You better watch your back

✩₊˚.⋆☾╶⃝⃤☽⋆⁺₊✧

ℍ𝔼ℝ𝕄𝔼𝕊 tapped his quill against the edge of his parchment, his eyes unfocused as the words of his unfinished essay blurred together. Ron sat across from him in the nearly empty classroom, furiously scribbling notes that barely made sense as he muttered under his breath.

"How am I supposed to explain why trolls have been so important in wizard history? They're trolls, for Merlin's sake. They smash things. End of story," Ron grumbled, tossing his quill aside in frustration.

Hermes barely registered his complaint, his thoughts tangled in a web of confusion and concern. He stared blankly at his parchment, the words he'd written so far not even remotely related to the homework topic. His mind kept circling back to Ophelia—the way she'd stood so fiercely on that platform, her wand raised, protecting the snake as though it were something precious. But it wasn't just her actions that haunted him; it was the fear in her eyes, the tremble in her voice as she whispered to the cobra, the way she had vanished from school entirely afterward.

He hadn't seen her all day.

"Oi, Hermes!" Ron's voice snapped him out of his daze. "You alright? You've been staring at the same sentence for ten minutes." Hermes blinked, realizing his quill had left a small blot of ink on the parchment. "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine," he lied, sitting up straighter.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "You don't look fine. What's going on? You're not still thinking about that, are you?"

Hermes sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration. "I just don't get it, Ron. Ophelia... she's hiding something. And it's big. I mean, did you see her up there? She wasn't just protecting that snake—she was terrified. But of what? And why?"

Ron shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Dunno. She's always been a bit... you know, different. But this was something else, I'll give you that. Maybe you should just ask her?"

Hermes shot him a look. "You think I haven't tried? She hasn't been in class all day. It's like she's avoiding everyone." Ron frowned, glancing around the quiet classroom. "Maybe she just needs time. I mean, she did kinda steal the spotlight from Lockhart. That's gotta be traumatic in its own way."

Hermes snorted despite himself, a brief smirk tugging at his lips. "It's not about Lockhart. This is deeper than that. It's like... something's eating away at her. And she won't let anyone help."

Ron leaned forward, his expression more serious now. "Look, mate. Whatever it is, Ophelia's tough. If she wants to talk, she will. Until then, you're gonna drive yourself mad overthinking it." Hermes hesitated, staring at the ink blot on his parchment. Ron was right—Ophelia was strong. But the way she'd looked last night, so vulnerable and shaken... it didn't sit right with him.

"Maybe," he muttered, though he didn't sound convinced.

Ron pushed his parchment aside, groaning. "Anyway, if you're done brooding, you can help me figure out how to make this essay sound less... well, dumb."

Hermes nodded absently, his mind still drifting to Ophelia. Wherever she was, he just hoped she was okay.

𓆙

Ophelia slouched in the chair in the Undercroft, her legs crossed and a stack of books teetering precariously on the table beside her. She had been there for hours, burying herself in dusty tomes in a futile attempt to keep her mind from wandering to that memory—the one she had locked away so tightly it burned just thinking about it. The flickering light of the enchanted sconces gave the room a moody glow, matching her sour mood.

Flipping a page with more force than necessary, she muttered, "Honestly, why does every book on advanced transfiguration have to be so bloody dull?"

Her focus wavered for a moment, and that's when it started—the voice.

"I want blood."

Ophelia froze, her grip on the book tightening as her jaw clenched. "Oh, Merlin, not this again," she muttered, more annoyed than alarmed.

"Kill. Kill. Ki—"

Ophelia slammed her book shut with a resounding thud, the sound echoing through the empty Undercroft. She glared at the ceiling—or wherever the voice might be emanating from. "I swear, if you don't shut up, I will kill you. Do you hear me? I'll find a way. Don't test me."

The voice didn't respond, but Ophelia could feel its presence lingering, its energy prickling at the edges of her mind like an unwelcome itch. With an exaggerated sigh, she grabbed her books and shoved them into her bag. "Fantastic. I can't even sulk in peace without being heckled by some disembodied psychopath."

