But when she smiles

✩₊˚.⋆☾╶⃝⃤☽⋆⁺₊✧

𝓣𝓗𝓔 Hogwarts Express rumbled steadily beneath Ophelia's feet as she reclined in one of the compartments, her silver hair falling loosely over her shoulders. Her Slytherin robes were a little dishevelled from the journey, but that didn't bother her. She had bigger things on her mind-or, more specifically, in her pocket.

A small, furry snout peeked out from the folds of her robes, followed by a pair of beady black eyes that blinked up at her expectantly. The Niffler, ever curious and mischievous, wriggled slightly as if eager to explore. Ophelia smirked, absentmindedly toying with a glittering silver necklace that she dangled just out of its reach. "You're far too easy to please, aren't you?" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she watched the Niffler's little paws reach out for the necklace, the creature's natural obsession with shiny objects impossible to resist.

It squeaked in frustration as Ophelia expertly pulled the necklace away again, her amusement growing. She held the chain just a little higher, watching as the Niffler stretched up from her pocket, its tiny paws batting at the dangling charm. "Greedy little thing aren't you?" she teased, a gleam of affection in her mist-coloured eyes.

With her other hand, Ophelia flipped a page in the book that lay open on her lap-an ancient tome on the Dark Arts. Its worn pages were filled with notes and scribbles from generations of wizards, each one more cryptic than the last. She skimmed the lines of text, her lips quirking as she read about forbidden curses and shadowy incantations, her fingers lightly tracing over a particularly interesting passage.

The train let out a whistle as it sped past the lush countryside, the familiar sight of the rolling hills doing little to distract Ophelia from her reading-or her Niffler's constant attempts to snatch the necklace. "Oh, alright, fine," she said with a soft laugh, finally dropping the necklace into her pocket for the Niffler to grab. It immediately latched onto the shiny trinket, snuggling back into the warmth of her robes as it relished its prize.

Ophelia shook her head, rolling her eyes at the creature's antics before returning her focus to her book. The soft scratching of quill on parchment could be heard from a nearby compartment, and the low murmur of students filled the air, but she was lost in her own world, her mind already thinking ahead to the year that awaited her at Hogwarts.

As she turned another page, the door to her compartment slid open with a low creak. Ophelia didn't bother to look up, though the glint in her eyes sharpened as she spoke.

"Whoever it is," she said lazily, "you might want to knock next time."

The Niffler poked its head out of her pocket again, still clutching the necklace like a trophy, as if sensing the arrival of company. Its tiny black eyes gleamed with mischief, ready for whatever trouble it could cause.

Ophelia finally glanced up, a sly smirk already playing on her lips, her gaze daring the newcomer to make the next move.

"Still no manners, Granger?" she said dryly, her eyes still skimming the page before her. "You've interrupted my reading."

Hermes Granger stepped into the compartment, his sharp features illuminated by the soft light streaming through the window. His Gryffindor robes were immaculate, as usual, and he wore that same self-assured smirk that always made Ophelia want to throw something sharp at him. He held up his hands in mock surrender, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Forgive me, Gaunt," he replied smoothly, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he took a seat opposite her. "I didn't realize you were in the middle of communing with your ancestors' ghost or plotting the downfall of all Gryffindors."

Ophelia glanced up from her book, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Only the brave ones," she quipped. "And if you must know, I was about to discover a particularly interesting curse. I'm sure you'd be fascinated by it-though perhaps a bit out of your depth."

Hermes leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he arched a brow at her. "Out of my depth? Please. You may have a famous surname, but I've read twice as many books as you, and you know it."

Ophelia rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help the glint of challenge that sparked in them. "Books are fine, Granger, but you're a bit too eager to worship at their altar. Magic isn't something you can learn by hiding behind pages all day."

Hermes chuckled, the sound low and teasing. "And here I thought you enjoyed a good book as much as I do. What's that?" He nodded toward the Niffler, which was stirring in her pocket. "You are keeping pets to distract yourself from the fact that I've outscored you in Potions every year?"

The Niffler peeked out, blinking at Hermes with wide eyes, still clutching the shiny necklace in its tiny paws. Ophelia's smile widened at the sight of the little creature. "Pets, no. But it's smarter than most of the students around here. I'd wager it could even outwit you."

Hermes snorted, leaning forward slightly, his gaze playful. "I doubt that. Besides, you're forgetting that I beat you in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Again."

