Chapter 1: Prelude
Chapter Text
The Adventures of Evelyn Adele McCrae
Chapter 1. Prelude
Evelyn Adele McCrae was a fairly average muggle girl. Average grades, average looks, even average height. The one thing that made her stand out was her obsession with all things Harry Potter. She adored the books and enjoyed watching the movies on repeat for days, although she longed to be a part of their world. To study magic at Hogwarts, to visit Hogsmeade and buy all her prank supplies from Zonko’s. It was all she ever wished for.
So, when her 11th birthday came along she woke bright and early, hoping that the magic world was real and she would get a very special letter! The day continued slowly, especially to Evelyn. Her two best friends, Ella and Cathy, visited her with presents and a plan to make this the best birthday ever. She went out for dinner, then ice cream after, went out on her new scooter and had three slices of cake. However, when the clock struck midnight and Evelyn’s birthday ended, no presents or ice cream could make up for the disappointment and upset that she felt. No letter had come. Which meant Evelyn just was just a muggle, or Hogwarts was never real. She had a gut feeling though, one that stuck with her for the next two years. Hogwarts was definitely real and Evelyn was determined to go.
Chapter 2: Help. I’ve summoned an old man.
Summary:
Evelyn’s first day inside of a book. She meets a goat (not the good kind), a scary goblin, a nice goblin, a deity and faints.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The morning of her 13th birthday found Evelyn awake and hunched over Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. She was whispering, eyes closed and hands resting on her lap. The middle of the book was glowing and heating up. The light grew brighter and brighter until it was surrounding Evelyn completely, then it pulled and Evelyn got literally sucked into a Harry Potter book.
Her bedroom door slammed open as her parents ran in, only to find an empty bed and an open book. Her mother’s scream could be heard from two streets down as she realised her only child was missing. The police showed up to investigate and Mrs McCrae tried her best to answer their questions through her sobs.
Evelyn was declared officially missing the next morning.
- • •
Evelyn’s eyes blinked open slowly, it took her a few moments until she was able to fully take in her surroundings. She was in a large room, lit by gold lanterns on the walls. The shelves around the room were decorated with, what looked like, random trinkets. There were stairs leading to another room through the back. Books littered the large ornate desk in the middle of the room and she turned to see a large wooden door closed behind her. Evelyn backed up against the door when she heard movements from the other room. Bright coloured robes in a mix of yellow, purple and red took over Evelyn’s sight as an old man walked down the short staircase. He had a long grey beard, was relatively tall and when Evelyn looked at his eyes she could’ve sworn he looked dead; his eyes a dull blue.
Dumbledore. This man was Albus Fucking Dumbledore. Or, at least Evelyn was convinced it was. Maybe it was his ghost, he did look a bit worse for wear, she thought. He smiled but Evelyn could see right through the sparkle that appeared in his eyes. After reading and watching the Harry Potter series numerous times Evelyn had come to a very simple conclusion; Albus Dumbledore was truly the villain in Harry’s story. He had raised Harry as a pig for slaughter. It was disgusting. Evelyn scowled at Dumbledore and his face dropped slightly before he regained control.
“My dear girl, I must ask who you are.”
Here came the more difficult part, does Evelyn reveal all she knows or does she lie to the most powerful wizard alive. It only takes her moments to decide, here goes she thinks.
“My name’s Evelyn Adele McCrae”
Dumbledore didn’t look satisfied with her answer and Evelyn knew he would keep pushing. “And where are you from dear girl? You seem to have landed in my office at Hogwarts and I’m rather unsure how.” Only with years of practice did Evelyn manage to bring false tears to her eyes as she spoke, her voice quiet. “My parents died when I was young, sir. I grew up in an orphanage in London. Everyone was frightened of me, I did things sometimes that the matron didn’t like, you see.” As she told a story that was not unlike that of Tom Riddle's, Evelyn watched the headmaster slowly lose the twinkle in his eyes, “I knew it was magic, my parents had written me letters and explained. I knew I could do magic but then my Hogwarts letter didn’t come and I wasn’t sure.”
The twinkle was almost coming back.
“I ran away from the orphanage just after my 11th birthday and found myself in Diagon Alley. I ended up buying a wand but I lost it in a river a year later. I’ve been trying to find my way to Hogwarts for years and one day I just thought really hard and poof, I’m here.” Evelyn took a deep breath and sneaked a glance at Dumbledore’s face. He looked so confused and Evelyn was worried he didn’t believe her. Hell, she didn’t even know if she did have magic but she was never going to let Dumbledore know she was a muggle. Especially not a muggle who’s read all about the real Harry Potter. No, never. That couldn’t happen. He would have her killed and act like it was just an unfortunate accident.
No, Evelyn was stronger than that. Albus too many fucking names Dumbledore would not win.
- • •
After Evelyn’s long conversation with Dumbledore, he had allowed her to become a Hogwarts student and sent her off to get all her school supplies. Therefore, she found herself in Diagon Alley at 3pm. The alley was bustling with witches and wizards alike, all rushing to get their school supplies for their children. Dumbledore had kindly performed the Tempus charm for her and that’s when she found out it was Monday, August 30th. Evelyn only had two days to figure out if she did have magic and get school supplies before she would be shipped off on the Hogwarts Express.
Her first stop, after settling into a room in the Leaky Cauldron for the night, was Gringotts. She needed to go to the bank to figure this out. Walking past the goblins at the front door, she bowed her head and the four goblins looked up to her in shock. All of the muggle research she did had prepared her as much as it could for this. She knew goblins weren’t treated with respect from wizards and that needed to change. Evelyn was only two steps into the bank when a rather scary looking goblin approached her. The goblin had a smile full of sharp teeth, an axe slung over his shoulder and a small dagger in his hand that was definitely goblin made and very frightening. “Miss McCrae, I must ask you to follow me.” Then the goblin was walking away, leaving Evelyn stuck in place for a moment. The goblin got halfway through the main foyer of the bank before he turned back sharply. “This way, Miss McCrae.” Evelyn bolted out of her fright and followed the goblin through a back door off the main foyer, through a tunnel, a sharp left then right and another left before finally stopping at a dark wood, almost black, door and urging her inside. The office inside obviously belonged to a goblin that was high up in the hierarchy. The desk that sat in the middle of the room was large and spacious, though littered with books and ornaments. The chairs that were surrounding a coffee table on the right side of the room were a deep velvet blue. The cream painted stone walls felt slightly suffocating if one focused on them too much, so Evelyn turned her attention to the shelf behind the desk. It was full of goblin made swords, daggers and shields. It was a battle shelf, with every goblin made weapon Evelyn had ever seen (though to be fair, that wasn’t many). The goblin who had escorted her to the office insisted she sit down at the desk and wait patiently.
And so, she patiently waited.
It felt like hours of waiting before the door opened again. This time, however, it was a different goblin that walked in. This goblin was much more sophisticated, dressed in a black pinstripe suit with a deep red tie. “Good evening, Miss McCrae. I am Ragnok, the goblin King.” Evelyn gaped at the goblin, the King.
Oh my God. Oh my God.
Oh.
My.
Fucking.
God.
“Now, as goblins we have a different perspective of magic than witches and wizards do. Which means that when you walked through our doors we noticed that your magic was not normal.”
Evelyn’s mouth was wide as she processed Ragnok’s words, “I have magic?” Her voice sounded so small and insecure, as if she was u sure of herself. Ragnok blinked at her words as if she was crazy. “Yes, Miss McCrae. In fact, your magic feels quite strong.” Ragnok’s eyes narrowed, “Would you mind telling me why you seem so confused to have magic?” Evelyn was still slightly in shock from finding out that she does in fact, have magic. It took her a few minutes to gather her thoughts but Ragnok didn’t seem to mind. “Uhm, you see King Ragnok, until this morning I was a muggle.” Evelyn didn’t think the King’s eyes could narrow any further but then, oh yeah, they definitely did. He looked slightly angry too. “Explain.” he barked. It definitely sounded like a bark.
Evelyn sighed and continued, “I am a muggle, or at least I was. I grew up surrounded by the Harry Potter books and I’ve read them dozens of times. The movies as well, though they aren’t as great as the books.” Ragnok still looked kind of angry. “Anyway, I was reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban last night and then passed out and woke up in Dumbledore’s office. I think I was sucked into the book.” The two sat in silence as Evelyn’s words seemed to bounce off the walls. Ragnok was first to break the silence, “You believe you got sucked into a fictional book?” Evelyn nodded, “Yes but it’s obviously not fiction if I’m here and this is real.” Ragnok nodded and brought out a piece of parchment and a small dagger, barely bigger than her hand. “I’m going to request you do an inheritance test, Miss McCrae. To confirm your story and figure out how we can introduce you to the magical world smoothly. All you need to do is drop some blood onto the parchment.”
Evelyn took the dagger and cut her left thumb so that her blood would drop onto the parchment. It only took four drops until words started to appear. Evelyn skimmed the parchment, then reread it and again.
Name: Evelyn Adele McCrae
Date Of Birth: June 14, 1980
Parents: Adam Peter McCrae, Jessica McCrae (née Jones)
Grandparents:
Maternal - Robert Jones, Elizabeth Jones (née Black)
Paternal - Thomas McCrae, Celine Belle McCrae (née Charbonneau)
Titles: Heir Black (third-in-line)
Vaults: Heir Black Trust Vault (20,000 Galleons, 450 Sickles)
Oh. Evelyn could feel her breathing speed up and knew a panic attack was coming. Ragnok also noticed and slid the parchment away from Evelyn's hands. He glanced down at it and almost fell off his seat in shock. Another Black Heir. How could it be? The girl said she was a muggle and the King had not detected a lie.
The chairs in the corner suddenly appeared to be bright white and both magicals had to look away, lest be blinded. Ragnok was the first to look back and this time actually did fall out of his chair. Sitting on one of his chairs, looking regal as ever was Lady Magic. Her white gown flowed ever so gently around her, the lace on her arms showing off her tanned skin. She was beautiful as ever, with blonde hair reaching down her back and framing her delicate face with cascading curls. By this point, Ragnok was down on one knee in front of Lady Magic and Evelyn had promptly passed out upon seeing the deity in his office. Lady Magic’s voice washed over him like a soft blanket when she spoke, “Rise, King of the Goblins. You need not be on the floor.” Ragnok gave a small chuckle and sat back in his chair. “May I ask what brought you here today, Lady Magic?” Lady Magic hummed in response, “I came for the girl, King Ragnok. Ladies Fate and Mischief seem to have joined efforts to bring her to our world, despite her being a muggle. Apparently her wish alone was enough to convince my sisters. Although, I felt it unfair that she lives in our world and does not have her own magic, as you well know she would have been banished or killed.” Ragnok nodded at Lady Magic’s words. Indeed if Evelyn had appeared in Hogwarts without magic, there’s no doubt that Albus Dumbledore would take care of her. “I merely wished to make the girl aware of my help, though she seems to have fainted.” They both turned to look at Evelyn and indeed, she was still unconscious in her chair.
Lady Magic simply waved her hand towards Evelyn and she gave a start as she jumped awake. Her eyes immediately focused on Lady Magic before throning to Ragnok, then back at Lady Magic, back at Ragnok. Evelyn’s eyes seemed to go back and forth for ages before she snapped out of her daze. “Uhm, right. I’m sorry, who are you?” Evelyn’s question was directed at Lady Magic and Ragnok’s eyes widened at how easy she seemed to question the beautiful deity. Lady Magic simply giggled at Evelyn and her face softened, “I am Lady Magic, Miss McCrae.” Evelyn blinked once, then twice. “It’s an honour to meet you, Lady Magic.”
And then promptly fainted yet again.
Notes:
Thank You for reading!! Happy Friday everyone! I hope you have all had a good week and an even better one following. Remember, leave kudos if you like and comment your ideas & opinions!
Love you all ❤️
Chapter Text
3.
It was dark outside by the time Evelyn woke up. Ragnok had visited around 11 o’clock apparently and had filled her in on everything and formally introduced her to Lady Magic. After a very long and exciting conversation with the deity, in which Evelyn found out she definitely did have magic and in fact was almost as powerful as Harry Potter, she was sent back to the Leaky Cauldron with a money bag from Gringotts. Evelyn had a very late dinner courtesy of Tom, the bartender, as the kitchens were closed then made her way to bed. Shopping could wait for tomorrow, right now Evelyn just wanted to sleep.
The next morning, Evelyn was awake bright and early. Hoping to get most of her shopping done before the alley became too crowded. After a quick breakfast of porridge and a whole lot of coffee, Tom opened the alley for her and she made her way to Madam Malkins; desperately in need of a new wardrobe.
The shop was empty when she walked in, aside from Madam Malkin herself behind the counter. There were racks of jackets hung neatly at the entrance, dresses and suits next to them, then the shoes. Evelyn turned to the counter, “Good morning. I’m in need of a full wardrobe please.” Madam Malkin looked up from her book and placed it next to the til, “Of course my dear. Is there anything specific you would like?” Evelyn took a look around the shop before pointing to the dresses. “I’d love to have a few dresses, winter and summer styles. However, I also need Hogwarts robes, underwear, trousers and some tops. Is that okay?” Madam Malkin simply nodded her head and rushed away to start gathering styles of clothes for the girl. “Is it the standard first year robes you need darling?” She called from the back room, “I’m a transfer student Ma’am, technically a third year student but i’ve yet to be sorted.” Evelyn heard a hum of acknowledgement come from behind the curtain and took a seat by the shop window to wait.
When Madam Malkin rushed back through to the main room she had her arms full with the clothes Evelyn had requested. She ushered Evelyn up onto the raised platform in the middle of the room and started measuring her. Evelyn made sure to stand perfectly still so that she wouldn’t mess up and have to be here longer than necessary. Madam Malkin was a lovely woman but once she got started she was a little bit overbearing. “Okay dear, I have your measurements and the styles of clothes you would like. I can have them sewn and all with necessary growth charms and the like by, let’s say, 2 o’clock. Would you like to pay now or on collection?” Evelyn made her way to the till and paid the grand total now so she wouldn’t have to hang around later. She said goodbyes and promised to come collect her wardrobe later. Now, she had to go buy a trunk to fit all her stuff in.
Luckily, Trucks For All was next door to Madam Malkin’s which meant Evelyn didn’t have far to walk. Inside the shop was rather cold, like there was a constant breeze coming from somewhere. The shelves that circled the room were full of trunks and suitcases, all in different shapes or sizes. There was a pedestal further back in the shop that had a large trunk sitting on it, it was encased by glass and slowly spinning. Moving towards it Evelyn read the sign that said ‘The 1990 Deus Carrier’. Evelyn jumped slightly when a deep voice spoke from behind her. “Hello there young one. What can I help you with?” Evelyn turned to the voice and came face to face with a rather small and stumpy man, he had long brown hair and deep blue eyes, his clothes were covered in black and brown splotches of what looked like paint. “I’m here to buy a trunk. I’ve got a big shopping spree planned today and I need room for all my things.” The man nodded and started giving a tour of the shop. It seemed to go on for ages, the man introducing and exposing the pros and cons of every trunk on the shelves and Evelyn following quietly behind. It wasn’t until they came to the trunk she was staring at earlier than she began to pay attention. “This trunk here, oh now this is a special one. It’s the newest model of the Deus Carrier and is twice the size of the 1980 model, they make a new model every ten years, you see. It consists of twenty-one different compartments, one of which is big enough for a spacious apartment. There are five dedicated to potion ingredients storage and supplies, another five designed to serve as wardrobe space, five compartments to hold everyday supplies and five that are entirely unlabelled and will store pretty much anything. At the moment, this truck is on the market for 1,300 galleons. However, it will cost extra if you wish to place extra safety charms etcetera upon it.” The man took a well needed breath as he took a key out of his pocket, “Now based on your behaviour I am going to assume this is the trunk for you but I must ask all the same, Are you going for this one?”
Evelyn nodded and smiled as she took the required money out of her bag, it was connected to her new trust vault at Gringotts so she could spend as much as she wanted without a limit. Half an hour later, after all the necessary charms and protections had been placed on her new trunk, Evelyn made her way across Diagon Alley to Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour. It was a lovely day, the sun shining brightly down on the alley and letting people enjoy its heat for the day. Evelyn decided to sit at an outside table with her gingerbread and vanilla ice cream. She pulled out the small list she made to help her narrow down what she needed, and of course her school supplies list. Her gaze was drawn away from the list by a commotion outside of Flourish and Blotts. There seemed to be two young men shouting at each other, neither looked over thirty. Evelyn decided that she would find another bookshop to visit instead of trying to get past that commotion, which didn’t seem to be stopping. Her next stop was Ollivander’s as she definitely needed a wand. Although she did want to have a back-up wand just in case and was pretty sure that Ollivander’s didn’t sell back-ups.
The bell atop the door rang as Evelyn stepped into the shop. It was very quiet until a tall, old man, who must’ve been Mr Ollivander, slid through from the back of the shop. “Welcome, Miss McCrae. I was wondering if you’d show up on time.” Evelyn had always felt a bit disturbed when she read about how Ollivander would immediately know his customers but she never expected it to happen to her. As it stood, she was definitely more disturbed. As Evelyn opened her mouth to ask for a wand, a measuring tape came flying out of a drawer and started measuring her arms. Then it measured her ears, her legs, her nose and her feet. Evelyn stood there bewildered by the measuring tape that seemingly winked at her before flying back into the drawer. “Oh, don’t mind him, Miss McCrae. Seems to have a mind of his own most days. Now, what can we get for you, oh yes, this might work.” Ollivander had trailed off into mumbles about which would work for her and which would not. He first had Evelyn try an oak wand with unicorn hair, 11” but that wand exploded before he even touched it. “Definitely not oak then.”
Evelyn seemed to try nearly one hundred different wands before Ollivander finally handed her one that made her whole body feel warm and safe. She gave the wand a swish and green sparks filled the space between Evelyn and Ollivander. “Sycamore wood with a phoenix feather core. It’s 12 inches and flexible. I hope it does you well, Miss McCrae.”
“It’s perfect, Mr Ollivander.” Evelyn handed over the eight sickles for her wand and left the shop. Now it’s time for a trip down Knockturn Alley.
Knockturn Alley is exactly as described in the books. It’s a narrow street with blackened walls. Most of the bricks are cracked or chipped. It’s so dull and Evelyn feels a little bit out of place in her blue jeans and white jacket, the only colour in the alley.
The old wand shop was tucked away in a dark corner of the alley. The door was old wood, rusted by the rain that seems almost constant in the dark alley. Evelyn pushed open the door and stepped cautiously inside. Behind the desk stood a tall, dark haired woman. Her face was soft and she looked kind, she looked like she had no place being in Knockturn Alley.
“Hello dearie, how can I help you?”
“I’m here for a second wand, one that might be better suited for my needs.” The woman’s face lights up expectedly and grabs Evelyn’s hand as she pulls her through the back.
“Here are all the wand bases.” The woman pints to a workbench covered in blocks of wood.
“These are your cores” She points to another long bench.
“And finally, this is where the magic happens.”
Evelyn walks towards the wand bases cautiously, scared that one of them will jump out at her. The first one she touched was a blood red colour, with lumps all over. Evelyn’s hand burned when she touched it and immediately moved away. The second, third and fourth wood cores she touched all had the same effect. The third, however, brought a simple warmth to Evelyn that gave her goosebumps.
“Ah yes, Cedar wood. People with cedar wood cores tend to be extremely loyal and are able to sense a good character. The witch or wizards who possess a cedar wand base seem to be a frightening adversary.’ Said the woman curiously. She guided Evelyn along to the cores with a light invitation, “Go ahead dear.”
Evelyn stepped forward and repeated the same process as she did earlier. The unicorn hair almost burned a hole through Evelyn’s hand and she swiftly moved on. The phoenix feathers didn’t burn quite as badly but also didn’t hold the warmth that told Evelyn it was the right core. She wondered if Ollivander made the correct assessment by giving her a phoenix feather wand earlier. When Evelyn at last reached the dragon heartstrings she felt a warmth signal to the cedar wood. She turned to look at the woman helping her and was secretly delighted to see a splash of fear cross the woman’s face before she grinned brightly at Evelyn.
Twenty minutes later, Evelyn left the shop with a second wand and a brand new wand holster attached to her forearm, currently holding her sycamore wand.
Walking back through to Diagon Alley, Evelyn decided it was best if she finally got her school books. Luckily, the fight that broke out earlier at the bookshop was over and the entrance was open. As Evelyn stepped inside she checked her list again and headed to the charms section first. An hour and almost 200 books later, Evelyn left the shop with a spring in her step. The next day was September 1st. The day she would finally get to experience the Hogwarts Express. So, Evelyn headed back to the Leaky Cauldron and packed everything away in her new trunk. She also checked out the “apartment” area and realised she would have to owl order some furniture for it, in case she ever needed to live in her trunk. After sorting everything to be ready for the next day, Evelyn climbed into bed and promptly entered the land of the sleeping.
Notes:
Hey everyone!!
So sorry for the super late update, i lost interest in writing and reading for a bit the Christmas took me completely by storm. I do have exams coming up so no promises there will be any sort of regular updates!
love you
Chapter 4: Hogwarts At Last
Summary:
Evelyn goes to Hogwarts.
Chapter Text
Evelyn woke up with a start, the soft sunlight of a late summer morning spilling through the window. She blinked at the clock, groaning when she realized it was already half past seven. September 1st. The day she had been waiting for her entire life. She was about to board the Hogwarts Express. The thought of it made her heart race with a mixture of excitement, disbelief, and the lingering anxiety that came from being a complete outsider in this world—no longer a mere muggle, but someone with magic. Magic. She jumped out of bed, quickly dressed in a comfortable pair of trousers and a loose blouse, and hastily packed the last few bits of her belongings into her trunk. The new wardrobe from Madam Malkin’s had been neatly packed in the side compartments, along with the few other essentials she had gathered.
There was a knock on her door as she finished up, and she looked up to see Tom, the innkeeper, standing in the doorway with a wide grin. “Good morning, Miss McCrae,” he greeted. “I trust you’re ready for your big day?”. “I think so,” Evelyn replied, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. She was ready in the sense that she had packed everything, but emotionally? She wasn’t so sure.
“Your taxi is waiting downstairs,” Tom continued. “It’ll take you to King’s Cross. The express departs at 11 o’clock sharp.”
Evelyn nodded, her stomach twisting into knots as she grabbed her new wand holster and checked that her sycamore wand was still nestled safely inside. She was feeling both incredibly lucky and wildly out of place. When they reached the ground floor, Evelyn turned to find a sleek, black taxi waiting for her just outside the Leaky Cauldron. It had a soft, glowing charm, making it look almost magical.
A man dressed in a deep green coat opened the door and gave a polite bow. “Miss McCrae, if you would be so kind,” he said, gesturing toward the door. Evelyn nodded and stepped inside, but the moment she was seated, her nerves hit her again.
She had read so much about the magical world, but the reality of it was overwhelming. What if she didn’t belong? What if Dumbledore had made a mistake in letting her attend Hogwarts? The idea of walking into a school full of people who could do real magic while she was still figuring out how to control hers was enough to make her want to crawl under the seat and never come out. But as the taxi began moving toward King’s Cross, she took a deep breath and forced herself to focus. She had magic, whether she liked it or not. And she was going to make this work.
___________
King’s Cross Station was buzzing with activity when Evelyn arrived. Men, Women and children rushed to and fro, their clothes flowing, a few of their faces lit with excitement as they made their way toward Platform 9¾. Evelyn had read about the magical platform, of course. It wasn’t exactly a secret, but even knowing about it didn’t make the experience any less surreal.
She felt like a fish out of water, watching in awe as families hugged and wished their children well, while some students appeared to be in groups of friends, chatting and laughing. Her stomach dropped again when she realized that she was completely alone. Just breathe, she told herself. She looked around for someone to help her with her trunk after she walked through the barrier between platforms 9 & 10, spotting a couple of students near a trolley full of sweets. They were laughing, a bit older than her—perhaps fourth years. She took a step in their direction, but then they were swallowed by a crowd and Evelyn lost her bearings.
The platform was full of students, their trunks and owls beside them, excited chatter filling the air. A few steam engines sat at the ready, one of which—massive and glowing—was labeled Hogwarts Express in golden letters. It was much more magnificent than Evelyn had imagined. The whole scene was both intimidating and awe-inspiring.
She spotted a family making their way toward the train, their young daughter laughing and pulling her father by the hand. Evelyn watched as the father gave a little nudge, and in the blink of an eye, the girl disappeared into the train, leaving Evelyn with a sense of shock and awe. Okay, maybe it wasn’t as complicated as she had imagined. Gathering her courage, Evelyn took her trunk and walked briskly toward the train, then slowed just before reaching it. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. This is it, she thought. She moved faster toward the train, trying to keep her cool despite her heart racing.
The train was far larger than any she had seen before, stretching so far down the platform that she felt momentarily overwhelmed by its sheer size. It looked like a beast of old magic—majestic, intimidating, and powerful. The familiar red color caught her eye, and Evelyn gave a small smile to herself, trying to push the nerves away. She was about to climb aboard when a voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Excuse me,” a boy said, his voice tentative but loud enough to be heard over the noise of the crowd. Evelyn turned to see a boy her age standing behind her, awkwardly holding his owl cage in one hand. He looked as if he’d been standing there, unsure of what to do, for quite some time. His clothes were neat, and his hair dark, but there was a certain nervousness to him that Evelyn instantly recognised.
It was the same unease she was feeling. “Are you… are you new too?” the boy asked, his eyes scanning her face with curiosity. Evelyn hesitated but then nodded. “Yeah, actually, I am.” She smiled softly. “I’m Evelyn.”
“Evan,” the boy replied, offering his hand. He was much smaller than her, though perhaps a little older, with wide, brown eyes that sparkled nervously as he looked at her. “I’m a transfer student too.” Relief flooded through Evelyn. “Really?” she asked, grateful for the familiarity of his words.
“Do you know if… uh, we’re supposed to just find an empty compartment?” He grinned. “I was about to ask you the same thing. Maybe we should try together?” Evelyn smiled back, feeling a little less alone. “Sure. I’d like that.” Together, they moved toward the train, and just as they approached one of the open compartments, the door slid open.
Inside sat two other students—a boy and a girl, both about the same age as Evelyn, with dark hair and eyes, and expressions that suggested they had already formed a tight bond.
Evelyn exchanged a look with Evan, who smiled nervously. They both climbed in, settling themselves into the seats just as the whistle blew and the train started to move.
Evelyn felt a flutter of excitement rush through her, knowing she was officially on her way to Hogwarts. The door slid shut behind them, and they began their journey. Evelyn wasn’t sure what to expect at Hogwarts—what would the students be like? How would she fit in? Would Dumbledore watch her every move? But for now, she was just grateful for this small moment of normalcy. She wasn’t entirely alone anymore. And maybe, just maybe, she belonged here after all.
___________
Evelyn stepped off the train, grateful for the chance to stretch her legs after being cooped up for hours. The sky was dark, almost black and Evelyn was ushered towards the same boats that the 1st years take to the castle. Her new friend, Evan, tagged along with her as he was also a transfer student.
The boat’s looked awfully rickety on the lake but Hagrid assured Evelyn they would be fine as long as they stuck two to a boat instead of the usual four, as they are older.
“I can’t wait to finally be at Hogwarts,” Evan said with a smile. They had only been on the lake for a few minutes but the bridge was coming up in their view. “We’ve only got the bridge to go under and we’ll be there.” Evelyn assured. Sure enough, the next moment they swooped under the bridge and Hogwarts came into view.
Evelyn privately thought it was the most beautiful thing she would ever see. The castle sat atop a small hill, the pathway laden with stone steps. Fields of grass covered the grounds and Evelyn could almost pick out the details entrained on the tall, wooden door at the front of the castle.
“Firs’ years up the steps! Firs’ years this way!” Hagrid’s booming voice was quick to quiet the whispers that had started up as everyone got out of the boats. Evelyn and Evan followed at a subdued pace as they took in the castle in all its glory.
As they finally stepped through the doors, exhausted and delighted, a stern looking woman approached them. “Thank you Hagrid. I’ll take them from here.” She said in tone that meant she was not to be messed with. Evelyn stood in complete shock at seeing one of her favourite professors in front of her.
“Welcome to Hogwarts, I am Professor McGonagall. Now children, in a moment you will enter the Great Hall and be sorted into your houses. The four houses are Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Your houses will be like a family for your next few years at Hogwarts. You shall spend free time in your house common rooms, sleep in your house dormitories and spend time with others in your house. Each house has four prefects; two 5th years and two 6th years. There is also the possibility that the Head Boy or Girl could be from your future house, so you will always have someone responsible to go to in case a professor is not available. I expect you all to have made yourself look more presentable by the time I get back.” With that, Professor McGonagall stepped through the doors to Evelyn’s left and the whispers started up again.
“What house do you think you’ll be in?” Evelyn asked quietly. Evan shrugged his shoulders, “I’m not sure. Probably Slytherin. That’s where my dad was.” Evelyn only nodded, secretly hoping she would be in Slytherin too.
Just then, Professor McGonagall comes back and starts to usher the first years into the Great Hall. The first thing that Evelyn noticed was the whispers from other students as they walked through the tables. She could tell that people were staring at Even and herself, obviously older pupils than first year.
Professor McGonagall started reading out names as soon as they were at the front of the hall.
‘Chloe Boyce’ went to Ravenclaw.
‘Astoria Greengrass’ to Slytherin.
‘Flora Moffat’ to Gryffindor.
“Now onto our new third year students. Evelyn McCrae!”
Evelyn’s heart pounded in her chest as she made her way to the front of the Great Hall. The weight of hundreds of eyes watching her sent a shiver down her spine, but she kept her chin up, determined not to let her nerves show. The Sorting Hat sat on a stool before her, looking ancient and worn. It seemed almost too ordinary to be the magical artifact that would determine her future at Hogwarts. But as she sat down and felt the rough fabric settle over her head, a voice spoke directly into her mind.
“Ahh, another new one! Not a first-year, but still fresh to our world. Interesting indeed… Evelyn McCrae, let’s see…”
Evelyn swallowed, gripping the edge of the stool tightly.
“You have quite the mind, curious and sharp. A thirst for knowledge, I see—Ravenclaw would suit you well. But there’s ambition here, too… Yes, I can see that. You want to prove yourself. You long to belong, but more than that, you want to rise above, don’t you?”
Evelyn’s breath hitched. She hadn’t realized just how much she wanted that, but the Sorting Hat had peeled back her thoughts as if reading a book.
“Slytherin would help you achieve greatness, no doubt. You could be clever, resourceful, make a name for yourself. But you have loyalty, too… a heart that longs for connection. Hufflepuff, perhaps?”
Evelyn bit her lip. She had thought about this moment for months, but now that it was happening, she wasn’t sure what she wanted.
“Not Gryffindor, I think,” the Hat mused. “You’re brave, yes, but your courage is quieter, more calculating. You don’t seek glory for the sake of it. No, I see where you truly belong…”
The Sorting Hat paused, as if savouring the moment.
“Better be… SLYTHERIN!”
The Great Hall erupted into applause, though she couldn’t tell if it was because of her or just the general excitement of the Sorting. Evelyn let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding as Professor McGonagall lifted the hat off her head.