She stormed out of the Undercroft, muttering under her breath about how even malevolent voices didn't respect her personal space. By the time she reached her common room, her foul mood had only intensified. Throwing her bag onto a nearby chair, she collapsed onto her bed, pulling the covers over her head.

"Sleep," she grumbled to herself. "Just a few hours. No voices. No snakes. No Lockhart. Is that too much to ask?"

Her pillow didn't respond, and for once, she was grateful.

𓆙

Snow began to fall outside, covering the grounds of Hogwarts in a soft, white blanket that shimmered in the cold light of day. The chill seeped into the castle walls, though inside the Great Hall, the warmth of festive cheer pushed it away. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the snowfall, flakes drifting lazily in an eternal cascade, adding to the cozy magic of the scene. Holly and garlands adorned the walls, and the towering Christmas trees glittered with golden lights and enchanted ornaments.

At one of the long tables, students gathered in clusters, chatting, and enjoying their meals. Laughter rang out as a few first years tried—and failed—to catch the enchanted snowflakes on their tongues. Ophelia sat with Violet, the two of them deep in conversation, their heads close together. Violet was in her element, her witty commentary keeping Ophelia grinning, though they both knew exactly what wasn't being said.

"So then," Violet said, her eyes sparkling with amusement, "I told him, 'No, Filch, I didn't let Peeves in the library. He probably just wanted to brush up on his ancient runes.' You should've seen his face!"

Ophelia laughed, the sound genuine despite the heavy thoughts she'd been carrying. "Peeves in the library? That's rich. Bet he'd rearrange all the books into some sort of prank spell sequence."

"Or just eat them," Violet replied with a smirk. "You know how he is."

As they giggled, Ophelia's eyes wandered across the hall. She spotted Hermes, Ron, and Harry sitting at the Gryffindor table, heads bent together in conversation. Harry looked as serious as ever, Ron was gesturing animatedly, and Hermes... Hermes looked preoccupied, his brows furrowed as he spoke to them as if they were making a plan before Hermes stood up and walked out the hall.

Violet nudged her. "Don't. You promised no brooding."

"I'm not brooding," Ophelia said, tearing her gaze away and picking up her goblet. "I'm... observing."

"Observing, brooding... same difference," Violet teased, then leaned closer. "Now, what's the bet? Hermes is definitely trying to figure out how to ask you about the whole snake thing, isn't he?"

Ophelia rolled her eyes but smirked. "Oh, definitely. But if he wants answers, he'll have to wait until I'm in the mood." She flicked a piece of bread onto Violet's plate. "And guess what? I'm not in the mood."

Violet laughed, tossing the bread right back. "That's the spirit, darling. Let them stew. You've got more important things to focus on—like how we're sneaking that chocolate gateau out of the kitchens later." Ophelia grinned. For now, she was content to let the festive cheer of the hall distract her, leaving heavier matters for another day.

𓆙

Ophelia was quietly padding through the dimly lit halls, cloaked in the Disillusionment Charm she had hastily cast after her latest not-so-sanctioned trip to the library. She was congratulating herself on a clean getaway when she spotted two very familiar figures barrelling down the corridor ahead of her. It was Crabbe and Goyle—or so she thought at first. But then she caught a flash of ginger hair and a rather obvious lightning-shaped scar on one of their foreheads. Her mouth fell open as realization dawned.

"Ron? Harry?" she whispered sharply, watching as they skidded to a halt like two startled deer in the Forbidden Forest.

They turned, looking around nervously, unable to spot her. Ophelia smirked, waving her wand above her head to lift her Disillusionment Charm. She faded back into view with a flourish.

Ron nearly jumped out of his ill-fitting robes. "Ophelia! What are you doing here?"

"Oh, me?" she said, feigning innocence as she pocketed her wand. "Nothing much, just sneaking out of the library and catching you two impersonating human bricks. Care to explain what you're doing, Crabbe and Goyle? Or should I say... Ron and Harry?"

Harry shot Ron a look. "She knows."

"Of course I know!" Ophelia said, folding her arms. "What gave it away, I wonder? The Weasley hair peeking out or the lightning bolt mark you've suddenly decided to sport, Goyle—I mean, Harry. Very subtle. Truly, no one will ever suspect a thing."

