Through Her Eyes

Unlike what anyone would have expected, Spinnard’s cottage was very simple and quite flowery. It was winter and Ophelia hoped it would snow soon so the mold covering parts of the outside walls were going to be completely covered in white. However, looking at the house, it was so calming and it gave her a different point of view over Spinnard’s personal life.

“Are you going to enter?” He asked, glaring at her from the front door. Her luggage was there too, reminding her that she was indeed going to spend more than one day there.

“How did we get here so fast?” She asked, remembering Tom using the same method before.

“We Apparated. Now get in before that old hag sees us,” He muttered, shoving her inside when she finally reached him. Spinnard took a wary glance at the vicinity before he also entered.



The entrance hall she walked in was narrow, small and badly illuminated.

The further she entered, the more she felt that the house was stretching before her eyes. The living room was exactly like Spinnard's memory: large enough for a lot of people, the walls were a pale color, dark wood floor, and the furniture...the furniture was the strength of the living room, of the whole house probably.

Everything was old but not that kind of smelly and uncomfortable old. Standing in the middle of the living room, Ophelia swore she could feel the smell of old wood and could hear the whispers of the past through the walls and the floor.

Another door was toward the kitchen but it was closed momentarily and Spinnard did not seem to want to give her a full tour. The house had only one floor but it was enough. Anyway, it was much bigger on the inside, probably he used magic or his family used a spell before they died; if they died, of course. Spinnard never spoke about his family. 

Upstairs were four doors, all narrow enough to fit two on each wall, among the huge family portraits. Spinnard was walking in front, but she could hear Ophelia's voice when she saw a portrait of a very strict lady with spectacles and dirty blonde hair. Looking closer, she could swear the lady had the same cool blue eyes that Spinnard had.

"This is your room." Spinnard said, opening the door farthest from the staircase. 

The room was surprisingly feminine. Probably Spinnard prepared the room after talking to Tom, but even so he could not do everything in such a short time. The room was clean and it had a familiar vanilla smell. The wallpaper on the walls was a pale pink color and the floor was also light. A single window was enlightening the room just above the bed. Mostly, the room was empty but it had everything strictly necessary. Another white door led to a very small bathroom.

"This house is amazing." She said, still awestruck that someone so rigid like Spinnard had such a house. 

"Unpack and come downstairs for dinner." He ordered, placing her trunk at the bottom of the bed. 

"You cook?" She asked grabbing the cage from Spinnard. 

"No, I starve." He retorted sarcastically before he left. 



"Your family, are they alive?" 

Ophelia was surprised to come downstairs and find the door to the kitchen largely opened. She walked in and couldn't help but be impressed by the muggle equipped kitchen. It had everything that Molley's kitchen had and more.

"My parents live in Ireland. I live here by myself." He answered, using magic to make the table. "Sit." 

She complied silently and watched Spinnard put the food on the table. It looked very good.

"You seem to live a normal life." She threw randomly but it seemed to annoy the older man.

"I don't like it when people talk at the table." He replied coldly.

For the whole time they ate, Spinnard didn't mutter a word. Ophelia watched him closely and noted how mannered he was.

"Is your family pure-blooded?" She finally asked, that curiosity eating her up.

"No." He answered.

"Why does my father trust you then?" 

That definitely annoyed him because he glared at her. He swayed his wand and the table started to clean itself. 

She was clearly waiting for an answer but they heard two loud knocks and Spinnard's attention shifted. 

"Go answer." He gave another order, turning his back to her. 

Ophelia sighed and walked groggily to the front door. As soon as she opened it, her eyes widened. 

"What are you two doing here?" 

One was the blond she asked to practice dark magic with while the other was the boy who literally tucked Potions in her mind. 

"Do we look like we know? Our fathers sent us." Malfoy mumbled, visibly uncomfortable. 

"Are you going to let us in, Molley?" Rabastan asked, visibly calmer and accustomed with being around her. 



Two Slytherins, one Gryffindor girl and Spinnard. It looked very tense and it felt so too. The two boys were standing on the couch while Spinnard was sitting on the armchair. Ophelia was between the two boys, confused. 

"This holiday, and even afterwards at school, Rabastan will return as your Potions tutor while Lucius will fill you in on what they do in their dark magic lessons. I cannot teach you something so-" He stopped and scrunched his nose in disgust, offending the two boys' families. "There are still wizards who don't live in the real world. I do not want to leave such a legacy nor do I want to give these values forward." 

"Are you done insulting our families, professor?" Malfoy pitched in, annoyed from head to toe. "Why would we even help her? She's a mud-" 

"Because I say so. Is that enough Lucius? If you want, I can go report everything you do at Hogwarts to your father. Especially your fights with other students like maybe Evangeline Moore from Hufflepuff. Should I remind you where she is now?" 

"Where is she now?" Ophelia asked Rabastan.

"St. Mungo's." Rabastan's answer was just as confusing. "Hospital. He cursed her." The boy rearranged his answer. 

That made more sense. She turned to the blond and stared at him expectantly. Lucius was glaring at Spinnard before he turned to Ophelia.

"I hate you." 

"Spinnard hates me too but here we are in his house." She answered knowing it would annoy the blond. Instead, it made Rabastan laugh.

"It's alright professor. We'll take care of her." 

"If any of the other pure-blooded Slytherin students try to do anything to her, let them. Do not interfere." 

Ophelia scoffed but it seemed to be fine with the other two.



