"You must love seeing me like this." Fila said still sitting on the floor.
Beside her, Dumbledore had started inspecting the flowers planted on the tables. He gently touched a wilting bioluminescent bloom, and under his fingers, a faint spark of silver light revived it for a moment before it faded again.
"On the contrary," he said quietly, without turning around at first. "I find no joy in seeing anyone, least of all a child trapped in a cage of their own making. Especially one forged by such cruelty."
He finally turned, robes sweeping softly, and looked down at her with those piercing yet gentle eyes.
"I knew your grandfather, you know. Quite well, once. He too built rooms like this in his mind. Places where pain became power, and power became everything. In the end… it consumed him."
Dumbledore crouched again so he was closer to her level. "You are not him, Ophelia. But you stand at the same crossroads he once did. The question is not whether the darkness exists. It does. It always will. The question is whether you will let it be the only thing that defines you."
Fila let out a shaky, humorless laugh that turned into something closer to a sob.
"I tried to be more. I really did. And the first person who said she loved me ran straight to the enemy the moment she saw what I could do." She lifted her head, blindfold gone, empty sockets staring up at him. "So maybe the darkness is all there is. Maybe that's what I deserve."
Dumbledore reached out and, with surprising tenderness, brushed some of the blood and dirt from Fila's cheek with his thumb. The touch carried a warmth that felt almost foreign in this place.
"Deserve has very little to do with it," he said softly. "Pain was forced upon you. What you choose to do with it… that is yours. You can let it sharpen you into something cruel and lonely. Or you can let it teach you compassion, the kind that only those who have known true darkness can truly offer."
Fila let out a sigh. And stood up briskly like nothing had happened, and she tied her blind fold around her head ones more. The black, with the golden stitching of the thunderbird slightly painted with her own blood.
"I decided to go to Durmstrang, until summer. Do you think there is a place for me at Hogwarts for a couple months in the future?" she asked as he stood up beside her.
Dumbledore gave a slight smile. "Hogwarts has always welcomed those seeing knowledge and even other things. There will be a place for you, but not yet."
The words this time seemed to hide something, as if he was trying to say more without saying them. just like when she had talked to him about Harry Potter during their last meeting.
She decided to not even try talking her way into this one, and just wait for the time to come by itself.
"Alright I will wait then." She answered.
He turned to her one more time as he stood by the doorway. "Oh and I must say, your dueling is extraordinary. A bit brutal, but a real fight to the death is nothing less than brutal."
He said with a smile and walked out with grace and confidence he always had, a man that knows the next step before he took it.
Fila leaned against one of the tables.
She knew that her emotions had to get under control, otherwise she would loose herself to that bloody version of her again. right now the two of them had agreed to a ceasefire. Why did they both agree to this? because Fila wanted them to be one.
A brutal version of yourself isn't always needed, but a time like that will most likely come.
The sound of hesitant footsteps reached her ears.
Bea.
She stepped into the greenhouse slowly, eyes swollen from crying, hands twisting together in front of her. When she saw Fila, she stopped, breath catching.
"Fila…" Bea's voice was small, trembling. "Please. Just… let me speak. I know I don't deserve it, but I need you to hear me."
Fila didn't move. She simply turned her head slightly, blindfold steady, posture calm and straight. The storm inside her chest was still there, but she kept it locked down. No screaming. No roots bursting from the ground. Just quiet, heavy stillness.
Bea took another shaky step forward.
"I was scared," she whispered. "After what you did to Lara… after I saw how far you could go… I panicked. I thought if Itsuki knew how you fought, he could stop you before you… before you lost yourself. Before you became someone who wouldn't come back to me."
Her voice broke. Tears spilled down her cheeks again.
"I was wrong. I betrayed you. I hurt you. And I'm so, so sorry, amor. I was trying to protect myself from the parts of you that terrify me, and in doing that I became the one who hurt you most."
Fila remained silent for a long moment, letting the words settle. She could feel the bloody Ophelia's gaze burning into the side of her head, waiting for her to snap.
But she didn't.