She stood, her legs feeling wobbly beneath her, and made her way toward the Slytherin table. The students there clapped politely, a few offering nods of acknowledgment, though some looked at her with open curiosity. She caught Evan’s eye as he gave her a grin from where he stood, waiting for his turn to be sorted. She slid into an open seat, relieved to be off the stool.
As she sat down, a girl with sleek black hair and sharp green eyes leaned toward her. Evelyn recognised her as Pansy Parkinson.
“Not bad, McCrae,” she said, a smirk playing on her lips. “You’ll fit in just fine.”
Evelyn wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a warning, but she nodded anyway.
She barely had time to collect her thoughts before Professor McGonagall called, “Evan Rosier Jr.”
Evelyn felt her breath hitch as she realised who she had befriended. She knew Evan Rosier Sr. from the books but she didn’t know he had a son.
Evan stepped forward, looking only slightly less nervous than Evelyn had felt. He sat on the stool as the Sorting Hat was placed on his head.
There was a long pause before—
“SLYTHERIN!”
Relief flooded through Evelyn as Evan pulled off the hat and walked toward her with a triumphant smile. He slid into the seat next to her.
“Guess we’re housemates,” he said with a grin.
Evelyn grinned back. “Looks like it.”
As the Sorting continued, she allowed herself a moment to breathe, the weight of uncertainty slowly lifting from her shoulders. She had made it to Hogwarts. She wasn’t alone. And for the first time in a long time, she felt like she might just belong.
Chapter 5: A Good First Day (I think)
Summary:
Evelyn meets so many new people, reminds herself to be okay and is curious about Harry Potter.
Notes:
I’ve had these chapters written for a couple of weeks but had absolutely no time to post them so here you go!! Should get to at least chapter 8 today. :)
Chapter Text
Evelyn woke up to the soft glow of early morning light filtering through the heavy emerald-green curtains of her four-poster bed. For a moment, she just lay there, savoring the quiet hum of the Slytherin dormitory. She had made it. She was at Hogwarts.
The events of the previous night—the Sorting, the feast, the whispered introductions—felt like a blur. After Professor Snape had led the Slytherins down into the dungeons, Evelyn had barely had time to take in the grandeur of the Slytherin common room before exhaustion claimed her. The space was even more magnificent than she’d imagined: deep green tapestries, dark wooden furniture, and a fireplace that cast eerie, flickering shadows against the stone walls.
Now, the reality of her first day was sinking in. Lessons. Magic. And, of course, navigating the complicated social landscape of Slytherin House.
With a deep breath, she threw back the covers and got up, quickly changing into her uniform. The black robes fit perfectly, and she traced a finger over the silver-green crest embroidered on the front. Slytherin. It still didn’t feel entirely real.
“Morning, McCrae,” came a voice from behind her.
Evelyn turned to see Pansy Parkinson lounging on her bed, still in her nightgown, dark hair spilling over her shoulder as she regarded Evelyn with a critical look. “Excited for your first day?”
Evelyn shrugged. “I guess.”
Pansy smirked. “You’ll get used to it. Just stick close and don’t do anything embarrassing.”
————————
The Great Hall was buzzing with students as Evelyn followed Pansy in. Plates were already filled with an impressive array of food—fluffy scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, golden toast slathered in butter.
Evelyn spotted Evan at the Slytherin table and slid into the seat beside him, helping herself to toast and pumpkin juice.
“Ready for the day?” Evan asked, his voice still heavy with sleep.
“I suppose,” Evelyn replied, glancing around. “What’s our schedule like?”
At that moment, a stack of timetables floated down the table, landing neatly in front of each student. Evelyn picked hers up and scanned the list.
— Monday —
• 9.00 AM - Potions (with Gryffindor)
• 10:15 AM - Transfiguration (with Hufflepuff)
• 12:00 PM - Lunch
• 1:30 PM - Charms (with Hufflepuff)
• 3:30 PM - Defense Against the Dark Arts (with Gryffindor)
She felt her stomach twist slightly at the mention of Gryffindor. She’d read about the rivalry between the houses, but now she’d be in the middle of it.
“What do you have first?” she asked Evan.
He groaned. “Potions. Which would be fine if it weren’t with Gryffindors.”
As if summoned by the mere mention of their name, a group of Gryffindors walked past their table toward the exit. Evelyn recognised one immediately—Harry Potter. He looked just like the books described: messy black hair, round glasses, and the famous lightning-shaped scar. He was talking with a red-haired boy (probably Ron Weasley) and a bushy-haired girl (Hermione Granger).
Evan caught her staring and smirked. “Famous Harry Potter, huh?”
Evelyn nodded. “Yeah. Hard to believe he’s real.”
“Well, don’t get any ideas about befriending him,” a smooth voice interrupted.
Evelyn turned to see a blond-haired boy sitting across from them. His pale, pointed face and sharp grey eyes were instantly recognisable.
“You must be the transfer student,” he sneered.
“Evelyn McCrae,” she introduced herself, already knowing who he was.
“Draco Malfoy,” he said, with the confidence of someone who assumed everyone already knew his name. “You’re in good company, at least. Slytherin suits people like us.” Evelyn raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. She noticed the two boys flanking him—one tall and lean with dark skin, the other with sharp blue eyes and an observant expression.
“This is Blaise Zabini,” Draco gestured to the dark-skinned boy, “and Theodore Nott.”
“Pleasure,” Blaise said smoothly, nodding in her direction. Theo simply studied her for a moment before giving a slight nod.
“You’ll want to stick close,” Draco continued. “A lot of people will be watching you. Transfers are rare. And with that surname—”
“What about my surname?” Evelyn asked, tensing slightly.
Draco smirked. “Just that there are no notable McCraes in the wizarding world. You’re either a Muggle-born or from a hidden family. Either way, people will be curious.”
Evelyn met his gaze steadily. “Guess they’ll just have to keep wondering.”
Draco’s smirk widened in approval, and he took a bite of toast.
___________
Evelyn’s first lesson at Hogwarts was in the dungeons, a dimly lit room filled with long tables and shelves lined with strange ingredients.
Professor Snape swept into the room, his black robes billowing behind him. He barely spared a glance at the class before speaking in a slow, deliberate voice.
“There will be no foolish wand-waving in this class,” he began, his eyes scanning the students. “I expect only the highest level of concentration.”
Evelyn did her best to take notes as Snape continued, but her attention kept flickering to the Gryffindor side of the room. Harry Potter sat there, looking distinctly uncomfortable under Snape’s scrutiny.
When they were paired for their first potion—a simple Draught of Peace—Evelyn found herself next to Evan. They worked in silence for a while before Evelyn finally voiced the question that had been nagging at her.
“So,” she started carefully, “your dad… Rosier… he was one of them, wasn’t he?”
Evan’s jaw tightened slightly. He glanced around, making sure no one was listening. “Yeah. Died before I was born. My mum raised me alone.”
Evelyn hesitated. “Do you… do you agree with what he stood for?”
Evan sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t know. I never met him. People like Malfoy’s father—people who actually fought in the war—act like our parents were heroes. But my mum never talks about it. She just… she wanted me to have a normal life.”
Evelyn nodded. “That makes sense.”
“I know what people think when they hear my last name,” Evan said bitterly. “They assume I’ll be just like him. But I never even knew him. My mum says he was brilliant, that he could’ve been great without the Dark Arts, but he made his choice.”
Evelyn swallowed. “People don’t always have to be like their parents.”
Evan gave her a small smile. “That’s what I’m hoping.”
A comfortable silence settled between them. For the first time that day, Evelyn felt a real sense of connection.
She wasn’t alone.
“You’re not bad at this,” Theo remarked from the other table as she carefully ground up her ingredients.
“Years of studying theory,” she admitted hesitantly. “I just never had a proper wand to practice with until now.” Yeah, that’s what we’ll go with, she thought.
“Well, at least you won’t blow up your cauldron like Longbottom.”
She followed his gaze and saw Neville Longbottom, a Gryffindor boy with a round face, looking terrified as his potion turned an alarming shade of orange.
Snape sneered. “Five points from Gryffindor for incompetence.”
Evelyn bit back a smirk and focused on her own work.
Before she knew it, the end of the day came around and Evelyn found herself walking excitedly to Defence Against The Dark Arts.
The tension in the classroom was palpable when Harry Potter walked in. Evelyn, who had only ever read about him, watched as nearly every head turned toward the messy-haired Gryffindor.
“Look at him,” Pansy whispered beside her. “It’s like he forgets he’s famous or something.”
Evelyn didn’t respond. She was more interested in the man standing at the front—Professor Lupin, who looked far too tired to be teaching but had a kind, sharp gaze.
Their lesson focused on Boggarts. Evelyn watched in fascination as Lupin guided the students through the spell, letting each one take a turn.
When it was Neville’s turn, the Boggart transformed into Snape, earning a round of laughter when Lupin helped turn him into a ridiculous-looking woman in a dress.
Evelyn couldn’t help but glance at Harry. The Boy Who Lived. The boy who had defeated Voldemort as a baby. She wondered what his boggart would be. Unfortunately, before he could step forward, Lupin slid in front of him and Evelyn watched in fascination as the boggart turned into a full moon. Of course, having read the books Evelyn knew that Professor Lupin was a werewolf but it was interesting watching the clogs in Hermione’s brain twist.
Evelyn glanced at Potter again. She had a feeling their paths would cross eventually.
________________
Evelyn was right. She didn’t even seek him out on purpose but as she was leaving the library she nearly bumped into someone. Looking up, she found herself face-to-face with none other than Harry Potter.
“Sorry,” he said quickly, stepping back.
Evelyn blinked. “It’s fine.”
Harry studied her for a moment. “You’re new, right?”
“Yeah. Evelyn McCrae.”
“Harry Potter”
Evelyn let out a laugh, “Yeah, I recognised you.”
Harry blinked in surprise, “Oh right, uhm yeah obviously.” He let out a chuckle then hesitated when he looked at her uniform. “You’re in Slytherin?”
Evelyn crossed her arms. “That a problem?”
Harry shook his head. “No, just… never mind. I saw you earlier in the Great Hall. You don’t seem like them.”
Evelyn smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Harry smiled slightly before Ron called him over. “See you around.”
Evelyn watched him go, her mind racing.
After a long day of classes, Evelyn felt exhaustion settle into her bones as she stepped into the Slytherin common room. The green glow from the Black Lake filtered through the tall windows, casting rippling patterns over the stone walls. A few fires crackled in the grand hearths, their golden light flickering against the dark furniture.
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. She’d survived her first day.
The room was still bustling with activity—groups of students lounged on emerald-green couches, talking in hushed tones or pouring over books. A cluster of third-years sat near the fireplace playing a game of Wizard’s Chess, their laughter echoing softly. At another table, a pair of older students were muttering over an advanced Potions textbook, their quills scratching against parchment.
Evelyn scanned the room for familiar faces.
Pansy and Daphne were curled up on one of the sofas, whispering about something that made Pansy smirk. Draco, Theo, and Blaise sat in their usual corner, Malfoy looking particularly smug as he relayed something animatedly. Evelyn considered joining them but decided against it. She wasn’t in the mood for whatever conversation Draco was leading.
Instead, she spotted Evan sitting alone at a smaller table near the window. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and he was flipping idly through a book, though his gaze was unfocused.
Evelyn hesitated for only a moment before walking over. “Mind if I sit?”
Evan glanced up and gestured to the empty seat across from him. “Go ahead. How was the rest of your day?”
“Every class felt like an exam. I’m still trying to process everything”
There was a pause before Evan leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. “Did you see Potter today?”
She nodded. “Everyone was staring at him. It must be exhausting, walking into a room and knowing people either worship you or hate you.”
Evan’s expression darkened slightly. “Some people think he’s a liar. That he makes himself out to be some sort of hero.”
Evelyn studied his face. “And what do you think?”
Evan sighed. “I think… I don’t know. My mum told me to stay away from him, but she never explained why. She says his father and my father were enemies.”
Evelyn hesitated. “Do you believe everything your mum says?”
Evan smirked. “No. But I trust her more than most people.”
Another pause settled between them. The common room around them had started to quiet as students drifted off to bed. Evelyn found herself relaxing for the first time that evening.
“Well,” Evan said, closing his book, “at least we survived our first day.”
Evelyn chuckled. “Barely.”
As they walked past the couches to go up to the dorms, Evelyn glanced at Malfoy. He smirked. “Welcome to Hogwarts, you two.”
Chapter 6: Hogsmeade and Conversation
Summary:
Evelyn and Harry are talking more, Hogsmeade happens and Sirius Black appears for the first time.
Notes:
AHHHH!! I absolutely love writing Harry & Evelyn and watching their relationship develop. If you have any suggestions of how you’d like to see their relationship further then send a wee comment!! love you all
Chapter Text
The next few weeks passed without incident. Well, almost. Evelyn had been having more conversations with Potter over the past few weeks. He always seemed to know exactly when she was leaving the library or going to lunch, even walking to and from classes. As excited as Evelyn was to be finally part of his life, of these stories; she knew something was going to go wrong eventually.
A few days later she finally had some time to herself, without Malfoy and his goons watching her every move. Evelyn adjusted her scarf as she leaned against the cold stone wall of the courtyard. Snow had dusted the castle grounds overnight, and students bundled up as they hurried between classes. She watched as Harry Potter made his way toward her, hands stuffed into the pockets of his robes.
“You look suspicious,” she remarked as he stopped beside her.
Harry smirked. “I always look suspicious to you.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “You do, actually. But you seem more so than usual.”
Harry hesitated, then glanced around. “Fred and George gave me something. You can’t tell anyone.”
Evelyn folded her arms. “I make no promises.”
Rolling his eyes, Harry pulled a folded piece of parchment from his robes. “This,” he whispered, “is the Marauder’s Map.”
Evelyn’s eyes widened. This was it. The infamous Marauder’s Map.
He tapped it with his wand. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
Evelyn watched in fascination as ink lines spread across the page, forming an intricate map of Hogwarts. Tiny labeled dots moved across the corridors—students and teachers alike.
“That’s…” Her voice trailed off as she stared at the parchment. “That’s amazing.”
“It shows every passage, every person,” Harry said, grinning. “And—look here.” He pointed to a specific line leading away from the castle. “There’s a passage that leads straight into Hogsmeade.”
Evelyn narrowed her eyes. “No permission slip, I take it?”
“None,” Harry admitted.
She sighed. “I don’t suppose telling you not to go would make a difference?”
“Absolutely not.” Harry grinned.
______________
The Slytherin common room was buzzing with low conversation when the entrance door swung open violently, crashing against the stone wall. A few students jumped, and Evelyn looked up from where she was lounging on the emerald-green sofa.
Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, panting, his normally pale face flushed from the cold outside. Snow clung to the edges of his cloak, and his gray eyes were wide with shock.
“I saw him!” he gasped, loud enough to cut through the murmurs in the room. “I saw Potter’s head in Hogsmeade!”
Silence followed. Then, a snort.
“What in Merlin’s name are you on about, Draco?” Blaise Zabini drawled from his armchair by the fireplace.
“I’m serious!” Draco snapped, striding into the room. “I was outside the Three Broomsticks with Crabbe and Goyle, and then—there he was! Potter’s floating head just—just hovering in midair like some deranged ghost!”
Pansy Parkinson giggled. “Are you sure you weren’t just seeing things?”
Crabbe and Goyle, who had followed Draco inside, nodded enthusiastically. “We saw it too!” Goyle grunted.
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. This was actually amusing. “Draco, you do realize how insane that sounds?”
Draco scowled. “I know what I saw, McCrae. Potter was in Hogsmeade—without a permission slip!”
At this, more students perked up.
“So what?” Theodore Nott said lazily from his seat near the enchanted window, where a greenish light filtered in from the depths of the Black Lake. “Who cares if Potter sneaks around? Let him get caught.”
“I care,” Draco snapped. “He’s not supposed to be there! And if he’s sneaking out of Hogwarts, then he’s breaking school rules, and I will be the one to make sure he gets punished.”
Pansy smirked. “Oh, you’re just mad because he probably had more fun in Hogsmeade than we did.”
Draco’s face darkened. “That’s not the point!” He turned sharply. “I’m telling Professor Snape. He’ll do something about this.”
Evelyn sighed. “You could just let it go.”
Draco scoffed. “And let Potter get away with breaking the rules? No chance.”
With a dramatic swish of his cloak, he stormed out of the common room.
Evelyn exchanged a glance with Blaise, who smirked.
“Well,” Blaise muttered, “might be best if someone follows him, keeps him right with Snape.”
Evelyn sighed, “I’ll go”
Draco wasted no time making his way to the dungeons, Evelyn noticed, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering behind him like two oversized shadows. “Hey Malfoy! Wait up” Evelyn shouted across the corridor. Draco stopped walking just as Evelyn was about to crash into him. He turned and knocked sharply on the door to Professor Snape’s office.
“Enter,” came the silky voice from within.
Draco and Evelyn stepped inside, Draco’s face set with determination and Evelyn’s with slight worry. Professor Snape sat behind his desk, flicking his wand over a steaming cauldron. The room smelled of burnt herbs and something vaguely metallic. He looked up, his dark eyes narrowing.
“Mr. Malfoy, Miss McCrae,” Snape drawled. “What is it?”
Draco straightened. “Professor, I have urgent information about Potter.”
Snape raised an eyebrow but set his wand down. “Go on.”
Draco took a deep breath. “I saw him. In Hogsmeade.”
There was a pause. Snape’s expression didn’t change. “Impossible. Potter does not have permission to visit Hogsmeade.”
“That’s what I thought,” Draco said impatiently. “But I saw him. Or—at least, his head. It was floating in midair, right near the Three Broomsticks.”
Snape’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re certain?”
“Yes! Crabbe and Goyle saw it too.” Draco gestured to them, and they both nodded enthusiastically.
Snape leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled. He was silent for a moment before murmuring, almost to himself, “Interesting.”
Draco frowned. “Professor, Potter must have found some way to sneak into Hogsmeade. A secret passage or something.”
Shut up Malfoy, Evelyn thought. But she kept quiet. She didn’t want to give away that she knew exactly what Harry had done.
Snape’s lip curled slightly. “And you are so concerned with enforcing school rules?”
Draco straightened. “Well… yes! It’s not fair that he gets away with everything!”
Snape studied him for a long moment, then slowly stood. “I will look into it.”
Draco smirked. “Thank you, sir.”
Snape’s eyes flickered to them. “You may go.”
As they left the office, Evelyn felt a surge of concern. Potter was definitely going to get caught now.
______________
That evening, she cornered Harry outside the Great Hall. “Malfoy saw you,” she said.
Harry winced. “Yeah, I figured.”
“You do realize he’s run off to Snape by now?”
Harry sighed, leaning against the wall. “It’s fine. I’ll deal with it.”
Evelyn studied him for a moment. “Why did you sneak out, anyway?”
Harry hesitated. Then, after a moment, he spoke.
“Sirius Black,” he said quietly.
Evelyn frowned. “What about him?”
Harry exhaled sharply. “He’s after me.”
She stared. “What?”
He nodded. “Black was my parents’ friend. My dad’s best mate, actually. But he betrayed them. He told Voldemort where they were hiding.”
Evelyn blinked, stunned.
Harry continued. “He was their Secret-Keeper. That’s why Voldemort found them. And when Black was confronted about it, he laughed. Laughed like it was some big joke.”
Evelyn swallowed hard.
“There’s more,” Harry said, voice lower. “Black killed another wizard—Pettigrew—and a bunch of Muggles right after. Blew up the street. That’s why he was sent to Azkaban.”
Evelyn leaned against the wall, her arms folded. “And now he’s escaped.”
“Yeah.” Harry’s gaze was unreadable. “And I think he’s coming for me.”
For the first time in a long while, Evelyn wasn’t sure what to say.
—————————
A week later, Evelyn had just finished a late study session in the library, and the halls of Hogwarts were eerily silent as she made her way back toward the dungeons. The torches flickered as a cold draft curled through the stone corridors. Outside, the wind howled against the castle walls, rattling the windows.
She turned a corner and nearly collided with a group of Gryffindor students heading toward their common room. Weasley was at the front, grumbling about something, while Granger and Harry trailed behind.
Evelyn sighed. Gryffindors.
She was about to move past them when an ear-piercing shriek split through the corridor.
For a split second, everything went still. Then came the sound of ripping fabric, the echoing of shattered glass, and a frantic, panicked wailing.
The Gryffindors broke into a run, and Evelyn hesitated only a moment before following.
As they reached the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, a crowd was already forming. Students were gasping and whispering, pushing forward to get a better look.
Evelyn craned her neck.
The Fat Lady’s portrait was ruined. Her painted frame hung lopsided, the canvas shredded as if something with claws had torn through it. The Fat Lady herself was missing.
“What happened?” someone asked breathlessly.
Peeves, the poltergeist, was floating nearby, cackling and swirling through the air. “Ohhh, she wouldn’t let him in,” he sang, twirling upside down. “And he got very, very angry!”
Evelyn’s stomach tightened.
“Who?”
Peeves grinned, eyes gleaming in the dim torchlight. “The big, bad doggy—Sirius Black!”
A collective shudder rippled through the students. A few younger Gryffindors whimpered.
Evelyn’s mind raced. Black? Here? She remembered the first time she read about this. The panic that she felt on behalf of Harry Potter. For a moment, Evelyn thought back to her past few weeks at Hogwarts - she had completely forgotten that these used to be stories to her, too caught up in the magic of it all.
Professor McGonagall arrived moments later, her usually stern face unreadable as she waved her wand, inspecting the wreckage. Snape followed soon after, his black robes billowing as he swept into the corridor, his expression unreadable. More teachers came, speaking in hushed voices.
Soon, Dumbledore himself arrived, his piercing blue gaze sweeping over the students. Evelyn shivered. She had never seen the headmaster look so grave.
“No one is to return to their dormitories,” he announced. “Prefects, gather your Houses. You will all spend the night in the Great Hall.”
There were immediate murmurs.
Evelyn caught Draco Malfoy’s smirking expression from where he stood among the Slytherins who had shown up behind Snape. “So much for Gryffindor bravery,” he whispered to Pansy, who giggled.
Evelyn ignored them.
As the students were led toward the Great Hall, she glanced once more at the ruined portrait.
Sirius Black was in the castle.
The next morning, Evelyn found Harry sitting alone in the courtyard, staring at the frost-covered grass. It was still early—most students were lingering in the Great Hall, unwilling to brave the cold just yet.
She hesitated before approaching. The events of last night still hung over the castle like a thick fog, the tension in the air palpable. But here, in the quiet morning light, it almost felt… normal.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” she asked, crossing her arms against the chill.
Harry looked up, blinking as if pulled from deep thought. His green eyes, sharp even in the dim winter sun, softened when he saw her. “Not really.”
She sat down beside him, the cold stone bench pressing through her robes. She glanced around—there were a few birds pecking at the frozen ground, their feathers fluffed against the cold. The rest of the castle was still and silent.
“Not a fan of crowded sleepovers in the Great Hall?” she teased.
Harry huffed a quiet laugh. “You mean spending the night surrounded by a hundred restless Gryffindors? Yeah, not my favorite thing.” He smirked. “Didn’t realize Slytherins would find it annoying too.”
“Oh, trust me, it was worse for us,” Evelyn said. “Listening to Malfoy complain about ‘Gryffindor dramatics’ for hours on end.” She rolled her eyes. “As if he wasn’t milking the situation just as much.”
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Sounds about right.”
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, their breath visible in the crisp air. Evelyn idly traced patterns in the frost on the bench with her fingertip, while Harry absently fiddled with a loose thread on his sleeve.
“Classes are going to be unbearable today,” she muttered eventually. “Everyone’s going to be talking about Black.”
Harry exhaled, rubbing his hands together. “Yeah.” His tone was unreadable. “He couldn’t have gone far.”
Evelyn stiffened slightly but kept her voice casual. “No, I suppose not. But it’s not our problem.”
Harry gave her a look, as if he could hear the warning beneath her words. “I know.”
She studied him for a moment, her dark eyes thoughtful. He was tense, as if he wanted to say more but was holding back. Evelyn had spent enough time around him to recognize when he was brooding over something.
“Harry,” she said slowly, shifting so she could see his face better, “you’re not thinking about doing anything stupid, are you?”
He blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“You have that look.”
Harry frowned. “What look?”
“The one where you’re planning something reckless but you don’t want anyone to notice,” she said, smirking slightly. “I’ve seen it before.”
Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t have a look.”
“You absolutely do.”
He opened his mouth to argue but stopped when he saw her expression. A small, reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “Fine. Maybe I do.”
Evelyn smirked triumphantly. “Knew it.”
He sighed, leaning back against the bench. “I just—” He hesitated, staring at the frost-covered ground again. “It’s hard not to think about it.”
Evelyn didn’t press. She let the silence settle between them again, offering him space to gather his thoughts.
“I didn’t tell you this before,” Harry said finally, his voice quieter now, “but I heard something last night. Dumbledore said the Dementors searched the whole castle and didn’t find him. Black just—disappeared.”
Evelyn let out a slow breath. “That’s unsettling.”
“Yeah.” Harry flexed his fingers, his breath fogging in the air. “And if he got in once, what’s stopping him from doing it again?”
Evelyn looked out at the frozen grass, her mind whirring. “Maybe he’s already gone. Maybe last night was his only chance.”
Harry didn’t look convinced. “Maybe.”
She nudged him lightly with her elbow, her tone turning teasing. “You’re overthinking it.”
He shot her a look. “That’s what you got from all that?”
“Yes,” she said simply. “Because this isn’t something you can fix, and you hate that.”
Harry exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You really think you have me all figured out, don’t you?”
Evelyn grinned. “Obviously.”
He rolled his eyes, but there was something warm in his expression.
They sat in silence again, but this time it was comfortable. The kind of quiet that didn’t need filling.
After a moment, Evelyn spoke again. “You know, this is the longest we’ve talked without someone insulting the other’s House.”
Harry smirked. “Yeah. Impressive, really.”
“We should commemorate the moment,” she said with mock seriousness. “A monument, maybe. ‘Here Lies the Only Civilized Conversation Between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin.’”
Harry laughed. It wasn’t the tired, forced kind she sometimes heard from him when he was brushing off something bothering him—it was genuine, warm. It made something stir in Evelyn’s chest, something she wasn’t entirely sure how to place.
She pushed the thought away.
“You know,” Harry said after a beat, glancing at her, “you’re not as bad as some of the other Slytherins.”
She gasped dramatically. “Are you complimenting me, Potter?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I knew you liked me.”
Harry made a noise in his throat like he was going to protest, but instead, he just shook his head, grinning. “I regret saying anything.”
Evelyn smirked, satisfied. “Good.”
A breeze picked up, making them both shiver.
“We should probably head inside before we freeze to death,” Harry said, rubbing his hands together for warmth.
Evelyn stood, stretching. “Yeah. Besides, I have to prepare myself for Malfoy’s inevitable dramatics in Potions today.”
Harry groaned. “Snape’s going to be in an even worse mood than usual, isn’t he?”
“Most likely,” Evelyn said. “Good luck with that.”
They started walking back toward the castle, their shoulders brushing briefly before they stepped apart.
And for the first time since the Fat Lady’s attack, Evelyn felt a little lighter.
Chapter 7: Storms & Shadows
Summary:
Harry encounters the dementors for the first time in front of Evelyn. She discovers she’s being watched and the Slytherin’s aren’t stupid.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The wind roared through the Quidditch stands, rattling the wooden beams beneath Evelyn’s feet. She pulled her cloak tighter around her as she climbed the stairs, her breath misting in the freezing air. The November sky was a churning mass of storm clouds, thick and oppressive, and the first droplets of icy rain had already begun to fall.
It was hardly ideal weather for a Quidditch match. But as Evelyn found a seat among the third-year Slytherins, she knew the game would go on. Gryffindor was desperate for a win after their first match had been postponed.
She wasn’t entirely sure why she had come. She could have stayed inside, warm and dry, while the rest of the school braved the storm. But something about the way Draco Malfoy and the other Slytherins had smugly predicted Gryffindor’s downfall had left her irritated. So here she was, watching the match unfold with more interest than she would admit.
Madam Hooch’s whistle cut through the wind, and the players shot into the sky.
The match was a brutal battle against the elements from the start. The rain quickly turned into a downpour, sheets of water obscuring the players from view. Evelyn could barely make out the scarlet and yellow robes as the Chasers darted back and forth, their movements sharp but strained against the relentless wind.
Even from the stands, she could see how difficult it was to control the brooms. A Hufflepuff Beater nearly lost his grip when a powerful gust sent him veering sideways. The Quaffle slipped from players’ hands again and again as the rain slicked their gloves.
But through it all, one figure remained steady—Harry Potter.
Evelyn found her eyes drifting to him more often than she cared to admit. He flew with sharp, effortless movements, scanning the pitch for the Snitch. His hair was drenched, plastered against his forehead, but his focus never wavered.
The game dragged on, the score creeping upward as the teams fought against both each other and the storm. Gryffindor was ahead, but only barely.
And then, everything changed.
A suffocating cold settled over the stadium. The shouts of the crowd dulled to nothing. Evelyn’s breath hitched as a deep, bone-chilling dread washed over her.
She didn’t need to see them to know what had happened.
Dementors.
A flicker of movement caught her eye, and her stomach lurched—Harry had frozen in midair. His grip on his broom slackened, his body tilting dangerously forward.
And then—
He fell.
Gasps and screams filled the stands as Harry’s body plummeted through the air, spiraling downward with terrifying speed.
Evelyn gripped the railing, heart pounding.
A blinding flash of silver cut through the storm—Dumbledore. With a sharp flick of his wand, the headmaster slowed Harry’s fall, guiding him gently to the ground.
The match was over.
And Harry wasn’t moving.
__________
The hospital wing was quiet when Evelyn stepped inside. The scent of antiseptic potions lingered in the air, and soft candlelight flickered against the stone walls.
Only one bed was occupied.
Harry lay propped up on a pillow, his glasses askew and his expression dazed.
His eyes flicked toward the doorway, and his brow furrowed slightly in surprise when he saw her. “McCrae?”
Evelyn crossed her arms, leaning against the foot of his bed. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”
Harry huffed a tired laugh. “Nice to see you too.”
Before she could say more, the doors burst open again.
“Harry!”
Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger rushed to his bedside, looking windblown and frantic. Evelyn tensed slightly. She had never spoken to them before, and their presence made her feel like an outsider.
Ron’s eyes landed on her, narrowing instantly. “What’s she doing here?”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Relax, Weasley. I’m not slipping poison into his pumpkin juice.”
Ron scowled, but Hermione, ever observant, tilted her head. “You’re in Slytherin, aren’t you?”
Evelyn arched a brow. “Obviously.”
Hermione didn’t look suspicious, merely curious. “Were you at the match?”
Evelyn hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”
Ron turned back to Harry. “That was bloody awful today. You should’ve seen yourself—”
“I don’t want to see myself,” Harry muttered.
Madam Pomfrey bustled over, shooing them all away as Dumbledore walked in. Evelyn turned to leave, but before she stepped out, she glanced back once.
“Try not to fall off anything else, Potter.”