"By a single point," Ophelia countered, her eyes narrowing playfully as she finally closed her book and set it aside. "And only because Flitwick has a soft spot for your insufferable 'politeness.' You practically charm the points out of him."

"Or maybe I'm just better than you," Hermes retorted with a smug grin.

Ophelia scoffed, but there was no venom in it, only the familiar spark of competition. "Better? In your dreams, Granger. You may have your little wins, but I'll remind you that my family practically invented most of the curses you study."

"Ah, yes," Hermes said, his voice dripping with mock awe. "The mighty Gaunt legacy. Let's not forget your illustrious bloodline. And yet here we are, tied for the top spot. How do you explain that?"

Ophelia leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as her smirk deepened. "It just means when I beat you this year, it'll be all the sweeter."

Hermes's smile mirrored hers, their academic rivalry as sharp as ever. "Oh, Ophelia, you never learn. But I'll give you credit for being optimistic. Let's see how long that lasts."

The train gave a sudden lurch, and both of them rocked in their seats for a moment. The tension between them was palpable but familiar-an electric current that thrived on their constant push and pull.

Ophelia's Niffler let out a small chirp from her pocket, almost as if it were sensing the shift in energy between the two.

She patted her robes, calming the creature down before looking back at Hermes, her expression softening just slightly. "As entertaining as this is, Granger, you should know I'm not losing to you this year. You may as well accept it."

Hermes leaned back, his gaze unwavering as he replied, "I wouldn't be so sure, Gaunt. You may be skilled, but I've got something you don't."

Ophelia raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate.

"A head start," Hermes said with a wink as he pulled out a thick, ancient-looking tome from his bag-one that Ophelia recognized as being particularly rare and hard to come by.

She groaned, but her eyes glittered with begrudging admiration. "You insufferable know-it-all."

"And proud of it," Hermes shot back with a grin.

Ophelia rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the smile tugging at her lips. This year would be interesting, indeed.

Ophelia watched the landscape blur past the train window, the rolling hills and dense forests bathed in the soft, golden light of the afternoon sun. The sound of the Hogwarts Express chugging along was a steady hum in the background, but her mind was elsewhere, lost in thought.

With a soft sigh, she set her book down beside her and reached into her robe pocket. The small Niffler stirred, its tiny paws still clutching the necklace it had claimed as its treasure. Ophelia gently rubbed its head, her fingers brushing over the soft fur, and the creature let out a contented little purr. For a moment, the world outside seemed far away, and the small, quiet comfort of the Niffler was enough to bring a rare, soft smile to her lips.

𓆙

The Slytherin common room was cloaked in an eerie, emerald glow, the dim light from the lake outside filtering through the high, narrow windows. It cast shimmering patterns on the walls, like the dance of shadows and secrets. Ophelia sat in one of the deep, high-backed chairs near the fireplace, her legs tucked beneath her as she studied the flickering flames, her silver hair catching the greenish light like a ghostly halo.

The room was quieter than usual, the murmur of her fellow Slytherins reduced to whispers as the hour grew late. Outside, the waters of the Black Lake stirred with the movements of unseen creatures, adding to the stillness within. The dark leather-bound book on Ophelia's lap, filled with intricate details of ancient Dark Arts, lay open, but her mind wandered, distracted by the solitude.

Her Niffler, who she had affectionately named Grim, scurried across the armrest, nudging her hand with his snout, clearly eager for more attention. Ophelia absently petted him, her fingers running through his fur as she turned her gaze from the fire to the windows, watching the subtle ripples in the water. It was nights like these that made her feel most at home in the shadows of the Slytherin dungeons-hidden from the world above, steeped in mystery and power.

Suddenly, the door to the common room creaked open, and the quiet atmosphere was momentarily interrupted. A group of younger students entered, laughing softly before noticing Ophelia's presence and immediately quieting down, wary of the Gaunt name. Ophelia merely smirked, her misty green eyes watching them as they quickly moved to the far side of the room, keeping their distance.

With a soft sigh, she closed the book, leaning back in the chair and stretching slightly, her gaze returning to the fire. The common room was a sanctuary, and tonight, wrapped in the warmth of the fire and the comfort of her familiar surroundings, Ophelia felt the weight of her name, her power, and her secrets settle over her like a cloak. Tomorrow, she would re-enter the world with her usual sharp wit and cunning, but for now, in the quiet of the darkened dungeons, she allowed herself to simply be.

✩₊˚.⋆☾╶⃝⃤☽⋆⁺₊✧

By: SilverMist707

How is your day or night? <3