Chapter 2
Packing a few clothes, some underwear and toiletries into the duffel she used for going to the gym, she suddenly remembered Ollivander’s note.
Her fingers were shaking slightly as she unrolled the slip of parchment.
I recommend the Tipped Kettle in Leeds.
Send me a letter requesting a meeting for last Saturday evening and that I bring the phoenix and thestral wands.
Well… that solved where to go, didn’t it?
~~~
With her duffel in hand, and a bath towel hastily transfigured into a simple robe, draped over her arm, Ophelia set out to find a quiet spot where she could use the time-turner.
Around the corner into Garrick St., across the street and into Rose St. with its blind alley. She cast the notice-me-not to be timed as she rounded the corner into a blind spot, quickly followed by a silencing spell, then tucked herself in the tiny little dog-legged corner, on the eastern side of the Street. Here she pulled out the time-turner and with a deep breath, spun the hourglass.
Light faded into darkness, bloomed and faded again and again. When everything slowed and the pigeons were no longer a blur, as they strutted along the street, she removed the time-turner from around her neck and dropped it back into her bag. She would need to find a better place to hide it, until she could give it back to Croaker but it would do until she had accommodation sorted.
~~~
She let the notice-me-not and silencing spells fade, bit-by-bit, as retraced her steps, then kept going until she reached the Leaky Cauldron, pushing open the door and when old Tom glanced her way, she gestured to the floo fireplace. He gave her a wide grin and nodded.
“A κnut for the floo powder.” He called. “Just drop it in the tin beside the powder bowl.”
Ophelia nodded, but held her tongue, she didn’t want him to pay much attention to her.
Dropping the coin into the tin, she scooped out a small handful of powder and stepped into the fireplace.
Seconds later, she was quite pleased when she managed to keep her feet, as she was spat out in Leeds.
The magical shopping district in Leeds was much smaller than either Diagon or Hogsmeade, but it was considerably larger than Ottery St. Catchpole, which only had four shops. At least Leeds had everything a witch or wizard would need, on a day-to-day basis, even if there wasn’t a lot of choice.
She checked into the Kettle, laying her duffel on the bed, while she retrieved the trunk that she’d bought from Croaker. This trunk was nothing like the chest-type trunk that she kept her entire magical life in. No, once restored to full size, this trunk was much more like a deep doorframe, with the rear boarded up. Vertical and open, she saw that it was the door to a space that was everything you would expect of a magical apartment.
A large main room, that was approximately 20x30 feet, was decorated like an open plan living/dining room, that had a multitude of doors opening off of it. Thankfully each door had a sheet of parchment tacked beside it, that told of the room’s intended use. On the inside of the trunk lid/door was a letter of introduction. It had a map of the trunk, explaining where things were and how to access the floo network from the fireplace at one end of the trunk.
She debated exploring the trunk, but decided that Ollivander came first, so she headed straight for the library/study, in the hopes of finding parchment, quill and ink.
Once the letter was written, she stopped in the Kettle’s bar to ask after Owl Post offices and was told that the Kettle kept a couple of owls for their guests and would she like to use one?
The letter sent, she spent an hour exploring the trunk, before settling down to write up a lighting fast review schedule for the next week.
She had a lot of studying to do, but first she had a meeting with Ollivander to get through, and she had no idea what she was supposed to tell him.
At ten minutes ‘til six, there was a quiet knock on the door of the parlour, that Liam, the barman, had suggested Ophelia rent, when she said she was expecting the wandmaker to join her for dinner. She took a deep breath and stood.
Showtime.
Two seconds to cross the room and another two, to open the door.
“Miss… Ophelia… is it?” Mr Ollivander asked hesitantly.
“It is, Mr Ollivander.” She smiled happily at the wizard. “Be welcome. Won’t you join me for dinner?”
“Perhaps, perhaps not.” Ollivander hadn’t taken a step. “I don’t know you, Miss Ophelia, why should I dine with you?”
Instead of answering, Ophelia handed him a note. His note. The note that had been carefully wrapped around the handle of the wand that he’d slipped into her hand, in the Ministry’s atrium.
The wandmaker’s eyes widened as he read his own writing.