Harry smirked. “No promises.”
_______________
The Slytherin common room was alight with laughter when Evelyn returned. The emerald glow of the lanterns cast flickering shadows across the walls, and the air buzzed with cruel amusement.
“Did you see him drop like a rock?” Draco Malfoy cackled, lounging in one of the high-backed chairs near the fireplace. His pale face was alight with satisfaction. “The great Harry Potter, completely helpless—”
Pansy Parkinson giggled beside him, twirling a lock of dark hair around her finger. “Maybe they should call him the Boy Who Falls now.”
Laughter erupted around the room, echoing off the dungeon walls. Even some of the older students chuckled, shaking their heads. The image of Harry plummeting through the storm, unconscious, seemed to be the highlight of their evening.
Evelyn sank into an armchair near the edge of the group, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She forced her expression into one of mild amusement, but she didn’t join in.
Blaise Zabini, who had been watching her from the opposite side of the room, smirked. He pushed off the wall and sauntered over, hands in his pockets.
“You’re quiet,” he remarked, tilting his head slightly.
Evelyn shrugged. “Just tired.”
Blaise leaned closer, lowering his voice so that only she could hear. “Or not as entertained by Potter’s near-death experience as the others?”
She gave him a bland look. “It was hardly a near-death experience. He landed in one piece, didn’t he?”
Blaise hummed, unconvinced. He studied her, dark eyes sharp and assessing. “Still. You’re not laughing.”
Before she could reply, Draco’s voice cut through the chatter.
“I wish I had a camera,” he drawled, reclining against the armrest of his chair. “Imagine the front page of the Daily Prophet. Harry Potter: Falls to His Doom—Again.”
Pansy laughed, practically draping herself over Draco’s chair. “Honestly, how does he always survive these things?”
“Luck,” Daphne Greengrass chimed in from where she sat, polishing her nails. “Or Dumbledore’s interference. You saw how he slowed the fall.”
“Shame,” Blaise murmured. “Would’ve been a hell of a way for Potter to go out.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes, shifting in her seat. She felt Blaise’s gaze still on her, heavy with something unreadable.
He leaned in slightly. “You spend a lot of time around him.”
Evelyn’s muscles tensed for half a second before she forced herself to relax. “Do I?”
Blaise’s smirk widened. “Yes, actually. Hospital wing today. The courtyard a few mornings ago. There was that time in the library, too…” He tilted his head. “Should I go on?”
Evelyn exhaled through her nose, keeping her expression neutral. “You’ve been watching me?”
“Let’s just say I notice things.”
From the corner of the room, a soft rustling of pages reminded her that someone else was listening.
Theodore Nott sat alone, stretched out on one of the dark leather sofas, his long legs crossed at the ankles. He held a book open in one hand, but his eyes weren’t moving along the lines of text. He was listening. Closely.
Evelyn glanced at him briefly, but Theo didn’t look up. He simply turned the page, as if he hadn’t heard a word.
Blaise followed her gaze, his smirk deepening. “Even Theo’s noticed,” he mused. “And he usually doesn’t care about anything.”
Theo, still not looking up from his book, said lazily, “I care about plenty of things. I just don’t gossip like a first-year.”
Draco scoffed. “Blaise is onto something, though. Why are you always around Potter, McCrae?”
Evelyn gave him a dry look. “Oh, you know. We bond over our mutual love of defying death.”
A few of the Slytherins snickered, but Blaise wasn’t letting her off that easily.
“You don’t like him, do you?” he asked, studying her.
Evelyn scoffed. “Potter? Please, I couldn’t care less.”
Blaise tapped his chin, unconvinced. “Then why were you in the hospital wing before Weasley and Granger?”
Evelyn hesitated.
Draco’s attention sharpened. “Wait—you were there before his little fan club?”
Pansy sat up straighter, eyes narrowing. “Why?”
Evelyn shrugged, feigning indifference. “I was already in the castle when I heard what happened. I was curious. That’s all.”
“Curious,” Blaise echoed. “Right.”
Evelyn resisted the urge to glare.
Across the room, Theo finally looked up from his book, his eyes flickering between them before settling on Evelyn. Unlike Blaise, he didn’t press her. He simply watched. Considering.
She hated that she didn’t know what he was thinking.
Draco leaned back with a snort. “Well, whatever. I still say Potter deserved it.”
Pansy laughed. “Maybe next time he won’t be so lucky.”
Evelyn forced a chuckle, then excused herself, heading toward the girls’ dormitory.
As she climbed the stairs, she could still feel Blaise’s suspicion lingering behind her like a shadow.
And in the corner of the room, Theodore Nott turned another page.
But this time, his eyes weren’t on the book at all.
____________
The next time Evelyn saw Harry, he was walking toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
She fell into step beside him. “How’s the head?”
“Fine,” he said, though she wasn’t convinced.
They walked in silence for a moment before Evelyn spoke again. “You should talk to Professor Lupin.”
Harry glanced at her. “Why?”
“Because I heard Granger say he knows how to fight Dementors. If they’re going to keep showing up, you might as well learn how to stop them.”
Harry was quiet, considering. Then, to her surprise, he gave her a small smile. “That’s… actually not a bad idea.”
She grinned. “Shocking, I know.”
“Thanks,” he said.
Evelyn arched a brow. “For what?”
He hesitated, then shook his head with a chuckle. “Dunno. Just… thanks.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled as she walked away, not noticing the dark eyes that followed her.
______________
Later that evening, Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room, staring at the fire.
Ron and Hermione were beside him, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
He hadn’t told them about Evelyn. Not really.
Sure, they knew she was a Slytherin. And they knew she had been at the hospital wing. But what they didn’t know was that he actually liked talking to her.
It was strange. She wasn’t particularly friendly, nor was she openly kind. But she had a way of making things normal. She never looked at him with that wide-eyed awe that so many others did. Well, the first time they met she did but not after that. She never treated him like Harry Potter, just… Harry.
“—arry. Harry!” He blinked to see Hermione looking at him curiously.
“What’s up Hermione?”
“Who was that girl in the hospital wing earlier?” Hermione said.
Ron nudged him. “Yeah and why do you keep talking to her?”
Harry shrugged. “Dunno.”
Hermione gave him a knowing look. “You do know.”
Harry avoided her gaze. “She just… doesn’t make a big deal out of anything.”
Ron huffed. “She’s still a Slytherin.”
“Ron!” came Hermione’s shriek.
Harry didn’t answer.
Because for the first time, he realized that he didn’t care. Evelyn was just Evelyn and Harry was just Harry.
Notes:
Hey guys!! hope you’re all liking this story so far. Just a little note to you all, the way i’m writing this story is kind of falling into the line where it sounds like Evelyn doesn’t know anything despite reading all of the books but remember that she has to keep her knowledge a secret. She might reveal it one day, but for now she has to keep it very hush hush - not even Dumbledore knows.
Chapter 8: The Quidditch Final
Chapter Text
The Slytherin common room was buzzing with anticipation. The upcoming Quidditch match against Gryffindor was all anyone could talk about, and the usual smug confidence of Evelyn’s housemates had reached new heights. Draco Malfoy had taken to dramatically recounting every moment of Slytherin’s training sessions, embellishing details about how he had supposedly outmaneuvered their opponents in practice. Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass giggled over his stories, though whether they actually believed him was another matter entirely.
Evelyn, on the other hand, was less invested in the match itself. Quidditch had never been her passion, but she wasn’t about to admit that out loud—not in a house where winning meant everything.
“Eve,” Evan slid into the seat next to her on one of the emerald-green sofas, stretching out lazily. “You’ve been quiet. Not looking forward to Gryffindor’s humiliation?”
Evelyn smirked. “I just prefer to watch the game instead of listening to Malfoy talk about it like he’s the next Viktor Krum.”
Blaise Zabini, who was sitting nearby, snorted. “That’s because Malfoy’s idea of training is showing off whenever he gets the chance. If he actually focused, we’d probably have won the Cup last year.”
Draco, overhearing, shot them a glare from across the common room. “If you lot don’t believe in Slytherin’s victory, then don’t bother showing up.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Evelyn said dryly, leaning back against the couch. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Truthfully, she was looking forward to it—just not for the reasons the others were. She was curious to see how Harry would handle the pressure of the final match.
She had also caught him looking more determined than ever in recent days, his jaw set with steely resolve every time Quidditch was mentioned. It was clear he wasn’t about to let the Dementors—or anything else—stand in his way.
And for some reason, she found herself wanting him to win.
____________
The next morning, Evelyn took her usual seat in the dungeon classroom beside Evan. As usual, Professor Snape swept into the room with a dramatic billow of his robes, his dark eyes scanning the students with disinterest.
“Today, we will be brewing an Invigoration Draught,” Snape announced. “This potion, if brewed correctly, will temporarily ward off fatigue and enhance focus. If brewed incorrectly…” He let his words hang ominously. “You will experience the opposite effect.”
A few students shifted uncomfortably. Evelyn glanced at Evan, who smirked. “Sounds fun,” he muttered under his breath.
Snape waved his wand, and the instructions appeared on the blackboard. “Begin.”
Evelyn and Evan worked in practiced silence, chopping and stirring with the kind of precision that came from experience.
“So,” Evan said after a while, keeping his voice low. “Have you finally figured out what Potter’s deal is?”
Evelyn scoffed. “What are you on about?”
“You know,” Evan said, raising an eyebrow. “The way he keeps showing up around you.”
She gave him a flat look. “I think you’re imagining things.”
Evan chuckled. “Am I? Blaise seems to think otherwise.”
“Then Blaise has too much time on his hands,” Evelyn muttered, measuring out a sprig of peppermint.
Evan watched her with amusement. “You don’t exactly deny it, though.”
Evelyn ignored him, focusing instead on perfecting the deep sapphire color of their potion.
Evelyn sighed when she saw the seating arrangement for the lesson. She had been paired with Theo Nott.
Theo was quiet. Always watching, always listening. Unlike Blaise or Evan, he didn’t openly pry, but she had long suspected that he noticed more than he let on.
“Guess we’re stuck together,” she muttered as she dropped her bag beside him.
Theo glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “Try to contain your excitement.”
Professor Lupin strode into the classroom, greeting them with his usual calm demeanor. “Today, we’ll be learning about Red Caps,” he announced, flicking his wand to summon an image of the goblin-like creatures onto the board.
Evelyn and Theo settled into their usual routine—reading, practicing counter-charms, and discussing strategies in hushed voices. Theo was intelligent, sharp-witted, and frustratingly difficult to fluster.
“So,” Theo said casually as they reviewed the textbook. “Are you planning on celebrating with Potter when he wins the Cup?”
Evelyn nearly dropped her quill. “Excuse me?”
Theo smirked. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. Half the common room’s noticed.”
“You lot have nothing better to do, do you?”
“Not when there’s something entertaining to speculate about.”
Evelyn sighed, rubbing her temple. “I talk to him sometimes. That’s it.”
“Sure,” Theo said, flipping a page. “And I suppose that’s why you’re hoping he wins on Saturday?”
Evelyn gave up. There was no winning with Theo.
_______________
The entire castle was buzzing with excitement as the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch final approached. The match would determine the House Cup, and tensions were at an all-time high.
Slytherin had dominated the Quidditch Cup for the past several years, but this time, Gryffindor had a real shot at victory. With Oliver Wood in his final year and Harry Potter as their Seeker, the Gryffindors were more determined than ever.
Evelyn walked with the rest of the Slytherins to the stands, bundled up against the cool breeze that swept across the Quidditch pitch. The sky was overcast, but at least there was no sign of Dementors this time. As she took her seat beside Blaise and Evan, she could feel the tension radiating from the Gryffindor side of the stands.
Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and the match began.
The game was immediately intense. Both teams surged forward, the Chasers darting back and forth in a blur of red and green. Flint, Slytherin’s Captain, took possession of the Quaffle and attempted to score, but Wood blocked it with a spectacular save.
“That was lucky,” Blaise muttered beside Evelyn, his arms crossed.
“Or maybe he’s just good,” she replied, watching as the Gryffindor Chasers—Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell—moved in perfect formation. They were fast, coordinated, and clearly determined to win.
The Bludgers were relentless. The Slytherin Beaters, Derrick and Bole, sent one rocketing toward Harry, who barely dodged it in time. Evelyn caught a glimpse of Draco Malfoy smirking from his broom as he looped overhead. He wasn’t even searching for the Snitch yet—just taunting Harry, trying to unnerve him.
“Typical,” Evan muttered, shaking his head. “Malfoy’s more interested in showing off than actually playing.”
Evelyn barely heard him. Her eyes were locked on Harry. Despite Malfoy’s attempts to throw him off, he was scanning the field with sharp focus. It was clear he wanted this win more than anything.
Then, suddenly—
“He’s seen the Snitch!”
The entire stadium erupted as Harry and Malfoy both shot downward at breakneck speed. The Snitch glittered near the ground, hovering just above the grass. Malfoy, sneering, leaned forward on his broom, trying to block Harry’s path.
“Move, Malfoy!” Evelyn found herself muttering under her breath.
Harry didn’t slow down. He dodged Malfoy with impressive skill, pushing his broom even faster. Malfoy was falling behind—his Nimbus Two Thousand and One was no match for Harry’s Firebolt.
The Snitch zigzagged wildly, but Harry was locked onto it like a hawk. His fingers stretched out—
And then, just like that, he closed his hand around it.
The stadium exploded. Gryffindor roared in victory as Harry skidded to a stop, arm raised triumphantly. The scoreboard flashed:
Gryffindor: 230
Slytherin: 20
The Cup was Gryffindor’s.
Evelyn sat back, exhaling. She should have been annoyed, even disappointed. But as she watched Harry being hoisted into the air by his teammates, his face lit with pure exhilaration, she felt something else entirely.
A quiet smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
The celebration in Gryffindor Tower could probably be heard all the way down in the dungeons.
Evelyn stood in the doorway, arms crossed, taking in the absolute chaos around her. The common room was packed with students, most of them dressed in scarlet and gold. Music blared, Butterbeer and pumpkin pasties had been smuggled in from Hogsmeade, and the Gryffindors were practically bouncing off the walls. Fred and George Weasley had upended a crate of Weasley’s Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, sending bursts of red and gold sparks flying through the air.
And right in the center of it all was Harry, grinning from ear to ear as he was slapped on the back by what felt like the entire house.
He caught sight of Evelyn and immediately broke into a smile, pushing through the crowd toward her.
“You made it,” he said, slightly breathless.
“I almost didn’t,” she admitted. “Do you know how difficult it is to get past the Fat Lady?”
Harry chuckled. “Did she give you a hard time?”
“She looked about two seconds away from alerting McGonagall.”
“Well, you’re here now.” His eyes flickered past her, and his grin faltered slightly. “And… you brought them?”
Evelyn turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder at the small group of Slytherins standing awkwardly just outside the entrance.
Blaise Zabini, naturally, looked completely at ease, as if crashing a Gryffindor victory party was just another Friday night activity. Theodore Nott, ever composed, simply raised an eyebrow as if questioning why they had agreed to this in the first place. Evan stood with his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable as he took in the sea of red and gold. And then there was Draco Malfoy, who looked utterly miserable, his arms crossed so tightly he might actually snap in half.
Evelyn turned back to Harry, smirking. “You invited me. I wasn’t going to come alone.”
“I didn’t think you’d bring half of Slytherin with you!”
She shrugged. “You should have been more specific.”
Ron, who had been mid-swig of Butterbeer, nearly choked when he saw them. “What are they doing here?”
“Relax, Weasley,” Blaise said smoothly, stepping inside like he owned the place. “We’re just here for the Butterbeer.”
“That’s not—” Ron turned to Harry, completely outraged. “You invited them?”
Harry hesitated, glancing at Evelyn before sighing. “Yeah. I did.”
Ron looked utterly betrayed, but Hermione, who had been standing beside him, merely studied Evelyn with quiet curiosity before turning back to the Slytherins. “Well… if you’re going to be here, try not to antagonize anyone.”
“No promises,” Draco muttered, still sulking.
“Oh, come on, Malfoy,” Evelyn said dryly. “If you’re going to be miserable, at least have a drink first.” She grabbed a bottle of Butterbeer from a passing Gryffindor and shoved it into his hands.
Draco scowled but took it.
The room had gone notably quieter as Gryffindors eyed the Slytherins with suspicion, but slowly, the party resumed.
Evelyn leaned against the back of a couch, watching as Harry was swept up in another round of congratulations. She couldn’t help but smirk as Malfoy made a face every time someone mentioned Gryffindor’s win. Blaise, on the other hand, had already charmed a group of Gryffindor girls into laughing at something he had said, and Theo had found himself in a quiet corner, observing the party like he was analyzing an experiment.
Evan approached her, looking somewhat amused. “This is the most Slytherins I’ve seen in here since the last House Cup sabotage attempt.”
“Relax, we’re not here to jinx anyone,” Evelyn said. “Well—maybe Malfoy is, but that’s his own personal issue.”
Evan snorted, taking a sip of his drink. “So… you and Potter, huh?”
Evelyn nearly choked. “What?”
Evan shrugged. “You spend a lot of time with him. And he clearly wanted you here.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “I spend a lot of time around you, too. Does that mean we’re dating?”
Evan smirked. “I don’t know, McCrae. I think Malfoy might actually die if that happened.”
Evelyn groaned. “Merlin, please shut up.”
Harry appeared beside them then, looking relieved to escape the latest round of Wood’s enthusiastic raving about his performance. “You’re actually enjoying yourself,” he noted.
Evelyn huffed. “Don’t get used to it, Potter.”
He grinned. “Too late.”
As the party stretched on, Evelyn found herself relaxing more than she expected. The tension between Gryffindors and Slytherins never fully disappeared, but for one night, it didn’t seem to matter.
And as Harry laughed beside her, Butterbeer in hand, Evelyn decided that maybe—just maybe—Gryffindor parties weren’t entirely terrible.
The party had died down as the night wore on. Most of the Gryffindors had begun to drift off to bed, leaving behind empty Butterbeer bottles and half-eaten pasties. The lights were dimming, and the laughter that had once echoed through the common room was now a soft hum.
Evelyn slipped out of the common room, avoiding the lingering glances of a few still-suspicious Gryffindors. It had been a long night, and while she appreciated the effort, she was more than ready for some peace and quiet.
Her footsteps echoed down the hall as she made her way toward the staircase that led to the Slytherin dormitories. She had just passed the Fat Lady’s portrait when she heard it.
A familiar voice, soft but clear, came from behind her. “Evelyn.”
Evelyn froze. She turned, only to find Harry standing a few paces away in the hallway, his silhouette barely visible in the dim torchlight. He was still wearing his Quidditch robes, the Weasley twins’ post-match fireworks lingering in his hair.
“Potter,” she replied, her tone lighter than she expected. “What are you doing away from the party?”
Harry shrugged, taking a step closer. “Needed a break. You?”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize Gryffindor celebrations were that taxing.”
He smirked. “They don’t. I just… wanted to talk, I guess.”
Evelyn folded her arms across her chest, regarding him curiously. “About what?”
Harry hesitated. “You. I mean… I know you’re not exactly into all the House rivalry stuff, but… you seem different. You’re not like them, you know?”
Evelyn blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean ‘them’?”
“The rest of Slytherin.” His eyes were earnest as he studied her. “You don’t care about the blood status stuff, or the rivalry. I can tell. You don’t buy into all that.”
For a moment, Evelyn didn’t speak. She wasn’t sure how to explain it. She had grown up in a world where Harry Potter was a character from a book, left alone in a world that didn’t exist. All Evelyn knew was that she wanted to change this world. She was here now, she can make an impact. She can give Harry a better ending.
“Is that a bad thing?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No. I mean, no, not at all,” Harry quickly clarified. “It’s just… strange, I guess. You’re so different from the others. And I—well, I like it. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”
Evelyn studied him for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Was he trying to flatter her? Or was he just being honest?
Before she could answer, a soft noise echoed down the hallway. She turned, catching sight of a figure rounding the corner—a figure she didn’t expect to see.
Draco Malfoy, his blond hair disheveled, appeared, looking entirely too pleased. He blinked as he noticed he wasn’t alone and shot a sharp look at Evelyn and then at Harry, his lip curling.
“Potter,” he sneered. “What are you doing out here? Can’t sleep after your little party?”
Harry narrowed his eyes, but Evelyn stepped forward before either of them could escalate things. She crossed her arms again and raised a brow.
“Malfoy, what are you doing sneaking around the halls at this hour?”
Draco glared at her, clearly not pleased by her question. “I could ask you the same thing, McCrae.”
“Maybe I was just leaving,” Evelyn said smoothly, her eyes flickering to Harry. “And maybe you should do the same, unless you’re planning to spend the rest of the night sulking in the corridor.”
Draco’s face darkened, but before he could retort, Harry stepped in. “Malfoy, you don’t own this place. Now, if you don’t mind, we’re having a conversation.”
Draco’s eyes flashed with anger, but he turned on his heel, muttering under his breath as he stalked off.
Evelyn let out a quiet sigh of relief as he disappeared around the corner. She turned back to Harry, who was watching her with an unreadable expression.
“You’re not like the others,” Harry said again, his voice softer now. “It’s—well, it’s nice.”
Evelyn gave him a half-smile, though something in her eyes flickered with uncertainty. “I’m not like them because I don’t want to be. But that doesn’t mean I’m exactly… different. It just means I don’t fit in, Potter. I’m not exactly the Gryffindor hero type.”
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “I didn’t think you were.”
Evelyn met his gaze, her expression serious now. “Then why are you so intent on making me feel like I belong here?”
He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. Finally, he shrugged. “Maybe because you do belong, Eve. You’re not a Slytherin or a Gryffindor. You’re just… you. And I think that’s enough.”
Evelyn looked away, her heart doing something strange. She had been prepared for him to say something else—something that would make her want to laugh it off, to push him away. But that wasn’t what he had said.
For a brief moment, it was just the two of them, standing in the quiet of the corridor.
Then Harry broke the silence, his voice light again. “You’re not going to stay for the rest of the party, are you?”
“Do you really think I’d last in a room full of Gryffindors who’ve just won the Cup?” Evelyn asked dryly.
Harry grinned, a little too brightly. “Fair point.”
“I’ll see you around, Potter,” she said, turning to leave.
“Evelyn—”
She paused, glancing back at him.
“Take care,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
And for some strange reason, Evelyn felt a warmth spread in her chest as she nodded and walked away.
_______________
The following week felt like a haze to Evelyn. She had expected to slip back into her usual routine after the Quidditch match, after the celebration, but something about the entire evening—about Harry’s words, the conversation in the corridor—kept lingering in her mind. It was the oddest feeling, one that made her both uneasy and strangely… comforted.
It wasn’t long before she found herself walking toward the Great Hall, the sounds of laughter and chatter from the Gryffindor table filling the air. She wasn’t sure why she was heading in that direction, but there she was, drawn to the familiar faces even though she still felt like an outsider.
Evelyn made her way over to the Slytherin table, the few glances from her Housemates not going unnoticed. Some were curious, others confused, and a few were skeptical. She didn’t let it bother her. She had always been able to keep her distance, and that was how she preferred it.
As she took a seat, Evan glanced up from his plate of eggs and toast. “You’ve been around Gryffindor’s too much lately,” he remarked casually, his voice betraying a hint of amusement.
Evelyn raised an eyebrow, not responding right away. She hadn’t even thought about how much time she had spent among Gryffindors recently.
“Potter’s influence?” he asked, his gaze sharpening ever so slightly.
For a moment, Evelyn hesitated, unsure of how to respond. She hadn’t talked about Harry to Evan before. She wasn’t even sure how to describe her growing connection with the boy. They hadn’t spoken that much, aside from the occasional conversation, but there was something there.
“I suppose,” Evelyn said carefully, her eyes flicking across the table, looking for anything to change the subject. She wasn’t ready to get into it with Evan just yet.
Thankfully, Pansy Parkinson, sitting across from her, cut in with a scoff. “Potter’s not so bad, is he?”
Evelyn glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
Pansy’s lips curled in an almost mocking smile. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”
Evelyn blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, please. Don’t act coy. It’s not like you’re some naive little girl who hasn’t noticed how he looks at you.” Pansy’s eyes glinted. “You can be clever when you want to be, McCrae. I didn’t think you’d fall for his charm so easily.”
Evelyn felt her face flush, though she did her best to keep her expression neutral. “I’m not falling for anything,” she replied, a little more defensively than she intended.
Pansy simply smiled again, as if she knew exactly how to push Evelyn’s buttons. “Of course. Whatever you say, darling.”
Evelyn wasn’t sure whether to laugh or roll her eyes. She could feel the tension building in her chest, the weight of her thoughts about Harry swirling in her mind. She had to admit, Pansy’s words stung more than they should have.
But there was no time to dwell on it. The bell rang for the start of morning classes, and Evelyn stood, brushing off the conversation as best she could. She didn’t need to explain herself to anyone.
Later that day, as Evelyn entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, she found herself paired with none other than Theo. The memory of their last class together—when Theo had been uncharacteristically quiet—lingered in the back of her mind. He hadn’t been particularly talkative, even when they’d worked together on a theoretical exercise, but Evelyn knew that wasn’t typical of him. He had always been someone who knew his way around the classroom.
Today was no different. As Professor Lupin introduced the lesson, which involved the study of an infamous dark artifact, Theo gave her a brief, almost imperceptible nod, his gaze flicking briefly toward her.
Evelyn, for her part, didn’t acknowledge it. She wasn’t sure what to make of Theo’s behavior. It was strange—he wasn’t like the others, in that he didn’t seem to have the same investment in making her feel unwelcome. But there was still an air of caution about him. She couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
The lesson was fascinating, filled with details about the dark artifacts that had once threatened the Wizarding world. But it was the silence between them, the subtle unspoken words, that kept Evelyn distracted. Every so often, she caught Theo’s eyes flickering toward her, as if he were searching for something she wasn’t sure she had.
It was disconcerting.
After class, Evelyn made her way to Transfiguration, her mind still buzzing from the events of the morning. She found her seat next to Blaise and Evan, the latter of whom immediately struck up a conversation about their last Potion’s lesson. Blaise, on the other hand, remained mostly quiet, though Evelyn could tell he was distracted by something.
It wasn’t until the lesson started that her attention fully returned to the room. Professor McGonagall’s sharp voice filled the air as she instructed the students to take out their wands.
“Today,” Professor McGonagall said, “we will be practicing the transfiguration of small objects into more complex shapes. I expect precision.”
As the students around her began their work, Evelyn focused on her task. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm in the familiar rhythm of magic. Transfiguration was one of the subjects she truly enjoyed, and she found herself falling into the work easily. Blaise’s quiet presence next to her didn’t distract her, though she did occasionally catch him stealing glances at the parchment where Evan had scribbled a few notes.
But her mind still wandered back to the thoughts that had consumed her. Harry.
Why had his words stuck with her? Why did she feel so inexplicably drawn to him?
As the bell rang to signal the end of the lesson, Evelyn quickly packed up her things and walked out, hoping to clear her mind before her next class. She hadn’t quite figured out how to untangle her feelings for Harry Potter, but she knew that somehow, they were impossible to ignore.
And in that moment, as she made her way down the hallway, she realized something: maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want to ignore them at all.
That day after class, Evelyn found herself in the Slytherin common room, half-heartedly reading a book she had pulled from her bag. The flames from the fire flickered across her face, casting a warm glow on the stone walls. She had been trying to focus on the words in front of her, but the lingering tension from the morning’s encounter with Pansy kept breaking her concentration.
Evelyn hadn’t expected the conversation to go where it had at breakfast. Pansy, usually so poised and self-assured, had been oddly insistent, pushing her with pointed questions that Evelyn hadn’t known how to answer. It felt like Pansy was trying to pry into something personal, and while Evelyn was used to the subtle judgements of her fellow Slytherins, it was different with Pansy. There was a sharp curiosity in her eyes that seemed to demand an answer.
As the night stretched on, Evelyn finished the chapter in her book but couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. It wasn’t long before she was interrupted by the unmistakable click of boots on stone.
Pansy.
Evelyn glanced up, surprised to find her standing at the entrance of the common room. She looked less composed than usual, her hair slightly disheveled and her expression intense.
“McCrae,” she called out, her voice colder than Evelyn had ever heard it.
Evelyn felt her stomach tighten. There was something about the way Pansy said her name that immediately sent a wave of unease through her. She had a feeling she knew what was coming.
Pansy didn’t wait for a response, walking straight over to where Evelyn sat. She stood above her, her hands on her hips, a calculating look in her eyes.
“You and Harry Potter,” Pansy began, her voice dripping with something that bordered on mockery. “I thought I knew you better than that. The way you look at him, the way you talk to him—don’t try to deny it. I’m not blind, you know.”
Evelyn set her book down on the arm of the chair, trying to keep her voice steady. “There’s nothing to deny.”
“Isn’t there?” Pansy’s eyebrow arched sharply, her gaze now even more penetrating. “Look, I’m not here to give you a lecture, McCrae. But don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. Everyone knows how the Gryffindors get when they find someone they like. It’s no different with Potter. He has a reputation, you know.”
Evelyn felt her face flush slightly, but she remained silent. She hadn’t expected to be cornered like this, but Pansy’s words stung more than she cared to admit.
“Look,” Pansy continued, her tone softening ever so slightly, “I’m not against you talking to Potter. He’s not some untouchable deity, like everyone makes him out to be. He’s just… another person, at the end of the day.” She paused, watching Evelyn carefully. “I just want to know where you stand. Are you seriously getting involved with him, or is this all some little phase for you?”
Evelyn hesitated. The question, simple as it seemed, struck her to the core. What was she doing? She hadn’t even fully processed everything herself.
“I—” she started, but Pansy cut her off.
“I’m not going to judge you. I don’t care what you do with Potter, but I will say this: if you’re going to talk to him, you better be prepared for the consequences.”
Evelyn blinked, unsure of what Pansy meant. “Consequences?”
Pansy’s smile was slow and knowing. “You think he doesn’t have his share of baggage? He’s Harry Potter. He’s practically a legend at this point. People don’t just let that sort of thing slide.”
Evelyn frowned. “What are you saying?”
Pansy leaned in, her voice dropping to a low whisper. “I’m saying that you better not get caught up in it unless you know exactly what you’re getting yourself into. He’s not just some pretty face with a famous name. There are layers there. Layers you might not want to peel back.”
For a moment, Evelyn didn’t respond. Pansy’s words lingered in the air, heavy and loaded with meaning. She hadn’t really thought about Harry’s fame—at least, not in the way Pansy seemed to be implying. To her, Harry was… just Harry. The boy she’d met in the library, the one she’d shared a quiet conversation with after the Quidditch match. He didn’t seem so different from anyone else.
But Pansy’s warning stuck with her, the caution in her voice sending a chill down her spine.
“What exactly are you suggesting?” Evelyn asked, her curiosity piqued despite herself.
Pansy sighed, as if she were reluctantly giving something away. “I’m not suggesting anything, McCrae. I’m just telling you that I’ll be watching. And if you’re serious about this… about him… you’d better be ready to face whatever comes with it.”
Evelyn swallowed, unsure of how to respond. Part of her wanted to shut Pansy out, to dismiss her as just another Slytherin stirring trouble. But another part of her felt an odd kind of validation, like Pansy was offering some kind of strange support.
