CHAPTER TWO
✧
-: seventh year :-

─ IN WHICH HER LIFE IS
TURNED UPSIDE DOWN AND
SECRETS ARE REVEALED

. . .

OPHELIA HAD GROWN QUITE USED to Apparition. Initially, the sensation was odd and unnerving, as though her intestines were twisting tighter and tighter together, as though she couldn't breathe. But, like everything else, she excelled in it - no splinching, always landing exactly where she envisioned (and on both feet no less - and she eased into the discomfort, instead focusing on the practicality.

Now, she didn't have to walk to the kitchen, or to her bedroom, or to get a book from the library - no, she didn't even have to go and get that herself. Now she was of-age, she could just summon one without lifting a finger. Plus, she hated using the Floo system; it always made her smell of soot regardless of how much perfume she sprayed upon herself afterwards.

But side-along Apparition was not something she enjoyed. And definitely not with Professor Dumbledore. Certainly, before his little story about her being in danger and their little Order and his thinly-veiled threats about knowing she covered up her father's death, she may have been honoured but that honour had been quickly lost. She no longer held respect for Dumbledore, not with everything he had discussed, and ultimately, forced upon her in moving.

It was not for him that she was leaving the Crouch Manor behind. Ophelia had not stepped a toe out of line the entirety of her life, she had done everything she had been expected to, and that very moment when she returned to the house to find that her father was wanting her to cover up his disappearance and death there came a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Where the hell have you taken me?" She snapped, her gaze cast over what simply looked like to be a normal street in London. A square, actually. There was a courtyard in the middle, filled with trees and overgrown rose bushes that were in the midst of flowering, white buds that puckered with pink at the tips of the petals, growing through the grates. It was surrounding by carefully paved streets, and townhouses that stretched up three stories of smoke-stained brick.

Dumbledore said nothing, glancing conspicuously around the square, and instead reached into his silver robes and held out a small piece of parchment folded into two for her to take.

"Please," he gestured genially at it.

Ophelia forced herself to not once more roll her eyes; she was afraid it was quickly becoming a habit; and took it from him, unfolding it. "Twelve Grimmauld Place?" She asked, looking up from the swirling cursive handwriting for a brief moment before turning back to the parchment and flipping it over to try and find something else there.  "You've got to be kidding, there's not a twelve, there's an eleven, and there's a thirteen and I know for a fact that given there is a park in the middle of this that, unlike normal terraced streets, even numbers would not be just across the road. Twelve Grimmauld Place?"

When she looked up again, she not only found Dumbledore to be gone - Apparated away, too busy to actually explain what was going on - but a house emerging from between house Number Eleven and Thirteen, dust falling from the walls. It was noticeably darker than the other houses on the street, most likely from age and the magic used to keep it hidden, but else ways seemed to be identical to the homes. Except there was the distinct aura of magic surrounding it, that deep, almost hidden smell that glittered. And right there, next to the faded black door, was the silver number '12' upon a plaque.

Now alone, and her curiosity once rising, Ophelia took several steps up to the front door, hesitating momentarily. There was no door handle, or bell, but instead there was a knocker in the shape of a twisted serpent. She frowned, reaching for her wand first before the knocker to hammer against the wood.

Not so much as a couple seconds passed before the door swung open and an arm reached out, seized her by the thin material at the shoulder of her blouse and pulled her in. Taken aback, her wand raised, jabbing into the chest of the person who had a hold of her. The complete lack of clarity in everything that Dumbledore had told her, whilst it did instil a sense of curiosity within her it also thoroughly presented paranoia.

Dumbledore had told her little to nothing. She had no idea of what she was actually stepping  into. For all she knew, she could be walking straight into an attack. And she wasn't going to go lightly.

"Get off of me!" She demanded as she was dragged forward, free arm jabbing her wand into the man's side as she struggled in his grasp. "Get off!" Ophelia managed to kick his knee, pointed toe of her boot causing the man to fumble. "I said, get off! Brachia-"

"Expelliarmus." Came a steady voice, and the two stumbled into the light as Ophelia's wand went flying from her hand. "Let her go, come on."

