Through Her Eyes

"Dad?" He repeated, flinching slightly at the title.

"I mean, Tom. You're Tom." She rectified quickly in case she angered him.

From the looks of it, he didn’t seem to bother with names such as ‘father’ and ‘daughter’ so she internally decided she should call him by his name, now that she knew what it was.

"You have been studying by yourself so late at night for how long exactly?" Tom asked, walking past her towards the back of the library.

"A while. I might have pissed off a Prefect." Ophelia mumbled guiltily. "A Slytherin Prefect," She added, hearing a faint chuckle from the man in front of her.

"Lucius Malfoy, am I right?"

She looked up at him surprised that he could figure it out so quickly but nodded nonetheless.

"He is still young and inexperienced. He'll learn soon enough," Tom continued nonchalantly, as if he was discussing a distant relative.

“I don’t want to be rude or ungrateful but why are you here? And how?" She asked trying to sound as polite as possible.

Tom stopped and glanced at her over his shoulder, scaring her with the way he seemed to be glaring at her. Those eyes, narrowed in such a way that made her remember the first time they met; the intensity was different but they had the same effect on her.

"I am here on business that little girls should not be curious of." He replied with a tinge of a scolding tone making a shudder go down her spine. He wasn't really intimidating nor did he act in any way that would scare her yet his simple presence was overwhelming.

"Then, how did you know I was here?"

"I heard rumors that you befriended Rabastan Lestrange," He changed the subject completely as he stopped in front of the Restricted area of the library.

"I wouldn't say we are friends. He's tutoring me in Potions." She mumbled, "He became very involved as of late. He actually works alongside and forces me to copy him more or less."

"Good. That means he plays his role well." Tom replied in the same monotonous manner that made her question if he really was interested in her life or not. Then, some tiny detail drew her attention to a particular reasoning.

"His role?" She asked looking up at him, "What do you mean? What is his role?"

The wizard didn’t even bother looking at her before he walked inside the Restricted Section with one clear purpose in his mind. Only a few minutes later, lost in between shelves of books did he respond,

“You will get better at Potions.” It sounded a lot like an order rather than an encouragement, “I would also like you to stop bowing your head in front of Luce."

"I'm not bowing my head. I just comply in order to survive."

"You shouldn't." He ordered her, this time staring into her eyes. For a moment, she looked just like Lillian but blinking once or twice, it shifted into a mix of both Gaunts. Or, rather than looking like Lillian, Ophelia seemed to grow into a true Slytherin heir with black hair and pale complexion. “You will not bow your head to anyone ever again. Not even in front of death.” He ended coldly.

"Because wizards like us have strong and old magic isn't it?"

It might have been naivety from her part but it annoyed the older man. In his ears it sounded very much like she was mocking him which in return should receive a punishment. But not yet, he couldn't. Tom needed her to trust him completely before doing anything that would give out his true personality.

"Again, I don’t want to be rude but are you a pureblood?" Ophelia asked innocently, waiting to finally know what she was in terms of society titles.

"You are daughter of two purebloods," Tom’s face brightened slightly as he established their rang, "We come from a long line of pureblooded wizards and so it shall remain. Do not stain our name, Ophelia."

"But-"

"You, as me and Lillian, are direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin. Never forget your identity." He interfered, visibly boasting about their status yet firmly informing her of her boundary.

Ophelia’s green eyes widened as she heard those words echoing in her mind. The disappointment when she was placed in Gryffindor, the way she befriended a Slytherin so easily and the way she never felt threatened or ashamed when her house mates implied that she was acting like a snake; everything was finally falling into place.

"How do you know so much about me and my school life?"

Tom raised an eyebrow, not unpleased with the question but obviously not prepared to give detailed explanations to a little girl.

"I have always known. Unlike what you have been urged to believe, I had never stopped watching over you.”

If only his eyes wouldn’t have glinted so sinister while speaking, Ophelia might have fallen into his palms right away. But there was still a life that Dumbledore helped her create for herself and Ophelia wasn’t sure she wanted to give it up just yet.



Returning to the common room, she didn't look anywhere but her muddy shoes. Ophelia met him again; the man who showed her magic, the one who helped her when she was confused and he was her father. He reached out to her, finally, and it was so…she couldn’t find the right word to describe it.

Going up into her dormitory, it started to feel like she committed a sin. Dumbledore asked her to forget about her mother's death and her anonymous father but now, that was out of question.

Tom. That was his name; that was everything she knew about him actually. No, she also knew that he was good at Potions and he was a manipulative person. But was that all? She couldn't judge someone when that person never wronged her but instead gave her an aim in life. Tom was her father and even if she was grateful to Dumbledore, Ophelia really wanted to trust her father.



Next day was Wednesday which meant she had Occlumency lessons with Cerberus. She had to find a way to retain last night's memories and block him from coming near them. That was going to be a challenge.

"Oi, badge! You look happy today. Had a good dream last night?"Black asked as soon as they walked into the Great Hall.

"I did, yes." It did feel like a dream now.

"Maybe because you slept in a bed?"

Ophelia scoffed at the glasses boy and shrugged him off, turning to Pettigrew.

"Do you still need tutoring in History of Magic and DADA?"

Peter frowned confused until he remembered what it was about.

"Sure."

"I heard that Gethsemane Timothy from Ravenclaw is an excellent tutor. I can ask Cissney to introduce you, if you’re that desperate.” Ophelia continued, her gaze so strong that Pettigrew couldn’t refuse.