“Are you… telling me to stay away from him?” Evelyn asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.
“No.” Pansy’s eyes softened, her expression a little less guarded. “I’m not telling you what to do. But I am telling you that if you’re going to get close to Potter, I’ll be there. I’ll support you. You’re my friend, McCrae, whether you like it or not.”
Evelyn blinked, surprised by the admission. Pansy had never openly expressed anything like this before.
“And,” Pansy added, her eyes twinkling with something mischievous, “next time you talk to him, I’m going with you.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Pansy smirked. “I want to see for myself what all the fuss is about. I’m not letting you go on your own.”
Evelyn couldn’t help but laugh. It was the last thing she had expected from Pansy, but somehow, it made the situation feel a little less intimidating.
“Fine,” Evelyn said, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “You can come. But don’t cause a scene, alright?”
“I’ll behave,” Pansy replied with mock seriousness, though the gleam in her eyes suggested otherwise. “For now.”
Evelyn shook her head, but there was a lightness to her step as she made her way back to her room, Pansy following closely behind. Despite the strange feeling in her chest, despite the unanswered questions swirling in her mind about Harry, Evelyn couldn’t help but feel… a little less alone.
For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, she might actually have someone who understood.
Chapter 9: oh god, evelyn’s forgetting about the important stuff!
Summary:
Ooooh things are getting exciting!!
Chapter Text
The library was quieter than usual that evening, though the usual scent of parchment, ink, and old books lingered in the air. Evelyn had only agreed to come with Pansy because she needed to grab a book for Transfiguration—at least, that was the excuse she had given. In truth, she was curious. Pansy had insisted on tagging along the next time Evelyn crossed paths with Harry, and while she hadn’t planned for it to happen tonight, she had a strange feeling that it might.
Pansy, on the other hand, had been complaining since they walked in.
“This is painfully dull,” she muttered, arms crossed as they weaved through the bookshelves. “You actually enjoy spending time in this place?”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Some of us like to pass our classes, Pansy.”
“I pass,” Pansy said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I just don’t see why you’d voluntarily spend time in here when you don’t have to.”
“You say that, but you’re still following me around,” Evelyn pointed out.
Pansy scoffed. “Only because you promised me something interesting would happen.”
Evelyn was about to retort when she caught sight of two familiar figures hunched over a table near the back of the library. Even without seeing their faces, she recognized the untidy black hair and the shock of red beside him.
Harry and Ron.
She felt her stomach twist slightly. She hadn’t been avoiding Harry, exactly, but after the conversation with Pansy in the dorms, she had been more cautious. Seeing him now, though, she realized she missed talking to him.
“What are they doing?” Pansy whispered beside her, suddenly interested.
Evelyn glanced at the pile of books in front of the two boys—thick, heavy volumes with titles about magical creatures and Ministry laws. It didn’t take much to put the pieces together.
“They’re looking for a way to help Hagrid,” she murmured back.
Pansy gave her a look. “You mean that miserable oaf?”
Evelyn frowned. “Hagrid’s alright.”
Pansy made a face but didn’t argue.
Before Evelyn could decide whether to approach, Harry looked up. His green eyes met hers, and his face immediately brightened.
“Evelyn!” he said, sitting up straighter. He nudged Ron, who looked up as well—only for his expression to twist into a deep scowl when he saw Pansy.
“What are you two doing here?” Ron asked suspiciously, his voice laced with hostility.
Pansy raised an eyebrow. “It’s a library, Weasley. Believe it or not, Slytherins know how to read.”
Ron bristled. “Yeah, well, you lot tend to be more interested in hexes than books.”
Pansy smirked. “Only when necessary.”
Harry, however, ignored the tension between their friends and focused on Evelyn. “What are you up to?”
Evelyn hesitated, aware of Pansy watching closely. “Looking for a book for Transfiguration,” she said honestly. “You?”
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Trying to find a way to stop Buckbeak from getting executed.”
Evelyn nodded, glancing at the open pages in front of them. “Anything useful?”
“Not really,” Harry admitted, frustrated. “Most of it is just legal jargon, and none of it seems to help. The appeal is coming up, and Malfoy’s father is making sure it doesn’t go in Hagrid’s favor.”
Evelyn grimaced. She knew how influential Lucius Malfoy was; if he wanted Buckbeak executed, it would be difficult to stop.
Pansy, meanwhile, gave a dramatic sigh. “I can’t believe you’re wasting your time on this.”
Ron’s scowl deepened. “Nobody asked you, Parkinson.”
Pansy turned to him with a falsely sweet smile. “Oh, Weasley, I didn’t realize you were the gatekeeper of conversations. How terribly exhausting that must be for you.”
Ron’s ears turned red. “Shove off.”
Harry and Evelyn exchanged amused glances.
Evelyn, however, turned back to Harry. “You could try looking into past appeals,” she suggested. “See if there’s any case where a creature was pardoned and use it as a precedent.”
Harry blinked. “That’s… actually a good idea.”
Ron still looked suspicious. “Why are you helping us?”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “I’m not on Malfoy’s side, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Ron didn’t look convinced, but Harry gave her a small smile. “Thanks, Evelyn.”
Pansy, however, seemed to have lost interest in the conversation. She looked at Harry as if appraising him, then muttered, “Well, you’re not as unbearable as I expected.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Thanks… I think?”
Ron, meanwhile, gaped at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Pansy smirked. “It means exactly what it sounds like, Weasley.”
Ron looked ready to argue, but Harry cut in. “We should get back to work. Thanks for the suggestion, Evelyn.”
Evelyn nodded, and before Ron could start another fight, she grabbed Pansy’s arm and steered her away.
Once they were out of earshot, Pansy huffed. “Well, that was an experience.”
Evelyn gave her a look. “You were practically asking for a fight.”
Pansy smirked. “Maybe. But Weasley’s funny when he’s angry.”
Evelyn shook her head, but she couldn’t help but laugh. Somehow, she had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time Pansy and Ron crossed paths.
________________
Exams were fast approaching at Hogwarts, and while there was certainly pressure in the air, it wasn’t quite the life-or-death scenario some might imagine. Instead, the castle was abuzz with a mix of anxious energy and wry humor—especially among the Slytherins. For Evelyn and her friends, the weeks ahead meant plenty of time for studying, banter, and the occasional break to daydream about their favorite electives.
In one of the quieter corners of the library—a cozy nook away from the hustle and bustle of first years—Evelyn found herself joining the usual Slytherin study group. The table was littered with open textbooks, piles of parchment filled with handwritten notes, and several mugs of steaming cocoa (enchanted, of course, to keep them warm during long study sessions).
Evan leaned back in his chair with a playful sigh. “I’ve read this chapter on Draught of Living Death so many times I’m starting to dream about it,” he joked, running a hand through his hair.
Blaise, ever the picture of quiet confidence, was carefully underlining key passages in his hefty copy of Advanced Potion-Making. “Discipline, Evan,” he teased lightly. “A little focus never hurt anyone—unless it’s on your next prank, of course.”
Draco, perched near the head of the table with his trademark air of superiority, added with a smirk, “At least some of us are prepared. I’ve practically memorized the antidote section already.” His tone was teasing rather than bitter, and even a few of his classmates chuckled in agreement.
Evelyn herself was diligently reviewing her notes from Potions class, where she’d been paired with Evan earlier in the week. While she took her studies seriously, she couldn’t help but feel a bit amused by the way everyone reacted to exam season—suddenly, even the most brilliant wizards and witches felt the weight of impending tests. She glanced up occasionally, catching snippets of conversations about ingredient interactions, essay outlines, and even the occasional complaint about how Professor Flitwick’s handwriting was nearly indecipherable.
“I swear, if I have to decipher one more note from Flitwick, I’ll be fluent in scribbles by the end of this term,” Evan grumbled with a grin.
Evelyn laughed softly. “Or you could just ask him to write in plain English for once.”
The light-hearted ribbing and the easy camaraderie made the long hours of study bearable, even enjoyable at times. Although exams were a challenge, the Slytherin gang had found their own rhythm—a blend of determination and humor that kept them going.
After a particularly productive session, the group decided to take a break and head to the Great Hall to collect their exam timetables. The hall, usually filled with the buzz of meal chatter and the clatter of cutlery, was now transformed into an impromptu distribution center for exam schedules. Long tables were set up with parchment sheets neatly stacked, and the air was filled with murmurs of anticipation rather than dread.
Evelyn joined the queue, a small smile on her face as she watched her classmates chatting animatedly about subjects like Divination, Ancient Runes, and Magical Creatures—electives she shared with Theo and Pansy. The topics were as diverse as they were intriguing. While some of the Slytherins groaned about having to memorize the obscure symbols of Ancient Runes or predict cloudy fortunes in Divination, others found the challenges oddly captivating.
Draco, still ever the chatterbox, sidled up to Evelyn as he scanned his own timetable. “Looks like exams are just three weeks away,” he said, a playful note in his voice. “I suppose all that late-night studying is about to pay off.”
Evelyn couldn’t help but smile. “I hope so,” she said, glancing at her own sheet. “I’ve got loads to cover—especially with Magical Creatures and Divination on my schedule. And you know how much I love learning about ancient runes.”
Blaise offered a quiet nod of understanding, while Evan remarked, “I bet even you, Draco, have a soft spot for a bit of Ancient Runes now and then.” Draco rolled his eyes good-naturedly, earning a few more chuckles from the group.
In the midst of the lighthearted chatter, Pansy joined the conversation, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’m just relieved that we don’t have more practical exams in Charms,” she said, half-joking as she adjusted the stack of timetables in her arms. “Imagine having to perform an entire charm perfectly on the spot every time—no pressure, right?”
A ripple of laughter followed her remark. Even in stressful times, Pansy’s humor had a way of cutting through the tension. The overall atmosphere in the Great Hall was one of shared challenge rather than despair. Students discussed study plans, formed small groups to review complex spells, and even traded tips on how to tackle those notoriously tricky essay questions on Ancient Runes.
As Evelyn clutched her own timetable, she took in the scene: a blend of nervous excitement and quiet determination. In that moment, the pressure of exams felt less like an insurmountable obstacle and more like a challenge they would face together. The easy banter, the shared glances of encouragement, and even the friendly teasing helped lighten the load of impending tests.
After the timetables were handed out, the Slytherin group slowly dispersed, many heading off to their common rooms to continue studying in quieter surroundings. Evelyn, however, lingered for a moment near the head table, letting the buzz of conversation and laughter wash over her. Despite the workload ahead, there was comfort in the shared experience—a reminder that, while exams were stressful, they didn’t have to be all doom and gloom.
Later, as she walked back to her dormitory with Evan and Blaise by her side, she couldn’t help but feel a spark of optimism. The coming weeks promised long nights, countless cups of cocoa, and plenty of pages to turn. But with friends like these, even the stress of exams could be met with a smile and a bit of laughter.
“See?” Evan said softly as they reached the dormitory, nudging her playfully. “We’re in this together. And besides, who wouldn’t want to learn about magical creatures, Divination, and ancient runes? It’s not like we’re studying for Muggle exams.”
Evelyn laughed, nodding. “True enough. It’s challenging, but it’s also exciting. And with all of us here, even the toughest subjects seem a little less daunting.”
As they parted ways for the night, Evelyn took one last look at the quiet common room. The exam timetables lay tucked away on a side table, a gentle reminder of the weeks to come. But for now, she felt lighter, calmed by the camaraderie of her friends and the sense that, despite all the pressure, they could handle whatever Hogwarts—and the exams—threw their way.
Those three weeks passed by in a blur.
The first morning of exams dawned bright and clear, though the atmosphere in the castle was anything but calm. The Great Hall was abuzz with students muttering last-minute incantations under their breath, flipping through notes, and downing as much pumpkin juice as possible in hopes that it would somehow improve their focus. Evelyn McCrae was no exception—though she didn’t quite feel the same level of doom that some of her classmates did, her stomach still twisted with nervous anticipation.
Divination was her first exam of the day, and as she walked up to the North Tower with the rest of her class, she couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive. It wasn’t that she disliked the subject—far from it. She found it fascinating, in a way, but it was also unpredictable. And unpredictability in an exam setting wasn’t exactly reassuring.
She climbed the winding staircase behind Theo Nott and Pansy Parkinson, the three of them exchanging anxious glances.
“I just hope she doesn’t ask me to read tea leaves,” Pansy muttered. “I swear, every single time I do, I see something terrible. And I don’t even think I have the Sight.”
Theo smirked. “That’s because everything in that stupid book makes it seem like we’re all about to meet our untimely ends. I wouldn’t take it too seriously.”
Evelyn hummed in agreement but didn’t say anything. She didn’t necessarily believe in Trelawney’s dramatics, but she also wasn’t convinced that Divination was all nonsense, either.
When they finally reached the trapdoor to the Divination classroom, Evelyn took a deep breath before climbing up. The familiar warm, perfumed air filled her lungs as she emerged into the round, dimly lit room. Small tables were scattered around, covered in shimmering silk cloths, and the smell of incense was thick in the air. Professor Trelawney sat at the front, draped in shawls, her enormous glasses reflecting the candlelight.
“Ah, my dear students,” she said in her misty, singsong voice. “The time has come to test the depths of your Inner Eye.”
Evelyn sat down at a table across from Theo, feeling the nerves creep back in as she glanced down at the exam instructions. The first part involved crystal ball reading. Each student was given a cloudy orb and instructed to gaze into its depths until they saw something—anything—that could be interpreted as a vision.
Evelyn furrowed her brow and peered into the swirling mist. At first, she saw nothing but the usual shifting fog, but as she focused, the shapes began to form—something dark, something moving. It almost looked like… a figure, wrapped in shadow.
She hesitated. It could be anything. A trick of the light. But remembering how Trelawney always encouraged dramatic interpretations, she quickly scrawled her answer on the parchment: A cloaked figure, moving through darkness. A hidden threat.
Whether it meant anything or not, she had no idea.
The second part of the exam involved tarot cards. Each student had to draw three and interpret them according to the meanings they had studied. Evelyn shuffled the deck, spread out the cards, and chose three at random.
The Tower. The Moon. The Chariot.
She swallowed. That wasn’t exactly the most reassuring spread. The Tower signified upheaval or destruction, The Moon symbolized illusions and uncertainty, and The Chariot was about control and determination. She wrote down her interpretation carefully, trying to balance honesty with a touch of dramatic flair—just in case Trelawney would be impressed by it.
Once the exam was over, Evelyn let out a slow breath of relief. It wasn’t a disaster, but she wasn’t entirely sure if she had done well either.
As the students filed out of the classroom, Pansy caught up with her, groaning. “That was the worst. I swear I’m dropping this class next year. My tarot reading said something about ‘betrayal’ and ‘hidden enemies.’ I don’t need an exam to tell me that people are awful.”
Evelyn laughed but didn’t comment. She was too busy thinking about her own cards.
She parted ways with Pansy and Theo near the staircase and made her way down to the courtyard, where students were gathering between exams. The warm afternoon sun felt good against her skin as she stepped outside, stretching her arms. She was just about to head to lunch when she spotted a familiar messy-haired figure leaning against the stone wall.
“Harry?”
He looked up, startled, but then smiled when he saw her. “Evelyn. How was Divination?”
She made a face. “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell if I did well or if I just wrote down what Trelawney wanted to hear.”
Harry let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, that sounds about right. She told me I was going to die at the start of the year, remember?”
Evelyn snorted. “Well, you are still standing, so I guess she was wrong about that.”
Harry hesitated, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening before lowering his voice. “Speaking of Trelawney… something weird happened today during my exam.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Weirder than usual?”
Harry nodded, his expression turning serious. “Yeah. Really weird. She… she made a prophecy.”
That caught Evelyn’s attention. She stepped closer, frowning. “A real one?”
“I think so.” He looked a little unsettled, which wasn’t like him. “It wasn’t like her usual stuff. She sort of… froze up, like she wasn’t in control of what she was saying.”
Evelyn’s heartbeat quickened. “What did she say?”
Harry hesitated for a moment, then recited it quietly:
“The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight, the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dark Lord’s rise will begin with his servant’s return.”
A chill ran down Evelyn’s spine. She had almost completely forgotten about Pettigrew’s escape. “That’s…” She trailed off, her mind racing. “That sounds real, Harry. And if it is, then—”
“Then it means someone’s about to help Voldemort come back,” Harry finished grimly.
They stood there for a moment in silence, the weight of the words settling over them. The summer warmth suddenly didn’t seem so comforting.
Evelyn chewed on her lip. “Have you told anyone?”
“Just Ron and Hermione,” Harry admitted. “Dumbledore knows. He believes me.”
Evelyn wasn’t surprised by that. If anyone at Hogwarts would take something like this seriously, it was Dumbledore.
She glanced at Harry again. His shoulders were tense, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looked more worried than she had seen him in a long time.
“Hey,” she said softly, nudging his arm. “We don’t know exactly what it means yet. It could be anything.”
Harry gave her a small, grateful smile. “Yeah. Maybe.” But she could tell he didn’t believe that.
Neither did she.
“Well, if something happens, will you promise to let me know?”
Harry blinked at her slowly, as if he was surprised that she cared. “I promise.”
_________________
Evelyn had barely made it back to the Slytherin common room when a younger student approached her hesitantly.
“Professor Lupin wants to see you in his office,” the boy said, looking nervous. “He said it was about your Defense Against the Dark Arts homework.”
Evelyn groaned. She had completely forgotten about that. Between studying for exams and trying to keep up with all the chaos happening around Hogwarts, her essay on Recognizing and Defending Against Shape-shifters had completely slipped her mind. She had meant to write it, she really had, but when she finally sat down to do it, exhaustion had won out, and she had decided that she’d deal with the consequences later. Apparently, later had arrived.
Sighing, she rubbed her temples and set off toward Lupin’s office. The castle was quiet at this hour, with most students in their common rooms, either studying or getting whatever sleep they could before their next round of exams. She moved quickly through the dimly lit corridors, her footsteps echoing off the stone walls.
When she reached Lupin’s office, the door was already ajar. She hesitated for a moment before knocking lightly.
“Come in,” Lupin’s voice called from inside.
Evelyn pushed the door open and stepped inside. The office was as untidy as ever—stacks of books covered the desk, some of them open as if Lupin had been in the middle of researching something. A small candle flickered beside a half-finished cup of tea, and a worn, tattered map was spread out across the desk.
Professor Lupin looked up from where he was standing near the bookshelf, his expression calm but questioning. “Evelyn,” he said with a small smile. “I assume you know why I asked you to come?”
She nodded sheepishly. “The essay.”
“The essay,” Lupin confirmed, folding his arms. “I don’t usually make a habit of calling students to my office over missing work, but this isn’t like you. You’re usually on top of your assignments. Is everything alright?”
Evelyn hesitated before sighing. “I just… I got overwhelmed with exams. And with everything else going on.” She bit her lip. “I meant to do it, I really did.”
Lupin studied her for a moment before nodding. “I understand. This time of year is difficult for everyone.” His voice was kind, but firm. “That being said, I still expect you to turn it in. I’ll give you an extra two days, but I want you to make a real effort. No last-minute scribbles.”
Relieved, Evelyn nodded quickly. “I will. I promise.”
Lupin smiled slightly, but before he could say anything else, something outside the window caught his attention.
Evelyn followed his gaze and saw three figures moving across the castle grounds. Even in the moonlight, she recognized them instantly—Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They were heading toward the Whomping Willow, and they weren’t alone. A large, black dog was leading the way.
Lupin froze. His face paled as he stepped away from the desk.
“Professor?” Evelyn asked, confused by his reaction.
But Lupin didn’t answer. He rushed to the door, grabbing his wand from the desk. Without another word, he swept past her and disappeared into the corridor.
Evelyn blinked, caught off guard. Something was very wrong.
She hesitated only for a second before darting after him.
Lupin was already halfway down the hallway, moving with a speed and urgency that Evelyn had never seen from him before. She hurried to keep up, her pulse quickening. What was going on? Why was he so alarmed?
By the time she reached the Entrance Hall, Lupin had already thrown open the front doors and was striding across the moonlit grounds. Evelyn hesitated—following a professor into the night was probably the worst decision she could make right now. But then she looked ahead and saw where he was heading.
The Whomping Willow.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Something was happening. Something big.
Steeling herself, she followed, staying low as she moved across the grounds.
She could just make out Harry, Ron, and Hermione disappearing beneath the wildly thrashing branches of the ancient tree. The large black dog had already vanished. But she wasn’t close enough to see exactly how they got inside—one moment they were there, the next they were gone.
Lupin didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at a knot on the tree’s trunk. The branches froze immediately, stilling as if they had been petrified. Without a second thought, he crouched and disappeared into a hole between the roots.
Evelyn’s breath came fast.
She could turn back now. Pretend she hadn’t seen anything. Pretend she didn’t care.
But she did care.
Swallowing her nerves, she hurried to the tree, stepping carefully over the frozen roots. She crouched low, hesitating for only a moment before slipping inside after Lupin.
The passage was narrow, dark, and sloping downward. The air smelled of damp earth and something else—something old. Evelyn kept moving, her heart pounding as she followed the faint light ahead.
Then she heard Lupin’s voice, sharp and urgent.
“Where is he?”
Evelyn pressed herself against the tunnel wall, barely daring to breathe.
Who was he talking about? And more importantly…
What had she just walked into?
It all came back to her then, Pettigrew and Black in the shrieking shack. The dementors that night, Lupin forgetting his potion. All of Evelyn’s knowledge from the books came back to her at full force. She knew all of this, she should turn around.
But maybe she could help. She steadied herself and pushed the door open.
Chapter 10: Saving Sirius
Chapter Text
Evelyn flattened herself against the rough stone wall, heart hammering against her ribs. The tunnel had led to an old, decrepit house—one she recognized from Hogsmeade. The Shrieking Shack. She had barely had time to take in her surroundings before she heard Lupin’s voice, sharp and urgent:
“Where is he?”
Peering around the corner, Evelyn took in the scene before her. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were huddled together, all looking shocked and slightly terrified. Ron was on the floor, his leg twisted at an odd angle, his face pale with pain. But the most shocking sight was the man standing before them—Sirius Black.
He looked nothing like the wanted posters plastered around Hogwarts. Yes, he was gaunt and wild-looking, with tangled black hair and hollow cheeks, but his eyes… his eyes weren’t those of a madman. They were sharp, searching. He had been standing rigidly, but at Lupin’s words, he visibly relaxed.
Evelyn knew this moment was coming. She had known for months that Lupin was a werewolf, that Sirius Black was innocent, that Peter Pettigrew had betrayed the Potters and was hiding in plain sight. But now she had to pretend she didn’t.
This was the moment where the truth was revealed. And Evelyn had to act like it was new to her.
“You—” Hermione’s voice broke through the silence, accusing, breathless. “You’re helping him!”
Lupin inhaled sharply. His gaze darted between Sirius and the trio, but before he could speak, Evelyn took a cautious step forward.
Four pairs of eyes snapped toward her.
“Evelyn?” Harry blinked in shock. “What—how did you—?”
Evelyn swallowed. “I followed Professor Lupin,” she said, trying to sound confused rather than knowing. She turned to Lupin, feigning uncertainty. “What’s going on?”
Lupin hesitated, then exhaled slowly, his shoulders lowering as if a great weight had settled on them. “It’s a long story,” he said finally. “But you all deserve the truth.”
Hermione took a shaky step back, her wand trembling in her hand. “No,” she said, voice high-pitched. “Don’t trust him, Evelyn. He’s friends with Black!”
Evelyn glanced at Lupin, who hadn’t denied it. She knew she had to react like she didn’t already suspect it, like this was a revelation rather than confirmation. She furrowed her brows, shifting her stance, making it seem like she was struggling to process the accusation.
“You—you’re a werewolf,” Hermione whispered suddenly, horror in her voice.
Lupin’s mouth opened slightly, caught off guard.
Evelyn forced her eyes to widen, playing along. She had to look surprised, shocked. This was supposed to be new information.
“Yes,” Lupin admitted, his voice quiet but firm. “I am.”
Evelyn’s stomach twisted—not because of the truth, but because she had to pretend she hadn’t figured it out long ago. She let herself hesitate, crossing her arms as if she needed a moment to think.
But inside, her mind was calm.
She knew Lupin wasn’t a threat. She had trusted him before knowing the truth, and knowing it had only made her trust him more.
But the others didn’t know that yet.
Harry, however, had no interest in that question. His fists clenched at his sides. “Did you tell them, Hermione?” he demanded. “Did you tell them what he is?”
“No,” said Hermione, still looking frightened but determined. “But Ron figured it out.”
“And we’ll tell Dumbledore!” Ron spat, despite his pain. “He’ll get sacked for this!”
Lupin sighed. “That’s why Snape assigned that essay,” he said quietly. “To make sure you all suspected me. But I assure you, I am not here to hurt any of you.”
Harry’s wand didn’t lower. “Then why are you here? Why are you helping him?” He pointed at Sirius.
Lupin turned to Black, his eyes searching. “Because,” he said, “he’s not the one who betrayed your parents.”
Evelyn knew what was coming, but she still forced her face to go blank with shock. She needed to look like she didn’t know, like she was trying to piece it together just as Harry was.
Harry, however, looked furious. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.
Lupin turned back to him, his expression filled with quiet regret. “Sirius Black did not betray your parents, Harry. He never would have.”
Harry let out a harsh laugh. “He sold them to Voldemort!”
“No.”
Everyone froze at the firmness in Lupin’s voice.
Evelyn already knew what he was about to say. But she let herself lean forward slightly, playing into the moment.
“It wasn’t Sirius,” Lupin said softly. “It was Peter Pettigrew.”
Evelyn let out a quiet breath, trying to make it seem like she was reacting rather than confirming what she already knew. She watched the others, taking note of their real, raw shock.
“Pettigrew is dead,” Ron said angrily. “He was murdered by Black!”
Sirius took a step forward, his voice hoarse but desperate. “He’s alive.” His eyes flicked to Ron. “And he’s been in this room all along.”
Ron went completely still.
“What are you talking about?” he whispered.
Sirius lifted a shaking hand and pointed.
“At your rat.”
Evelyn swallowed back a knowing smirk. She had known about Wormtail’s secret for months, but now, as she watched the horror dawn on Ron’s face, she had to pretend it was news to her too.
Silence.
Ron let out a disbelieving laugh, clutching Scabbers closer to his chest. “You’re mad.”
“Give him to me, Ron,” Lupin said softly.
“No!”
Evelyn hesitated, then decided to speak—carefully.
“Ron,” she said, her voice steady but quiet. “Just—just let them explain.”
Ron hesitated, looking between her, Harry, and Hermione. Then, reluctantly, he loosened his grip.
Lupin raised his wand. “Animagus Revelio.”
A blinding flash of light. A horrible, stretching, twisting sound.
And then—where Scabbers had been—crouched a small, balding man with watery eyes and a look of pure terror on his face.
Evelyn’s breath was still coming fast, her heart hammering as she tried to steady herself after witnessing Pettigrew’s transformation. Even knowing this was coming, seeing the truth unfold in front of her had shaken her more than she expected.
Peter Pettigrew—Wormtail—was a man, not a rat. A traitor, not a victim.
Sirius still had his hands gripping Pettigrew’s collar, shaking him slightly, his voice raw with rage.
“You sold them out to Voldemort,” Sirius hissed. “James and Lily—your friends.”
“I—I had no choice—” Pettigrew wheezed, eyes darting frantically to Harry and the others, as though searching for sympathy.
Lupin’s face was tight with anger and disgust. “You had a choice, Peter. You chose Voldemort.”
“No—he would have killed me—”
“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!” Sirius roared, making everyone jump. “You should have died rather than betray them, just like we would have died for you!”
Evelyn swallowed hard. The weight of everything felt suffocating in the tiny, decrepit room. Harry stood rigid beside her, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful. She knew what was going through his head. He had spent his whole life thinking Sirius had been the traitor, that the man standing in front of him was the reason he had no parents. But now, the real traitor was cowering at their feet.
Ron still looked dumbstruck, staring at Pettigrew in horror. Hermione’s hands were shaking as she gripped her wand tighter.
Then—
BANG!
The door burst open so forcefully that it slammed against the wall, making Evelyn jump.
Snape stormed in, his black robes billowing behind him. His face was twisted with fury and triumph, his wand already raised.
“Well, well,” he drawled, his voice thick with contempt. “I knew it. I knew you were helping him, Lupin.” His eyes flickered to Sirius, filled with loathing. “And to think I almost believed you weren’t working together.”
Sirius let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Snivellus—”
“Don’t call me that!” Snape snapped, his hand twitching dangerously around his wand. He looked manic with satisfaction, as though every grudge he’d ever held was finally being repaid. “You thought you could sneak into the castle, Black? You thought you’d get away with it?”
“Snape—” Lupin started, but Snape cut him off.
“Silence!” He took a step forward, his wand now pointed at Lupin’s chest. “I should have known you’d throw your lot in with him, you miserable fool. And you—” His gaze snapped to Evelyn. “McCrae. I might have expected Potter to get himself tangled up in this nonsense, but you?” He gave her a disgusted sneer. “Congratulations, you’ve just thrown away whatever shred of intelligence I assumed you had.”
Evelyn’s hands curled into fists, but she bit back a retort. Snape was wrong, but this wasn’t the time to argue.
“We know the truth, Professor,” Harry said coldly. “Sirius is innocent. Pettigrew—” he jerked his chin toward the shaking, whimpering man at Sirius’s feet “—betrayed my parents. He’s been hiding as Ron’s rat for years.”
Snape let out a low, dangerous laugh. “Oh, is that so?” He gave them all a look of withering contempt. “How very convenient. Black escapes Azkaban, and suddenly there’s a brand new theory about how he’s actually innocent.” He raised his wand higher. “Save your breath. When the Dementors arrive, Black, they’ll take care of you.”
“No!” Harry stepped in front of Sirius, his wand raised. “You can’t—”
But Snape flicked his wand. There was a loud crack—Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Evelyn were all thrown backward, crashing against the walls as invisible ropes bound them tightly.
Evelyn struggled against them, her heart pounding in panic. No, no, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go—
“You see, Lupin?” Snape sneered. “You should have taken your potion tonight. Then you wouldn’t have been stupid enough to reveal yourself.”
The words sent a chill through Evelyn. The potion. The full moon.
She twisted her head to look at the window. And her stomach dropped.
The clouds had shifted. And the moon was fully visible.
Lupin made a sudden, choking sound, staggering back against the wall, his breathing ragged.
“Oh, Merlin,” Hermione whispered in horror.
Lupin’s body convulsed. He fell to his knees, shaking violently. His hands clutched at his arms, his teeth grinding together as a low growl ripped from his throat.
“No,” he choked out, his voice barely human.
Snape turned, his sneer vanishing as realization struck.
And then—
Lupin transformed.
The shack exploded into chaos.
Sirius shoved Pettigrew aside, his wand clattering to the floor. “Run!” he shouted as he dispelled the ropes.
Evelyn didn’t need to be told twice.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione scrambled to their feet as Lupin—no, not Lupin anymore—let out a horrible, bone-chilling howl.