"What in the hells is going on?" Ophelia asked. "I said get off of me! Are you deaf, dickhead?" She snapped, finally managed to get her arm free and she pulled it swiftly back. Her eyes shifted hastily over the room before her, taking in what she could and quickly; surveillance. It was an entrance hall, really, a grand staircase in the middle. There were portraits, although it appeared their occupants had moved out, leaving blank canvases. Shrunken elf heads were mounted upon faded, deep emerald green wallpaper that was peeling from the baseboards, an umbrella stand that appeared to be from a severed troll leg and there were several old gas lamps that were struggling to splutter to life.

There were four doors, including the front door she had been dragged through. One directly across from the staircase, one to the right, and one set in a lowered stoop to the left. Five exit routes, with the stairs, only one which she truly knew she could escape through.

Slowly, apprehension and panic flooding her system, Ophelia looked up. There were several people in the hallway, their faces still shadowed in the half light. But slowly, the flickering light grew brighter, and her panic grew instantly.

"Uncle Barty?" Her voice was shaking when she realised who it had been who dragged her into the house, the figure far too familiar for her liking.

"No." The man replied shortly, electric blue false eye whizzing around in it's socket. Ophelia swallowed, but she still took a further step back. "Quite a kick on you, Crouch. Got me in my good leg and everything."

Ophelia glanced down briefly to the claw-footed stump, before her attention turned back to the others in the hallway. "You." She gasped, as her eyes landed on none other than Sirius Black. A murderer - well, not actually, her father had taught her otherwise.

"You don't have to worry, I didn't kill-" Black started hurriedly, quick to profess his innocence and seemingly recognising that she was somewhat in a state of panic.

"I know you didn't kill those muggles." Ophelia rolled her eyes. "I know what Pettigrew did, Salazar, I'm not stupid. No, you're an Animagus. A big black dog, you followed me around for the entirety of my fifth year, I was trying to focus on my O.W.L.s but everywhere I looked it was like the Grim was following me around. I took Divination, it was in my tea leaves."

"A woolly subject at best." Black scoffed. "You passed your exams, didn't you?"

"Just about. Thanks for the Dementors, by the way, that helped a lot, now give me back my fucking wand." Ophelia snapped.

The man rose his eyebrows, and tossed her back her wand. She gripped it tightly between her fingers, allowing her arm to drop and relax yet it remained poised, pointing between each of the people in the hall. Her terror was subduing, slowly, despite the fact that she had no idea what was going on.

"Go on, reckon it's your turn." Black said, and nudged the man hidden behind him in the shadow of the stoop. "Come on, Lupin, same year, already covered Mad-Eye."

"Hello, Ophelia." There came a lofty sigh at Black's tone and Professor Lupin stepped closer into the light. "I apologise for the... confusion in your coming here, but I can assure you that you are not in danger here, despite the... dragging into the house."

Ophelia felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Everything in her had been conditioned to despise Lupin, but she could admit to herself that in that very moment, she had never been so happy to see the man. He had been a good teacher - the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher they had ever had - and had helped her through her exams, even when she thought that the Grim was looming over her prophesising her death.

"It's... fine, I suppose." Ophelia sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest.  "I believe it would have been best for Headmaster Dumbledore to warn me about who was in this whole Order thing."

"Oh, so she gets to know about the Order?" A voice asked, and their heads turned to the staircase. At the top, two very identical heads had appeared, slowly followed by two other ginger ones.

"Oh for fuck's sake." Ophelia hand raised to her temple. "They're here! I can deal with a werewolf, I can deal with the man who my Uncle was pretending to be for a year, I can deal with a mass murderer-"

"Convicted, but not guilty." Black inputted. "And come on, Moony doesn't bite."

"Weasleys?" Her eyes widened. "I have to deal with Weasleys?"

There was an abrupt pop, and all of a sudden the twins were in front of them. Because of course they passed their certification. It was going to be horrific. Mrs Weasley appeared as if from nowhere and, alongside Ron and Ginny, she hurried down the stairs after the twins

"Looking as beautiful as always Crouch." And there came the compliments. That was Fred, Ophelia was sure of it - Fred had always been the one to shower her in compliments. "Trust you to make an entrance to remember."

"Fred!" Mrs Weasley spluttered. "George! I told you both that we needed to focus on-."

"The cleaning?" George rose his eyebrows.

"We... we all heard the yelling, Mum." Ron added, glancing anxiously over at Ophelia.

"You put on Celestina Warbeck and expected us to be distracted by that?" Fred looked bemused. "When we've been graced by the- hey, where are you going?"