“What…?” He gasped. “When…?” He understood instantly that time magics were involved, as that was clearly his writing and he couldn’t recall setting quill to parchment to write this note.
“Saturday morning, coming.” She answered.
He blinked a few times and finally, shook his head, before stepping forward into the room.
“Why did you ask me to bring the phoenix and thestral wands?”
She turned her hand palm-up, showing the holster that she’d taken from the DoM trunk and the wand he'd slipped her.
“Ah, I gave you... No. I will give you one of them.” Time magics, ugh.
“Yes.”
“Why would I do that? It’s an experimental wand, I never intended to sell it. Ever.”
“You know the wand-core compatibility charm, of course.” It wasn’t a question.
“Of course.” He agreed.
She let her wand fall into her hand. “Please cast it.”
“Maguscompatum.” It took a few seconds for light to condense into numbers.
992
“Oh, my word…” Ollivander whispered.
“Exactly.” Ophelia nodded.
“Well. I never…” He muttered. “Very well. If I may? I need to know which of the pair you already have, so that I can retain it until next weekend.” He held out a hand and Ophelia laid the wand in it. “Hmm…Yes… The ebony banding on this wand spirals down from the tip, leftward, while its partner spirals rightward.” He handed the wand back to her and pulled out two wands from inside his coat. After studying them for a few seconds, he laid one on the table and tucked the other back into whatever pocket, he’d pulled them from. “There we are. Together, again.” He ran a finger along the wand. “Most unusual…” He whispered, before shaking his head again. “These pair were an experiment on my part, I wanted to see how combing multiple types of wood with multiple types of cores, would work. My first attempts were… lacklustre. And I had significant doubts about this combination. Holly and elder don’t work well together. Elder wands are powerful but very picky, while holly wands are particularly protective of their users. Then there were the cores. Phoenix and thestral, one is associated with rebirth and the other with death. So, you understand, they shouldn’t have worked. Even less with ebony wood for the banding. Ebony being highly combative. They just should not work.” He shook his head again. “That wand, should be useless, but it’s clearly not. Not for you.” He looked at her. “Why?”
“Huh.” She grunted. “Story of my life. If it’s odd, unusual, or peculiar, it suits me.”
“But… why?” Ollivander almost whined.
Ophelia laughed. “I have yet to answer that, Mr Ollivander. And neither has anyone else, as far as I can tell.” She definitely wasn’t going to explain about her previous identity. If she was going to tell anyone? Her chosen family came first.
The wandmaker huffed but as she clearly wasn’t going to say anything, he changed the subject, slightly. “As the wands were an experiment, their price should express that. Excluding my time, the cost of materials for each is approximately ʛ6, considerably more than a single wood, single cored wand. But adding in my time… would be… exorbitant.”
“Name a price.” Ophelia stated calmly.
“ʛ20 each.”
She pulled out her purse and hunted up a draught. “ʛ50.” She said. “Consider the extra a thank you, for taking time out of your weekend, to take a trip to the Ministry, next Saturday.”
“Hmm…” He hummed. “I’ll need the note, too. How did I give it to you? Where? What time? Did I say anything? Do anything?”
“I entered the Ministry atrium…” She spent a few minutes detailing how and when, he’d given her the wand and how he’d acted.
“Very well.” He said. “I do believe I can copy that.” He tapped his fingers on the Kettle’s dinner menu. “Shall we order? I rarely eat out, so this is a most unexpected treat.”
After a pleasant meal, the wandmaker made his farewells and Ophelia went back to her room. It wasn’t until she drying herself after a hot shower, in the trunk, that she realised that Ollivander had not asked after her surname.
“I wonder if he knows…” She mused, as she settled down to re-read her astronomy book.
~~~
The next week was a struggle for Ophelia. In both sets of memories, she’d dropped out of school before her final exams. In one set of memories, she’d been a mediocre student, excelling only in DADA and CoMC. In the other, she never gave her studies much thought, preferring to cruise along on the remains of her inheritance. Granted, in the magical world, that wasn’t exactly her fault. But still? It happened.
Now, that was coming back to haunt her.