Snape threw himself in front of the students, his arms outstretched. “Go!” he barked.
Sirius didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, shifting into his Animagus form—a massive, shaggy black dog—and attacked the werewolf, drawing its attention.
Evelyn grabbed Harry’s arm. “Come on!”
They ran.
They burst out of the Shrieking Shack, racing down the hill, but Evelyn barely had time to catch her breath before she heard the howls behind them.
And then the cold hit.
A bone-numbing, soul-draining cold.
She gasped, her breath fogging in the air.
Dementors.
They were descending, gliding toward them like a wave of darkness. Evelyn could feel it—the despair, the helplessness, the overwhelming fear pressing down on her.
Harry staggered forward, lifting his wand. “Expecto—” His voice cracked. His breath hitched. The Dementors were already too close.
Evelyn tried to summon her own Patronus, but the cold was suffocating. The air was thick with it, pressing down on her chest like a weight.
She felt herself sinking, her knees buckling. She heard Sirius collapse nearby, gasping as the Dementors circled him. Harry was still struggling, his wand trembling in his hand.
The Dementors swooped lower.
A skeletal hand reached out.
And then—
A bright, silver light.
It blazed across the darkness, sending the Dementors scattering.
Evelyn barely had time to glimpse the massive, stag-shaped Patronus before her world went black.
___________________
Evelyn woke to the dim glow of lanterns flickering across the ceiling, her head pounding with exhaustion. The last thing she remembered was the freezing darkness, the overwhelming despair, and then—the Patronus. A silver stag had charged across the lake, sweeping the Dementors away before everything faded to black.
She turned her head slightly and saw Harry and Hermione in the beds beside her. Harry was still unconscious, his glasses askew, but Hermione was sitting up, rubbing her temples as if her head hurt just as much as Evelyn’s did.
Before either of them could speak, the door to the hospital wing swung open, and in strode Cornelius Fudge, his plump frame wrapped in a deep bottle-green cloak. He looked harried, his face flushed as he adjusted his bowler hat. Behind him came Professor Dumbledore, moving with quiet purpose, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room.
“Ah, good, you’re awake,” Fudge said brusquely, striding toward Harry’s bedside. “We need to have a word, young man. What happened last night?”
Harry groggily opened his eyes, blinking against the light. He looked disoriented, but the moment his gaze landed on Fudge, a flicker of determination settled in them.
“It wasn’t Sirius Black,” he said hoarsely, sitting up.
Fudge frowned. “What do you mean, it wasn’t Black? Of course it was Black! We caught him red-handed, didn’t we? Snape himself brought him up here, tied and unconscious. The Dementors are preparing to administer the Kiss as we speak.”
Evelyn sat up so fast she felt dizzy. “No! You can’t do that! Sirius is innocent!”
Fudge’s expression twisted in disbelief. “I beg your pardon?”
“It wasn’t him!” Hermione said quickly. “It was—Peter Pettigrew. He’s alive, Minister, and he’s the one who betrayed Harry’s parents, not Sirius.”
Fudge let out a high-pitched laugh, as if he thought this was some elaborate joke. “Peter Pettigrew? The very same Pettigrew who died twelve years ago?”
“He’s not dead,” Harry said firmly. “He’s been alive this whole time, hiding as—” he hesitated for half a second before pressing on. “As Ron’s rat, Scabbers.”
Fudge’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. He turned to Dumbledore, clearly expecting the headmaster to dismiss this nonsense, but Dumbledore merely steepled his fingers, his expression unreadable.
“I have no reason to doubt their story, Cornelius,” Dumbledore said calmly. “Their accounts are remarkably consistent. And Severus, as I recall, was unconscious during the most critical parts of last night’s events.”
Fudge spluttered. “This is ridiculous! Black’s been guilty for twelve years! The entire wizarding world knows it!”
“But what if they’re wrong?” Evelyn challenged, her voice stronger now. “What if an innocent man has been in Azkaban all this time?”
Fudge waved his hands as though swatting away a fly. “This is preposterous. I refuse to entertain such wild theories—Black will receive the Dementor’s Kiss tonight, and that is final!”
Dumbledore sighed, rising to his feet. “If that is the case, I suppose there is nothing more to be done here.”
Evelyn stared at him in horror. “But Professor—”
Dumbledore looked at her, and then at Harry and Hermione. His eyes twinkled, but there was something sharp beneath them—something meaningful. Slowly, deliberately, he spoke.
“What we need,” he said, “is more time.”
Evelyn felt Hermione stiffen beside her.
Dumbledore continued, his voice measured. “Yes… more time. If only there was a way to go back, to retrace our steps, to save not one life, but two.”
Fudge looked confused. “What are you on about, Dumbledore?”
Dumbledore merely smiled. “No matter. I must speak to Madam Pomfrey. I suggest you remain here for now.”
And with that, he swept out of the room, leaving a bewildered Fudge behind.
Evelyn turned to Hermione, whose hands had flown to her pocket. Slowly, she withdrew a delicate golden chain, and dangling from it was—
“A Time-Turner,” Hermione whispered.
Evelyn’s breath caught.
Harry frowned. “A what?”
Hermione hesitated. “I—I’ll explain later.” She glanced at the door. “We don’t have much time. Dumbledore just gave us permission.”
Harry was still looking at the Time-Turner like it might explode. “Hang on—you’ve had that all year? That’s how you’ve been taking all those extra classes?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t matter right now!” Hermione hissed. “We can save Sirius!”
Evelyn’s heart pounded. She had known, deep down, that something like this would happen—that Dumbledore would find a way to make things right. She wasn’t meant to know any of this, of course. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that they had a chance.
“Okay,” Harry said, nodding. “Let’s do it.”
Hermione took a deep breath and looped the chain around Harry’s and Evelyn’s necks.
“One turn should do it,” she whispered.
She spun the tiny hourglass.
The world around them blurred.
Time twisted and folded in on itself.
And then—
They were back.
Evelyn barely had time to breathe before the world around her twisted, stretching and folding like melted wax. A rushing sound filled her ears, like wind whipping through a tunnel, and she felt Hermione grip her wrist tightly. The sensation was overwhelming—disorienting—until, with a sharp jolt, the three of them landed in the deserted entrance hall of Hogwarts.
Evelyn staggered slightly, bracing herself against the cool stone wall. She turned to Harry, whose eyes were wide with shock, then to Hermione, who was watching the large hourglass of the Time-Turner slow to a stop.
“We did it,” Hermione whispered.
The giant clock above them read half-past seven.
Evelyn’s heart pounded. Hours ago. They were three hours in the past.
“What—what just happened?” Harry asked, voice hoarse with disbelief.
“We’ve gone back in time,” Hermione explained in a hushed voice. “Three hours. Dumbledore said we could save more than one innocent life—he meant Buckbeak and Sirius.”
Evelyn exhaled sharply, her mind reeling. She had always thought time travel was dangerous, impossible to control. But they had just done it. And now… they had to change everything.
Hermione led them quickly into the shadows, pressing her back against the stone wall as she peered cautiously around the corner. “Listen to me, both of you,” she whispered. “We must not be seen. We can’t let our past selves see us—nobody can know we’ve done this. If anyone sees us, we could disrupt time itself.”
Evelyn swallowed. “Right. So… what’s the plan?”
Hermione took a deep breath. “First, we save Buckbeak.”
The three of them darted across the grounds under the cover of darkness, moving swiftly toward Hagrid’s hut. As they approached, Evelyn caught sight of something through the hut’s window—Ron, Harry, and Hermione, still in the past, sitting stiffly as Hagrid poured tea.
“This is so weird,” Evelyn muttered.
“Shh!” Hermione hissed.
A few moments later, they saw the figures of Cornelius Fudge, Dumbledore, and the executioner, Macnair, making their way down from the castle. The past versions of themselves slipped out the back door of Hagrid’s hut—just as they had earlier that evening.
“They’re going,” Hermione murmured. “That’s our chance.”
Moving quickly, they rushed toward Buckbeak, who was tethered to a stake beside Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. The great hippogriff shifted uneasily, his yellow eyes blinking as they approached.
“It’s alright, Buckbeak,” Evelyn whispered, stepping forward cautiously. “We’re going to get you out of here.”
Harry and Hermione worked quickly, untying the thick rope binding Buckbeak to the post. Evelyn kept a lookout, her heart pounding as the trio of officials neared the front of the hut.
“We need to move—now,” she urged.
Harry grabbed a fistful of Buckbeak’s feathers and tugged gently. “Come on, Buckbeak. We need to go.”
The hippogriff hesitated, but with a toss of his proud head, he followed. The three of them led him into the cover of the forest, hiding just beyond the trees. Moments later, they heard voices from the pumpkin patch.
“No sign of him,” came Macnair’s deep, gruff voice. “That oaf must’ve let him go!”
Evelyn clenched her fists, resisting the urge to cheer. They had done it. They had saved Buckbeak.
But Sirius was still in danger.
They retreated deeper into the Forbidden Forest, watching from afar as events unfolded. They saw their past selves enter the Whomping Willow, then Snape following after them. Soon after, they watched as the group ran from the shrieking shack, Lupin barrelling after them.
Evelyn felt sick as she watched Sirius, Harry and herself - unknowingly - run towards the dementors. She turned to Harry, who was gripping his wand so hard his knuckles had turned white.
Sirius was so close. But they had to wait.
Even though she was bracing for it, Evelyn still felt her stomach drop when she saw Sirius and Harry collapse under the cold, consuming wave of despair.
Harry stood, raising his wand weakly.
And then…
Nothing.
Evelyn turned toward present-day Harry, who was watching his past self struggle against the Dementors.
“My dad,” he whispered suddenly. “He’s going to come. He did it before.”
Evelyn’s throat tightened, but she said nothing.
They waited.
The Dementors closed in.
Harry was still staring at the opposite side of the lake.
Any second now.
“Dad…”
Nothing happened.
It hit Evelyn at the same time it hit Hermione.
“Harry,” she said urgently, gripping his arm. “Nobody’s coming.”
Harry’s breath caught.
It had been him.
Without thinking, he broke into a sprint, running straight toward the lake.
“Harry, wait—!” Evelyn called, but he didn’t stop.
He raised his wand, eyes blazing with fierce determination.
“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
A brilliant, silver stag erupted from the tip of his wand, galloping across the lake like a ghostly guardian.
Evelyn shielded her eyes from the blinding light, her chest swelling with awe and relief as the Patronus charged at the Dementors, scattering them in all directions.
She turned to Hermione, who was gripping her sleeve tightly, her mouth slightly open.
Harry had done it.
As soon as the Dementors had dispersed, the three of them wasted no time. With Buckbeak waiting in the shadows, they sprinted toward the castle.
They had to move fast.
Once they reached the tower where Sirius was imprisoned, Hermione pointed her wand at the heavy bolts securing the window.
“Alohomora!”
The window creaked open.
Sirius barely had time to react before Harry and Evelyn climbed inside. His sunken eyes widened as he took in the sight of them.
“What—?”
“No time to explain,” Evelyn gasped. “We’re getting you out of here.”
Sirius blinked at them, stunned, but didn’t hesitate as they helped him climb onto Buckbeak’s back.
Harry met Sirius’s eyes, his voice urgent. “You have to go. Now.”
Sirius hesitated for only a second before nodding. He gripped Buckbeak’s feathers, looking down at them with something like gratitude.
Then, with one powerful leap, Buckbeak soared into the sky, carrying Sirius away into the night.
Evelyn’s chest tightened as she watched him disappear over the horizon.
They had done it.
Sirius was free.
Evelyn, Harry, and Hermione sprinted through the castle corridors, their footsteps echoing in the empty halls. The adrenaline that had fueled them through the night was beginning to wear off, leaving behind exhaustion and a deep, buzzing disbelief that they had actually done it.
As they neared the hospital wing, Hermione yanked the Time-Turner from around her neck, her fingers fumbling as she tucked it safely beneath her robes.
“Remember,” she panted, slowing down. “We have to be in bed exactly as we were before. No one can know we were gone.”
Evelyn nodded, her mind still racing. It was surreal—just an hour ago, she had been unconscious, unaware of everything that had happened, and now… now, Sirius was free.
Harry pushed open the door to the hospital wing, and the three of them hurried inside.
The moment Evelyn slipped into her bed, she realized how heavy her limbs felt, how much her body ached from running, hiding, and—of course—nearly being kissed by Dementors.
Across from her, Harry and Hermione clambered into their respective beds, their movements hurried but careful.
Just in time.
The sound of hurried footsteps rang from outside the ward. A second later, Madam Pomfrey stormed inside, looking as flustered as ever.
“Oh, honestly,” she huffed, bustling toward them. “If I’ve told Dumbledore once, I’ve told him a hundred times, these children need rest!” She waved her wand, causing glasses of pumpkin juice to appear on each of their nightstands. “Drink. You all need to rehydrate.”
Evelyn took hers without protest, gulping it down. It was cold and sweet, but she could hardly taste it over the whirlwind of thoughts still running through her mind.
As soon as Madam Pomfrey turned away, Hermione leaned toward them, lowering her voice. “We did it,” she whispered.
Harry nodded, a grin tugging at his lips. “Sirius is safe.”
Evelyn let out a quiet breath, her chest light for the first time all night. It was done. Sirius was gone—free—and nobody knew what they had done.
But the moment was short-lived.
The hospital wing doors burst open once more, and Cornelius Fudge strode in, looking flustered and exasperated. Behind him, Snape stormed in with an expression of unfiltered fury.
Evelyn immediately sat up straighter, every muscle tensing.
Fudge barely glanced at them, addressing Madam Pomfrey instead. “Where’s Dumbledore?” he demanded. “Where is he?”
“I have no idea,” Madam Pomfrey said stiffly. “And I don’t appreciate you barging in here disturbing my patients.”
“Patients?” Snape snapped, his face twisted with rage. “They’re witnesses! They know something!”
Evelyn swallowed hard, her mind scrambling for a plan. They had to act as if they had been here the entire time.
Snape turned on Harry, his robes billowing behind him. “You!” he spat. “Potter! Where is he?!”
Harry stared at him, blank-faced. “Where’s who?”
“DON’T PLAY GAMES WITH ME!” Snape bellowed, his face contorted with fury. “SIRIUS BLACK! HE WAS IN THE WEST TOWER—BOUND, UNCONSCIOUS—AND NOW HE’S GONE! SOMEONE HELPED HIM ESCAPE!”
Evelyn cast a sideways glance at Hermione, whose fingers were curled tightly into the sheets.
Fudge cleared his throat awkwardly. “Now, now, Severus,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “Perhaps Black found a way to—er—escape on his own?”
Snape turned on him, his eyes blazing. “He couldn’t have!” he hissed. “No one but us knew where he was being held!” He pointed a shaking finger at Harry, Hermione, and Evelyn. “It was them! I know it was them!”
Madam Pomfrey scoffed, folding her arms. “They’ve been in this ward the entire time, unconscious after the Dementor attack!”
Evelyn nearly sighed in relief.
Snape’s lips curled, his nostrils flaring. “Convenient,” he sneered.
“It’s the truth, Severus,” came a calm voice from the doorway.
Evelyn turned to see Dumbledore entering the room, his expression unreadable.
Fudge immediately rushed forward. “Dumbledore, Black—he’s gone! He—”
“I am aware,” Dumbledore said, nodding.
Snape took a sharp breath. “Then you must see—this was Potter’s doing!” He shot another glare at Harry. “And hers,” he added, pointing at Evelyn. “And hers,” he said, rounding on Hermione. “They helped him—Dumbledore, I know they did!”
Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head. “Severus, they have been in this hospital wing all night, under Madam Pomfrey’s care.” He raised his brows at Snape. “Surely you do not doubt her word?”
Snape faltered for only a moment before shaking his head. “This is absurd,” he growled. “Black couldn’t have escaped alone!”
“And yet, it seems he has.”
Evelyn could almost see the steam rising from Snape’s ears. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, his teeth grinding together audibly.
Finally, he spun on his heel and stormed out, his robes flaring behind him.
Evelyn let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
Fudge still looked bewildered but quickly masked it with a forced chuckle. “Well! I suppose it’s a mystery, then.” He shook his head. “We’ll have to alert the Dementors. Though Merlin knows, they’re useless at keeping prisoners locked up.”
Dumbledore gave a small smile. “Perhaps that is for the best.”
Fudge didn’t seem to hear him. “We’ll strengthen the castle’s security, of course,” he said. “Make sure Black doesn’t try sneaking back in. Though I daresay he’ll be on the run for quite some time.”
With that, Fudge adjusted his hat and gave a polite nod. “Well. I’ll be off.”
Once he had left, Dumbledore turned back to them, his blue eyes twinkling knowingly. “I trust you are all feeling well?”
Evelyn met his gaze, her heart still pounding.
Harry gave a slow nod. “Yes, Professor.”
“Good.” Dumbledore glanced between them one last time before giving a small smile. “Then I bid you goodnight.”
And with that, he was gone.
Silence hung in the air for a long moment.
Then Hermione let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “We did it.”
Evelyn exhaled, finally allowing herself to relax against her pillows.
Harry grinned, shaking his head in wonder. “Sirius is safe.”
A warmth spread through Evelyn’s chest.
Chapter 11: imagine how much cooler i’ll be in summerrrrrrr
Summary:
evelyn’s worries about the summer holidays are in full swing and oh— SHE SHARES HER SECRET WITH SOMEONE??
Chapter Text
The Slytherin common room was buzzing with hushed conversations the next morning. The usual lazy elegance of the dungeon felt slightly off—whispers bounced off the stone walls, and groups huddled together in corners, talking in low voices. Evelyn stepped through the entrance and immediately felt the weight of curious eyes shifting to her, though no one spoke to her directly at first.
“Did you hear?” Theodore Nott was saying to a group near the fireplace. He leaned forward, looking pleased with himself for knowing something before everyone else. “Black escaped. Again. Right under the Ministry’s nose.”
Evelyn sat down on the sofa beside Pansy, who was listening intently. Across from them, Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass exchanged glances, both intrigued.
“How?” Daphne asked, raising an eyebrow.
“The Dementors were out,” Blaise pointed out, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. “They were supposed to kiss him, right?”
“They were,” Theo said smugly. “But Dumbledore was seen coming out of the hospital wing late last night, and now Black is gone. They think he had something to do with it.”
Pansy turned her head slightly, her gaze landing on Evelyn. Evelyn didn’t flinch, didn’t react—just stared at the fire, letting the conversation wash over her as if she were hearing it for the first time. She could feel Pansy studying her, could almost hear her thoughts. You know something.
“Well, if anyone could pull something like that off, it’s Dumbledore,” Blaise said. “The Ministry’s an absolute joke when it comes to dealing with him.”
“That’s not even the craziest part,” Theo continued. “Buckbeak, that hippogriff from Care of Magical Creatures—the one that was supposed to be executed—vanished too.”
Evelyn allowed herself a small smile. She glanced at Pansy, who was still watching her, but now there was something else in her expression—less suspicion, more intrigue.
“How convenient,” Daphne muttered.
“More like ridiculous,” Blaise scoffed. “The Ministry botches one thing after another. And now Fudge is running around Hogwarts acting like everything’s under control.”
“Let him,” Pansy said with a little smirk. “We’ll be home in a week anyway. Then it’ll be someone else’s problem.”
Evelyn tensed slightly at that. Home. The word landed in her chest like a stone.
The conversation shifted naturally, as though the tension of the past night had never existed. Talk turned to summer plans—trips to France, visits to relatives, long, boring stays at country estates. Evelyn sat quietly, nodding in the right places but saying little.
Pansy mentioned a shopping trip to Diagon Alley with her mother, Daphne talked about spending part of the summer with her cousins, and Blaise was planning a trip abroad.
Evelyn listened, feeling suddenly separate from them in a way she hadn’t before. She had no summer plans, no letters from home discussing arrangements.
Eventually, the conversation drifted off as people left to start packing early or head to lunch. Evelyn remained seated, staring at the flickering flames in the fireplace until only Pansy remained beside her.
“You’re quiet,” Pansy observed.
Evelyn hesitated. “Just tired.”
Pansy hummed as if she didn’t believe her but didn’t press. Instead, she nudged Evelyn with her shoulder and stood up. “Come on. We’ll be late for lunch.”
“I’ll catch up,” Evelyn said, forcing a small smile.
Pansy gave her one last look before walking away, leaving Evelyn alone in the common room.
She exhaled slowly, then stood and made her way up to the girls’ dormitory.
Inside, her trunk sat at the foot of her bed, partially packed with books and folded robes. It felt like an unspoken question. Where was she going?
For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, Evelyn wasn’t sure if she had an answer.
_______________
Later that day, Evelyn sat in the shade of a tree by the lake, the warm spring sun casting dappled shadows across the grass. The gentle breeze ruffled her hair as she pulled her knees up to her chest, absentmindedly tracing the patterns in the dirt with her fingers. The sound of chirping birds and the distant laughter of students enjoying their break filled the air, but Evelyn’s thoughts were far away.
The end of the school year was approaching, and the reality of what came next was settling in like a heavy weight on her shoulders. Her thoughts drifted to the summer—those long months after the final exam, where the school would empty, and students would return to their families or, in her case, face a solitary summer. It wasn’t something she liked to think about, but she couldn’t avoid it forever.
She hadn’t shared her feelings with anyone—not even Evan or Pansy. They were too caught up in their own plans, their families, their expectations. Evelyn, though, didn’t have that. Since being sucked into a book, she’s had a lot of time to think about her story. A reason why she’s here and where she suddenly came from. She decided to go with that her parents had passed when she was young, and after a few years in various foster homes, she’d been left to navigate the wizarding world alone, no family to call her own. No place to really go.
So, she wasn’t sure what to do when the holidays arrived. She’d considered simply staying at Hogwarts, hiding away in the empty castle, but that didn’t seem like much of a solution. Maybe the goblins could help her—she must have some property somewhere if Lady Magic had given her, well - magic. The goblins at Gringotts had always been tight-lipped about things like that, but she hoped they might have some answers for her now.
She was lost in these thoughts when she heard footsteps approaching, the crunch of grass underfoot.
“Evelyn?”
She turned her head to see Harry standing just a few feet away, a hesitant expression on his face. His usual messy hair was even more windswept than usual, and his glasses perched crookedly on his nose. He was looking at her as if waiting for some kind of invitation to sit, but there was a certain wariness in his posture, like he wasn’t sure if she wanted company.
“Hey, Harry,” Evelyn said, forcing a smile. She scooted over on the grass to make room for him. “Come sit.”
Harry smiled a little, but there was a shadow in his eyes, something that had been there ever since the events of the past few weeks. He sat down beside her, both of them resting on the cool grass. They didn’t speak immediately, letting the silence linger, comfortable in its own way.
After a few moments, Harry let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders slumping a little. “I really don’t want to go back there,” he muttered, looking out over the lake, though it was clear his mind was elsewhere.
“Back where?” Evelyn asked gently, though she already had an idea.
Harry’s eyes met hers, and he looked almost tired, like he’d been carrying the weight of the words for too long. “To the Dursleys,” he said, almost in a whisper. “It’s like… every summer, I go back, and it’s the same thing. They don’t want me there. They treat me like—” He stopped himself, shaking his head as if it was too much to say. “I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel like home. And it never will.”
Evelyn felt a pang of sympathy for him, knowing how it felt to not have a real family, but she kept her voice steady. “That sounds awful, Harry. I can’t imagine what it’s like.”
“It’s not great,” he replied with a small, self-deprecating laugh. “But you get used to it. You learn how to survive in a place where you’re not wanted.” His eyes flickered over to her, studying her for a moment. “I suppose you know something about that too, don’t you?”
Evelyn stiffened, her heart giving a small, involuntary lurch. She had never been one to openly talk about her past—her life before Hogwarts was something she preferred to keep hidden. But Harry’s tone wasn’t pitying, just curious, and for some reason, it felt easier to talk to him than it did with anyone else.
“Yeah, I suppose I do,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t really have anyone, not anymore. My parents… they died when I was really young. I don’t remember much of them. After that, I went through a few foster homes before I got my letter to Hogwarts. It’s a bit of a mess.”
Harry’s expression softened, and he looked away, his gaze drifting to the shimmering water of the lake. “I didn’t know,” he murmured. “I never really thought about it. I mean… I guess I always thought you had everything figured out.”
Evelyn let out a short laugh, trying to push past the lump in her throat. “I don’t think anyone does, Harry. Least of all me.”
There was a long silence between them as they both processed what had been said. Harry fiddled with his glasses for a moment, and Evelyn stared at the ground, trying to gather her thoughts.
“You know,” Harry said eventually, his voice steady but thoughtful, “if you don’t have anywhere to go over the summer, you could always hang out with me. I mean, I know the Dursleys won’t be exactly… welcoming, but there’s always the Burrow. Ron’s family. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind you staying with them.”
Evelyn looked up at him, surprised by the offer. “You’re sure?” she asked, a flicker of doubt in her voice.
“Yeah,” Harry said with a small smile, his tone warmer now. “The Weasleys are good people. They’ll take you in, no questions asked. And if you want, we could hang out over the summer. It won’t be all bad. Maybe not perfect, but it could be better than staying with the Dursleys.”
Evelyn felt a surge of emotion in her chest, gratitude mixed with something else—something she couldn’t quite name. The offer was so kind, so unexpected. For a moment, she almost wished she had said something sooner, asked for help before it had reached this point. But then again, it felt like things were finally aligning in a way that mattered.
“Thanks, Harry,” she said, her voice quieter now, the weight of her feelings settling in. “I don’t think I could’ve asked for a better offer.”
Harry smiled, looking more at ease now, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “No problem. And you know,” he added with a chuckle, “we’re kind of in this together, especially after last night. We might as well look out for each other, right?”
“Yeah,” Evelyn agreed, the words feeling more real now than ever. “Right.”
They both sat there for a moment, letting the sound of the wind rustling through the trees fill the quiet. The sun continued its slow descent toward the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the grounds. For once, the weight of everything that had been bothering them seemed a little less heavy.
“You promise we’ll keep in touch?” Evelyn asked suddenly, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “Over the summer, I mean?”
“Of course,” Harry replied quickly. “We can send owls, and if you’re ever near the Burrow, you know where to find me. We’ll make sure it’s not too lonely, okay?”
Evelyn smiled, a real smile this time. “Okay.”
As the two sat in the quiet, the golden evening light around them seemed to shine a little brighter. For the first time in a long time, Evelyn felt like maybe, just maybe, she had found something resembling home. And it wasn’t something she’d have to find alone.
_____________
Two days before the summer holidays, as the students buzzed with excitement and the castle felt lighter with the promise of a break, Evelyn made her way to Professor Snape’s office. She had been expecting this meeting, but the flutter of nerves in her stomach was undeniable. She had heard the whispers about the events of the Shrieking Shack and the implications of her involvement—though no one had mentioned anything directly to her. Still, there was a sense that Snape had been watching, waiting for the right moment.
She knocked softly on the door and, upon hearing a sharp “Enter!” she stepped inside, her heart racing. Snape was seated at his desk, his usual dark robes sweeping around him like a shadow. His face, as always, held that guarded, almost disdainful look, and his sharp black eyes flickered toward her as she entered.
“Sit,” he said, his voice low and cool, gesturing toward the chair in front of him.
Evelyn took a seat, folding her hands in her lap as she met his gaze. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she had a feeling this conversation was going to be different from any they’d had before. Snape didn’t waste time with pleasantries.
“I trust you know why I’ve asked you here, Miss McCrae,” he began, his tone measured. “There are… several questions I have regarding your actions on the night in question. Particularly your involvement with the escape of Sirius Black.”
Evelyn stiffened slightly but maintained her composure. She had been prepared for this conversation—if anything, she was relieved it was happening now, rather than later.
“Yes, Professor,” she replied evenly. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you about that.”
Snape’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a slight sneer. “I hope you realize, Miss McCrae, that this is not some Gryffindor adventure. You are supposed to be a cunning Slytherin, not a reckless fool throwing yourself into situations that do not concern you.”
Evelyn winced, but she didn’t flinch. Snape’s words stung, but she could understand the frustration in his tone. After all, she had broken the rules—more than once, in fact—but she knew she had done the right thing. She couldn’t regret it.
“I’m sorry, Professor,” she said quietly, her voice holding no trace of defensiveness. “But I didn’t choose to get involved. It just… happened.”
Snape raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Do explain, Miss McCrae. Because it’s not often I see a Slytherin act with such… foolishness.”
Evelyn hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal. She hadn’t shared the full truth with anyone—not even Harry or Hermione. But she trusted Snape. She knew that in this moment, with his sharp eyes on her, he wouldn’t judge her. He might even understand.
“I wasn’t always a witch, Professor,” she began, her voice softer now. “I was raised as a Muggle. I didn’t know anything about magic until I came to Hogwarts. But at the start of the school year… something happened. I was… I was pulled into a book—The Prisoner of Azkaban—the one that exists in the Muggle world. I know it sounds insane, but I swear it’s true. I ended up inside the book, in the world of Hogwarts, as though I was part of the story itself.”
Snape’s expression flickered briefly, a shadow crossing his face, but he remained silent, waiting for her to continue. Evelyn took a deep breath and pressed on.
“I didn’t know how it happened. One minute, I was in the Muggle world, and the next, I was here. In Hogwarts. In the story. And I couldn’t stop it, Professor. I was trapped. I didn’t even know how to act. The next thing I knew, I wasn’t just a Muggle anymore—I was a witch. Lady Magic came to me, gave me magic. She told me that I belonged here, that I was meant to be a part of this world, not the one I came from.”
Snape sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he regarded her carefully. “Lady Magic,” he repeated, his voice quiet. “And you accepted this?”
Evelyn nodded slowly. “I didn’t have much choice. And honestly, Professor, I didn’t want to go back. I didn’t want to be a Muggle anymore. It was like I was meant to be here all along, like this was the life I was supposed to live. But… it wasn’t something I could tell anyone. No one knows, not even Dumbledore. I’ve kept it to myself.”
Snape’s eyes darkened, and for the first time, Evelyn saw a flicker of something more—something close to understanding. “And you wish to keep it that way?” he asked, his voice quieter now.
Evelyn hesitated, then nodded. “I do. It’s safer this way. I’m not sure what would happen if Dumbledore found out. I’m not even sure how it happened or why. But I can’t risk anyone else knowing. And I certainly don’t want anyone trying to send me back to the Muggle world.”
Snape was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on her. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he spoke again, his voice softer than before, though still carrying its usual gravity.
“You are a rare sort, Miss McCrae,” Snape said, his tone more thoughtful now. “I can’t say I fully understand what you’ve gone through, but I do understand what it means to live with a secret. It is… a heavy burden.”
Evelyn looked up at him, a mixture of surprise and gratitude filling her chest. “You… understand?”
Snape gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Yes, I do. And though I do not condone recklessness, I will say this: You have proven that you can be more than just a bystander. Perhaps, in your own way, you’re doing what needs to be done. Just be careful, Miss McCrae. The wizarding world is not as forgiving as you might think.”
Evelyn exhaled, the weight of her confession lifting slightly. She had expected Snape to reprimand her, to scold her for her recklessness. Instead, she found that he understood in a way she hadn’t expected.