As she spoke, the effects of the Polyjuice Potion began to wear off. Their features twisted and morphed back into their usual selves, much to Ophelia's amusement. She raised an eyebrow. "And now we're back to our regularly scheduled programming: two Gryffindors caught doing something colossally stupid. Care to share the plan, or should I just prepare the 'I told you so' speech for later?"

Ron groaned, running a hand through his now-red-again hair. "It was supposed to be foolproof!"

"Clearly," Ophelia deadpanned, fighting back a laugh. "Nothing screams 'foolproof' like literally leaving your entire identity intact. Merlin's beard, the snake I freed could've done a better job blending in. What's next? You going to impersonate Snape with a wig and a bad attitude?"

Harry sighed, clearly regretting every life choice that led to this moment. "It's a long story."

Ophelia smirked. "Lucky for you, I love a good story. But not here. Unless you want Filch to catch us and make this even more memorable."

Ron grimaced. "Let's move, then."

"Gladly," Ophelia said, gesturing grandly for them to lead the way. "I can't wait to hear how this trainwreck started." As they hurried off, Ophelia couldn't help but laugh softly to herself. These two never cease to amaze me.

As the trio made it to the girls' bathroom, their footsteps echoed softly against the cold, damp tiles. They headed straight for one of the stalls, Harry leading the charge. "Hermes, come out. We've got loads to tell you," Harry called, his voice bouncing off the walls. From inside the stall came a muffled groan. "Go away." Before any of them could respond, Moaning Myrtle appeared, her translucent figure floating smugly above them. "Wait till you see. It's awful," she cackled, twirling midair before settling behind them to enjoy the spectacle.

Ophelia frowned and stepped forward, placing a hand on the stall door. "Hermes?" she said, her tone soft but concerned. "Are you okay?"

No answer came, so she cautiously pushed the door open.

What she saw made her freeze, her eyes widening in shock. Ron, standing beside her, let out a strangled laugh while Moaning Myrtle broke into peals of gleeful giggles. Harry stepped closer, squinting through the dim light before hurriedly putting on his glasses. Hermes was hunched over in the stall, his head buried in his hands. When he finally turned to face them, his expression was a mix of mortification and resignation.

"Do you remember me telling you... that the Polyjuice Potion was only for human transformations?" Hermes muttered. He sighed heavily. "It was cat hair. I plucked it off Millicent Bulstrode's robes."

He lowered his hands to reveal his face, and Ron and Ophelia gasped in unison.

"Look at my face!" Hermes exclaimed, gesturing at his now distinctly feline features: pointed ears, whiskers, and a slightly fur-covered nose.

Ron, despite himself, grinned. "Look at your tail!" he added, pointing toward Hermes's backside.

Ophelia, who had been biting her lip to keep from laughing, couldn't hold it in anymore. A soft chuckle escaped her, then another, until she was laughing so hard she had to clutch her sides. "Oh, Merlin," she wheezed. "Hermes, you look like you belong in Hagrid's Magical Creatures class!" Hermes groaned again, running his paw-like hands through his hair. "This isn't funny!"

"It's a little funny," Ophelia said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "Okay, it's actually hilarious. You're like... half wizard, half Kneazle. Do you purr when you're angry, or is that just a myth?"

Harry, trying to keep the peace, cleared his throat. "We'll fix it, Hermes. Don't worry. Madam Pomfrey will have you sorted out in no time."

"Oh, she'll love this," Hermes muttered bitterly, glaring at his reflection in a puddle on the floor. "Maybe she'll give you a ball of yarn while you wait," Ophelia teased, dodging a swat from Hermes's tail as Ron burst into laughter. Even Harry cracked a smile, despite himself. "Come on," he said, ushering Hermes out of the stall. "The faster we get to the hospital wing, the faster you'll be back to normal." As they left the bathroom, Ophelia leaned over to Ron, grinning. "I'm never letting him live this down, you know."

"Neither am I," Ron whispered back, the two of them snickering as poor, whiskered Hermes trudged miserably ahead.

✩₊˚.⋆☾╶⃝⃤☽⋆⁺₊✧

By: SilverMist707

<3 <3