Now? She had to study. If she wanted to pass her NEWTs, with half-decent grades, she actually had to study. She decided that she would divide the day up, into blocks of three or four hours per subject, but given that she could study well into the evening, she would do a twelve-hour study day. And as it was only for that one week, she should be fine. But just to be certain, she made sure to give herself the Sunday before the exams, off. Time to relax and replenish her mental and magical reserves.
Ancient runes was a little more complex than she’d anticipated, but her friend had made her study with them, and that had her understanding a lot more than she initially expected.
It took her four hours to re-read the only Astronomy book she knew was used as a textbook at the NEWT level. But the subject was not the most enthralling.
Charms was fun. And so easy that it was laughable. It took her only a single attempt to cast each spell in the NEWT level book, so she figured that she’d be unlikely to have any issues with the practical exams and she found the theory was much more understandable if you were able to cast the spell and see its effects.
CoMC? Well, all she could do there, was read up. There was little she could do about a practical, while staying in a tavern.
DADA had always been one of her strongest subjects and that was still the case.
No matter how much she enjoyed gardening, Herbology didn’t really hold her interest. It was a struggle for her to get through the texts and she figured that this was going to be her lowest grade.
History of Magic was… not nearly as boring as she expected and she read the book cover to cover in another four hours.
Muggle Studies made her shake her head. This was so far out of date that it should have been a history book. But maybe that was a good thing, as it let her fly through the text in little more than an hour.
Potions still weren’t her strongest subject, but they also weren’t her worst. She flicked through a dozen books before she decided that she was ready to tackle some actual brewing.
Transfiguration was one of those ‘love it’ or ‘hate it’ subjects and for her it depended on the day. Right now, it was a ‘hate it’. Hopefully, transfiguring a chess piece into a bird went better during the exam, than it did in practice. Her poor bird still looked a little like marble, its feathers still having the ripple of the marble running through them.
The week slipped by, in a haze of books, quills, ink and short outings for food and sunshine.
~~~
By Saturday afternoon, she felt she was as ready as she was going to get. And because it was well after the time when she’d used Croaker’s time-turner, she decided that she could head home and sleep in her own flat. If not in her own bed, as the one in the flat was one step from collapse. Thankfully, the one in the trunk was excellent.
Maybe she would vanish the one in her bedroom and use the one in the trunk? Or maybe, she’d just put the trunk in the bedroom and use it as an extension to her flat.
~~~
Her flat didn’t look any different, but somehow it felt different. Somehow, it felt less cramped, less dark, less drab, brighter.
She placed the two trunks, in her bedroom, but not until she’d shrunk the bed and placed it in a Tupperware container hastily etched with stasis runes. The last thing she needed was to have the bed unshrink and destroy wherever she placed it.
That evening, she used the last of the fresh food in the flat to make herself a well-earned meal. Nothing fancy, but nice, all the same.
Sunday was spent relaxing, she wandered through the impromptu market that had popped in St. Paul’s churchyard, picking up a few pieces of fruit, some vegetables and when she saw a sterling silver desk set, she couldn’t resist buying it. It would suit the changes she’d made to the library/study in the trunk.
Then it was home to do the laundry, she hadn’t had much of a chance to wash any clothes, staying at the Kettle.
A simple dinner of fish and chips, down at Mr Frogg’s and she was content to spend the evening with a cup of tea, flicking through a few of Newt Scamander’s books.
~~~
Arriving at the Ministry at a quarter to eight, Ophelia was pleased to see that the queue for wand weighing was only a couple of people. The wizard, barely glanced up at her, clearly more asleep than his Saturday counterpart had been.
At the lifts she joined a small throng of people, all heading in different directions. Thankfully, someone had already selected the seventh floor and all she needed to do was to exit the lift and head for the WEA. Once there, she greeted the welcome witch and gave her name, stating that she was there for her NEWT exams.
She was directed to a room that was set out in a classroom format, and told to pick any seat, but that her bag had to remain in a box, on the counter behind the monitor’s desk.
Each desk had a notepad, a pencil, a quill, an inkwell and blotter, a compass, set square, ruler and a bottle of water. She also wasn’t alone, there were four other people in the room, three that were roughly her age and one much older witch.