“I will be, Professor,” she replied quietly. “I just… I want to help. The world needs it. And I don’t know what I can do, but I’ll find a way.”
Snape studied her for a long moment, his sharp gaze never wavering. Then, with a small, almost reluctant sigh, he spoke again.
“If you ever need help, Miss McCrae,” he said, his voice low but firm, “you know where to find me. You may not know exactly what your purpose is, but I believe you have the potential to make a difference. Just be cautious. And remember, not every secret is meant to be shared. Not all burdens can be carried alone, but some must.”
Evelyn nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. She had never expected Snape to offer her support, but somehow, in his own cryptic way, he had. And for that, she was grateful.
“Thank you, Professor,” she said, her voice sincere. “I’ll be careful.”
Snape’s lips twitched slightly, the faintest hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Good. Now, go. You’ve wasted enough of my time with your nonsense for one evening.”
Evelyn chuckled softly, standing up from the chair and heading for the door. As she turned the handle, she glanced back at Snape.
“One last thing, Professor,” she said, a little hesitant. “You said you understand what it means to have a secret. Does that mean… you have one?”
Snape’s eyes darkened for a moment, and for a split second, Evelyn could have sworn there was something more there—something deeply personal. Then, in his usual terse manner, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
“Perhaps. But it’s not the sort of secret one shares lightly, Miss McCrae.”
Evelyn smiled faintly. “I understand.”
And with that, she left his office, her mind swirling with thoughts of what lay ahead. She didn’t know where her future would take her, but for the first time, she felt a little less alone in carrying the weight of her secret.
Chapter 12: Going “home?”
Chapter Text
Evelyn stood in front of her trunk, the wooden surface gleaming in the soft light filtering through the dormitory window. It was the last day at Hogwarts, and as much as she tried to focus on the excitement of the summer holidays, a nagging feeling wouldn’t leave her. Packing had always been a tedious task, but today, it felt particularly overwhelming. Her trunk was heavy with the weight of schoolbooks, clothes, and a few personal belongings she’d accumulated over the year, but there was something more to it now. Something she hadn’t thought about in months.
At the start of the school year, Evelyn had discovered something incredible about her trunk—a secret apartment hidden inside it. At the time, the discovery had felt so surreal, so impossible, that she’d pushed it to the back of her mind, wrapped up in the excitement and confusion of transitioning to Hogwarts and starting life as a witch. She’d been so busy with classes, friends, and the strange magical world she now inhabited that she’d almost forgotten about the little flat tucked away in the trunk’s hidden dimension.
But now, with the summer approaching and the weight of packing settling over her, she realized she needed to deal with it. The apartment was there, waiting for her.
She knelt beside the trunk and opened it, feeling the familiar, soft shimmer of magic in the air as the secret door appeared. The apartment, once so new and mysterious to her, now looked much the same as it had months ago: a small, cozy flat with a kitchenette, living area, and bathroom tucked into the far corner. There was no furniture to speak of—just empty spaces that seemed to echo with possibility.
She ran a hand over the smooth wooden floor, her thoughts racing. This was her space, tucked away from the world, and it was… lacking. At the time, it had been something interesting but she had a room at the Leaky Cauldron last summer. She needed to furnish it now. With nowhere else to go it would make a nice little home.
“Well, I’ve got the summer ahead of me,” she murmured, staring at the empty apartment. “I suppose it’s about time I made this feel like a real home.”
She took a deep breath and turned back to her trunk, pulling out a scrap of parchment and a quill. She quickly scribbled a list of the furniture she’d need: a bed, kitchen furniture, a couple of chairs for the living room, and some more personal touches to make it cozy. Once she finished, she folded the parchment and attached it to an owl, instructing it to deliver the order to the Leaky Cauldron when she returned to London.
She hesitated before sending the owl off. It felt strange, in a way—like she was tying herself down to something. But then again, she realized, the apartment was hers to shape however she wanted. She was no longer just a wanderer in this strange new world; she was part of it.
With the order sent, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. The flat was about to become her refuge in a way she hadn’t imagined before. It was hers, in its own way—just as Hogwarts had become hers.
As she climbed of her trunk, she was startled by a soft voice from behind her. “Evelyn?”
She looked over her shoulder and saw Pansy standing in the doorway, a curious glint in her eye. “You know,” she said, “you’ve been keeping secrets all year. What’s inside that trunk? Are you hiding something from us?”
Evelyn smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at the thought of her friends. Despite the differences between them, despite her own complicated past, Pansy, Theo, and even Blaise had come to mean something important to her. “Not hiding anything… exactly,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Just… something that’s been on the back burner for a while.”
Pansy’s eyebrows shot up. “What does that mean? Are you telling me that trunk holds something more than a bunch of old robes and books?”
Evelyn laughed softly. “Let’s just say it’s more like a small apartment.”
“An apartment? Inside your trunk?” Pansy asked, incredulous.
Evelyn nodded. “I know it sounds impossible, but it’s true. I discovered it at the start of the year and didn’t really give it much thought—too much going on, you know? But with the summer coming, I realized I should probably do something about it.”
Pansy didn’t press any further, though she looked at Evelyn with curiosity still dancing in her eyes. “Well, as long as you’re not hiding anything too interesting in there… Don’t keep all the fun to yourself.”
Evelyn smiled again, feeling a warmth at the thought of the small apartment, ready to be filled with life and comfort. “I won’t. But for now, we should probably pack up and head out. The train’s leaving soon.”
Pansy nodded, still watching Evelyn with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, but she didn’t push. With a final glance at the trunk, Evelyn closed the door behind her, the idea of the apartment tucked away for now, but not forgotten. There was plenty of time ahead to make it her own.
The train would be here soon enough.
—————————
The train ride back to London was a familiar one, but this time, there was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. The end of the school year always brought a mix of emotions—relief, excitement, but also the sense of uncertainty that came with leaving Hogwarts behind, even if it was just for the summer. The Slytherins were no exception.
As Evelyn and her friends made their way into their compartment, the low hum of conversation filled the air. The train was busy, filled with students who were either too excited to leave or too reluctant to say goodbye to Hogwarts. The familiar scent of the train’s interior mixed with the slight dampness of the air from the Hogwarts grounds as it rumbled toward the station.
“Can you believe this year’s already over?” Daphne remarked, settling into one of the plush seats with a sigh. “It feels like just yesterday we were watching the sorting!”
Evelyn nodded, glancing out the window at the passing scenery. The rolling hills of the countryside were gradually giving way to the concrete edges of London, a reminder that the magical world and the Muggle world were always just a short distance away. “It’s gone fast, hasn’t it?”
“You’ve been too busy with your new secrets, Evelyn,” Pansy teased, poking her with an elbow. “Tell us more about that little apartment of yours. You really haven’t furnished it yet?”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. “I’ve got the furniture on order, Pansy. But I’m still deciding what color the walls should be.”
“You are so strange,” Pansy said, laughing. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding an apartment in your trunk this whole time. That’s pure Slytherin ingenuity.”
“I thought you’d appreciate that,” Evelyn said dryly, her eyes flicking to the others.
Blaise, who had been quiet until then, looked up from his game of exploding snap with Draco. “What’s the deal with the furniture, though? Are you turning it into a home or something?”
Evelyn shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I’m not sure how much of a home it’ll be, but it’s a start.”
Daphne gave her a knowing look. “You know, I think it’ll be good for you. A place to call your own. Especially with everything that’s happened… you deserve it.”
Evelyn didn’t reply immediately. The idea of a home had always felt like something far-off. It hadn’t seemed like something she could have. But now, with the apartment taking shape in her mind, it started to feel more real—more like something she could build, brick by brick.
The conversation shifted when Theo, sitting across from her, asked, “So, anyone have big plans for the summer?”
“I’m going shopping next week,” Daphne announced, flipping through a magazine. “I need new clothes for the holiday. It’s about time I updated my wardrobe.”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “We all know you’re going to drag me with you, aren’t you?”
“Of course, darling,” Daphne replied sweetly. “You know you can’t live without my fashion sense.”
Evelyn chuckled at their banter, feeling the warmth of their easy camaraderie. Even in Slytherin, there were moments like this—moments of laughter and simple comfort that made everything seem a little less complicated.
“What about you, Evelyn?” Pansy asked, glancing over at her. “Any plans? Are you going to the Muggle world?”
Evelyn nodded, though there was a slight hesitation in her voice. “I’ll be in London for a bit. I need to visit the Leaky Cauldron to pick up the furniture for my apartment, and then I’ll probably just… stay in the city for a while.”
“Doesn’t sound too bad,” Blaise commented. “You’re not looking forward to seeing your family again?”
Evelyn’s smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered. “No family,” she said simply, her gaze dropping to her lap. “I don’t really have anyone left in the world.”
The compartment grew quiet for a moment, and Evelyn could feel the weight of their stares. But she didn’t want their pity. She didn’t need that.
Pansy, as ever, was the first to break the silence. “If you need company over the summer, just say the word,” she said with a warmth in her voice that surprised Evelyn. “I’m sure we can find something for you to do. I’m sure Daphne wouldn’t mind showing you around London either.”
Daphne nodded, though there was a slightly amused look in her eyes. “You’ll just have to keep up, though. I don’t do slow shopping trips.”
Evelyn grinned. “I’ll manage.”
The train journey was winding down, and the Slytherins continued their conversation as Evelyn’s thoughts briefly drifted back to everything that had happened over the past year. The whirlwind of it all—facing the unknown, making new friends, and surviving every challenge Hogwarts threw at them—was finally behind her for the summer. Despite the chaos, Evelyn felt a sense of relief, especially now that the worst of the exams were over and she had a bit of time to breathe.
After a few moments of chatting with Daphne and Pansy, Evelyn excused herself. “I’m going to check on Harry and the others,” she said with a smile. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Pansy raised an eyebrow. “Don’t take too long. I’m sure Daphne’s already planning a shopping trip the moment we hit London.”
“I’ll be back before you know it,” Evelyn promised, standing up and grabbing her bag.
Evelyn made her way down the corridor of the train, the familiar murmur of students preparing for the end of the journey filling the air. She finally reached the compartment where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting, the familiar faces making her feel like home.
“Hey, guys,” Evelyn greeted, knocking lightly on the door before stepping inside.
Harry smiled as he saw her. “Hey, Evelyn. Come on in.”
Ron waved her over, his usual warm, if slightly awkward, welcome, and Hermione moved to make space. “We were just talking about what to do this summer,” Hermione said, closing her book with a grin.
Evelyn sat down next to Hermione. “That’s exactly what I’ve been wondering,” she said, looking at the trio. “Any plans?”
“Well,” Harry started, looking a little unsure for a second, “I actually wanted to ask you something. I invited you to the Burrow this summer, didn’t I?”
Evelyn blinked, taken aback. “Yeah, you did, but… based on Ron’s face I’m guessing you never told him.”
Ron’s expression had shifted to confusion and mild frustration. “Wait, what? You invited her to stay at the Burrow and didn’t even tell me?” he asked, looking a little hurt. “You know we have a lot of people there, right? It’s gonna be crowded enough with my brothers, without adding Slytherin into the mix.”
Evelyn winced slightly but said nothing, letting Harry explain himself.
“I meant to tell you, Ron,” Harry said, running a hand through his hair. “I just… didn’t get the chance. I figured you’d be alright with it. I mean, Evelyn’s… well, she’s been through a lot, and I thought it might be nice for her to spend the summer somewhere a bit less crazy, you know?”
Ron looked at Harry for a long moment, clearly struggling with the idea. “She’s a Slytherin, mate,” Ron said, though there was less edge in his voice than before. “You know how that goes.”
“I know,” Harry said quickly, “but I trust her. She’s been one of the few people who actually gets it.”
Ron narrowed his eyes slightly but said nothing for a long moment, clearly weighing the situation. Finally, he sighed and leaned back against the seat. “Well, if you trust her, I guess she can’t be all bad.” He shot Evelyn a look. “I’ll… admit, I’m not thrilled about the Slytherin thing. But if Harry’s willing to put up with it, then I suppose I can, too. You’re welcome at the Burrow whenever you want.”
Evelyn smiled at Ron, relieved. “Thanks, Ron. I promise I won’t bring any trouble.”
Ron shrugged, but there was a faint smile on his face now. “Alright, alright. Just don’t try to sneak any snakes in, yeah?”
Evelyn laughed. “No snakes, I swear.”
Hermione chuckled from the seat next to her, amused by the exchange. “It’ll be fun, Evelyn. You’ll see. The Burrow’s always full of surprises, in the best way.”
Evelyn nodded, a little quieter now. She felt a warmth in her chest at the idea of spending time with Harry, Ron, and their family. For someone who had always felt out of place, the invitation was more meaningful than she cared to admit.
“Well,” Harry continued, after a brief pause, “that’s settled then. We can plan the details later. It’ll be good to have you there.”
Evelyn smiled. “I’m looking forward to it, actually.”
The conversation continued in a much lighter direction, with Hermione offering to show Evelyn some of the latest books she had been reading over the summer. They spoke of plans to visit Diagon Alley, and Ron talked about his excitement for spending time at the Burrow. Evelyn felt a sense of ease settle over her—something that had been missing for a long time.
She glanced at Harry and caught his eye. “It’s going to be a strange summer for both of us,” she said softly, before adding, “but I think I’m ready for it.”
Harry grinned. “Yeah, me too.”
The train began to slow as it approached the station, signaling the end of the journey. Students were already starting to gather their things, preparing to leave. But for a moment, Evelyn sat back and took in the comfortable silence between them, feeling like she belonged.
As they all gathered their belongings and prepared to disembark, Evelyn caught Hermione’s eye. The two girls exchanged a quiet smile, an unspoken bond forming between them as they prepared to face whatever summer would bring.
“I’m glad you’re coming, Evelyn,” Hermione said quietly, just before they left the compartment. “It’ll be nice to have another girl around, especially when Ron’s little sister is playing Quidditch with the boys.”
“Thanks, Hermione,” Evelyn replied, her voice soft but genuine. “I’m really looking forward to it.”
With one last glance at the trio, Evelyn stepped out of the compartment, joining them on the way to the platform. The train had come to a halt, and the Hogwarts Express doors opened to the bustling scene of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
The cool air of London hit her face, and she felt a strange sense of relief. It felt like the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.
Evelyn had always found it difficult to pinpoint exactly where she belonged—after all, her life had been filled with more twists and turns than a labyrinth. But standing there with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, she felt like she might finally be at the start of something she could call her own.
“Hey, do you need help with your stuff?” Ron asked, looking at the trunk Evelyn was pulling behind her.
Evelyn smiled and shook her head. “I think I’ve got it. Thanks, though.”
As they made their way toward the barrier, the sight of the familiar group of parents and relatives waiting on the other side brought a mix of emotions to the air. Harry was scanning the crowd, no doubt looking for the Weasleys, and Hermione was waving eagerly at her parents. It was a reminder of what Evelyn didn’t have—family waiting for her.
Harry’s gaze caught hers for a second, and he offered a small, understanding smile. Evelyn nodded back, trying not to dwell on the empty feeling she got when she thought about her situation.
“Let’s get through the barrier before we get trampled,” Hermione joked, nudging Evelyn’s shoulder with a friendly grin.
Evelyn didn’t need any further prompting. With a final glance at the Hogwarts Express, she joined the others as they made their way toward the barrier. The familiar whoosh of magic hit her ears, and within moments, they were stepping through into the magical world beyond.
They were immediately greeted by the sight of the Weasley family, bustling with energy, laughter, and hugs. Mrs. Weasley rushed forward first, enveloping Harry in a warm hug.
“Harry, dear! You look so much thinner! How’s everything going at Hogwarts?” she asked, inspecting him with a motherly concern.
Harry chuckled and greeted her with a grin, clearly fond of the Weasley matriarch. “I’m good, Mrs. Weasley. Everything’s going well, I think.”
Evelyn watched them with a bittersweet feeling but was soon snapped out of her thoughts when Ron and Hermione came over to join her. The two greeted each other happily, and soon Ron turned toward Evelyn. “Hey, so, I guess I’ll see you around, yeah?” Ron said, suddenly a little more awkward than usual.
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ron shrugged, giving her a sheepish grin. “Well, you know, summer’s a big deal. But, uh, you’re still coming to the Burrow, right? I mean, if you’re up for it, of course. I mean, we’ve got room, and Mum’s making a ton of food. Should be fun.”
Evelyn’s heart warmed. “I’ll be there,” she replied with a smile. “Thanks for inviting me again.”
Ron’s eyes softened for a moment before he turned to look at Harry. “I guess if Harry trusts you, that’s good enough for me.” He hesitated. “And… well, I’m sure you’ll get along with everyone. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
Evelyn laughed softly. “I’m sure it’ll be great. Thanks again, Ron.”
Hermione, who had been talking to her parents nearby, came over, and with a wide smile, said, “It’s going to be a wonderful summer. We’ll all have fun, I’m sure of it.”
Evelyn nodded, feeling more and more at ease with each passing moment. She had started to feel like she might actually be able to enjoy herself this summer. The idea of being with Harry, Ron, and Hermione—spending time with a real family like the Weasleys—was a thought she wasn’t used to but was more than willing to embrace.
_____________
After quickly finding a trolley for her trunk, Evelyn made her way to the floo. It felt strange to think that this would be the first time in a long while that she’d be heading to the Leaky Cauldron alone, but she had a few things to take care of before heading out to the apartment she had completely forgotten about until recently. Her trunk felt heavier than usual as she pushed it toward the fireplace, the familiar weight of it offering her a sense of comfort despite the growing sense of uncertainty in her chest.
She walked briskly into the floo, and within moments, she was standing in front of the Leaky Cauldron. The dim, bustling tavern greeted her with the familiar clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversations. Tom, the innkeeper, smiled at her when she entered.
“Ah, Miss McCrae, back again?” Tom’s voice was warm, welcoming, as always. His eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “Had a pleasant year at Hogwarts, I trust?”
“It was eventful, as expected,” Evelyn replied with a small smile, her gaze flickering toward the door leading to Diagon Alley. “But yes, it’s good to be back.”
Tom nodded, noticing the large trunk that she had with her. “You’ve got a lot with you. Are you staying for a while? I could get you a room if you need it—”
Evelyn cut him off with a polite but firm shake of her head. “Thank you, Tom, but I have other arrangements. I’ll be heading straight out to pick up some furniture and then to my place.”
Tom raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised but not questioning it further. “Very well, Miss McCrae. If you change your mind, the room’s always here for you. You know that.”
Evelyn gave him a small, appreciative nod. She didn’t have the heart to explain that she was still figuring things out. After the hectic year at Hogwarts and everything that had happened with Sirius and Buckbeak, she hadn’t even thought about where she would be staying. Her apartment, tucked away in the hidden compartment of her trunk, was now her responsibility to furnish, and that felt like one more thing she had to manage on top of everything else.
She walked past the bar and through the door that led to Diagon Alley, breathing in the crisp summer air. The alley was busy with witches and wizards going about their business—purchasing new brooms, cauldrons, and all manner of magical goods. The air was thick with the scent of potion ingredients and the buzz of magical conversations. Evelyn took it all in, letting herself be enveloped by the comfort of the familiar sights and sounds.
Her first stop was to Furniture 4 All, where she had left a request for the furniture to be delivered. It took a little bit of time to find the right pieces—a sturdy bed, a comfortable couch, a few pieces for the kitchen, and some other small essentials—but soon, everything was arranged and ready to be delivered. She was relieved to have made the decision to furnish the apartment, and despite the uncertainty about where she would be staying for the summer, the thought of having a place of her own was comforting.
After finishing collecting her furniture, Evelyn returned to the Leaky Cauldron, where she had a heart lunch of tandoori curry.
When everything was settled, Evelyn stood in the doorway of the Leaky Cauldron for a moment, looking out onto Diagon Alley. There was something oddly grounding about the place—the familiar cobbled streets, the magical shops brimming with colorful displays, and the quiet hum of life as wizards and witches went about their day. Despite everything she had been through, she felt a sense of calm wash over her.
“Well,” she muttered to herself, glancing back at the inn before turning toward the narrow street leading out to the alley, “I suppose it’s time to get started.”
Chapter 13: The first two weeks of summer.
Summary:
evelyn has new experiences as she adjusts to the start of summer. her first whole summer in the magical world.
Chapter Text
Evelyn had always thought that Gringotts Bank was both a place of wonders and mysteries. Towering marble pillars, shimmering gold coins stacked high in secure vaults, and the ever-present air of guarded secrecy surrounded her as she made her way into the heart of the bank. She had visited it last summer and was still amazed. Today, she was here speak with King Ragnok.
The grand foyer, filled with goblins going about their business, quieted as she approached a towering staircase. At the top of the stairs was a large oak door, its brass handle gleaming in the flickering candlelight. Evelyn took a deep breath before gently knocking, her heart pounding in anticipation.
“Enter,” came the deep, gruff voice from inside.
Evelyn opened the door, stepping into a large, imposing office. King Ragnok was seated at a massive desk, his sharp eyes watching her intently from behind a pair of rimless spectacles. His long, curved nose and pointed ears gave him a regal, almost intimidating appearance. Yet there was a certain wisdom in his eyes that made Evelyn feel strangely at ease.
“Miss McCrae,” Ragnok greeted her with a polite nod, his voice measured but not unkind. “I trust you are well?”
“I’m doing well, thank you,” Evelyn replied, trying to calm the fluttering in her chest. “I’ve been—well, busy, as you can imagine. Hogwarts has kept me on my toes.”
“I’ve heard as much,” the Goblin King said dryly, though there was an almost amused glint in his eyes. “I trust you’ve managed to stay out of trouble?”
Evelyn gave him a small, knowing smile. “Mostly. I did end up sharing something with a professor that… well, I wasn’t sure if I should. But I did, and I think it’s for the best.”
Ragnok raised an eyebrow. “A professor, you say? I assume you’re referring to Severus Snape?”
“Yes,” Evelyn admitted. “I told him everything. I told him how I’m not originally from this world, that I… well, that I came into being a witch in a very unusual way.”
Ragnok studied her intently, leaning forward slightly. “And what was his reaction?”
“He was surprised,” Evelyn said, hesitating. “But he didn’t turn me in. He said that he’d keep my secret.”
The goblin nodded slowly, clearly contemplating her words. “You are fortunate to have found such an ally. But Miss McCrae, I would caution you. Trust is a rare thing in this world. Even Snape—though he may be helpful now—could turn on you if it suited him. You would be wise to be careful with who you share your secret.”
Evelyn’s thoughts turned inward, as they often did when she pondered the secret that weighed heavily on her mind. “I know. I’m being careful, but I trust him for now.”
Ragnok gave her a stern, yet understanding look. “Good. But be wary. Now, there is something else I must share with you.”
Evelyn’s curiosity piqued. “What is it?”
“The day before your exams started, Lady Magic visited me,” Ragnok said, his voice lowering with reverence. “She informed me of something important—something that may change the way you see your magic, your future.”
Evelyn’s breath caught. “What do you mean?”
“Lady Magic has deemed you an emancipated adult. You no longer fall under the restrictions of the Trace. This means you can perform magic freely, outside of school, without the Ministry of Magic monitoring you.”
Evelyn’s mind raced. The Trace. The idea of no longer being bound by that restriction was both thrilling and terrifying.
“Are you certain?” Evelyn asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and hope.
“I am,” Ragnok confirmed with a grave nod. “You are now free, Evelyn McCrae. Free to live as you choose, to pursue your goals without interference.”
Evelyn let the words sink in, the weight of them heavy on her chest. She had the freedom to use magic whenever she wanted, without fear of being caught.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “I wasn’t sure if this was even possible.”
“It is, and it’s yours,” Ragnok replied. “But remember this, Miss McCrae: Lady Magic has her reasons for granting you this freedom. You must use it wisely. There is much at stake.”
Evelyn nodded, her thoughts swirling with possibilities. “I will. I promise.”
Ragnok gave her a final, knowing look. “Good. And one last thing: If you ever find yourself in need of assistance, you know where to find me.”
“Thank you,” Evelyn said, her voice sincere.
With that, she turned to leave, the weight of Ragnok’s words settling into her mind. The future, for the first time in a long time, felt like it was full of possibilities.
____________
Evelyn had always been drawn to the wildness of nature. There was something about the untamed forests that made her feel more connected to herself, more at peace. After her conversation with King Ragnok, she knew she needed to find a place where she could truly be alone—where she could begin to make the most of her newfound freedom.
She decided on a quiet stretch of land on the outskirts of London, far enough from the city’s bustling streets to feel safe and secluded. A small forest area, dense with trees and surrounded by thick underbrush, seemed like the perfect place. It was far enough removed from civilization that no one would stumble upon her by accident.
As Evelyn made her way through the forest, her wand in hand, she began to draw the necessary wards to protect her space. She knew that with the kind of freedom she now had, she had to be vigilant. The wards would keep the area safe from unwanted intruders, both magical and mundane. A series of powerful spells—protective and binding—quickly formed a barrier around her chosen clearing.
Once she was satisfied with the wards, Evelyn placed her trunk in the center of the clearing, just a few feet from the base of a massive oak tree. The apartment inside the trunk seemed more real to her now, and she couldn’t wait to go down and begin furnishing it. She had the freedom to make it her own, to create a sanctuary that was truly hers.
With a deep breath, she opened the trunk, stepping down into the hidden space within. As she descended, the apartment revealed itself once more—a cozy living space filled with the potential for comfort and solitude.
Evelyn stood in the center of her new apartment, taking in the space around her. The walls, though bare, already seemed to pulse with the warmth and comfort she imagined. It was a small, cozy apartment, not luxurious, but certainly enough for her needs. There were enough rooms to give her privacy, but still compact enough to feel personal. A small fireplace flickered on one side of the room, its hearth gently crackling as if it were welcoming her.
The forest outside hummed with life, the wind rustling the trees and filling the air with the scent of pine and earth. It felt peaceful here, safe. She was far from the noise and chaos of the world, and that was exactly what she needed. For once, she didn’t feel like she was hiding. This was her sanctuary, her personal space where she could focus and think clearly.
Evelyn moved through the apartment, her wand lightly tapping on the walls, already envisioning how it might look once decorated. The furniture she had ordered was all set up, with a small kitchen table by the window, bookshelves lining the walls, and a comfortable chair by the fire. There was a large, soft rug in the living room, and she was starting to feel like this place was truly hers.
The kitchen was the first room she tackled. She had decided on a sage green for the walls—calming and fresh, with a touch of warmth. She would hang some small plants near the window, adding an earthy, homey touch to the space. As she stood there, her wand waved and the kitchen seemed to come to life. A few silverware drawers slid open, and Evelyn smiled, pleased with the little spells she was able to perform.
Moving into the living room, she had already decided on a dark green accent wall, bold and comforting, contrasting the lighter cream-colored walls around it. The room would be a place for her to sit and read, or perhaps entertain friends when she was feeling social. She’d make sure it had plenty of bookshelves, her obsession with books now evident in the way they seemed to multiply.
The bedroom was next—a small, cozy space that felt just right for a peaceful night’s sleep. Evelyn had chosen a light cream color for the walls, wanting it to feel warm and inviting. She had purchased a few posters at Diagon Alley, ones that spoke to her in a way that nothing else could. The posters hung on the walls, adding personality and flair to the otherwise simple room. A small bed with soft linens sat in the middle of the room, and a few soft pillows completed the look.
As she moved through the apartment, Evelyn couldn’t help but smile. There was something satisfying about turning an empty space into a home, and the process of decorating was therapeutic. She had been so focused on her studies and her secret for so long that she hadn’t given herself the time to simply relax and enjoy the process of creating her own living space. Now, with everything slowly coming together, she felt a sense of accomplishment.
The apartment was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves from outside, and Evelyn savored the stillness. For the first time in what felt like forever, she could breathe easily, without the weight of constantly being watched, of having to hide who she truly was.
The warmth from the fire filled the room, and Evelyn sank into the chair by the hearth. She ran her fingers over the soft fabric of the cushions, content in her own space. There was still more to do, but for now, she was happy with how things were coming together. She had the freedom to decorate as she wished, to make this place her own, and that felt like a gift she hadn’t truly known she needed.
Her thoughts wandered back to her conversation with Ragnok. The fact that she was now officially an emancipated adult, able to perform magic outside of Hogwarts without the Ministry of Magic knowing, was both a relief and a responsibility. Even now, while decorating her apartment the magic came to her like she had a been a witch all her life. She couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride for having kept this secret all year, and for having navigated the challenges she faced with such resilience. But the weight of knowing that Lady Magic had chosen her, that she was part of something much bigger than herself, still weighed on her heart in ways she couldn’t quite put into words. Evelyn also realised that Lady Magic must have given her a jump in her magic, non-verbal spells came easy to her, which she didn’t realise until after she had furnished her whole apartment — without making a sound.
But for now, she would focus on the small joys of creating a home. She’d already created a safe place for herself here—one where she could grow, reflect, and maybe even heal. And for the first time in a long while, she felt truly at peace with her decisions.
She had come so far, and this apartment was the first step in making this new life truly hers.
______________
Two weeks later, Evelyn had just finished organizing her bookshelves when a sharp tapping echoed through her apartment. She glanced up and saw a small brown owl pecking at the entrance of her trunk apartment’s enchanted skylight. With a flick of her wand, she opened the window, allowing the owl to swoop in and drop a letter onto her coffee table before perching on the back of her chair, ruffling its feathers impatiently.
She untied the letter and immediately recognized Pansy’s elegant, looping script.
Evelyn,
I hope you’re not planning to become a recluse in whatever secret hideout you’ve disappeared to. Daphne and I have been talking, and we’ve decided you’re coming shopping with us tomorrow—no arguments.
We’re meeting in Diagon Alley at noon, so be there, or I’ll hunt you down myself. I need new robes, and you’re going to help me pick them out. Daphne wants to look at jewelry, and I suppose we’ll have to stop by Flourish and Blotts so you can hover around the bookshelves like a lovesick fool.
Oh, and I expect details about your summer plans. You disappeared right after the train ride, and I want to know everything.
See you tomorrow. Don’t be late.
Pansy
Evelyn let out a small laugh, shaking her head as she folded the letter. Pansy’s words carried their usual bluntness, but there was an unmistakable warmth to them, a reminder that despite everything, she had real friends here.
She glanced around her still-unfinished apartment, debating whether to spend the rest of the evening decorating or reading. But now, she had something to look forward to—seeing her friends again, stepping back into the world she had been keeping at arm’s length.
With a satisfied sigh, she stretched out on the couch and flicked her wand to summon a book from the shelf. Tomorrow could wait. Tonight, she would enjoy the quiet.
____________
The next morning, Evelyn arrived in Diagon Alley a few minutes before noon. She stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder as she scanned the busy street for any sign of Pansy and Daphne. The summer crowd had already flooded the alley, with shoppers darting between storefronts, their arms full of parcels and potion ingredients.
“Evelyn!”
She turned just in time to see Pansy striding toward her, her dark hair impeccably styled and a knowing smirk on her face. Daphne was a step behind, her blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight as she linked her arm through Pansy’s.
“You’re lucky we didn’t have to come drag you out of hiding,” Pansy teased, giving Evelyn a once-over as if inspecting her for signs of seclusion-induced madness.
