted from the Slytherins as Draco grinned triumphantly, his smirk widening as he caught Snape's faint nod of approval.

Harry pushed himself up, his face set with determination. Without hesitation, he retaliated. "Rictusempra!" A bright light streaked toward Draco, striking him squarely and sending him flying backward. He hit the ground hard, eliciting laughter from the Gryffindors. Snape, his expression darkening, stepped forward, grabbing Draco by the collar and hauling him to his feet.

"I said disarm only," Snape growled, shoving Draco back toward the center of the platform.

"Right, yes, disarm only!" Lockhart chimed in hastily, clearly out of his depth.

Draco's smirk vanished as he steadied himself. He glared at Harry, his jaw tightening before he whipped his wand forward again. "Serpensortia!" he bellowed. A serpent shot out of his wand, coiling menacingly on the platform. The cobra hissed, its forked tongue flicking the air as it turned its head toward Harry.

The students recoiled in alarm as the snake slithered forward, its gaze shifting toward Ophelia. She, unlike the others, did not flinch. Instead, she gazed at the creature with an expression of quiet awe and curiosity. The snake paused, its aggressive posture softening as it regarded her.

Snape moved toward the serpent, his wand at the ready. "Don't move, Potter. I'll get rid of it for you," he said coolly.

But Lockhart, ever eager to prove himself, interrupted. "Allow me, Professor Snape," he said smugly, stepping forward with a flourish. He raised his wand, his expression dripping with overconfidence. Before he could finish his incantation, however, a spell struck him squarely.

"Expelliarmus!"

Lockhart was thrown backward with startling force, landing in a heap, his usual bravado utterly shattered. Gasps rippled through the room as everyone turned to see where the spell had come from. Standing at the edge of the platform was Ophelia, her wand gripped so tightly her knuckles were white. She stepped forward, her expression a mix of defiance and something deeper—something raw and unspoken.

She climbed onto the platform with deliberate steps, placing herself protectively in front of the snake. Her glare dared anyone to challenge her, her presence radiating a strange, fierce energy that silenced the room. The cobra, sensing something in her, slithered toward her and coiled up her arm, resting its head near her shoulder. It hissed softly, its earlier aggression replaced with calm, as though it, too, sought her protection.

Hermes, standing among the students, stared at her with wide eyes, confusion and concern mingling in his expression. But then, he noticed it—something flickering in her gaze. Fear. It was subtle, hidden beneath the defiance, but it was there, making her tremble slightly despite her composed stance.

Snape, usually unreadable, watched her with a rare look of shock and curiosity. His sharp eyes narrowed as he studied her closely, as though trying to piece together the story behind her sudden outburst. Like Hermes, he saw the fear lingering in her, a vulnerability that even her defiant posture couldn't completely mask.

The room was heavy with silence, tension thick in the air as Ophelia looked around at the stunned faces. Her breathing was shallow, and her grip on her wand trembled just slightly. Then, without a word, she jumped off the platform, the snake still coiled around her, and strode toward the door.

The students parted in silence to let her pass, too shocked or perhaps too afraid to say anything. Even Lockhart, for once, was speechless. The door creaked as Ophelia pushed it open, disappearing down the hallway with her head held high, leaving the room buzzing with unanswered questions.

The room erupted into hushed whispers as the door swung shut behind Ophelia, leaving a charged silence in her wake. Gilderoy Lockhart, ever desperate to salvage his dignity, stumbled to his feet, brushing imaginary dust off his flamboyant robes.

"Well!" he exclaimed, forcing a grin. "A bit unorthodox, but always good to see enthusiasm in one's studies." His voice wavered slightly, betraying his shaken confidence. The students weren't listening. All eyes were on Professor Snape, who remained frozen on the platform, his dark eyes fixed on the door Ophelia had exited. A storm of emotions flickered across his usually impassive face—curiosity, suspicion, and something softer, almost imperceptible.

✩₊˚.⋆☾╶⃝⃤☽⋆⁺₊✧

By: SilverMist707

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