The signs had been there from the start, not just an excuse about being scared. It didn't even make sense to be scared and using this as a reason for telling Itsuki about her.
"I know you did it to get rid of me. To remove the opponent who could actually rob your school of the winning spot." Her tone didn't rise. It stayed calm, almost conversational, which somehow made the words cut deeper. "Don't insult me by pretending it was just fear. You're a smart girl, Beatriz. You knew exactly what you were doing."
Bea's breath hitched again, that small, childlike sound — but this time it faltered under Fila's steady gaze. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
"I… I was scared—" she tried again, voice small.
Fila tilted her head slightly.
"You thought I would be fooled by some made-up story about being scared?" she asked, still calm. "After everything we shared? After you held me while I cried? After you kissed me and told me you wanted all of me?"
She let the silence stretch for a moment, watching Bea's trembling hands.
"You saw me at my lowest in that medical wing. You told me you weren't running. And the very next day you went behind my back to arm the person who was supposed to put me down." Fila's voice remained steady, but there was a quiet weight behind every word. "That wasn't fear, Bea. That was calculation. And it was a choice."
Bea's shoulders shook. She looked small, fragile, tears streaming freely now.
"I'm sorry," she whispered brokenly. "I really am. I panicked and I made the worst choice I could have made. I don't expect you to forgive me right now… but please believe that I do love you. Even if I showed it in the worst way possible."
Fila was quiet for several long seconds. The bloody Ophelia watched from the side with a faint, approving smirk, but said nothing.
"I believe you're sorry," Fila said at last, still calm. "And I believe you think you love me. But right now, that doesn't change anything."
She took a small step back.
"I'm going to Durmstrang. I need to figure out how to live with what I am without pretending anymore. And I need to do it without wondering who's going to sell me out the next time I become inconvenient."
Fila's bandaged hand flexed once, then relaxed.
"I'm not going to hate you. I'm not going to hurt you. But I can't be with you either. Not now. Maybe not for a long time."
Bea nodded slowly, lips pressed together to hold back a sob. She looked devastated, but she didn't argue. She knew there was nothing left to say that Fila would believe right now.
Fila gave her one last long look, not cruel, not kind, just tired, then walked past her toward the greenhouse exit.
It felt… good. Letting that out in such a calm way had saved her for a couple hours of headache and just feeling annoyed. She could almost make a skip right now, if it weren't for her wounds that hadn't been healed at all.
The rest of the school had reacted as expected to the duel during the day. A lot of speculation about Ophelias real strength and if she would dominate the ring for every duel coming.
Itsuki hadn't been weak, no in the slightest. He was and even considered himself as one of the strongest for his age. But, he didn't expect a thirteen year-old with the power of a forest fiery to come and force grow a bush right into his stomach. And with the girl being driven by pure hate and rage, it really didn't help the outcome of the duel.
It felt peaceful, even if the students of the school shot her daggers. But the real dagger soon approached, or even a great sword.
"FILA" a stern voice came, sending chills up her spine. And the temperature dropped around her.
Ophelia turned and met the eyes of a vicious guard dog name June.
"DIDN'T FONTAINE TELL YOU TO PATCH YOUR WOUNDS UP" she said, arms crossed and tapping her right foot in the ground.
Fila swallowed some air, "June… so good to see you, your hair looks amazing today. Is it the new conditioner?"
The attempt to sway the angry Lioness Infront of the went as well as one would except.
June grabbed her by the tip of the ear and dragged her through the school.
Students who saw the two started discussion if June wasn't some hidden powerhouse of Ilvermorny by the way she just handled the back to back winner.
After Ophelias explosion of emotions. Days seem to pass gently by as she settled into a more relaxed mood. The wounds on her healed fast with the help of multiple nurses and doctors.
She even got the chance to speak with Lara who still needed more healing after being impaled by multiple sharp sticks and wines. Apologizing for something like that wasn't that easy she found out. But Lara reacted better than expected.
In her opinion she got the full dueling experience. Being beaten by someone stronger than her. And she didn't feel like Ophelia owed her an apology in the slightest.