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to write?” Daphne added, raising an eyebrow.
Evelyn hesitated. She hadn’t meant to distance herself, but between setting up her apartment, meeting with Ragnok, and adjusting to her independence, she hadn’t made much of an effort to keep in touch.
“Sorry,” she said honestly. “I should’ve written.”
Pansy huffed but didn’t seem truly annoyed. “Well, you can make it up to us today. We have a full itinerary—robes, accessories, books, and lunch. I assume you haven’t eaten yet?”
Evelyn’s stomach growled at the mention of food, and Daphne laughed. “That answers that.”
“Flourish and Blotts is on the way to Madam Malkin’s,” Evelyn pointed out, already knowing she wouldn’t be able to resist stopping in.
Pansy rolled her eyes but relented. “Fine. But only a quick stop. If you start browsing through an entire section, I’m dragging you out by your hair.”
Evelyn grinned, falling into step beside them as they made their way down the cobbled street. The warmth of the summer sun mixed with the vibrant energy of Diagon Alley, and for the first time in weeks, she felt truly present.
Maybe taking a break from her self-imposed solitude wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Chapter 14: letters, invitations & the burrow
Summary:
harry and evelyn are finally exchanging letters and evelyn gets to visit the burrow.
Chapter Text
A tapping at her window stirred Evelyn from her breakfast. She glanced up, spotting a familiar snowy owl perched on the sill, ruffling its feathers impatiently.
“Hedwig,” she murmured, setting down her tea and hurrying over to let the owl inside.
Hedwig hooted in greeting and extended her leg, a neatly folded letter tied to it. Evelyn untied the parchment and gave the owl a soft scratch behind the head before she flew over to perch on one of Evelyn’s bookshelves.
She unfolded the letter and immediately recognized Harry’s untidy scrawl.
Dear Evelyn,
I realised I never actually wrote to check in on you—so here I am, writing to check in on you. How’s your summer going? You mentioned in our last conversation that you were sorting out a place to stay, but you never really explained what that meant. Knowing you, you’ve probably been living in a treehouse somewhere in the middle of a forest like a hermit.
Things have been good here. Ron’s family is great, though his mum keeps fussing over me like I’m one of her own. Not that I mind—it’s nice. Fred and George are ridiculous, and Ginny’s been a bit quiet around me (which is weird, but I think I prefer that over the blushing and running away). Percy’s working at the Ministry now, and I think he’s letting it go to his head a bit. Ron’s been rolling his eyes at him every other second.
The best part, though—Ron’s dad managed to get us all tickets to the Quidditch World Cup through his work! We’re going in three weeks, and I honestly can’t wait. Have you got tickets too?
Write back soon, yeah?
—Harry Potter
Evelyn smiled as she finished reading. She walked over to her desk, pulled out parchment and ink, and started her reply.
Dear Harry,
You’ll be relieved to know that I am not living in a treehouse, though the idea is actually kind of appealing. No, I’ve got my own place now—technically. It’s a bit complicated, but I’ve got an apartment (inside my trunk, long story) set up in a forest just outside of London. I spent the first week of summer setting up wards to make sure it’s safe, and honestly? It’s nice having my own space.
Pansy and Daphne dragged me shopping the other day, and it was actually fun. I think Pansy was trying to make up for lost time since I was ‘hiding away’ (her words, not mine).
And guess what? I am going to the World Cup! Pansy’s family got tickets, so I’ll be there too. Looks like we’ll get to see each other sooner than expected.
Write back soon. Hedwig’s already making herself comfortable.
—Evelyn
Evelyn tied the letter to Hedwig’s leg and gave her another gentle scratch. “Make sure he actually reads the whole thing before getting distracted,” she said.
The owl hooted and, with a flap of her wings, soared out of the window.
A few days later, Evelyn was curled up in her armchair with a book when Hedwig returned, dropping another letter into her lap.
Dear Evelyn,
An apartment inside your trunk? That’s mental. I definitely need to come see it at some point. That sounds way too cool to keep secret.
I can’t believe you’re going to the World Cup too! That’s brilliant—we’ll have to meet up while we’re there. Do you know which teams you’re supporting yet? Ron and his brothers are already arguing about it.
Speaking of after the World Cup—since you’ve got your own place now, do you think I could come see it? Maybe stay for a few days? If that’s alright with you, of course.
Also, you really need to come visit The Burrow. I know you’ve never been, but I think you’d like it. It’s chaotic, but in the best way.
Let me know what you think!
—Harry
Evelyn shook her head fondly before grabbing a fresh sheet of parchment.
Dear Harry,
Of course you can come visit after the World Cup. It’d be nice to have company for a few days. But only if you don’t mind staying in a magically expanded apartment inside a trunk—though I suppose after three years at Hogwarts, that’s not too shocking.
As for The Burrow… I suppose I could come visit for a few days. But just a few! Pansy and Daphne will throw a fit if I disappear for too long, and I don’t fancy being hunted down.
See you soon.
—Evelyn
Hedwig flew off again, and two days later, another letter arrived.
Dear Evelyn,
That’s settled, then! You’ll come to The Burrow next week, and then after the World Cup, I’ll come see your place. Ron doesn’t know you’re coming, by the way. I figured I’d just surprise him.
See you soon!
—Harry
Evelyn smiled to herself as she folded up the letter. It looked like she had plans for the next few weeks after all.
A week later, Evelyn stood outside the Burrow, trunk at her side, glancing up at the wonky-looking house. It was even stranger in person than she’d imagined, but it had a charm to it. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, and she could hear voices and laughter inside.
Harry had met her at the edge of the property and led her toward the house, grinning like he was about to cause trouble.
“Alright, let’s go in,” he said, pushing open the door.
The warmth of the Burrow hit Evelyn instantly—along with the delicious smell of home-cooked food. Inside, the kitchen was bustling, pots and pans washing themselves in the sink while Mrs. Weasley moved about, preparing what looked like an enormous meal.
Ron was sitting at the table, talking to the twins, but when he saw Evelyn, his mouth fell open.
“What the—Harry!” Ron spluttered, looking between them. “You didn’t say she was coming!”
Harry grinned. “Surprise.”
Evelyn gave a small wave. “Hi, Ron.”
Ron still looked stunned but quickly shook it off. “Er—yeah, hi. You’re, uh, really here, then?”
“I am,” Evelyn said dryly. “And I promise I’m not here to hex you in your sleep.”
Fred and George, who had been watching the whole exchange, immediately got up and circled Evelyn.
“Well, well, well,” Fred mused.
“A Slytherin in the Burrow,” George added.
“This is a historical moment.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Is this where you hex me, then?”
Fred and George exchanged glances before laughing. “Nah,” Fred said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Anyone who can shock Ron like that is alright in our book.”
“Agreed,” George said. “Welcome to the madhouse.”
Mrs. Weasley bustled over before Evelyn could respond, wiping her hands on her apron. “Evelyn, dear! It’s so lovely to have you here, I’ve heard so much about you from Harry” she said warmly. “You’ll be staying in the spare room just upstairs. Dinner will be ready soon, so I hope you’re hungry.”
Evelyn felt a rare warmth in her chest. This—this was what a home was supposed to feel like.
“I am, actually,” she admitted.
“Good,” Mrs. Weasley said with a smile. “Now, go get settled in, dear.”
Evelyn nodded and followed Harry upstairs, already feeling more at home than she expected.
Later that night, Evelyn sat at the long wooden dining table in the Burrow’s cozy kitchen, taking in the chaotic warmth around her. The table was laden with dishes—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, steaming vegetables, thick slices of homemade bread, and a gravy boat that was being passed around with enthusiastic determination. The air smelled like butter and herbs, with the faintest hint of something sweet baking in the oven.
Mrs. Weasley was bustling around, making sure everyone had enough food, while Mr. Weasley listened intently as Harry recounted something about Muggle buses. Ginny was sitting between Ron and Hermione - who had arrived just after Evelyn - occasionally chiming in, and the twins—Fred and George—were already causing trouble.
“So, Evelyn,” Fred began, turning toward her with a mischievous grin as he passed her a bowl of roasted potatoes. “Tell us—how did a Slytherin end up being friends with our dear, noble Harry?”
Evelyn, who had just taken a sip of pumpkin juice, arched an eyebrow. “You make it sound like I adopted a lost puppy.”
“Well,” George said, smirking, “considering how often he gets himself into life-threatening situations, it’s not entirely inaccurate.”
Ron snorted into his goblet of water while Harry rolled his eyes. “I do not get myself into life-threatening situations.”
Hermione shot him a knowing look. “Really? Need I remind you of literally every year at Hogwarts?”
“Third time’s a charm, mate,” Ron added.
Evelyn smirked. “To be fair, this year he did technically start off just minding his own business until a certain mass murderer got involved.”
“Right, and then he decided to go after him,” Hermione muttered.
Evelyn held up a hand in surrender. “Not saying it was smart, but at least this time it wasn’t entirely his fault.”
Harry sighed. “I don’t know why I bother.”
“Because we’re your friends,” Evelyn said sweetly.
Fred and George exchanged an impressed glance. “Alright, we like her,” George declared.
Fred nodded. “Oh, definitely.”
“Anyway,” Ron said, shoveling mashed potatoes onto his plate, “what’s your summer been like, Evelyn?”
Evelyn hesitated for a moment before answering. “Quiet. I’ve been setting up my own place, and Pansy and Daphne dragged me shopping, so that was… interesting.”
Ron wrinkled his nose. “Can’t imagine what shopping with Parkinson’s like.”
“She’s actually not that bad,” Evelyn said with a shrug. “A bit pushy, but we’ve got an understanding.”
“She must, if she’s friends with a Slytherin who spends her summers hanging out with Gryffindors,” Ginny said, raising an eyebrow.
“She does ask a lot of questions,” Evelyn admitted.
George grinned. “You’ve got to let us know what she says when she finds out you’ve been staying with us.”
“Oh, she’ll have so many questions,” Evelyn mused.
Mrs. Weasley placed a fresh plate of bread in the middle of the table. “Well, I’m just glad you could join us, dear,” she said kindly. “You’re welcome anytime.”
Evelyn felt an unfamiliar warmth in her chest. She wasn’t used to people inviting her into their homes—especially ones as lively and welcoming as this.
“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” she said, meaning it.
“Speaking of invitations,” Mr. Weasley said, looking at Harry, “did you tell Evelyn about the Quidditch World Cup?”
Harry grinned. “Yeah! She’s already got tickets—Pansy’s family is taking her.”
“Excellent!” Mr. Weasley beamed. “It’s going to be an incredible match. Ireland vs. Bulgaria—Krum is playing, you know!”
Fred and George instantly perked up at the mention of Viktor Krum, launching into a debate about whether Ireland’s team could outmatch Bulgaria’s Seeker. Evelyn listened, amused, as they argued, with Ron chiming in passionately in defense of Ireland.
The conversation shifted from Quidditch to Percy’s new job at the Ministry, which Ron took great pleasure in mocking. Percy, who had been quiet for most of the meal, finally sighed in exasperation. “You’ll understand the importance of a respectable job when you get older.”
Fred smirked. “Oh, we have a respectable job planned, don’t we, George?”
George nodded solemnly. “Indeed, dear brother. We’re entrepreneurs.”
“Entrepreneurs?” Percy repeated, clearly unimpressed.
“Yes,” Fred said. “We’re planning on opening a joke shop.”
Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. “That is not a respectable career.”
“It is if we make money from it,” George pointed out.
Ron shook his head. “They’re serious. They’ve been testing their pranks on me all year.”
Evelyn smirked. “Sounds like good business practice to me.”
Fred clutched his heart dramatically. “Finally, someone who understands!”
The dinner carried on with plenty of laughter, more playful arguments, and a few magical accidents—one of the dishes nearly floated off the table before Mrs. Weasley caught it. By the time dessert was served—treacle tart, much to Harry’s delight—Evelyn felt strangely at ease.
She hadn’t expected to enjoy her time at the Burrow this much, but it was impossible not to get caught up in the warmth of the Weasley family.
Maybe this summer wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Chapter 15: Evelyn’s first day at the burrow
Chapter Text
Evelyn awoke to the smell of bacon and toast drifting through the air. The Burrow was alive with the clatter of pans and the murmur of voices. Sunlight streamed through the small window in her room, casting warm patterns on the walls. She stretched and smiled to herself, already feeling the sense of belonging that came with being surrounded by the Weasley family.
After quickly dressing, she made her way downstairs, where the kitchen was a hive of activity. Mrs. Weasley stood at the stove, deftly flipping pancakes while Ginny set the table. Ron and Hermione were arguing good-naturedly about something trivial, and Harry was helping himself to a plateful of food.
“Oh, morning, Evelyn!” Ron greeted her, waving her over to the table. “Did you sleep alright?”
“Like a log,” Evelyn replied, sliding into a seat beside Hermione. “I think I was out as soon as my head hit the pillow.”
“Yeah, the Burrow does that to people,” Harry said with a grin. “You get used to it.”
As breakfast carried on, the laughter and chatter swirled around her. Even Ron, who had been suspicious of her Slytherin ties, seemed to be warming up. They all fell into an easy rhythm, and Evelyn found herself relaxing, joining in on the jokes and banter.
After breakfast, Evelyn found herself wandering outside, drawn to the cool morning air. She barely made it to the garden when Fred and George appeared beside her, identical grins plastered on their faces.
“Evelyn,” Fred began conspiratorially, draping an arm over her shoulder.
“We need your help,” George finished, leaning in on her other side.
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “With what, exactly?”
Fred looked around to make sure no one was listening. “We’ve got this prank planned for Harry. Just a bit of fun to start the day.”
George held up a small vial of brightly colored powder. “This here’s a special paint we’ve concocted. Won’t come off for an hour, no matter what you try.”
Evelyn bit back a grin. “And what do you need me to do?”
Fred’s eyes sparkled. “All you have to do is distract him while we set it up. Then, when he comes out of his room—splat!”
“I’m in,” Evelyn said without hesitation.
They shared a quick plan, and soon enough, Evelyn was knocking on Harry’s door, feigning an urgent expression. “Harry! I think Ron’s broken something in the bathroom.”
Harry’s eyes widened, and he bolted past her, right into the trap. As soon as he stepped into the hallway, a bucket tipped over, drenching him in bright green paint. It dripped from his hair and onto his glasses, leaving him sputtering.
Fred and George doubled over with laughter, high-fiving each other. Evelyn couldn’t help but join in, though she quickly realized her mistake when Harry turned to glare at her, grinning wickedly.
“Oh no,” she breathed, backing away.
“You’re in on this, aren’t you?” Harry said, taking a step toward her, paint splattering the floor.
“Maybe,” she laughed, before turning and sprinting down the stairs, Harry hot on her heels.
“Come here! You’re getting a hug whether you like it or not!” Harry shouted, laughing as he chased her through the kitchen, narrowly avoiding Mrs. Weasley, who let out an exasperated sigh.
“Fred! George! What did you do now?” Mrs. Weasley called, hands on her hips as she watched Harry chase Evelyn around the garden.
Evelyn ducked behind a tree, trying to catch her breath. “Alright, alright! I surrender!”
Harry grinned and lunged, catching her in a paint-splattered hug. Evelyn yelped, laughing despite herself as she tried to push him away, only managing to smear more paint on herself.
“Truce?” Harry asked, still grinning.
“Truce,” she agreed, still chuckling.
After cleaning up the paint disaster (and Fred and George receiving a stern lecture from their mum), everyone gathered in the garden for lunch. Just as they were finishing their sandwiches, two more Weasleys arrived.
Bill and Charlie strolled up the garden path, Bill’s long hair tied back, his tooth earrings on display and Charlie with his sleeves rolled up, his arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed the scene.
“Hello, all!” Bill greeted warmly, his gaze landing on Evelyn. “And you must be Evelyn. We’ve heard a bit about you.”
“Good things, I hope,” Evelyn replied, smiling.
Charlie eyed her, his expression curious. “So, a Slytherin, eh? Can’t say I’ve ever seen one hanging around here before.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, matching his level gaze. “I haven’t hexed anyone yet.”
Bill chuckled. “Well, if Harry likes you, that’s good enough for us.”
Charlie nodded, his expression softening. “Yeah, welcome. You’ll find this place grows on you.”
Before long, they were all chatting comfortably, with Bill recounting stories of his adventures in Egypt and Charlie talking about his dragons. The easygoing atmosphere of the Weasley family quickly absorbed Evelyn, and she found herself genuinely enjoying their company.
Later that afternoon, Evelyn found herself wandering into Mr. Weasley’s shed. The small workshop was cluttered with various Muggle artifacts, all in varying states of disassembly. Mr. Weasley was hunched over a television set, poking at it with his wand and muttering to himself.
“Need any help?” Evelyn asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Mr. Weasley looked up, surprised. “Oh, Evelyn! You wouldn’t happen to know anything about these contraptions, would you? I can’t seem to get it to do… well, whatever it’s supposed to do.”
Evelyn laughed. “I do, actually. Let me take a look.”
She stepped over and inspected the television, quickly realizing it was unplugged. She carefully plugged it in, then adjusted a few knobs. The screen flickered to life, static crackling.
“There we go. It won’t do much without an aerial, though,” she explained.
Mr. Weasley’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Fascinating! And this… aerial… it connects to the Muggle airwaves, does it?”
“Exactly. I can help you rig something up if you’d like.”
“I’d be delighted! You must know a lot about these things,” he said, beaming.
Evelyn shrugged, grinning. “I suppose I’ve picked up a thing or two.”
They spent the next hour tinkering, with Evelyn explaining the basics of Muggle technology and Mr. Weasley hanging on her every word. She hadn’t realized how much she missed this part of her past life—the simplicity of Muggle gadgets and the joy of sharing that knowledge.
After dinner, the Burrow was still alive with chatter and laughter as the Weasleys cleared the table. Evelyn had offered to help, but Mrs. Weasley had shooed her away, insisting she was a guest. Feeling full and content, Evelyn wandered outside for some fresh air, stepping onto the worn wooden steps that led down to the garden.
The night was cool, the scent of grass and earth thick in the air. Crickets chirped somewhere in the distance, and a soft breeze rustled the trees. Evelyn tilted her head back, gazing up at the sky. The stars were clearer here, unpolluted by the bright city lights she had grown up around. She’d never seen so many before coming to the wizarding world.
The door creaked behind her, and she turned to see Harry stepping outside, hands tucked into his pockets. His glasses reflected the moonlight, and his hair—messier than ever after being ruffled by the wind—stood up at odd angles.
“Hey,” he said, settling onto the step beside her.
“Hey,” Evelyn replied, wrapping her arms around her knees.
They sat in silence for a moment, watching the stars blink in and out of existence above them. The sounds of the Burrow—the occasional clatter from inside, the muffled laughter of the twins—felt distant, like a comforting hum in the background.
Harry exhaled deeply. “I’m glad you’re here, you know.”
Evelyn turned her head slightly to look at him. He was staring straight ahead, his expression unreadable.
“It’s nice having you around,” he added.
Evelyn smiled softly. “I’m glad too. I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”
Harry nodded, scuffing his shoe against the step. “The Burrow’s always been kind of like… an escape for me. A place where I don’t have to think about—” He hesitated. “Everything else.”
She knew what he meant. The Dursleys, the weight of being the Boy Who Lived, the constant looming presence of Voldemort.
“I get it,” she said quietly. “It’s warm here. Safe.”
Harry glanced at her. “You didn’t have that before, did you? A place like this?”
Evelyn hesitated. “No.” She traced the wood grain on the step with her fingertip. “I mean, I had a home, but it was just a place to sleep. It never really felt like it belonged to me.”
Harry frowned slightly, but he didn’t push her for details. He understood the feeling all too well.
“Well,” he said, nudging her shoulder lightly, “you’ve got one now.”
Evelyn felt something in her chest tighten at his words. She swallowed, staring out at the darkened garden.
“You really think so?” she asked, her voice quieter than before.
Harry nodded. “Yeah. You’ve got us.”
Evelyn let out a slow breath. “You know, I’ve always been kind of a loner. Even before Hogwarts. I didn’t really think I needed people.” She paused. “But then I met you.”
Harry turned to look at her fully now, his expression unreadable. Evelyn continued, her voice steady.
“You, the other Slytherin’s, Hermione and even Ron, despite how much he was suspicious of me at first,” she said with a small laugh. “You all changed things for me.”
Harry didn’t say anything for a long moment, but he reached out and covered her hand with his. It was a simple gesture, warm and reassuring.
“I know the feeling,” he said eventually. “Before Hogwarts, I didn’t have anyone either.”
Evelyn squeezed his hand lightly before letting go. “Well, you do now.”
Harry smiled. “Yeah. And so do you.”
They sat there a little while longer, letting the night settle around them, the quiet companionship between them speaking louder than words. Evelyn had always been good at keeping walls up, but here, at the Burrow, under the stars, she felt them start to crack just a little.
And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel alone.
_________________
Morning at the Burrow was always a chaotic affair. Harry had quickly adjusted to the lively routine over the past few weeks, but today felt different—quieter, even with the usual clatter of dishes and the distant sound of Fred and George arguing over some experiment gone wrong. The summer sun filtered through the small window in Ron’s attic bedroom, casting a golden glow over the mismatched furniture and Quidditch posters peeling from the slanted ceiling.
Harry rolled onto his side, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. Ron was still snoring, sprawled out on his bed with one arm dangling over the side, oblivious to the world. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest made it clear that he wasn’t waking up anytime soon. Harry, however, was wide awake.
He sat up, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes before glancing at the clock. It was still early—early enough that Mrs. Weasley hadn’t yet started calling them down for breakfast, but late enough that he doubted anyone else in the house was still asleep. A feeling of restlessness gnawed at him, that same unsettled weight in his chest that had been there since the start of the summer.
His scar didn’t hurt. Not now. But the memory of the dream still sat at the back of his mind, a shadow that refused to leave him.
With a sigh, Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, grabbing his wand from the nightstand before carefully stepping over a pile of Ron’s clothes and making his way to the door.
The Burrow was alive with the scent of warm bread and something sweet baking in the oven. Harry padded downstairs, expecting to see Mrs. Weasley bustling about, but instead, he found Evelyn sitting at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea.
She looked up at the sound of his footsteps and grinned. “Morning, Harry. You look like you got run over by a Hippogriff.”
Harry snorted, ruffling his already-messy hair as he sat across from her. “Thanks Eve. Always great to start my day with a compliment.”
Evelyn smirked, but her gaze lingered on him, and after a moment, her teasing faded into something more thoughtful. “Did you sleep badly?”
Harry hesitated, tapping his fingers against the table. He didn’t know why, but with Evelyn, it was easier to talk about things he usually brushed off. She didn’t push, didn’t hover like Hermione or dismiss things like Ron sometimes did. She just listened.
“Sort of,” he admitted. He glanced toward the stairs, but the house was still quiet, the only sound coming from the occasional clatter of pots in the distance. “I’ve been having this dream. It’s not new—I had it at the start of the summer, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Evelyn leaned forward slightly, resting her chin in her hand. “What kind of dream?”
Harry exhaled slowly. “It was about Voldemort.”
He watched her expression carefully, but she didn’t flinch at the name like most people did.
“I was in this old house,” Harry continued, lowering his voice. “The place looked abandoned—dusty, dark, like nobody had lived there in years. But Voldemort was there. He was talking to someone, Wormtail, I think. And there was this other man too, a Muggle.” Harry frowned, trying to recall the details. “Voldemort killed him.”
Evelyn didn’t react immediately, but something flickered in her eyes. “And you saw all of this in your dream?”
“Yeah.” Harry rubbed at his forehead, though there was no pain there now. “It felt… real. More real than any other dream I’ve had. I don’t think it was just my imagination.”
Evelyn’s fingers tightened slightly around her cup. “Has your scar hurt since then?”
Harry shook his head. “No. Not since last year.”
Evelyn considered that for a moment before speaking. “Do you think he’s getting stronger?”
Harry swallowed. That was the question, wasn’t it? One he hadn’t wanted to say out loud.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I have a bad feeling.”
Evelyn didn’t look away. “Maybe you should tell someone. Dumbledore, at least.”
“I know.” Harry sighed. “I just—” He ran a hand through his hair. “What if it doesn’t mean anything? What if I’m just worrying for nothing?”
Evelyn arched an eyebrow. “Since when have your instincts ever been wrong, Harry?”
Harry let out a small, humorless laugh. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
The two of them sat in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken thoughts lingering between them. Eventually, Evelyn exhaled and leaned back in her chair.
“Well,” she said, “if you ever want to talk about it again, you know where to find me.”
Harry met her gaze, and for the first time that morning, the tension in his chest loosened just a little.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”
Chapter 16: a summer of chaos
Chapter Text
Evelyn sat on the bed in her borrowed room at the Burrow, stretching out lazily as she flipped through the book she had borrowed from the Weasleys’ overflowing collection. The late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting warm golden light across the walls. A soft hoot from outside caught her attention, and she turned toward the open window just as a sleek black owl swooped in, landing neatly on her nightstand.
Recognizing the owl immediately, Evelyn reached for the letter attached to its leg and gave the bird an affectionate scratch behind the head before it took off again. She unfolded the parchment, smiling as she recognized Pansy’s handwriting.
Evelyn,
I hope you’re still alive after spending so much time with the Gryffindors. How are they? Still insufferable? Or have you actually grown to like them? (Merlin forbid.)
Anyway, I’m writing because we finally have the details for the World Cup! We’re taking a Portkey straight to the campsite. Father has arranged everything, of course, so we’ll be traveling in comfort (as much as Portkeys allow). We’ll be staying in the VIP section—Daphne’s family is in the same area—so it should be easy to find each other.
Try not to embarrass yourself by showing up in Gryffindor colors or something equally horrendous. I’d never forgive you.
See you soon,
Pansy
P.S. Tell Potter not to get himself killed before the match. He still owes me five Galleons from our last bet.
Evelyn laughed softly, shaking her head. Typical Pansy.
She reached for a blank piece of parchment and quickly scribbled a reply:
Pansy,
Still alive, though I think I’ve been permanently infected with Gryffindor energy. It’s all laughter and Quidditch and chaos here, but honestly? It’s been nice. (Don’t tell Draco. He’d have an aneurysm.)
Portkey, huh? That should be fun. I’ll see you at the campsite—try not to act too posh while we’re roughing it in tents.
And Harry says you’ll have to drag those five Galleons from his cold, dead hands.
P.S. When did you start betting with Harry???
See you soon,
Evelyn
She folded the letter neatly and set it aside to send later, stretching her arms over her head. Only one more day at the Burrow, and then the World Cup. The thought made her strangely excited, but also a little sad.
She was really going to miss this place.
_______________
The afternoon was warm, the kind of lazy summer heat that made everyone move a little slower. After sending Pansy’s letter off, Evelyn wandered outside, drawn to the familiar sounds of chatter and laughter. The Weasleys were scattered across the garden—Fred and George were enchanting garden gnomes to dance, Ginny was half-heartedly scolding them, and Ron and Harry were tossing a Quaffle back and forth.
Evelyn, however, found herself heading toward the orchard, where she had spotted Charlie earlier, leaning against a tree with a letter in hand. As she approached, he looked up and grinned.
“Running from my brothers already?” he teased.
Evelyn smirked. “Something like that. Thought I’d come bother you instead.”
Charlie chuckled, folding the letter and tucking it into his pocket. “You’re welcome to. It’s been a while since I had some peace before they started roping me into their nonsense.”
She sat down on the grass next to him, tilting her head. “How long are you staying?”
“Just until after the World Cup,” Charlie replied. “Then I’m heading back to Romania. Got a new hatchling that needs looking after. A Norwegian Ridgeback—nasty little thing, but beautiful.”
Evelyn’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “You work with dragons full-time?”
Charlie nodded, grinning. “Best job in the world. Though it’s not exactly easy. Some of the older ones, the real ancient dragons, are a bit… unpredictable. But it’s worth it.”
Evelyn hesitated before asking, “So, why dragons?”
Charlie leaned back against the tree, considering his answer. “They don’t care about houses, blood status, or politics. They don’t pretend to be anything they’re not. A dragon sees you, and it either trusts you or it doesn’t. You earn their respect, or you don’t. Simple as that.”
Evelyn was quiet for a moment, then smiled. “I get that. It must be freeing.”
“It is,” Charlie agreed. “And hey, if you ever get bored of whatever grand plans you have for yourself, you should come visit. Not many people have the patience for dragons, but I think you might.”
Evelyn huffed a laugh. “I’ll think about it. No promises, though—I quite like having both of my eyebrows intact.”
Charlie laughed, ruffling her hair in a brotherly way before standing up. “Come on, let’s head back before Fred and George decide to prank you next.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes but followed him back toward the Burrow, already feeling a bit more at ease.
The next morning, Evelyn woke up to the unmistakable sounds of chaos. Someone was yelling downstairs, pots were clattering in the kitchen, and from outside, she could hear Fred and George laughing mischievously.
She stretched, taking in the cozy little room she’d been staying in. The Burrow had a way of making everything feel warmer, more alive, and for the past few days, she had grown comfortable in the constant noise and movement of the Weasley household.
After getting dressed, she made her way downstairs, only to be met with an enthusiastic “Morning, Evelyn!” from Mrs. Weasley, who was bustling about the kitchen, preparing breakfast.
“Good morning,” Evelyn greeted, ducking just as a pillow came flying past her head—courtesy of Ron, who was fending off an attack from Ginny at the breakfast table.
“Fred, George, what are you up to?” Mrs. Weasley called over her shoulder.
“Nothing at all, Mum,” Fred said, far too innocently.
“Just appreciating this fine morning,” George added.
Evelyn narrowed her eyes at them as she took a seat beside Harry, who was already digging into a plate of eggs and toast. “You two have been suspiciously well-behaved,” she said.
Fred gasped dramatically. “Evelyn! You wound us.”
“Yeah, we’ve been absolute angels,” George agreed, looking just as falsely offended.
Evelyn arched an eyebrow but decided not to question it—yet. Instead, she focused on enjoying her breakfast, laughing along as Ron complained about Ginny’s ‘aggressive’ wake-up tactics and as Charlie gave Bill a hard time about his long hair.
After breakfast, Evelyn spent most of the morning with Ginny and Hermione, helping Mrs. Weasley with some household charms and enjoying the warm summer air outside. But she should have known better than to let her guard down completely.
The moment she stepped back into the house, something felt off. Fred and George were nowhere in sight, which was always a sign of imminent trouble.
She barely had time to process that thought before Harry emerged from his room upstairs—right as a bucket of enchanted, multicolored paint tipped over and dumped all over him.
There was a beat of silence.
Then Fred and George erupted into laughter as Harry sputtered, staring at his now bright green and purple arms.
Evelyn clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter, but it was too late. Harry turned, eyes narrowing at her.
“Oh, you think this is funny, do you? This is the second time in a week!” he said, stepping toward her.
Evelyn took a step back, hands raised in mock surrender. “Harry, let’s not be rash—”
But it was too late. He lunged at her, and Evelyn shrieked, barely dodging as Harry—still dripping with paint—chased her around the house, again.
Fred and George cheered them on as she darted past the kitchen, narrowly missing knocking over Mrs. Weasley, who gave an exasperated, “Honestly, you lot!” before sighing and continuing to scrub at the mess with her wand.