“Please be seated, exams will start at exactly eight o’clock.” The monitor was a witch, perhaps ten years older than the younger group.
“Please, ma'am,” one young witch said, “Matthew Ridgeway isn’t here, yet.”
“He was told what time the exams started.” The monitor replied. “If he’s not here when the door closes, he’s given a fail grade.”
“That’s hardly fair, ma'am.” A second witch argued.
“He was informed of the start time, if he doesn’t turn up, that is his concern, not the WEA’s.” The monitor stated. “We can only assess him, on what is completed. If nothing is completed, that is what he will be assessed on.”
Before anyone could say anything else, a young wizard trotted through the door. “I’m not too late, am I?” He asked. “The lifts took forever.”
“Well, at least you’re here, now.” The first young witch relied, giving the monitor a dirty look.
“As that is all of those sitting the Astronomy NEWT, please be seated and we shall begin.” The monitor told them.
Ophelia had already taken a seat off to one side, the last thing she needed was to be associated with a group of petulant teens. Her life was complicated enough without that.
The actual exam, wasn’t too bad, they had a small theoretical section and then had to create a star chart to match up with one of three scenarios. Which they chose was up to them, all three would have the same mark value.
She wasn’t the first to finish, but she also wasn’t the last, and she spent the last few minutes, re-reading the theory section to ensure that she hadn’t missed something or misspelled a star name.
“For those that are doing the History of Magic exam, there is a ten-minute break, before we start.” The monitor commented. “That door there, is a sitting room with bathrooms attached. Tea, juice and snacks can be found in the sitting room. Those requiring a calming potion, please alert me, so that a medi-witch can attend to dispense them.”
The two young witches and their wizard friend all shook their heads.
“We’re done for this week, Madame Peppering.” The wizard said.
“Then you may leave.” The monitor informed them.
The other wizard nodded to the monitor, but ignored Ophelia and the elderly witch, instead making his way into the sitting room and through to the bathroom. Ophelia exchanged looks with the older witch and gestured for her to go ahead of Ophelia. When the witch went straight to the teapot, Ophelia headed for the ladies’ bathroom.
Ten minutes later, the monitor told the three of them that exam was now started. She turned the parchment in front of her, over and began to read. Fortunately, the exam was quite straight-forward. A large-ish section of multiple-choice questions, then four short essay-type questions.
When she finished and handed her parchment in, she decided to ask after the sitting room.
“I’m scheduled to sit Muggle Studies and Ancient Runes this afternoon. If I leave the testing area to have lunch, and then return, will I be able to access the sitting room?”
“Yes, you will. However, if you prefer, we do have access to the cafeteria from here, you can order your meal from the menu provided and it will be brought to you, by house-elf.” The monitor replied.
“That would be much appreciated.” Ophelia smiled. “May I retrieve my purse from my bag, to pay for it?”
“Of course. Your bag only has to stay in the assigned box, during the actual exam.” The monitor said. “Next exam is due to start at one o’clock. When you entered the exam room, your presence was noted, so someone will collect you, a few minutes before time.”
“Ah, thank you.” With that Ophelia collected her bag and headed into the sitting room, the only one to do so.
Eyeing the menu, she decided that if there were house-elves in the cafeteria, then the food should be quite good, so she chose a meal of roast pork and veggies, without a dessert. A cup of tea and a biscuit would be more than enough to see her through to dinner.
When the monitor tapped on the sitting room’s doorframe, Ophelia had eaten and was just emerging from the bathroom.
“The exam will start in five minutes.” The witch said.
“Thank you.” Ophelia nodded and headed back to the desk that she’d used that morning.
The afternoon passed with the scratching of quills and the hums of those being tested. But soon enough, she was finished for the day.
As she walked the ten minutes back to her flat, she revelled in the quiet. Her head felt full of information and for the first time she felt she understood the Ravenclaws, as they picked apart their exams and what they felt they should have written, as opposed to what they had written.
By the time she climbed the stairs to her flat, she was exhausted. A simple dinner of eggs on toast and she fell into her bed, in the trunk. Not even giving a thought to reviewing for the next day’s exams.
