The Portrait
The portrait stared down at the teenager and smiled. That’s all she ever did. Smile. Most portraits conversed, others would nip over to over portraits to talk to the occupants. But never this one. Occupied by a lonesome young woman who had golden blonde hair and grey eyes, she often held a sad look on her face, but whenever Ophelia Blackheart approached the portrait, the occupant would smile at the girl. She had ever since Ophelia had learned to walk and talk. It was now one of the main reasons that Ophelia took solace in the family home's library. Surrounded by shelves piled with dusty old books, on the far wall sat a fireplace in which the woman’s portrait hung above, and a couple of arm chairs in which the girl would crawl into with a good book.
Ophelia supposed it was because they looked alike. She shared the same blonde hair and grey eyes as the woman, but she suspected that there may have been more behind the smile that held tired eyes. Even now, at the age of fourteen, the portrait had yet to say a word to her or any other occupant of the house, whether portrait, family member or house elf. Ophelia often wondered why, wondered if there was ever a specific reason why she never spoke. She was like any other enchanted painting, yet she chose not to speak. It puzzled many. And it had been one of the reasons that her Father had banished her portrait to the family library, after he had tried to destroy the portrait. Though, he found her portrait was protected from destruction and would remain until the end of time. So, he had cast her off to a room used by no one other than Ophelia.
Ophelia sat in her armchair before the unlit fire unaware of the smiling portrait that watched her in silence as she finished the last page of her book. It was another few moments before the teenager closed the book and set it on the small table beside her armchair and leaned back, finally looking up and catching the portrait's eye. She smiled softly in turn, ‘we go back to Hogwarts today,’ she told the woman in relief, ‘I can’t wait to get out of the house, it feels suffocating.’
Ophelia had spoken to the portrait for many years. She had rambled, vented, expressed everything to the woman in the solitude of the library where it was a guarantee that no one’s prying ears would hear her. Yet the woman never offered any words of her own, and that was okay with her. Though sometimes, she wished. Wished for a whisper, a response, maybe even just to know her name.
Bird song filled her ears and she turned to the curtain-covered windows where sunlight was beginning to slip through the cracks. She turned back to the portrait to find the young woman also staring at the window and she immediately pulled herself out of the armchair and approached the window, yanking the curtains open to allow the golden morning sun to spill into the lamp lit room.
A smile spread across the teens face and she turned to find a look of longing in the woman’s face, that, and a look of sadness. ‘Do you miss the sun?’ She asked her nonchalantly as she turned back to the window and leaned across the table set before it, fumbling with the lock to try and open it to let some fresh air into the dust ridden room. Even the house elves didn’t touch this room.
‘Very much so.’
Ophelia fell off the table with a loud thud.
Sitting up and brushing her hair out of her face, she stared up at the portrait who had an amused smile on her face. It was the most emotion she had ever seen. Clambering to get up, Ophelia fell again and this time, the woman laughed. She sat up again and looked at the portrait to find her covering her mouth with her left hand in which two rings sat on her ring finger, an engagement and a wedding band. Both painted in such delicate detail. The woman often kept her hands clasped before her, covered by the sleeves of the black cloak she was wearing.
The portrait finished giggling as Ophelia managed to stand up without falling over, ‘so you can talk,’ she pointed out as she reached the fireplace and stared at the woman before her, ‘why haven’t you before? Why now?’
‘Because of your compassion.’
Silence filled the room but was soon replaced by bird song once again and the woman turned to the window and closed her eyes, smiling as she soaked up the sun that hit her portrait, ‘my compassion?’ Ophelia asked, confused.
The woman nodded, ‘it has been decades since I saw sunlight, centuries since I actually felt it,’ she smiled sadly as she opened her eyes and looked down, ‘it has also been a while since anyone spoke to me like you have child,’ she continued, a kind smile on her face as she took Ophelia in with her gray eyes.
‘Really?’
The portrait nodded, ‘indeed, you see I have watched over this house ever since it was first built,’ she revealed.
‘But it was built in the late eighteen hundreds-’
‘Precisely, my husband and I built this house.’
Ophelia’s eyes widened in awe, ‘wow, who’s your husband?’
The woman frowned, ‘you do not know?’
‘I don’t even know who you are,’ Ophelia told her with a shameful frown.
‘Ophelia Blackheart.’
Ophelia looked up, ‘yes?’
The portrait stared at her, her carefully painted eyebrows furrowing, ‘pardon?’
‘That’s my name.’
The portrait smiled widely, ‘it is also mine child.’
‘Really? You’re my name sake?’
‘Did you not know?’
The teenager shook her head, ‘no, our family tapestry only goes back as far as nineteen twenty two. I had no clue,’ she revealed and the portrait frowned.
‘My husband’s name is Ominis Gaunt,’ she said with a sad smile, ‘we attended Hogwarts together, in fact, we first met in fifth year. His portrait is somewhere here in the Manor’
‘First met in fifth year, how's that possible?’ The teen asked as she sat back in her armchair, listening to every word she said.
Portrait Ophelia held a reminiscent smile on her face, ‘I was not admitted to Hogwarts until my fifth year,’ she revealed, ‘I spent the entire summer before with my mentor, Professor F-’ she began, only to halt, a scared look passing over her eyes.
‘Professor who?’ Ophelia asked her namesake carefully.
The woman frowned and closed her eyes, tilting her chin downward, ‘my first year at Hogwarts was a dark time child. So much violence and hatred, so much death,’ she whispered, ‘in fact, I almost forgot why I vowed myself into silence.’
‘So that’s why you never spoke? You vowed silence?’
