𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐄

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱

Where she comes from

✩₊˚.⋆☾╶⃝⃤☽⋆⁺₊✧

𝓞𝓟𝓗𝓔𝓛𝓘𝓐 stood alone in the dim corridor, the flickering light from the lanterns casting an eerie glow across the ancient stone walls. Her gaze fixed on the scarlet letters smeared across the cold, grey stones—a warning etched in what appeared to be fresh blood. The message sent a shiver through her, a visceral mix of revulsion and something else—a darker, almost magnetic feeling tugging at her.

The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware.

Each word seemed to pulse with its own menacing energy, but one word struck her deeper than the rest: Heir. The weight of it lingered in her mind, stirring questions, echoes of the old family lore she'd been reading only hours ago. She could practically hear the ominous whispers of her ancestors in those words.

For a moment, the corridor felt like it was closing in, her heart pounding as her mind swirled with possibilities. But then, her name echoed down the hall, snapping her out of her trance.

"Ophelia!"

Turning, she saw Hermes, Harry, and Ron sprinting toward her, their faces pale and tense in the dim light. They slowed as they neared her, eyes wide as they took in the words on the wall.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware."

Hermes read the words aloud, his voice low as he stood next to Ophelia, his gaze as fixed as hers on the wall. The word Heir seemed to resonate deep within her, stirring something dark, ancient—something that made her blood run hotter, almost like Salazar Slytherin himself was calling to her through the bloodline that ran through her veins. She could feel a strange sense of connection, a pull she wasn't quite ready to admit.

"It's written in blood," Hermes murmured, his voice tinged with disgust.

Ophelia snapped back into the present, pulling herself from her daze as Harry's voice brought their attention elsewhere.

"Oh, no," he said, his voice tight with worry. Following his gaze, Ophelia saw Mrs. Norris, Filch's beloved cat, hanging by her tail, petrified and lifeless.

Ophelia instinctively reached for her pocket, relief flooding through her as she felt her Niffler, Grim, nestled safely inside, sleeping without a care. She glanced down the corridor just in time to hear the murmur of approaching footsteps and caught sight of students from every house gathering around, their faces painted with horror, confusion, and a growing sense of fear. Their eyes flicked between the blood-red writing on the wall and Harry, suspicion already forming in their expressions.

Amid the whispers, a voice cut through with gleeful malice. Draco Malfoy stepped forward, a smirk on his face as he surveyed the scene.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware," he repeated, his voice practically dripping with satisfaction. Then his gaze shifted, hardening as he turned to Hermes with a mocking sneer. "You'll be next, Mudbloods."

Ophelia's grip on her wand tightened, her knuckles white as she shot him a glare fierce enough to make him falter. He opened his mouth to continue, but her unwavering stare silenced him, and he quickly looked away, an uneasy look replacing his smirk.