"Home." Ophelia called over her shoulder, having managed to to slip past the group and was making her way back down the dark hallway and towards the door.

"Oh no you don't, Missy." Mad-Eye barked, and Ophelia was once again being dragged back into the hallway. "Dumbledore's brought you here to stay, to protect you."

"Protect me from what?" Ophelia replied, once again pulling away from his tight grasp. If she wasn't still unnerved by the fact that for the past year she knew that the Mad-Eye Moody she knew was actually her insane uncle, than perhaps, like Dumbledore, she would be a little more respectful and polite - in awe, certainly, Mad-Eye was an esteemed Auror. "I've been dragged here, forced into some random house, all under this pretence that it's going to keep me safe, because I'm in danger, but nobody has actually bothered to tell me what I need protecting from. Fucking hell, I need a cigarette."

"I will join you!" Sirius Black looked utterly delighted at the prospect. "Remus, you better come too..." He glanced between Mrs Weasley and Mad-Eye Moody. "We can explain somethings there, can't we?"

"Please. I don't even care that you're supposed to be a mass-murderer and escaped convict." Ophelia was reaching into her pocket. "I..." She pursed her lips. "I need to know why I have been brought here. And I don't want to see him anymore than I have to." She jabbed her wand in Fred's direction, who appeared to be pretending as though he was blushing at the mere prospect of her looking at him.

Black looked bemused. "Follow me." He said.

"If she gets to be in the Order then I think we should too." George chirped up again.

"We're of-age!" Fred added.

"I said no!" Mrs Weasley said, for what was most certainly the umpteenth time. "Back upstairs, all of you. If we're going to be staying in this house we need it to be clean."

Ophelia didn't hear the rest of the conversation, although she was certain that it was filled with complaints and protests, as she followed Professor Lupin and Sirius Black through the door in the stoop and down the steps that came after into the kitchen.

Like the hallway, it was a dim, dark space. Dark grey stone slabs across the floor, dark tiles on the wall, a long walnut table in the centre of the room that matched the walnut cabinets. Something was cooking on a pot in the stove - it smelt like chicken and gravy and... well, wonderful. The house-elves back at the Crouch Manor were used to cooking expensive meals, and that's what they cooked for her. A meal like that just seemed so welcoming.

But food could wait. She needed to know why she had been brought there first. She followed Black and Lupin through the kitchen, past the roaring hearth, and out into a small yard attached to the back of the house. It was hidden and presumably under the Fidelius Charm placed on the house, otherwise there was no way they could be out there.

Not that she cared, not until she was told what danger she was in and how it would effect her should she have remained in her own home. Ophelia would go wherever she pleased.

"What's with the big gloomy house then?" She asked, placing a cigarette between her lips and using her wand to light it. She offered the small silver case to the two men in front of her, who happily accepted. "I... I would expect there to be an Order is a place filled with dark magic."

"It's my house." Black replied. "Been in my family for generations. It was a miracle we didn't wake my mother up either - she's in a portrait behind a curtain, Merlin, she'll scream bloody murder if anything happens that's above normal speaking level. Wretched woman."

"Miss Crouch, forgive me if I'm being forward, but... given your fight with Mad-Eye, I would have expected to see a bit more... rejection to anything happening here." Professor Lupin spoke up, as he took a drag of his cigarette.

Ophelia didn't reply. She sniffed, turned her gaze up to the sky as she blew out a cloud of smoke. "Don't see how my behaviour is any of your business, Professor." She said coolly.

"That is why I asked Remus to join us." Sirius said.

"Sirius." Lupin cut in sternly.

"She wants to know why she's here, I think we should tell her." He shrugged.

"I don't think you should tell her."

"I've known you more than half of your life, Remus, I don't think you have the nerve to tell her."

"I don't care who tells me." Ophelia said, looking between them with her eyes narrowed. The back and forth between the two men was not amusing. "If it is something to do with why I have been brought here then I want to know. Why am I in danger and why do I need to be locked in this centuries-old madhouse with a criminal, a werewolf, an Auror and the Weasleys."