‘The Blackheart family holds a secret so deep, so dark and terrible, did you know that?’ Portrait Ophelia asked her and the teen looked up, meeting her eye, ‘and it started with me.’
‘But-’
‘Every now and again, a child will come along, a child like you. A child who will be the next in line,’ she said, and let out a deep breath, opening her eyes to stare at the sun again, ‘I felt it the first day I met you Ophelia Blackheart, when you were three years old and came running toward my portrait, eyes full of wonder,’ she whispered and Ophelia felt a tremendous amount of sorrow come from the portrait.
‘Family secret?’
‘It’s the reason your Father married into the family,’ she told her, the sadness now replaced with anger, ‘the man came to try to dig up the truth of the family secret, yet he could find no answers, because no living family member knows of the secret.’
‘Woah woah woah, hang on. I didn’t even know our family had a secret.’
‘Of course you didn’t, because the secret dies with its Keeper,’ Ophelia told her, ‘as I said, no one living knows of the secret, and I am the first Keeper in the family, and there is only one other, my grandchild,’ she revealed as she unclasped her hands from before her and reached behind her, she pulled forth a thick bound leather book, holding it before her.
‘Is that it?’
‘No, this is my journal,’ she chuckled, ‘Ophelia, you must understand the situation, the family secret is not for the faint of heart, nor is it for the weak minded. You are the next in line, that much I can say, but it is a year too early.’
‘A year too early?’
‘Think child, I started Hogwarts in my fifth year,’ she reminded the teen.
Realization crossed her face, ‘so I’m not supposed to find out until my fifth year?’ She asked and the portrait nodded.
‘Your journal, it starts in your fifth year right?’ Ophelia asked, she nodded again, ‘can I read it?’
A sparkle seemed to shine in the portrait's eye as she smiled, ‘it would ruin the surprise child.’
‘OPHELIA!’
The teen turned to the other end of the library and frowned, ‘I think we’re about to leave for Hogwarts,’ she said as she turned back to the portrait to find her putting the journal back where she had conjured it from.
‘Be wary of your Father Ophelia, I have heard many things, and if he finds out you are next in line then I fear for your safety,’ she said sincerely as Ophelia took a step toward the double doors. The teen stopped and turned to the portrait, uncertainty in her eyes. But they met the gray ones belonging to her namesake and she could see the sincerity, ‘it's one of the reasons he moved me into the library and tried to destroy my portrait, because I confronted him when he spilled his secrets,’ she revealed to her.
‘My Father?’
Ophelia nodded, ‘do not tell anyone of this conversation child, and if you start to see anything out of the ordinary, seek me out immediately.’
‘But how? Your portrait is here-’
Ophelia smiled, ‘are you sure it’s the only one?’
‘OPHELIA!’
The teenager nodded to the portrait and hurried out of the library, grabbing a couple of books from shelves as she went, slipping into the hallway before turning a corner and slipping to a halt when she found her Father standing before her, hand in waistcoat pocket, his other hand holding his pocket watch with the Daily Prophet tucked under his arm. The tall and slender black haired man stared down at his daughter, cold green eyes narrowing as she took her in, already dressed for the day in a pair of jeans, a green jumper and a black cloak, ‘where were you?’ He demanded.
She held up the books, ‘I went to grab some books I forgot to pack,’ she said innocently as his eyes took in the books. She lowered them, ‘my trunk is already in the entrance hall along with my satchel with my uniform and wand,’ she continued, lowering her gaze to the floor.
Augustus Blackheart nee Rosewood, was a terrifying man in her eyes. He was cold and calculated, even with his own wife and children. Augustus never once cared for raising his children, he believed to be the responsibility of the house elves and his wife. All he cared for were their magical abilities. And the fact that he had nine children, now made a lot of sense to Ophelia as she followed her Father downstairs to the entrance hall where her other siblings waited. Her namesake had said he wanted to get his hands on a secret, a secret that Ophelia had said was revealed to those children next in line. She knew the meaning, she just didn't want to really think about it.
She approached her satchel and placed both of the books inside before tossing the strap over her shoulder as house elves shuffled past and began grabbing trunks to pile into the Ministry cars. It was always the same, her Father was important in the Ministry after all, he worked with the Education board. Which meant every year, Muggle cars would arrive to pick them up to take them to the train station. This year, eight of the Blackheart children would be attending Hogwarts.
The oldest, Nathaniel, had graduated last year and was working at St Mungos as a Healer. Next was Ivan in his last year and was followed by sixth year Veronica. Then in fifth year was Oliver, followed by Ophelia in her fourth, next were the twins in third year, Colton and Ellis, then in second year was Bethany, and starting her first year was Katelyn.
To Ophelia it was astounding that there was one Blackheart in every single year group, minus the twins. But her Father wanted a large family and that’s exactly what he got, not even taking into account what her Mother wanted. Speaking of her Mother, Ophelia looked over her shoulder to the staircase to see if she could spot the woman. She was more of a ghost in her own family home. Sometimes she would appear for dinner, other times she wouldn’t. But Ophelia didn’t blame her. Her husband was an awful human being.
‘Goodbye Father.’
She turned to watch as the youngest, Katelyn stepped forward and hugged the man. He didn’t reciprocate in the slightest but allowed her to do so. She was only eleven after all. They all had to learn at some point and unfortunately, with it being Katelyn’s first year, she was about to learn that grades and appearances meant everything in their family.
No one else hugged their Father or bid him goodbye as they followed the house elves out of the Manor and got into the Ministry cars. Ophelia got into the back seat of one of the three cars with Veronica, Oliver sitting between them. The three remained silent yet they all shared the same thought. That they were glad to be rid of the Manor.