Itsuki also hung out in the medical wing, and would remain there for a couple days if not weeks.
Ophelia had gone easy on him, kind of. She didn't harm any of his important organs and muscles. Even during her fit, she still found herself doing what's good for others. And making a boy handicap for the rest of his life in duel didn't feel right. But he didn't like talking to Fila as Lara had, or maybe he was just the quiet type.
After the last duel. Headmistress Dourado had drawn the next match, which would be Sera against Tiago.
With the points being as following, 2 – 2 – 0.
The pressure could be felt on the Castelobruxo students and Champions.
Being behind by two points wasn't a good position, it also meant that they really needed to win to even having a possibility to win.
Fila spent most of her time resting or walking the quieter parts of the grounds. One afternoon, while sitting near a tree with a stack of international newspapers that June had brought her, she discovered just how far her name had spread.
"GRINDELWALD'S GRANDDAUGHTER UNLEASHES TERROR IN THE AMAZON" — The Daily Prophet"Butcher of the Jungle: Ophelia Grindelwald's Brutal Display Shocks Tournament" — The Prophet again, this time with a large moving photo of her standing over the convulsing Itsuki.
Rita Skeeter's article was the worst.
Ophelia Grindelwald, the thirteen-year-old heir to one of the darkest names in wizarding history, showed her true colors in a display of savage magic that left one champion fighting for his life. Witnesses describe the young girl smiling as she grew deadly thorns inside her opponent's body. Is this the return of Grindelwald's legacy in a pretty blindfold? Sources close to the tournament suggest the girl is unstable, dangerous, and possibly under the influence of dark family artifacts…
Fila's fingers tightened around the paper, crumpling the edge slightly.
"Skewered by Skeeter again," she muttered irritably. "Of course the British press turns it into some melodramatic return of dark magic. They couldn't just say I fought hard. No, it has to be 'Grindelwald's Heir Goes Mad.'"
Fila tossed the Prophet aside with a sigh of annoyance. The American and Brazilian papers were more balanced — some even respectful of the raw power displayed. But the British ones, led by that venomous quill, always twisted the knife.
She leaned back, staring at the canopy above.
"Let them write what they want," she said quietly. "I know what I am. And I'm done apologizing for it."
June how sat beside her just leaned and picked up the thrown newspaper. "Hey, don't think too much about it. she always write badly about everyone." She twisted the paper to get it straight, "And I must say, that's a really good picture of you." she said with a smile.
Truth be told, it was. Right angled and everything.
Fila let out a short, dry huff that was almost a laugh.
"Yeah… it is a good picture," she admitted grudgingly, glancing at the moving photo. In it, she stood tall amid the chaos, blindfold dark, posture radiating cold command while Itsuki knelt before her. The image had a certain brutal elegance she couldn't deny.
June folded the paper and set it aside, bumping her shoulder gently against Fila's.
"See? Not everything they write is complete garbage. The photo makes you look like some kind of avenging forest spirit. Scary, but… kind of badass."
The bloody Ophelia, lounging invisibly against the tree behind them, gave a low, approving chuckle in Fila's mind.
Finally, someone with taste, she purred. Tell the lioness she has good eyes.
Fila ignored her, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward for a brief second.
June rolled her eyes. "Let her write. In a month everyone will be obsessed with something else. You're not the first person she's tried to crucify with a quill."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the distant sounds of the school and the upcoming duel drifting through the trees. Fila's ribs still ached faintly, but the worst of the damage had finally healed. She felt… steadier. Not whole, but no longer on the edge of shattering.
The ceasefire inside her head was holding. The bloody Ophelia hadn't pushed for violence or rage in days. They both seemed to understand that control was more useful right now than chaos.
June eventually spoke again, softer this time.
"So… Durmstrang is really happening."
Fila nodded. "After the tournament ends. Karkaroff already has the papers. I need this, June. I need somewhere that won't flinch every time I stop holding back."
June was quiet for a moment, then reached over and squeezed her hand.
