𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑠𝘩𝑎𝑑𝑒'𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝗁.𝗉. 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗇.

.one.

Ophelia slammed her trunk shut, latching it closed and dragging it off of her bed to rest on the floor. Running her fingers through her already knotted brown locks, she took a deep breath and surveyed her room.

It was a complete mess. Clothes hanging out of the dresser, pens strewed over the desk, the whole nine yards. Although it annoyed her, Ophelia just shrugged the mess off with the excuse that she was leaving for school soon and wouldn't have to deal with it for almost an entire year.

Heading out the door, she descended the steps to the lower floor of her house, on the hunt for something to eat. She had almost reached the bottom of the staircase when she heard muffled voices filtering out of the room at the top of the stairs. She was about to continue into the kitchen when a bit of the conversation piqued her interest.

"Ginny said that it's been happening for a couple of weeks now; that'd be the first time in twenty years," Ophelia didn't even need to hear the rest before trudging back up the stairs. Stopping just outside the barely open door, she caught a glimpse of her mother's long platinum hair, the setting sun glinting off of it.

Unfortunately, this meant that she didn't have time to move back out of the way when her father glanced in her direction. Spotting her immediately, he held up his hand to stop his wife's tangent. "Hold on." As soon as Ophelia registered the fact that he was coming her way, she tried to make a quick exit.

"Now, just what do you think you're doing?" her dad's harsh voice echoed down the small hallway. Stopping in her tracks, she slowly turned back around to face not only him but her mother as well, who now also happened to be standing in the doorway. Feeling the heat rising in her cheeks, Ophelia scrambled to think of a lie.

"Well, I was going to, uh, get a glass of water downstairs, but I forgot to grab my...my, um..." Holding up a hand, her dad didn't even seem phased by the less-than-convincing lie.

"Okay, now how about telling your mother and I what you were actually doing?" Letting her eyes fall to the floor, Ophelia shuffled her feet uncomfortably.

"Um...I was...uh,"

"Eavesdropping?" her mom continued for her. Flicking his gaze back to his wife, her dad raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What?" she continued, "You two were taking too long to get to the point!"

"Luna..." her dad sighed, smiling exasperatedly at her but dropping the conversation. He focused his gaze back to Ophelia, who met his eyes once again.

"Okay, so...maybe I was eavesdropping a little bit, but the only reason I was listening was because I heard you talking about what Ginny had said. I mean, I know you guys were close but you don't really talk a lot anymore."

"...So?" her mother seemed genuinely confused. "Aren't I allowed to talk to my old best friend?"

"I mean, yeah, but you also said that whatever you were talking about hadn't happened in 20 years, so...I guess I figured it must have been important." Her parents stood there for a moment, blinking. Her dad ran a hand through his chestnut locks, the color matching Ophelia's exactly. Her mom rubbed her bright blue eyes tiredly, then turned to look up at her husband.

"Rolf, what if she's right?" Groaning, he shook his head.

"No, no, she's still too young. She doesn't need to know! It would only scare her, it's--"

"I'm not five years old, dad!" Ophelia huffed, taking him by surprise. "If it's not 'that important', then why can't I know. I can handle it, I'm not a baby--"

"Your immature reaction is exactly why you're not ready." her father admonished sternly, although to Ophelia his points made no sense. "End of discussion. Go finish packing."