However, Potter was not that easily influenced; moreover when she was messing his plan of helping her. He scoffed loudly, his eyes narrowing at her from behind his round glasses.

"Too busy to help a mate, Molley?" Potter howled at her.

"Firstly, he’s not my mate thus I don’t have a reason to make myself available for him. But I am busy. Unlike you, I have to glance over my shoulder after every step I take in the corridors." She admitted with a smile on her face, surprising everyone.

"Blimey, have you eaten some rotten apple, Molley?"

She glowered at Potter’s offended face. He was a tough boy and very stubborn. Scowling, Ophelia turned her head towards the staff table and noticed not one but three pairs of eyes staring at her, more or less subtle. She could understand Dumbledore and Spinnard but McGonagall too?



She found out right after first period when a seventh year Gryffindor that she did not know told her she is needed in McGonagall's office.

"Got in trouble, Molley? Oi, James I think she wants to challenge us!" Black shouted.

"No, I don't." She grumbled, walking away from the optimistic boy.

As soon as she entered the office, she met the soft comforting smile of Albus Dumbledore. Ophelia has been there once before, when she caught a glimpse of Spinnard’s memories. Now, if only she could unsee everything, it would make her life easier.

"Please, take a seat." The headmaster invited her before he gave her jelly beans, "These are my favorite flavor." He whispered as if that was a secret.

"Why am I here, sir?"

"Something happened yesterday, am I right?"

Ophelia tensed slightly but not enough to be suspicious. She was standing with her legs closed tightly and her hands resting on her knees; very neat, just like Gloria taught her to sit in formal meetings.

"I have been informed that you came by my office while I was away." He continued, tilting his head slightly, carefully scanning her expression.

"Right. Yes, yes I did. I wanted to talk to you about someone; a man that appears in both professor Spinnard’s and professor Knowingall's memories." She started softly, forcing her mind to focus on anything but her father.

"A man?" Dumbledore asked, one raised eyebrow, almost looking captivated.

"Vernon Peverell," When she said that name she swore she saw Dumbledore's eyes brighten. "I saw him in professor Spinnard's memories and he looked fine; like any fifth year maybe. Then I saw him in a picture I found of him and Lillian. Again he looked alright but then...I had the chance to see him in professor Knowingall's memories of a Quidditch match. He looked different."

"What do you mean different?" The headmaster asked calmly. He did seem to extract some entertaining from her indignation with Peverell’s image.

"Older. Everything about him seemed older. Wasn't he in the same year as Lillian?"

Dumbledore was quick to note that the young witch has been calling her mother by her name the whole time.

"Peverell's story is more complicated than you imagine, Opbelia."

"Then make it easy for me to understand." She hissed, taking aback both herself and Dumbledore, "I'm sorry, sir."

She was uncovering bits of her past, that much was obvious. Her behavior was being either influenced by her father or someone else in her life. Was a student able to shake Ophelia from her shell from the first two years at Hogwarts? Or was it Spinnard’s curiosity that nudged Ophelia towards the past? Dumbledore wasn’t sure, he couldn’t see in Ophelia’s mind even if he wanted to because the little girl was being guarded.

"Vernon Peverell was one of the best students here at Hogwarts. He was in the same year as Luce and Cerberus." He finally responded, giving her enough for her to understand.

"And Tom." She added curtly remembering what she had seen.

"Yes."

"But how can that be? Professor Spinnard and Knowingall, they may look young but even from their memories I can see they are older than my mother." The brunette girl was growing confused.

In that moment, taking a close look at her, all guarded up in front of him, Dumbledore knew what he should do.

"That's because your mother was not born at thst time."

That was not what she expected when she entered the office.

"Was my mother a Gryffindor?" She asked after a long sigh.

"Yes, she was."

"She doesn't appear in any memories of Spinnard's and Cerberus'. Then, when did she meet Peverell?" The girl continued her interrogation.

"Vernon returned to Hogwarts to teach flying lessons but instead, I offered him a delicate mission. You see, Lillian was a special witch and when she came to Hogwarts, I made her a promise. Vernon only helped keeping it.” The headmaster gave her a very ambiguous answer but it seemed to satisfy her; at least for now.

Silence filled the office, so thick that not even a knife could cut through it; not even Potter’s childish remarks could. A second year Gryffindor was being pulled in troubles bigger than Spinnard’s power abuse during DADA and Malfoy’s foolish revenge. Suddenly, Tom’s order to never bow her head in front of anyone made sense.

But Dumbledore was patient. He experienced the same intense silence in the past with Lillian, though at a different stage in life. The daughter was not as expressive as her mother so it was difficult to figure what she was thinking at the moment.

“Then, was Peverell even a true friend or was he just a pawn? Was their friendship real?” She finally asked, “And why is Peverell so young in the picture yet so messed up in Cerberus’ memory?”

“Oh, yes. Very much so. Your mother trusted Vernon even after she graduated. As of Cerberus, he might have slightly altered the memory. I wouldn’t be surprised if what you saw wasn’t just a sign of how much Cerberus has aged,” The headmaster joked, chuckling at his own humor in hope she will too. Surprisingly, Ophelia let herself smile before she gave a dramatically loud sigh and jumped on her feet.

“Thank you, sir. I mean, for sharing all these information with me. I am merely a second year now.”

There was something smelling rotten in the room. Dumbledore could sense it oozing off the girl in front of him. It was uncertain what her next move will be but the headmaster believed in the green eyed witch; he believed in her moral education given by a Scotland Yard detective and a lawyer.