there's no saviors

✩₊˚.⋆☾╶⃝⃤☽⋆⁺₊✧

𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓕𝓔𝓢𝓢𝓞𝓡 McGonagall's voice echoed around the classroom as she introduced the day's lesson. "Right. Now, today, we will be transforming animals... into water goblets." Her words drifted through the air, but Ophelia barely registered them, her thoughts tangled in the enigma of the Chamber of Secrets.

Her quill scratched against the parchment, not recording notes on the day's lesson, but weaving the threads of her own lineage and the legend of the Chamber. Ever since the words had appeared on the wall, written in blood, a strange energy had pulsed inside her—a sense that something was waiting for her to awaken it.

The sudden voice of her friend Hermes broke her from her trance. "Professor... I was wondering if you could tell us about the Chamber of Secrets." The class fell silent. Professor McGonagall's gaze settled on them, and after a pause, she began, her voice sombre. "Very well. You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago... by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin."

At the name Salazar Slytherin, Ophelia's gaze lifted. She met McGonagall's eyes for a split second, a dark curiosity gleaming behind hers. As the professor continued, the intensity of the legend seeped into the room.

"Three of the founders coexisted quite harmoniously," McGonagall explained. "One did not."

From the corner of her eye, Ophelia saw Ron lean toward Harry. "Three guesses who," he muttered dryly.

"Salazar Slytherin wished to be more selective... about the students admitted to Hogwarts," McGonagall continued, her gaze sweeping the class. "He believed magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. In other words, pure bloods. Unable to sway the others, he decided to leave the school."

McGonagall's words cut deeper than anyone else in the room could understand. For Ophelia, it was personal. She could feel the weight of her ancestry settle like a cloak around her shoulders, the blood of Slytherin himself whispering that the Chamber's mystery was hers to unravel.

"According to legend... Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in this castle... known as the Chamber of Secrets," McGonagall continued. "Shortly before departing, he sealed it... until that time when his own true Heir returned to the school. The Heir alone would be able to open the Chamber... and unleash the horror within, and by so doing purge the school of all who, in Slytherin's view, were unworthy to study magic."

The Heir. The word echoed in Ophelia's mind, her pulse quickening as she toyed with the edges of her family's ancient secrets. There was no doubt in her heart—she was Slytherin's blood. If there was anyone capable of finding and unlocking the Chamber, it was her.

"Muggle-borns," Hermes whispered, his voice taut.

McGonagall nodded gravely. "Naturally, the school has been searched many times. No such chamber has been found." Hermes pressed on. "Professor? What exactly does the legend tell us lies within the Chamber?"

McGonagall sighed, a shadow passing over her expression. "The Chamber is said to be home to something... that only the Heir of Slytherin can control. It is said to be the home... of a monster." Ophelia's quill moved again, almost unconsciously, drawing the creature she imagined lurked within the Chamber. Her fingertips tingled as she sketched scales, claws, slitted eyes—her mind's picture of a being bred from ancient magic and bound by the will of her ancestor.

Hermes glanced over, noticing the vivid strokes on her parchment, and Ophelia met his gaze briefly. There was a quiet, secretive look in her eyes, a whisper of something ancient and powerful, as if the dark legacy of Slytherin himself pulsed beneath her skin.

𓆙

After class let out, the corridors buzzed with students chattering about Professor McGonagall's ominous lesson. Rumours of the Chamber of Secrets swirled like a dark cloud, and yet Ophelia felt a strange calm settle over her, as if she were the only one truly in tune with the history that haunted the walls of Hogwarts.

Hermes, beside her, nudged her shoulder with a curious grin. "So... that was interesting, wasn't it? A secret chamber, Slytherin's Heir, a monster lurking somewhere in the castle. How much of it do you think is just a story?" Ophelia's eyes narrowed with a hint of mischief, though her smile was guarded. "Oh, I don't know. There's truth in most legends, isn't there?" She paused, her voice dropping to a murmur. "The founders were powerful wizards; who's to say one of them didn't leave something behind?"

Hermes tilted his head, catching her intense gaze. "And you don't think it's a coincidence that all this talk started just after that message on the wall, do you?"

"Coincidences are hardly reliable." Ophelia shrugged, smoothing the edge of her robe as they strolled past the Great Hall. "Besides, there's something... off about the way everyone's acting. A little fear might be good for Hogwarts. Keeps people on their toes."

