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GOBLET OF FIRE.
DREAMS were Ophelia's biggest fear.
That night, she'd begotten her Sleeping Draughts (bundled under jumpers still in her trunk) and had hoped the dazzling new scenery of her dormitory would give her a fleeting sleep. It didn't. By the time she'd closed her eyes and tried to tune out Hermione's muttering and Faye's snores, she would begin to hear the lulling waves in her ears and jerked awake each time.
By the fourth time she'd forced herself awake, Ophelia had grown painfully tired. The sound of water filled her mind and she shifted weakly, but eventually rolled over into the darkness of sleep.
Her brain slowly filled in the pieces of her world with blurring colours and slow settling shapes until she recognised the scenery again. It was one of the more common memories - one that rolled around rather dully. However, this one excited her more now that she was at Hogwarts. It was a short dream: she remembered getting her lavender dress all mucky running down the river banks, the face of the white-haired wizard when he dipped his hands in the water and grasped the wriggling creature, its green, scaled body flapping its panicked wings. ("It's young," Merlin had said,"but not tame. Not for a second.")
She woke up feeling alright, not well rested, but alright. The weather had ceased to an occasional fine drizzle and she didn't have to worry about tucking her hair in, letting the long dark strands fall down the back of her jumper. Parvati had laughed when the new girl had asked if they had to wear robes all the time.
"Merlin, no," she had snickered. "We only bring those things out for special occasions. Or dreadful weather."
Breakfast was ever so peculiar. They had all received their schedules and were diligently pouring over them, pre-preparing for bad days.
She had been placed with Care of Magical Creatures and more interestingly, Ancient Runes. The girl scratched her head at that. Ancient runes were a funny grey area - sometimes, they just unravelled right in front of her and her brain just knew what was meant, and other times they looked just as foreign as ever. She suspected it had something to do with the limpet (she had stuck calling it that after the Sorting Hat's comment.) Ophelia was sat next to a boy named Lee and Dean.
"Say, Levitt," one of the Weasley twins called across a jug of pumpkin juice. "If you make us the Ageing Potion, we'll put your name in with ours."
She rolled her eyes, letting her parchment fall onto the wood with an exasperated sigh. "Firstly, I don't want my name anywhere near there. Secondly, who said I was making an Ageing Potion?"
"You did," the other said, lying through his teeth.
The only difference she could notice was the styling of their hair, one more windblown and the other more of a straight fall down their nape, but she had no idea which one was which.