She knew she most likely should be more scared. But it was simply not in her nature

"There's that Pureblood attitude." Sirius scoffed. "You know, I was sceptical when Dumbledore told us his plan, but the Weasleys are good people, all this shit about them being blood traitors when they're a better family than any-"

"I couldn't give less of a shit about whether or not they're blood traitors." Ophelia rolled her eyes. "Fucking hell, couldn't wait to go on that tangent, could you?" Sirius didn't reply. "I care that the Weasleys are here because Fred and George Weasley are annoying twats who would do very well to stay out of my way when I'm here. I don't care who tells me. Just do it already."

She was getting near the filter of her cigarette, and it all was just getting a bit too much. Ophelia needed to know, she had to know why she was in danger and why she couldn't stay in her own house. Dumbledore had happily interrupted her summer of bliss to tell her this apparently important information but couldn't stick around long enough to actually tell her what it was. And even though she had arrived at the safe house for this Order he was raving about she still didn't know what it was.

The two men shared a look. "Ophelia," Professor Lupin began, "during my final year at Hogwarts, it came to my attention that a woman who I had... er... had relations with-"

"You used to be a teacher." Her eyebrows raised, shaking her head with disinterest. "Why do I need to know about your girlfriend?"

"She was pregnant. She was in the year above, so she had already left, but before I had even graduated from Hogwarts I became a father." Professor Lupin's gaze was set steadily on the ground where his discarded cigarette butt lay. "I was terrified, didn't know what the hell was going on, or what to do, or how I was going to be able to be a father to this child. I'm a werewolf, for crying out loud-"

"Lycanthropy cannot be inherited through birth." Ophelia pointed out. She had no idea where this was going, but if it was somehow going to lead to her getting some information out of them, much needed information that had been withheld from her thus far.

"Yes, that I know." Professor Lupin nodded. Sirius was watching him carefully. "I informed Abigail - that was the girl - you know that, you figured that out, you're smart," he added, when he noticed her readily awaiting a moment to input some kind of comment, "of my condition, and she still wanted to have the baby, so she did. Before I had even graduated, she gave birth and I was a father."

"Cute kid. Not a hint of werewolf in her. Although... her attitude..." Sirius hummed merrily, although whilst his eyes had remained distinctly upon Professor Lupin for the majority of the conversation they had slid to focus upon Ophelia for a brief moment.

"Sirius." Professor Lupin said, looking more anxious by the minute. "Unfortunately, Abby died not long after. She was training to be an Auror, but with the wizarding war some of the training was forced to be in the field... it was an accident. Thus, I ended up taking care of the child, with the help of my friends. Sirius, James, Lily, even Peter... and I needed the help. With my condition it made things difficult, but I had the help so I was fine."

"Then on the 31st of October, I lost all that. Peter revealed his allegiance to the Death Eaters after staging the attack on muggles, sending Sirius to prison-"

"Slimy little rat." Sirius spat, his knuckles turning white as he balled his hands into a fist. "Ugly fellow too, absolute, complete dickhead."

"James and Lily died." Lupin took it upon himself to continue the tale, ignoring Sirius's outbursts of rage. "And I was left alone. I couldn't take care of a child alone, not with the full moon, and the amount of time I needed to recover afterwards. So I had to make a difficult decision. I went to Dumbledore, and he agreed to help. I had to give up the child. Someone could give her a better life than I could and-"

"No." It came out as a whisper, a harsh whisper, that cut through Lupin's words like a knife. "No." Ophelia shook her head. "You're lying."

"I'm not." He watched her warily. Sirius was eyeing the door into the kitchen to escape, but Ophelia was already edging towards it. "Miss Crouch - Ophelia - I had no choice."

"No." Ophelia repeated. "No, you're lying." She said. "I'm not... I can't..."

It had all connected in her mind, so suddenly. Lupin didn't even have to finish his story for her to know how it ended, to know why he was telling her all of this, how it related to why she was in danger. It all came together in a brief moment.

"You're lying." Ophelia shook her head. "This is why Dumbledore refused to tell me, because its some insane story that he knew I wouldn't believe. I was not - I am not... no."

Her hand found the doorknob and she twisted it, stumbling back into the kitchen. She had nowhere to go. She couldn't leave, she was trapped there, all because she was annoyed that her father expected her to do what she had done all her life.

"Your room is third door on the second floor." Sirius called after her with a wince, before his attention slipped back to Remus. "Well, that could have gone a little better, huh?"

✧

a/n
like i said, this is a very
similar plot to tick tock, however
considering that ophelia is older
this simply couldn't be kept a secret