Monday set the pattern for the rest of the week. Exams in the morning, lunch in the WEA’s sitting room, exams in the afternoon, pick apart her answers as she walked home, a light dinner and fall into bed.
Tuesday’s Charms and CoMC written exams were as easy as she expected. The CoMC practical that afternoon was a walk in the park, in comparison to dealing with Hagrid’s critters.
Wednesday’s Herbology theory exam was actually harder than she had hoped for and she that sure it would be her weakest written exam. Tranfsig on the other hand, had a short section of multiple choice, with two short-answer questions and three longer essay-type questions, and she was done five minuntes before the time limit.
Thursday’s Potions written exam was no worse than what Snape had set them as essays in fifth year and the Herbology practical was almost boring, as each step she was to take, was detailed by the examiner. But the Charms practical was rough, very rough. Her knitting charm and vinegar to wine charm were a bit distorted, but her blackboard writing spell and her impervius and anti-alohomora charms, were as good as the examiner had ever seen a NEWT student do.
Friday’s DADA written exam was a challenge but only because she struggled to limit herself to the three sheets of parchment per question. The Potions practical went well, after having Snape breathing down your neck, having a monitor sitting at a desk, half a room away, made the lab seem so much bigger and the exam far less stressful. The DADA practical brought another familiar face from her previous identity (or life, whichever you would call it), in the form of Kingsley Shacklebolt. He started by requesting an impediment jinx, then a smokescreen spell, a reductor, homenum revelio, before moving on to bogart banishing, different types of shields and a selection of concealment spells. When they finished, he offered her extra points, for a corporeal Patronus or withstanding an imperius being cast on her.
In both cases, she earned the extra points. Her owl Patronus fluttered around the room before coming to roost on her shoulder, while when Kingsley cast the imperius, she felt it, but refused to let it settle, brushing it off like it was nothing. In comparison to Tom Riddle’s, it was scarcely a challenge.
He congratulated her on the extra points and told her that many Aurors still had difficulties with both spells, and was only slightly disappointed when she declared that she had no interest in joining the Ministry, the previous few Ministers and their Administrations, had firmly cemented that for her.
As she left the WEA, Ophelia was of two minds. Should she take the expired time-turner to Croaker, now, or wait until the next day? When she reached the lifts, the decision was taken from her, as Croaker was the only person in the lift.
“Let me guess…” She laughed. “No-one wants to get into a lift with an Unspeakable.” It wasn’t a question.
“So it would seem.” Croaker huffed at her.
“Oh, well. At least I won’t have to terrify the attendant, by asking for the DoM.”
“That is true, Ophelia.” The Head Unspeakable nodded. “I take it that you’ve finished your exams for the day?”
“Finished all of them.” She corrected.
“Excellent.” He pressed something on the wall of the lift and it came to gentle halt. “Fetch out the time-turner and I’ll let you off at the atrium.”
“Didn’t you need to talk to me about something, though?” She dug the time-turner and its box out and handed it to the Unspeakable.
“Oh, yes. I had forgotten.” He reached into his cloak and retrieved a parchment scroll. “If you would be to kind as to deliver this to George Weasley, I’d much appreciate it.”
“George?” Ophelia’s voice went flat. “Weasley. You expect me to go to WWW?”
“You mean to say you weren’t going to?” He looked almost surprised.
“I…”
“It’s only five after four. They’re open for another hour.”
“You’re pushing.” She said flatly.
“I am.” He nodded. “There’s something there, that you need to see. And my telling you isn’t… advisable.”
“Oh, shite…”
“No, my dear.” He shook his head. “Not bad, just surprising.”
“Oh, shite…” She repeated. “Alright, I’ll take your message.” She snatched the scroll out of his hand and huffed. “Let me out at the atrium.” Then she muttered under her breath. “Pushy bastard.”
Croaker only smiled.
~~~
Ophelia pushed open the gaudy orange door into Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, drawing a shuddering breath and automatically avoiding the jinx on the doormat.
As it was a weekday and in the middle of the school term, it wasn’t all that surprising that the store was nearly empty.
“Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, can I help you with something?” The young witch that greeted Ophelia was much the same age as Ophelia, maybe a year older, but no more than that.
“Good afternoon.” Ophelia replied. “I have been asked to hand-deliver a message to Mr George Weasley.” She held up the scroll.
The witch smiled. “Of course, just let me fetch him for you.” She disappeared through a door only to emerge a few moments later, closely followed by George. A George that had a small smile and cheeky twinkle in his eyes. It was a far cry, from the last time she’d seen him.
“You have a message for me? From whom?” He grinned at her.
“I do.” Ophelia nodded. “From Saul Croaker.”
“Oh.” George came to a sharp halt. “Unspeakable Croaker?”
“That’s him.”
“Ah…” He grimaced. “Best come through to the office.” He gestured for Ophelia to follow him and headed back through the door.
Once again, she automatically avoided that door’s prank as followed him into a spacious office.
“There’s a message from Croaker, for you.” George said to… George?
Ophelia blinked and looked from one George to the other, before realising that one George had two ears. The one nearest her.
“Oh… God…” She whispered. “Fred…” Her knees collapsed, refusing to hold her in her shock.
“Whoa!” Fred leapt forward and grabbed at her, catching her before she hit the floor.
“Well, that’s a first for you, Freddie.” George chuckled. “Having a witch fall at your feet.”
Ophelia’s reflexes reacted before she could think it through and a colour-change hex flew at George, turning his normally ginger hair, a bright lime green.
“Oi!” George squawked and attempted to reverse the charm, only to find he couldn’t.
“Ha!” Fred snorted. “Serves you right, laughing at a lady's misfortune.”
“If she was a lady, she wouldn’t have landed in your arms, she’d have been in mine.” George replied tartly.
“Yeah, you tell yourself that and I might tell Angie.” Fred shot back
George opened his mouth to retaliate, only for no sound to emerge. Fred started to snicker, only to realise that he, too, was silenced. Both wizards turned to look at Ophelia, where she lay in Fred’s arms, a strangely familiar expression on her face.
“Ah…?” George grimaced. “Hello?”
“George… Gideon… Weasley…” Her voice was quiet and hard, and for some reason both men knew, that was not a good thing.
It was Fred that realised what she’d said. “What?” He asked. “He’s George Fabian, not George Gideon. Gideon’s my name, not his.”
“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit on that.” Ophelia snorted, she’d heard Molly yelling their names enough times to know better.
“What?” Fred gasped in fake-shock. “You don’t believe me?”
“Of course, I don’t believe you.” Ophelia sighed. “If you said the sky was blue, I’d be looking out the window before I believed you.”
“I think she’s got your number, Freddie.” George snickered.
“Oh, the shame… the indignity… the humiliation…” Fred moaned dramatically.
George looked at Ophelia’s smirk and shuddered, he’d seen that smile on many females before and it never boded well for the recipient.
“The moaner there is Fred and I’m George, and we’re the proprietors of this fine establishment. Might I ask after the name of the witch in my twin’s arms? And I understand you have a message for me from the Head Unspeakable?”
“I do, indeed.” She was nearly purring with amusement. “And you may call me, Ophelia.” She held out the scroll and George hesitated before taking it.
“Ophelia…” George nodded. “A pretty name for a pretty witch. Have Freddie give you a tour, we’ll offer you a discount for being Croaker’s messenger, even if ‘ha-ha’ was all wrote.” He turned the parchment around to show the two words.
“Oh, no.” Ophelia’s smirk grew teeth. “That’s not necessary. After all… You said my money’s no good in your store. That I was to consider it a return on my investment.” She waited to see which of them would pick up on what she meant.
There was a sudden silence. It seemed to echo around the office.
“Uh...? Excuse me?” Fred looked down at her.
“What?” George looked over at her.
“I did tell you, that I thought we were going to need the laughs, soon enough. But I do have one question.”
“Yes…?” George was oddly hesitant to ask.
“How many canary creams would my investment actually have made?”
“H- How?” Fred asked. “How can you know that?”
She looked at George and grinned. “The morning of Bill’s wedding, you were drinking tea with a toothbrush sticking out of your ear. And all you said was ‘morning’, while your sister scurried away.”
