Alvena Blythe was one of the most brilliant Slytherin her era had known. But deep within the shadows lay the hidden truth and the crawling lies people had fed her. Whole maneuvering her years through Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry with h...
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The rhythmic chug of the train was the only sound that filled Alvena's compartment as she sat alone, staring blankly out the window. The scenery rushed past, but she didn't see it. Her thoughts were consumed by the events of the ball—Theo, Daphne, Draco, Pansy... all the lies fed from Sage and Stormy, all the betrayal. The tightness in her chest never seemed to loosen. She had to be alone. She couldn't bear the idea of facing anyone, not today. She heard footsteps approaching and, without thinking, waving her hand in the air locking the door to her compartment with a simple spell, pulling the blinds down with a sharp tug. She didn't want to see anyone, especially not Sage or Stormy. They didn't need to pity her. They didn't need to see her like this. Opphiuccus, her ever-loyal serpent, slithered up from the small bag she had tucked beside her, sensing her distress. He coiled gently around her wrist, his cool, comforting weight a small solace. The snake's scales were smooth and soothing as he wrapped himself tighter around her arm, resting his head on her shoulder. "It's ok, I'm here, you can calm down now," he hissed softly, his voice a familiar and comforting presence in her mind. Alvena closed her eyes, her hand gently resting on the snake's smooth, muscular body. He was right. She needed something to ground her, something to stop the whirlwind of emotions from overwhelming her. She had to stop thinking about them all. The train eventually came to a halt, the final destination signaling the end of this agonizing journey. Alvena collected her things and stepped off the train, the chill of the station air biting at her skin. A sleek, black car was waiting for her, as always, parked just outside the station. Her family's driver opened the door for her, and she climbed into the backseat without a word. As the car sped through the quiet streets of the city, Alvena leaned back against the plush seats, closing her eyes again. Home. She just needed to get home, where nothing could remind her of the pain. The ride felt longer than usual, the city passing by in a blur, until the car finally pulled up in front of the large mansion that had always felt like a prison more than a home. She stepped out of the car, the cold air hitting her once more, and made her way inside. The house was eerily quiet, save for the low hum of the lights and the soft clink of dishes being arranged in the dining room. The table was laid out with extravagant snacks, rows of delicate pastries, cheeses, fruits, and other indulgent treats meant to welcome her home. It was exactly what she needed—comfort food, something to take her mind off things. But as soon as she walked in, the sight only deepened the ache in her chest. The maid, a young woman with a polite smile, looked up at her from the table. "We were expecting you with your friends, Miss Alvena. Your parents sent word that you'd be arriving shortly." Alvena's gaze hardened. Her friends. The ones who had caused her the heartache. The ones who were now probably laughing about how they'd seen Theo with Daphne. The ones who had lied to her. She didn't need them. "Go away," she muttered, her voice low and strained with emotion. The maid hesitated, but Alvena didn't wait for her to leave. With a sudden burst of anger, she grabbed the edge of the tablecloth and yanked it violently, sending everything on the table crashing to the floor in a chaotic mess of broken china, scattered snacks, and shattered glass. The sound of the crash echoed through the house, but Alvena didn't care. She was done pretending that everything was fine. She stormed out of the room, her breath coming in quick, uneven gasps. "Clean it up," she ordered the maids as she passed. They looked at her nervously but said nothing, quickly going to work as Alvena made her way to the stairs and retreated to her room. Once inside her sanctuary, she slammed the door behind her, locking it with a finality that felt suffocating. She didn't want to face anyone. Not now, not ever. The soft rustle of fabric filled the room as Alvena quickly changed into her pajamas, the comfortable fabric feeling foreign against her skin. She barely looked at herself in the mirror before she turned to the bathroom, peeling off the remnants of her makeup. The harsh smell of remover stung her eyes, but it did nothing to stop the flood of tears that followed. As the last of the mascara came off, she sank to the floor, her body trembling with the force of her sobs. Her breath was ragged, tears spilling down her face. Her mind was full of questions, of doubts, of hurt. Why did she always trust the wrong people? Why did she care so much? Opphiuccus slid down from her arm, curling around her neck as if to comfort her. His cold scales against her skin were a strange kind of comfort, something steady amidst the chaos in her mind. He spoke again, his voice low and calming. "You are more than their lies, Alvena. More than their betrayal. Do not let them break you." Alvena's sobs slowed, and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She wasn't sure she could ever trust anyone the same way again. Her heart was shattered, and the world around her felt like it was closing in. "I know," she whispered, her voice broken. "I just... I thought he was different. He told me..." Opphiuccus hummed softly, as if to acknowledge her pain. "Promises are empty without truth," he said, the words piercing the hollow space inside her chest. "You must learn to trust yourself first." Alvena nodded, her tears continuing to fall. She stood slowly, her legs shaky as she looked into the mirror above the sink. Her mascara had smudged, leaving dark streaks down her cheeks, and her face was blotchy from crying. Her reflection looked unfamiliar to her—fragile, vulnerable. She stared at herself for a long moment, and then, something snapped. A sound, sharp and deafening, broke the silence as she screamed, her voice raw with frustration and sorrow. The mirror shattered. Glass rained down around her, tiny shards glittering like stars on the bathroom floor. Alvena stood frozen for a moment, the silence that followed suffocating. Opphiuccus hissed softly, his tongue flicking out as if to assess the damage. "You're stronger than this," the snake murmured, his voice almost a whisper. "This is not the end." Alvena looked at the broken mirror and felt a strange sense of finality settle over her. She wasn't sure what the future held, but the girl in the mirror—she wasn't the same one who had walked into the ball, hopeful and trusting. She was someone else now. Someone who could survive this. But that didn't make the pain any less real.
