Vagary

Chapter 1 The Beginning of the End Ophelia

The shadow of Lord Voldemort's malevolence loomed over the world, casting a pall of darkness upon each passing day. The headlines of the Daily Prophet echoed the chilling truth: "HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED RETURNS." However, the depths of Voldemort's villainy remained shrouded in secrecy, as reports trickled in of Death Eaters unleashing their terror upon unsuspecting Muggles. The ominous disappearance of Susan Bones's aunt, a dedicated worker at the Ministry, only added to the mounting dread. Yet, amidst the chaos, Voldemort's whereabouts remained an enigma, intensifying the unease that gripped the wizarding community.

"Merlin, I wish they would stop reporting on the same thing every day," exclaimed, her voice tinged with exasperation as she flung the repetitive news article across the dimly lit attic room. Her eyes narrowed as she caught a glimpse of her own face, intertwined with those of her brother and mother, plastered on the pages. "It's like they're not even trying to find him."

"Well, you know where he is," sighed, stacking a castle of cards. "You could send an anonymous note to the Ministry..."

"He's not there anymore," Ophelia huffed, crossing her arms. "Bellatrix told mum he's moving location every week."

"Then what can you do?" Blaise shrugged. His attention remained fixated on the towering stack of cards before him, a testament to his unwavering focus and skill.

"You're not being helpful Blaise," Ophelia said.

Blaise let out a weary groan, as he directed his gaze towards Ophelia. "Phea, this space," he motioned to the room they were in. "Is a place where we can relax free from stress. But alas, your current state of mind is causing a ripple in the tranquil waters of our sanctuary."

Ophelia couldn't help but roll her eyes at Blaise's sarcasm, a flicker of annoyance dancing in her gaze. As she glanced around the attic room, her lips curved into a nostalgic smile. It was a space that held the essence of her childhood, a cozy haven that embraced her with its familiar embrace. Though it may have been slightly smaller than her own bedroom, every nook and cranny was adorned with cherished mementos, each one a testament to the memories etched deep within her heart. The slanted ceilings added a touch of whimsy, creating a sense of enchantment within the room. And there, nestled between the walls, an unmade bed lay, inviting her to sink into its comforting embrace, a sanctuary within a sanctuary.

This was the sacred space where Ophelia, Blaise, and sometimes Draco sought solace, a refuge from the clutches of their parents and the relentless demands of the outside world. However, a lingering unease had settled deep within Ophelia's soul since the onset of summer, refusing to loosen its grip. Ever since that fateful encounter with Voldemort, an unsettling silence had enveloped her. The absence of his voice weighed heavily on her heart, stirring a maelstrom of worry and uncertainty within her.

"It just doesn't feel right," Ophelia began. "I mean, it's a bit of a relief I haven't heard from him but also terrifying--"

"Ophelia--"

"No, it's like... if I know what he's planning then maybe I can do something to counteract it--"

"Okay, Ophelia..." Blaise sighed, sitting down in the armchair across from her. "Maybe you can do something but you shouldn't..."

Ophelia frowned, taken aback by his comment.

"I mean, you're sixteen..." Blaise smiled, grabbing her hands. "Maybe it's time to be that ignorant schoolgirl and go on that date with Potter, worry about what you're going to wear to that date--worry about school. Do everything else but worry about the Dark Lord."