“Oh, my God…” George gasped in real shock.
“Georgie?” Fred asked.
“Harry…?!” George whispered.
“Wotcha, Forge, Gred.” Ophelia gave them a smile that was more grimace than smile.
“Harry…” Fred whispered.
“Not anymore.” Ophelia shook her head.
“Why not?” Fred asked.
“I’m assuming that Hermione told you I was convicted, yes?” She waited until the twins nodded. “Well, I chose exile, because Lady Longbottom and Lord Greengrass insisted on a time limit. 10 years. I figured that I could last that long. Then, because changing my identity involved altering my magical birth certificate, and that was super complicated, the Unnamed and the Unspeakables were called in. Someone… and I don’t remember who… suggested that due to the uncaptured DeathEaters and the fact that I was so recognisable, there was concern about exiling me without changing my appearance, so I should take advantage of the opportunity and make some changes.”
“Some changes?!” George squawked, looking her up and down.
“Yeah.” Ophelia nodded. “First it was just the scar, you know, and removing it. De-aging would do that. But there was also… Well, thanks to the Prophet and those stupid books, I was almost instantly recognisable. Messy black hair, bright green eyes, glasses and a lightning bolt scar. Instant identifiers of The Boy-Who-Lived.” She shrugged. “They threw around ideas, like you two do with pranks. It was one of the Unnamed that suggested the… let’s call it a gender change. They’d seen my reaction, any time someone used the Boy-Who-Lived phrase, and suggested that me being a girl would get rid of it, completely. Can’t be the Boy-Who-Lived if you’re not a boy, now can you?”
“And where was Hermione in all of this? She didn’t say anything about it.” George wanted to know.
“Once I was convicted and chose my sentence, I was taken into the DoM, until the sentence was to start.” Ophelia answered. “The Unnamed and the Unspeakables were asked to work together to alter my birth certificate, for my new identity. It was there that the ideas were bandied about and the gender thing suggested. But even with a gender change, I was still going to have to have a new name. A new name meant a change to my birth certificate, which gave me the chance to choose my name and my new parents. The Unnamed suggested that I pick people that existed, but were killed, either after the first war or during our war. Croaker offered up his apprentice as a mother, she died about six years after the first war.”
“And a father?” George asked.
She sighed. “I chose Sirius.”
“Sirius?” Fred blinked.
“Sirius Black?” George asked.
“You’re Sirius’ daughter?” Fred asked. “Really?”
“Yep.” She sighed, again. “Ophelia Dorea Hyacinth Black. Ophelia, for Hermione. Like hers, the name’s from Shakespeare. Dorea Black was James Potter’s grandmother. Hyacinth to keep the Evans family tradition of naming the girls after flowers. And Black for Sirius.”
“Oh, boy…” George grimaced.
“Yeah, that’s going to be a problem…” Fred winced.
“What? Why?” Ophelia demanded.
“Um…” Fred winced again and looked at George.
George grimaced, but answered. “After the trial, Kingsley was the Interim Minister, while elections were put together, he managed to get a few of the harsher laws that snakeface’s people put up, dissmissed. Augusta Longbottom was named Minister and she went through Fudge’s administration like purging potion. People were cleared of crimes they didn’t commit and other were convicted, she was ruthless. Even the Malfoys, senior and junior, were Tried. Both were convicted but neither were jailed, they did lose money, though. Over half their fortune and the manor were confiscated and sold. They’ll be funding the Aurors for the next fifty years, at least. They were given the option of retreating to their estate in France… or the front page of the Prophet. They chose France.”
“Right…” Ophelia looked George. “And what’s this got to do with Sirius?”
“Sirius’ name was cleared.” Fred said and Ophelia slumped in his arms again. “Oi! Come on, no passing out on us. Wakey, wakey.”
“Cleared…” Ophelia whispered.
“There’s more.” Fred warned.
“More?”
“Two years and two days after he went into the Veil… He was ejected from it.” George said.
“What?” Ophelia’s voice was blank.
“The Veil spat him back out.” George replied.
“He claims, it didn’t like the way he tasted.” Fred added.
~~~