"Annnd, that Aleksei guy was pretty handsome…" Fila actually said out loud.
"NO way, I thought you liked girls?!" June almost shouted to the whole school before Fila could cover her mouth with her hands.
While the two of them had a little brawl, Miles walked towards them. witnessing the two girls fight like little cats around on the green forest grass.
"Can I join or…?" he asked and stopped as both of the stopped and looked at him.
"NO" they both answered.
Miles raised his hands in surrender, fighting back a grin. "Alright, alright. Just checking. Didn't want to miss the show if it was open to the public."
June shoved Fila off her with one last playful push and sat up, brushing grass from her robes. Her cheeks were flushed, but she was smiling — a real one, the kind Fila hadn't seen much lately.
"You're impossible," June muttered, pointing a finger at Fila. "Aleksei? Really? After everything, your type is tall, brooding, and Durmstrang?"
Fila sat up and adjusted her blindfold, the golden Thunderbird stitching catching the light. A small, genuine smirk tugged at her lips.
"I said he was handsome. I didn't say I was going to marry him." She paused, then added dryly, "Besides, I'm going there to train, not flirt. Probably."
June groaned dramatically while Miles just shook his head, clearly relieved to see a spark of the old Fila returning, even if it was buried under layers of new steel.
The three of them eventually settled against the tree again, the playful energy fading into something warmer and quieter. Miles passed around a couple of chocolate frogs he'd smuggled from the Kitchen.
What Fila didn't know, was that across the so called bond separating the Americas from Europe. A short grandmother by the name of Vinda read the newspaper.
"How dare they" Vinda said in a rage filled quiet voice as her hands tried to strangle the newspaper as if it would make a difference.
Evan who sat beside her smiled as he saw her reaction, he had given her the paper knowing just how she would react. In his opinion he thought the papers had been a blessing for her. As he himself a duel addict through and through, like the name they had given her.
"Its not that bad," he tried to say gently to his mother. But the daggers in her eyes made him try to calm the mood. "Alright, she may have gone a bit overboard with the description."
"Its absolute awful, I know that bitch of a writer is just chasing money and viewers." She explained. Vinda Rosier's hands tightened around the newspaper until the edges tore. Her usually composed face was twisted with cold fury.
"How dare they," she hissed again, voice low and venomous. "That venomous little parasite dares to write about her like some uncontrolled beast. Ophelia is family. Blood of the revolution. And they reduce her to tabloid horror?"
Evan Rosier leaned back in his chair, a lazy but sharp smile playing on his lips. He had known exactly what giving his mother the paper would do. The woman lived and breathed the old cause, even years after the fall.
"She did grow a rose bush inside a boy's organs, Mother," he said mildly, though his eyes gleamed with dark amusement. "It's not exactly subtle. The papers were going to have a field day no matter what."
Vinda slammed the Prophet down on the table, Rita Skeeter's moving photo of Fila staring up at them — cold, commanding, blindfolded.
"She is thirteen," Vinda snapped. "Thirteen, and already stronger than most adults who call themselves duelists. They should be writing about her potential, her power, not spreading this… filth." Her lips curled in disgust. "Grindelwald's legacy does not cower behind apologies. It reigns."
Evan's smile widened slightly. "She signed up for Durmstrang. Karkaroff was practically drooling at the chance. The girl is walking straight into the fire. Whether she comes out tempered or burned… that will be interesting to watch."
Vinda stared at the photo for a long moment, her expression shifting from rage to something almost like pride.
"She has the blood. She has the power. She just needs guidance. Real guidance. Not whatever soft nonsense Ilvermorny tried to feed her." She folded the paper with deliberate care, as if handling something sacred. "Perhaps it's time we paid our respects. Family should look after family, after all."
Evan raised an eyebrow. "You're going to write to her?"
Vinda's eyes glittered.
"Something like that."
Back in the jungles of the amazon, Ophelia felt a chill run over her and her hairs stood on her arm.
"Someone is really mad." She mumbled as she felt a subtle foreshadowing coming.