Ophelia Riddle and the reopening of the Chamber of Secrets

Hogwarts Letters

Dear Diary,

Diary. I guess that's what I'm calling you.

First, let me give you some background history. My name is Ophelia Valentine Estelle Riddle. That's right, Tom Marvolo Riddles daughter, the one and only. Years ago, when my father split his soul to make horcruxes, one survived. The diary, oh the irony of me keeping a diary now, while Harry Potter was busy fighting the basilisk Tom was growing stronger and Ginny weaker. Even after the snake was blinded, it still managed to corner Harry and after he stabbed it and also got stabbed, he fell unconscious. Ginny passed away, and Tom became mortal, no longer floating between Ginny and the diary. He left Harry thinking he was dead, and fled before others came down, not knowing how mortal he had become.

Then skip forward a bunch of years, and here I am. I'm about to go to my first year at Hogwarts. I'm honestly pretty nervous, I'll know Cyarin, since we live together. But everyone will know me because of my father, and I'll have to deal with all the stares. Plus, a part of me doesn't want to get into Slytherin. Just because my father did, doesn't mean I have to, right? I don't know, I'm sure Cyarin will know more about the sorting hat. Her family has been so kind to let me live with them since a very young age, and despite the constant hate they get for housing "The Riddle Kid". I'll find a way to repay them someday.

Big things are coming, I can feel it. I'll keep you updated.

From,

Ophelia V.E.R

Ophelia woke to the smell of a warm breakfast floating into her room. Small in size, and covered from ceiling to floor with random drawings, newspaper clippings and posters making the room feel like the walls were moving in on you. The noise of grease popping, water running, and the low rumble of voices carried under the door and helped coax her out of bed. The already hot sun poured through the blind cracks over the window and made the air feel stuffy, she quickly got dressed, running her fingers through her short black hair, and headed down the stairs.

Her eyes first landed on Cyarin, a girl the same age as her, sitting at the table shoveling food into her mouth. Her eyes and hair the same dark black color and her skin pale, making the pair look more related than not. "G'morning sleepy!" She grinned, food falling from her mouth. Her pajamas were wrinkled with sleep, but her eyes were wide awake. "Today we should be getting our letters! Do you want some breakfast? It's so good, and warm, and good." She eyed the empty plate at the seat next to her, motioning for Ophelia to join at the table.

"Yes, food does sound good. Aren't you nervous for school? I mean, what will it even be like?" Ophelia walked to the table and sat, where the frying pan tilted itself over her plate and poured bacon, eggs and beans on toast onto her plate. Her stomach turned with worry and the plate quickly became unappetizing.

"Oh don't bother with thinking about all that! It's meant to be fun, and to teach us things. We'll make friends, don't you want friends?" Cyarin elbowed her a little too roughly, and Ophelia threw her hand up to her shoulder, shooting a mean look her way. "Sorry," she spat quickly, looking towards her plate. Sometimes she forgot the size difference they had. Although they were the same age, she was very tall, almost twice Ophelias height, but was quite lanky.

"Well, I already have you as a friend, and if we get sorted together I think I'll be fine if no one else talks to me," Ophelia said between forkfuls of eggs. She was forcing herself to eat something in hopes of it calming her stomach. Her mind raced with the idea of all the new students hearing her name being called for sorting. Then the inevitable whispering that would follow, and hungry eyes watching her every move. They will all have heard about her from their parents, most who went to school with Harry Potter, and knew first hand how she had come to be. No one would want to be her friend, except probably some truly rotten kids from Slytherin. No doubt that's where she would be sorted, just like her father.