autumn | severus snape

thirty four

The Halloween ball had ended and students were slowly making their way back to their common rooms, most of them giggling while doing so. Ophelia sat with Ana on the stone steps, her heart aching at the tension in her sister's shoulders, the way her fingers twisted nervously in her lap.

"You know," Ophelia began softly, her tone light but laced with concern, "when I was your age, I could barely manage a Summoning Charm without making a complete fool of myself."

Ana looked up, her brow furrowed. "You're lying."

Ophelia smiled, shaking her head. "I'm not," she said. "Dad was pretty mad when I accidentally summoned his car into our living room."

A small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Ana's lips. "Really?"

"Really," Ophelia said, leaning forward slightly. "Peter and I were just messing around, trying to outdo each other. I got cocky and went for something big. Ended up breaking half the furniture and scaring mom senseless."

Ana's reluctant smile grew, her shoulders relaxing. "Dad taught you magic?"

Ophelia nodded. "He started teaching Peter and me before you were born. He was... determined that we'd be strong, that we'd make him proud."

Ana hesitated, her expression softening. "I miss Peter," she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. "We never talk about him."

Ophelia's chest tightened, but she kept her tone gentle. "I know," she said, reaching across to take Ana's hand in hers. "And I'm sorry about that. We should talk about him more. He loved you, you know."

Ana looked down at their joined hands, her lip trembling slightly. "Do you think he'd be proud of me?"

Ophelia's heart ached at the vulnerability in Ana's voice. She squeezed her hand, her voice firm but filled with warmth. "Of course, he would," she said. "You're so much like him, Ana. Kind, determined, brave."

"I just... I want to be good at magic, Ophelia." Ana sniffled, brushing at her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. "But what if I never get better?" She whispered. "What if I can't... what if I'm just not meant to be here?"

"Don't say that." Ophelia shifted closer, her other hand brushing a strand of hair from Ana's face. "Listen to me," she said softly but firmly. "Magic isn't about being perfect. It's about finding your own way of connecting with it. Peter and I struggled plenty, but we figured it out because we kept trying. You will too."

Ana nodded, her tears slowing as she leaned her head against Ophelia's shoulder.

"If dad taught you," she said earnestly, her voice tinged with desperation, "maybe he could teach me too. Then maybe I'd get better. I wouldn't be so... useless."

Ophelia's heart skipped a beat at Ana's words. The warmth of the castle seemed to dim slightly, casting uneasy shadows on the walls.

"Ana," Ophelia said carefully, her hand tightening ever so slightly around her sister's. "Magic takes time, it's not something you can rush or force. Dad's way... it wasn't always about teaching. Sometimes it was about control. And you don't need that."

Ana's shoulders sagged slightly, disappointment flickering across her face. "I just want to feel strong," she said quietly.

Ophelia's chest ached, and she pulled Ana into a tight hug, her fingers threading through her sister's hair. "You are strong," she whispered fiercely. "You don't need him to prove that."

For a moment, Ana didn't respond, but the way she clung to Ophelia said more than words ever could.

"You don't need Dad to teach you," Ophelia said again, her tone lighter now, though her determination burned fiercely beneath it. "You've got me. And maybe Professor Flitwick will give you extra lessons. He's better than Dad anyway."