Hermes snorted, amused. "Spoken like a true Slytherin."

Her expression turned sly. "Fear is a tool, Hermes. Sometimes, it's the only thing that gets people to act. You can either wield it or be at its mercy."

He shot her an incredulous look, raising an eyebrow. "Well, remind me not to get on your bad side."

"Wouldn't dream of it." She chuckled lightly, though her eyes glinted with something far older than her years. They turned down a quieter corridor, the lingering echoes of student voices fading behind them. Hermes slowed his pace, studying her thoughtfully. "You seemed... invested back there, during McGonagall's talk. It's not often I see you that focused."

Ophelia's gaze drifted to the floor before she smirked and shrugged, almost playfully. "Can't help it. The past holds the key to more than we realize. Besides, who doesn't love a good mystery?" Hermes folded his arms, leaning against the stone wall. "Or maybe it's the thrill of danger. You seem like the type to be drawn to that."

"Oh, absolutely," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, though a smile broke through. "I live for the thrill of chasing down rogue monsters in hidden chambers."

They shared a laugh, the tension lifting for a moment, and Hermes nudged her again, his tone more serious. "Just promise me one thing."

She raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

"Don't go chasing monsters without telling me first." He grinned, but there was an edge of sincerity there, as if he knew Ophelia's curiosity ran deeper than she would admit.

Ophelia paused, holding his gaze. "I'd hardly leave you behind, would I?" she replied, a slight softness breaking through her usual cool demeanour.

𓆙

The crisp autumn wind howled through the stands as Ophelia Gaunt sat poised on her broom, eyes narrowed and focused. The Hogwarts Quidditch pitch was a flurry of color and noise, each house shouting chants that competed to be heard over the sharp whistle of the referee. The sun glinted off the polished wood of her broom handle, and her emerald-green Slytherin robes billowed behind her, fierce and commanding.

As the whistle blew, Ophelia shot into the air with the kind of speed that made onlookers gasp. Her muscles tensed as she adjusted her grip on the beater's bat, eyes scanning the field for any sign of incoming Bludgers. The golden snitch was already darting around the field, taunting the seekers with its rapid, erratic movements, but Ophelia's role was far from seeking. She thrived in the chaos.

A sudden flash of black caught her attention. One of the Bludgers, vicious and mindless, hurtled toward her Seeker, who was zigzagging to avoid it. Without hesitation, Ophelia leaned forward and raced toward the ball, her jaw set. The adrenaline surged through her veins, and she felt the weight of the game pressing on her shoulders. This was her moment.

"Watch out, Ophelia!" came a shout from below—Hermes, watching anxiously from the sidelines.

She ignored it, eyes fixed on her target. With a swift, calculated swing, she connected with the Bludger, the impact vibrating up her arm. It ricocheted away, changing its path and narrowly missing the Ravenclaw Chaser who let out a startled yell. A smirk curved on her lips as she watched it disappear toward the other side of the pitch.

The crowd roared in appreciation, the Slytherins especially loud, chanting her name. "Gaunt! Gaunt! Gaunt!" The chant was like a song that fueled her, a reminder that she was a force to be reckoned with.

She hovered for a moment, surveying the chaos. The Ravenclaw beaters, twins with matching determined scowls, were coordinating to send the second Bludger toward Slytherin's Keeper. Ophelia shot a glance at her fellow beater, a burly seventh-year named Marcus, and nodded. They split up, moving like shadows across the pitch.

The Bludger hurtled toward the Slytherin Keeper, who was defending the hoops with desperate, darting movements. Marcus intercepted it first, deflecting it just enough for Ophelia to dive and take over. With a graceful arc, she swung her bat and sent the Bludger hurtling toward an unsuspecting Ravenclaw Chaser, forcing him to drop the Quaffle mid-pass. Slytherin's Chasers seized the opportunity, racing forward and scoring a swift ten points.

Ophelia's heart pounded with fierce satisfaction, a grin breaking across her usually composed face. Her eyes flicked to the stands for a brief moment, catching the mix of awe, respect, and apprehension in the faces watching her. She relished the power, the rush, the control that came with being a beater.

✩₊˚.⋆☾╶⃝⃤☽⋆⁺₊✧

By: SilverMist707

I hope I get more time to write for you all. <3