"So, having Malfoy and Rabastan teach me dark stuff is part the reason why you agreed to spend Christmas with me?" Ophelia asked once the two Slytherins left. They did so incredibly quickly, especially the blond who took care to emphasize how much he dislikes the arrangement. 

"You ask an awful lot of questions, don't you?" He asked, looking up from his book. He had been reading for a while now and it was near midnight.

"Usually my parents tell me to go sleep by now," She started randomly. 

"I'm not your parents. I don't care." He answered as coldly as before, "What do you want, Ophelia?" He asked when he noticed her intense stare from the other side of the room. 

Truthfully, she has been standing by the door for an hour already, watching him. Spinnard was complex, of course she knew that already, seeing him as both someone respectful but also a choffedtosser. But there was more to him, something was leading him through life.

"Tell me more about my father. If I'd ask Dumbledore he wouldn't really say anything I don't know already. He says a lot but at the core he means nothing." 

That was one accurate view of what Dumbledore was doing to her. Frankly, he agreed with the headmaster at first but it was getting complicated.

"Your father's name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. His parents are dead. He is a talented wizard but respect for him comes out of fear not out of sincere admiration. Is that enought for you?" 

"He told me before that we are the same, that we come from a long line of purebloods. He said we are descendants of Salazar Slytherin." Ophelia added walking towards the blue eyed chuffedtosser.

"That is true. He didn't lie to you. But for that blood to stay pure he had to combine it with another pure blood's. That is your mother; his cousin." 

Now that was something new and a bit strange. From the hints he could see on her face, Spinnard could only guess what she was thinking about. It was clearly not well understood as her face became pale.

"That is...uncommon." She finally spoke. "Do other families use this technique?" 

"More or less. But the Gaunts were the ones that really lived by this rule. Cousins, siblings, uncles and aunts; it was all to keep the blood of Salazar Slytherin pure." Spinnard explained in detail, his eyes set on hers. She seemed to be thinking about the problem very seriously.

"Is that why you hate me so much? Because I am the result of an old and peculiar tradition?" 

Spinnard sighed and put his book aside. He was not going to escape from her anytime soon, not with how persuasive she was.

"Go sleep already." He mumbled passing her to the stairs, "Stupid Knowingall comes tomorrow. With him will come someone I know."

"And my father knows all about them?" 

"I am not your father's slave, Molley. I do what I want." He hissed at her like a pissed off hound before he hurried up into his room.



What Ophelia learned the next morning was that Cerberus Knowingall never uses the common way when visiting someone. No, he literally barged inside her room through her window, waking her up when he fell over her bed and eventually on the ground. Thus, that day begun catastrophically. 

"You're lucky I can use magic or else I had to shatter the glass and it wouldn't have been a nice sight." Cerberus started once they got into the living room.

Spinnard was already there, with a man that looked odd. Moreover, when she entered, she caught glimpse of a smile on Spinnard's face, which was chilling to be sincere.

"Oh my, it's been a long time, Potter!" Cerberus said loudly, walking happily to the visibly older and shorter man. 

"Potter?" Ophelia asked, sensing a lot of awkwardness surfacing, "As in James Potter?"

"Hello, you must be Ophelia, am I right? I have heard about you from my son. My name is Fleamont Potter." The man said smiling kindly at her while his round eyes sparkled.

"Son. Of course. Son. The father of James Potter is here." Realizing what she said, still containing a polite mask, she looked around the room, searching for the loud Gryffindor.

"Oh, no, he's not here. Luce instructions were very clear." Fleamont's smile cracked around the corners as he remembered the reason he came, "My son won't hear about this meeting. I'd like him to be kept in the dark for as long as possible."

Ophelia scoffed, unconsciously really but it grabbed attention. There was a lot to say about James' perceptive abilities but if she'd voice her opinions out in front of his father, well, it wasn't the best idea.

"Why is Mr. Potter here?" She tried to save it by regaining her politeness. 

"You'd be surprised how well Fleamont duels. It's amazing really. I was already a working adult when he entered Hogwarts and I was pleased he was sorted in Gryffindor. I knew his father from an old acquaintance of my uncle's and-" Cerberus said patting Fleamont proudly on the back.

"Excuse me? You were already a working adult when he first went to Hogwarts? How old are you exactly?" She asked her eyes widening.

"As old as your dear father," was Spinnard's answer.

"Old enough," was Cerberus' answer.

Those were very different sentences yet said with the same awkward expression. Seeing the discomfort on his acquaintances' faces, Fleamont took the initiative.

"I've had my share of duels during school years. Luce told me that he'd like me to show you a few tricks during the holidays. Who knows, maybe you'll even duel my son one day. For fun of course." He added the last part quickly, not wanting them to fight out of hatred.

"For fun, of course." She repeated, her eyes glinting mischievously in the morning sunlight.

Unlike his son, Mr. Potter was adamant to begin as soon as possible which meant immediately. Spinnard and Cerberus left together using Floo Powder, which was something new to Ophelia. But because Mr. Potter was there, she couldn't really stare at the chimney until they came back.

So, she followed the man outside, into the yard where he quickly drew his wand but didn't attack her yet.

"I heard you have been practicing with Luce at school, believe me, James told me all about it. But dueling is not just about attacks, it's about the ability to defend yourself. I'd like if we could not use the deadly curses and learn how to control your magic." He started seriously, like he knew what he was speaking of.

"Expelliarmus!" She screamed but it didn't even reach Fleamont before he shrugged it off with only a sway of his wand. 

His eyes darkened a bit before he mumbled, "Stupefy," and she was thrown a few feet back.