In the end, Harry managed to grab Evelyn’s arm, smearing paint all over her sleeve before she wrenched herself free.
“You’re lucky I like you,” Evelyn huffed, catching her breath as Harry finally relented, laughing.
“Revenge will be mine,” he declared dramatically, still half-covered in paint.
“I’d like to see you try,” Evelyn shot back.
The entire house was still chuckling as they finally cleaned up the mess, and even Mrs. Weasley had to admit that at least the prank had been harmless—though she still gave Fred and George a long lecture about proper uses of magic.
The rest of the day was just as lively. Bill and Charlie spent the afternoon challenging
Harry, and Evelyn to a game of two-on-two Quidditch, while Ginny and Hermione watched from the sidelines. Fred and George, determined to ‘commentate’ the match, ended up making such a mess of it that even Percy—who had been trying to write something important for work—stormed outside to tell them all off.
By evening, the whole Weasley family (plus Evelyn and Harry) gathered for one last big dinner together. The table was full, plates being passed back and forth as everyone laughed and talked over each other.
Charlie was telling a story about a particularly stubborn dragon he’d worked with, while Percy was arguing with Bill about something work-related. Ron was in the middle of stuffing his face when Fred casually smacked the back of his head, causing him to nearly choke, much to the twins’ delight.
Evelyn found herself grinning as she watched the family interact. She had never seen anything quite like it—the way they bickered but always laughed, how they poked fun at each other but never with any real malice. It was loud, chaotic, and filled with warmth.
Mrs. Weasley made sure everyone was well-fed, piling extra food onto Evelyn’s plate no matter how much she insisted she was full.
“I swear, you’re all trying to fatten me up,” Evelyn joked.
“Nonsense, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, waving her off. “You need proper meals!”
By the time dinner was over, everyone was full and happy, and the sun was beginning to set outside the Burrow’s windows.
After helping clean up, Evelyn finally found herself standing in the sitting room, her trunk packed and ready to go. She turned to the Weasleys, suddenly feeling a little reluctant to leave.
“Thanks for having me,” she said sincerely.
“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, giving her a warm smile. “You’re always welcome here.”
Evelyn felt a swell of gratitude at those words. She had never had a place that felt quite like this.
She turned to Ron and Harry. “I’ll see you both at the World Cup?”
“Definitely,” Harry said, grinning.
Ron, who had finally gotten over his initial hesitation about Evelyn being a Slytherin, nodded. “Yeah. Try not to get into trouble before then, alright?”
“No promises,” Evelyn smirked.
After saying goodbye to the rest of the family, she took a deep breath and grabbed her trunk.
She had a world to explore, and an adventure to continue.
_______________
After Evelyn left, the Burrow felt a little quieter—well, as quiet as the Burrow ever got. Fred and George were still causing chaos, Ron was still grumbling about things, and Ginny was off practicing Quidditch. But there was something different about the day now.
Harry sat at the kitchen table, absentmindedly pushing his empty plate around as Mrs. Weasley bustled about, cleaning up from dinner. Ron sat across from him, flipping through a copy of Which Broomstick? with an air of deep concentration.
“Something on your mind, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked, noticing the way Harry seemed lost in thought.
Harry glanced up. Now was probably the best time to tell her. He shifted slightly in his chair. “Yeah, actually. I, uh… I wanted to let you know that after the Quidditch World Cup, I’ll be staying with Evelyn for a little while.”
Mrs. Weasley froze mid-wipe, turning to look at him with mild surprise. “With Evelyn?”
Ron’s head snapped up from his magazine. “Wait—what?”
Harry cleared his throat. “Yeah. We talked about it before she came to the Burrow, and she invited me to stay for a few days after the World Cup. I figured I’d go before heading back to the Dursleys.”
Ron blinked at him. “And when exactly were you gonna tell me about this?”
Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “Now?”
Ron let out a dramatic groan. “Oh, brilliant. First, I have to get used to her being around all the time, and now you’re off spending your summer with her.”
Harry smirked. “Come on, Ron. You like her now, don’t you?”
Ron huffed. “I tolerate her.”
Mrs. Weasley, on the other hand, gave him a considering look before nodding approvingly. “Well, that’s nice of her to offer. I assume she has a proper place to stay, then?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, she’s got her own apartment, apparently.”
Mrs. Weasley’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but she didn’t press further. “Well, if you’re sure, dear, then that’s fine by me. But do let me know if you need anything. You are only 14, I worry you know.”
Ron still looked like he was processing the information. “You do realize she’s a Slytherin, right?” he said, as if Harry had somehow forgotten.
Harry rolled his eyes. “You’ve spent the last few days with her, Ron. She’s not that bad.”
Ron sighed, rubbing his face. “I suppose. She’s alright, I guess.”
Harry smirked. “High praise coming from you.”
Ron ignored that. “But you better write to me, mate. Don’t go completely off the grid just because you’re hanging around with her.”
“I will,” Harry promised.
Mrs. Weasley patted him on the shoulder. “Well, as long as you’re safe and have a good time, dear. Just make sure you come back to us in one piece.”
Harry smiled. “I will.”
With that settled, the conversation shifted to the upcoming Quidditch World Cup, and Ron immediately launched into a long-winded debate about which team had the best chances of winning. But in the back of his mind, Harry couldn’t help but feel a little excited.
For the first time, he wasn’t dreading the end of summer. He had something to look forward to—an adventure of his own before he had to go back to the Dursleys.
Chapter 17: Quidditch World Cup
Chapter Text
Pansy Parkinson had been looking forward to this all summer.
The Quidditch World Cup. The biggest event in the wizarding world. A night of excitement, luxury, and—most importantly—Viktor Krum.
She had spent weeks pestering her father to make sure their seats were some of the best in the stadium. It had worked, of course, because the Parkinson name still meant something, even among international crowds. They would be sitting in the Top Box, near Minister Fudge himself. She could already imagine the view, the excitement, the sheer prestige of it all.
But before that, she had to suffer through this—a Portkey journey that left her feeling as if she had been turned inside out.
As soon as she landed, she dusted off her robes and straightened up, glancing over at Evelyn, who looked just as disoriented. Pansy smirked, linking arms with her.
“We’re here!” she announced, already scanning the massive campsite with keen interest. Wizards from all over the world filled the fields, their tents enchanted in elaborate ways to reflect their national pride.
Daphne arrived a moment later, grumbling about Portkeys.
Mr. Parkinson was already checking his watch, clearly distracted. “Alright, the match doesn’t start for a few hours. Go explore, but don’t wander too far.”
Pansy’s excitement only grew. “Come on,” she said, tugging on Evelyn’s arm. “Let’s go find Weasley’s lot before the crowds get too crazy.”
Daphne sighed. “Oh yes, because we love spending time with Gryffindors.”
Pansy ignored her. She had decided long ago that Evelyn needed to spend less time brooding around Hogwarts and more time having fun. And while she didn’t particularly love Harry Potter’s gang, she could tolerate them for Evelyn’s sake.
Besides, watching Ron Weasley look absolutely horrified at her presence was always entertaining.
She led the way confidently, weaving through the tents until they spotted a cluster of red-headed figures in the distance.
“There they are,” she announced.
____________
Evelyn felt a rush of excitement as she spotted Harry among the group. He turned just as they approached, and the moment his green eyes landed on her, his face lit up.
“You made it!” he said, grinning.
“Took a bit of tumbling through space, but yeah, I’m here,” she replied, smiling back.
Ron eyed Pansy like she was some kind of dangerous magical creature. “Didn’t realize you were bringing your posse.”
Pansy scoffed. “Relax, Weasley, I’m not here to hex you.” She crossed her arms, taking in the scene. “This place is chaotic.”
“That’s part of the fun,” Hermione said brightly. “It’s incredible, isn’t it? So many different people, all here for the same thing.”
Evelyn nodded, still soaking in the experience. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many wizards in one place.”
“Wait till you see the stadium,” Harry said. “It’s massive.”
Ron still looked unsure about Pansy, but in the end, he just shrugged and said, “We were about to go see if we could find any cool merchandise. You lot coming?”
Evelyn exchanged a glance with Pansy, who sighed dramatically before linking arms with her. “Fine, but only because I want a Viktor Krum poster.”
Daphne rolled her eyes.
Harry snorted. “You and half the witches in Britain.”
Together, they wandered into the heart of the campsite, ready to soak in the magic of the World Cup.
The campsite was alive with energy. Wizards from every corner of the world bustled through makeshift markets, their voices mixing in a cacophony of different languages. Magical stalls sold everything from team merchandise to food that sparkled in the sunlight, and banners depicting moving images of famous Quidditch players waved in the air.
Pansy had made it her personal mission to find the best Viktor Krum merchandise, dragging Evelyn and Daphne to every single stall that displayed anything remotely related to the Bulgarian Seeker.
“I swear, if I hear Viktor Krum’s name one more time—” Daphne grumbled as Pansy held up yet another enchanted poster.
“This one actually moves, though!” Pansy countered, inspecting it critically. The animated Krum shot forward on his broom, eyes narrowed in intense concentration.
Evelyn smirked, nudging her playfully. “You do realize he’s, like, twice our age, right?”
Pansy scoffed. “Details.”
Meanwhile, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had wandered over to a stand selling Ireland’s shamrock-covered merchandise. Ron was enthusiastically waving a miniature leprechaun flag, while Hermione inspected a moving gold pin that played the Irish national anthem on repeat.
Evelyn turned her attention to another stall, where a display of Omnioculars caught her eye. She had read about them before—highly advanced magical binoculars that could slow down fast-paced action, zoom in at will, and even replay moments.
“These are so cool,” she murmured, picking one up.
“They’re ten Galleons,” the wizard behind the counter informed her.
A bit pricey.
Still, she pulled out her pouch and counted the coins inside. Before she could hand them over, Harry appeared beside her and placed his own money on the counter.
“What are you—?” she started, frowning.
Harry grinned. “Consider it a late birthday present.”
She blinked. “Harry—”
“Too late, no take-backs.” He smirked and handed her the Omnioculars.
“My birthday was like two months ago.” Evelyn said with a sigh.
“Yeah, I realised I didn’t know and had to ask Pansy, but hey, you missed my birthday too.”
She rolled her eyes but took them anyway. “I’m paying for your next Butterbeer, just so you know. Late birthday present.”
They spent the next hour wandering through the market, trying different foods (Evelyn nearly choked on a piece of Fizzing Whizbee Toffee), laughing at Ron’s horrified reaction to some Haggis-flavored Bertie Bott’s Beans, and marveling at the different magical contraptions being sold.
By the time the sun began to set, the excitement had reached a fever pitch.
“Come on, we need to get to our seats!” Mr. Weasley called over the crowd.
The group hurried toward the massive stadium that loomed over the landscape. It was unlike anything Evelyn had ever seen—an enormous, towering structure that shimmered with enchantments, seating tens of thousands of spectators. The closer they got, the more the sheer size of it became overwhelming.
As the crowd thickened, they began to split up toward their assigned seating areas.
Evelyn turned to Harry. “I’ll see you after the match?”
Harry nodded, grinning. “Yeah—try not to cry when Ireland wins.”
Evelyn scoffed. “Please, I’m neutral.”
Pansy hooked her arm through Evelyn’s. “Come on, I want to see our seats!” she said, dragging her toward their entrance.
Evelyn, Pansy, and Daphne had tickets for a section closer to the middle of the stadium, offering them a fantastic view of the pitch below.
The moment they reached their seats, Evelyn pulled out her Omnioculars, adjusting the settings and zooming in on different parts of the stadium.
“This is amazing,” she muttered as she flipped through the features.
Pansy was already eagerly scanning the Bulgarian team’s entrance, eyes shining. “I knew we’d have a good view of the players!”
Daphne leaned back in her seat, arms crossed. “Let’s just hope the match actually lasts more than five minutes.”
The stadium suddenly burst into life with a roar. The match was about to begin.
The crowd’s energy was electric. Evelyn had never heard so much noise in her life—cheers, chants, and excited conversations swirled around her as people eagerly awaited the start of the match. Even Daphne, who had initially been indifferent, was sitting up straighter, eyes scanning the stadium with interest.
Suddenly, a deep, booming voice echoed throughout the stadium.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO THE FOUR HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SECOND QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP!”
The entire stadium erupted into deafening cheers. Evelyn grinned as she watched the sky above shimmer with dazzling magical effects.
The announcer continued, his voice magically amplified. “Please welcome—the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!”
The stadium dimmed slightly as a group of figures glided gracefully onto the pitch.
Veela.
Evelyn had read about them before, but nothing could have prepared her for seeing them in real life. They were breathtaking—tall, with flowing white-gold hair and luminous skin that seemed to glow under the stadium lights. The moment they started to dance, a strange, almost hypnotic feeling washed over her.
Beside her, Pansy let out a dreamy sigh.
Daphne, however, scoffed. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Don’t fall for it.”
Evelyn blinked and tore her gaze away, rubbing her temples. She could see some wizards in the audience standing on their seats, cheering wildly, some even trying to jump over the railings to get onto the pitch. It was ridiculous.
As if sensing they had caused enough chaos, the Veela gracefully floated off the field. The moment they disappeared, the stadium snapped out of its trance, and many wizards—including a very red-faced wizard a few rows ahead—sat back down awkwardly.
Pansy exhaled, fixing her hair. “Right. That was something.”
Daphne smirked. “And now for something better.”
A second later, the booming voice returned.
“AND NOW—PLEASE WELCOME—THE IRISH NATIONAL TEAM MASCOTS!”
From the opposite end of the stadium, a blur of green and gold shot into the air.
Leprechauns.
Hundreds of tiny, bearded men in emerald green suits zoomed around the stadium, leaving trails of golden sparks in their wake. They flipped, twirled, and created dazzling shapes in the air, forming shamrocks, broomsticks, and even a massive golden snitch. The crowd roared in appreciation as the leprechauns shot high into the sky before diving straight toward the field, scattering golden coins everywhere.
Evelyn caught one in her palm, flipping it between her fingers. It shimmered like real gold, but she knew better—it would disappear in a few hours.
“Alright, that was impressive,” Pansy admitted as the leprechauns took their place near the Irish team’s entrance.
Evelyn had to agree.
And then—
“AND NOW, PLEASE WELCOME—THE BULGARIAN NATIONAL QUIDDITCH TEAM!”
A formation of seven figures shot out onto the pitch, their scarlet robes billowing as they took their positions. The Bulgarian supporters in the stadium erupted into cheers, banners waving wildly.
The name Viktor Krum echoed through the air.
Pansy practically squealed in excitement, gripping Evelyn’s arm.
Evelyn laughed, shaking her head as she raised her Omnioculars, zooming in on Krum as he adjusted his grip on his broom. He was just as intense as everyone had made him out to be—his sharp features serious, dark eyes focused, not even acknowledging the roaring crowd.
Then, the announcer’s voice rang out again.
“AND NOW, WELCOME—THE IRISH NATIONAL QUIDDITCH TEAM!”
If the Bulgarian fans had been loud, the Irish supporters were deafening. Seven players in brilliant green robes shot onto the pitch, waving at the crowd as they took their positions.
From her seat, Evelyn could see the Irish Chasers exchanging quick signals. They looked confident, determined.
This was going to be one hell of a match.
And then—
“LET THE MATCH BEGIN!”
The referee released the balls, and the game exploded into action.
The match was insane.
Evelyn had never seen anything like it—players moved at lightning speed, weaving in and out of formations, barely avoiding collisions. The Chasers executed complex plays with breathtaking precision, while the Beaters sent Bludgers flying across the pitch with brutal force.
Through her Omnioculars, Evelyn could slow down every moment—watching the strategies unfold, analyzing each player’s movements.
Ireland dominated from the start. Their Chasers—Moran, Mullet, and Troy—were an unstoppable force, scoring goal after goal with impossible accuracy.
“YES!” Daphne cheered as Ireland scored again.
Pansy groaned dramatically. “They’re too good! The Bulgarians can’t even keep up!”
Evelyn smirked. “Don’t count them out just yet. Krum is still in the game.”
Pansy huffed, folding her arms. “He better do something soon.”
As if on cue, Krum suddenly dived.
The stadium collectively gasped as he shot downward at an impossible angle, his broom almost vertical as he plummeted toward the ground.
“Is he—?” Evelyn held her breath.
The Irish Seeker, Lynch, had taken the bait. He was diving after Krum at full speed, determined to reach the Snitch first.
And then—
Krum pulled up.
Lynch did not.
The Irish Seeker crashed straight into the ground with a sickening thud. The entire stadium winced.
“Ouch,” Daphne muttered.
Pansy, meanwhile, was positively glowing. “That’s my Seeker.”
Evelyn snorted. “He definitely took out Lynch on purpose.”
“And it worked.”
Despite Lynch’s crash, Ireland remained dominant. Their Chasers continued to rack up points, widening the gap between the teams.
Then, suddenly—
Krum dived again.
This time, it wasn’t a feint.
The Snitch was there.
The stadium held its breath as Krum shot forward, dodging two Irish Chasers who tried to block him.
Lynch—miraculously recovered—was right behind him.
The Snitch zig-zagged through the air, both Seekers twisting and turning, matching every move.
And then—
Krum reached out.
His fingers closed around the Snitch.
A moment of silence.
Then—
The stadium exploded.
Evelyn barely had time to process what had happened. Krum had caught the Snitch—but Ireland had won.
“What—?” Pansy’s jaw dropped.
Daphne grinned. “Ireland was so far ahead in points. Krum catching the Snitch ended the game, but Bulgaria still lost.”
Pansy looked devastated. “I can’t believe this.”
Evelyn, meanwhile, was watching Krum closely. Even from here, she could see his expression—tight-lipped, unreadable, like he had expected this outcome.
A strange mix of admiration and frustration twisted inside her. He had caught the Snitch—but it hadn’t been enough.
The Irish team celebrated wildly, their fans screaming with joy. Fireworks erupted into the air, painting the sky in shades of green and gold.
Evelyn exhaled, a small smile creeping onto her lips.
The match was over.
But she knew the real excitement of the night hadn’t even begun yet.
Chapter 18: The Dark Mark
Chapter Text
The moment the match ended, the entire stadium erupted into chaos. Irish supporters were screaming with joy, waving their flags and setting off fireworks, while Bulgarian fans either groaned in disappointment or grudgingly applauded Krum’s impressive Snitch capture.
Evelyn, Daphne, and Pansy made their way down from the stands, joining the crowd spilling out of the stadium toward the campsites.
“I still think Krum should’ve won,” Pansy huffed, folding her arms.
“He did technically win,” Daphne pointed out. “He caught the Snitch.”
“Yes, but—” Pansy scowled. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s go find the boys.”
“See, I’m not the only one actively seeking out Gryffindors now.” Evelyn grinned.
“Just don’t tell Draco.”
The campsite was already alive with celebration. Irish fans had conjured up glowing shamrocks in the air, and someone had charmed their tent to play The Fields of Athenry on a loop. Wizards danced around massive bonfires, bottles of butterbeer and firewhisky being passed around freely.
It wasn’t hard to spot Harry, Ron, and Hermione among the crowd.
“Oi! Potter!” Pansy called, waving as they approached.
Harry turned, grinning. “There you are! What did you think of the match?”
Evelyn smirked. “I think Krum’s fan club is very upset.”
Pansy glared at her. “He deserved better.”
Ron snorted. “You’re just mad Ireland was better.”
“Shut up, Weasley.”
Harry shook his head, amused. “Come on, we’re heading back to the tents. Arthur’s got a big fire going, and everyone’s celebrating. You coming?”
Evelyn nodded, glancing at Pansy and Daphne. “Yeah, let’s go.”
The walk back to the Weasley’s tent was filled with excited chatter about the match. The air smelled of woodsmoke, roasted marshmallows, and something slightly burnt—probably Fred and George’s doing.
As they reached the Weasley tent, Evelyn spotted Mr. Weasley standing near the fire, talking animatedly with a group of wizards dressed in Irish green. Fred and George were setting off miniature fireworks, each one bursting into the shape of a shamrock or a broomstick.
“You lot took your time!” George grinned as they joined them.
“Did Pansy need a moment to recover from her loss?” Fred teased.
Pansy shot them both a glare. “I will hex you.”
Evelyn chuckled, taking a seat on a log near the fire. Someone handed her a butterbeer, and she took a sip, letting the warmth of the fire soak into her skin. The atmosphere was light, joyous.
It almost felt like nothing could go wrong.
Almost.
The celebrations lasted well into the night. The fire burned low, the laughter softened, and the exhaustion of the long day started to settle in. Daphne had gone back to their tents on the promise to bring back more butter beer, while Evelyn and Pansy stayed with the Weasley’s.
But then—
A scream.
It cut through the night, sharp and panicked.
Evelyn jolted, the hair on the back of her neck standing up.
“What was that?” Hermione whispered, sitting up.
Another scream followed, then another. A distant bang echoed through the trees.
Shouts erupted. Footsteps pounded against the ground. The joyful celebration twisted into something frantic and terrifying.
Mr. Weasley’s face paled as he shot to his feet. “Stay here,” he ordered, voice urgent. “Do not leave this tent.”
And then he was gone, running toward the source of the commotion.
But Fred and George didn’t listen.
And neither did Evelyn.
She was already on her feet, pushing through the panicked crowd.
“Evelyn!” Harry grabbed her wrist. “We should go back.”
She shook her head. “Something’s wrong.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Ron hissed, glancing around nervously.
Flames flickered in the distance. Figures in dark robes moved through the campsite, wands raised. The air crackled with magic.
Suddenly a bright, green light exploded into the sky.
Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat.
The Dark Mark.
A skull, shimmering and terrible, with a serpent curling out of its mouth, looming over the forest.
For a moment, there was only silence.
And then—
Chaos.
Screams. People running in every direction. Ministry wizards appearing out of thin air, shouting orders.
Evelyn couldn’t move. She couldn’t look away from the skull in the sky.
Because for the first time in her life—
She wasn’t just reading about it.
She was living it.
The screams and chaos continued around Evelyn as she stood frozen, staring at the Dark Mark looming in the sky. It was one thing to read about it in a book, to imagine the horror of it—but standing here, seeing it with her own eyes, feeling the fear rippling through the crowd… It made her stomach twist.
“Evelyn, move!” Harry’s voice snapped her back to reality. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the trees, away from the chaos of the campsite. Ron, Hermione, and Pansy followed, ducking behind thick trunks as they tried to catch their breath.
“What the hell is going on?” Ron panted, glancing toward the Dark Mark.
“It’s them,” Hermione whispered. “Death Eaters.”
Evelyn swallowed hard.
Death Eaters. Real ones. Not just names in a book.
She glanced at Pansy, who was standing stiffly beside her, face pale in the darkness. Pansy’s family had ties to the Death Eaters—how did she feel about this? Evelyn couldn’t tell.
Suddenly, there was another loud crack—a group of Ministry wizards had Apparated nearby.
“Over there!” one of them shouted. “There’s movement in the trees!”
Evelyn’s blood ran cold.
“Run,” she whispered.
They all sprinted deeper into the woods, weaving between the trees as spells crackled behind them. Panic surged through Evelyn as she ducked under a low-hanging branch, gripping her wand tightly.
“STOP!” a voice bellowed, and suddenly the ground beneath them erupted.
Evelyn was thrown forward, landing hard on her hands and knees. Her heart pounded as she looked up—Ministry officials had surrounded them, wands raised.
And at the center of them—
Barty Crouch.
“What are you doing in the forest?” Crouch barked, eyes blazing as he stared them down.
“We—we were running from the Death Eaters,” Harry said quickly.
“You expect me to believe that?” Crouch stepped forward, glaring at them. “Five students, sneaking away right when the Dark Mark appears?”
Evelyn’s stomach twisted.
They looked suspicious. She knew how this would play out.
It was Hermione who found her voice first. “Sir, please—we’re telling the truth. We saw the Mark go up, and we ran away from the attack. We weren’t involved.”
Crouch’s gaze swept over them, skeptical. His wand was still raised.
And then another voice spoke up—
“Barty, lower your wand.”
It was Arthur Weasley. He had just arrived, face tight with concern.
“They’re telling the truth,” he said firmly. “They’re kids.”
Crouch hesitated, then finally lowered his wand.
Evelyn let out a slow breath.
Arthur turned to them, his expression softer but still serious. “Are you all alright?”
They nodded.
“Come on,” he said, gesturing for them to follow. “Let’s get back to the tents.”
The walk back to the campsite was tense. The fires had died down, and the Irish supporters had gone quiet, shaken from the attack.
Inside the Weasley’s tent, the atmosphere was heavy. Fred, George, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasleys sat around the table, looking grim.
“What happened?” Bill asked, leaning forward.
Mr. Weasley sighed. “Death Eaters. They attacked Muggles—levitated them in the air, tormented them.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “And then someone conjured the Dark Mark.”
A heavy silence followed.
Evelyn sat next to Harry, still gripping her wand tightly.
“That Mark,” she murmured. “It was meant to terrify people, wasn’t it?”
Mr. Weasley nodded. “Yes.”
And it had worked.
_______________
The next morning, the group was subdued as they packed up their things. The World Cup had ended on a high, but the attack had cast a shadow over everything.
Evelyn found Harry just outside the tent, staring at the remnants of the campsite.
“Still want to come with me for a few days?” she asked, nudging him lightly.
Harry turned to her and managed a small smile. “Yeah.”
He didn’t want to go back to the Dursleys. And after last night, Evelyn wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone just yet.
They joined Pansy’s family to take the Portkey back to London. From there, Evelyn and Harry parted ways with the Parkinsons and made their way toward the forest where Evelyn had hidden her apartment.
The second they stepped inside, Harry looked around in awe.
“You live here?” he asked, taking in the furnished living room and the shelves of books.
Evelyn grinned. “I do.”
Harry dropped his bag on the floor and flopped onto the couch. “This is so much better than the Dursleys.”
Evelyn laughed, and for the first time since the attack, the air felt a little lighter.
But as she sat down across from him, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning.
Because the Dark Mark had returned.
And that meant Voldemort wasn’t far behind.
Chapter 19: Evelyn’s Place
Chapter Text
Evelyn sat cross-legged on the floor of her apartment, leaning back on her hands as she watched Harry wander around, inspecting everything with wide-eyed curiosity. He ran a hand over the bookshelves, examined the small kitchen, and even peeked into the bedroom.
“You know, I thought the Burrow had a lot of magic holding it together,” he said, stepping back into the living room. “But this —this is something else.”
Evelyn smirked. “Not bad for something that’s been sitting in my trunk all year, right?”
Harry turned to face her, his brow furrowing. “That still doesn’t make any sense. How do you just forget you have a hidden apartment?”
She shrugged. “You try getting dropped into a room full of Slytherins when you weren’t expecting it. I was too busy making sure I didn’t die from social sabotage to go exploring my luggage.”
Harry laughed. “I suppose that’s fair. But this —” he gestured around them “—is brilliant. You’ve got your own place, and no one even knows about it.”
“Exactly,” she said, stretching her legs out in front of her. “It’s nice, having a space that’s mine .”
Harry flopped onto the couch, sinking into the cushions. “I bet. No nosy house-elves, no teachers breathing down your neck…” He let out a breath, tilting his head to look at her. “It must feel good to finally have somewhere that belongs to you.”
Evelyn hesitated, something in his tone making her pause.
“It does,” she admitted. “But… it can also get a bit lonely.”
Harry’s expression softened. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I get that.”
For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of unspoken thoughts settling between them. Then, Evelyn smirked.
“Although, I could be regretting inviting you here already.”
Harry sat up, looking offended. “Why?”
She gave him a pointed look. “Because you’re already making yourself at home.”
He grinned. “Well, you did say it wasn’t bad having someone around.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Merlin, what have I done?”
Later that evening, after a somewhat disastrous attempt at making dinner (which resulted in a slightly burnt stew and a lot of laughter), Evelyn and Harry sat by the window, watching the night settle over the forest. The stars flickered above the tree line, and the air outside was cool and still.
Harry twirled his wand absentmindedly between his fingers, his eyes unfocused. Evelyn could tell he was thinking— really thinking.
“You’re awfully quiet,” she said after a while.
Harry blinked, as if pulled from his thoughts. “Huh?”
“You’re thinking ,” Evelyn said, tilting her head. “And when you do that, it usually means something’s bothering you.”
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I suppose I have been a bit distracted.”
Evelyn remained quiet, waiting.
Finally, Harry exhaled deeply. “It’s about the dream.”
She didn’t say anything, just gave him a small nod to continue.
“At the start of summer, I had this nightmare,” he admitted. “At least, I thought it was a nightmare. But after what happened at the World Cup, I don’t think it was just that.”
Evelyn’s grip tightened on her sleeves. “What was it about?”
Harry hesitated before speaking, his voice lower now. “I saw Voldemort.”
The name sent a shiver down Evelyn’s spine, but she didn’t react.
Harry swallowed. “He wasn’t alone. Wormtail was there… and someone else. A man I didn’t recognize. They were talking about something—something important. I remember Voldemort saying that everything was in place, that soon he would have his full strength back.”
Evelyn’s heartbeat quickened.
“And then,” Harry continued, his voice barely above a whisper, “Voldemort killed him. The man. Just like that. There was no hesitation. He just—” Harry snapped his fingers. “Gone.”
Evelyn exhaled slowly.
“I woke up with my scar hurting,” Harry muttered, gripping his knee. “And now, after what happened at the Cup, after seeing the Dark Mark—I know it wasn’t just a dream.”
Evelyn looked down, choosing her words carefully. “You think it was real.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. And I have a really bad feeling about what it means.”
She met his gaze, the weight of their shared understanding heavy between them.
Because she knew.
She knew exactly what it meant.
___________
Evelyn woke Harry up unceremoniously the next morning by yanking his blanket off.
“Oi!” he protested, blinking blearily at her. “What the hell?”
“Get up,” she said, throwing his pillow at him for good measure. “You’re learning something useful today.”
Harry groaned, burying his face in his arms. “It’s summer. We’re not at Hogwarts. What could I possibly need to learn?”
Evelyn smirked. “Wards.”
That got his attention.
“You’re going to teach me how to put up wards?” he asked, sitting up.
“Yes,” she said simply. “Because knowing how to actually protect yourself is more useful than any of the garbage Lockhart taught you in second year.”
Harry groaned. “How do you know about that?”
“Pansy told me, obviously.”
An hour later, they stood in a clearing outside, Evelyn demonstrating how to set up a basic detection ward. She flicked her wand with ease, murmuring a spell under her breath. A faint shimmer rippled through the air around them, barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for.
Harry gaped. “You did that without an incantation?”
She smirked. “Perks of practicing.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Show-off.”
Evelyn chuckled. “Alright, your turn.”
It took him a few tries, but eventually, Harry managed to replicate the spell, a faint pulse of magic washing through the clearing.
Evelyn grinned. “Not bad for a first attempt.”
Harry grinned back. “Told you I’m a fast learner.”
Just as they finished dinner that night, a sharp tap tap tap came from the window.
An owl perched on the sill, a letter clutched in its beak.
Evelyn opened the window, untying the parchment.
“It’s from Pansy,” she said, scanning the letter.
Harry made a face. “Oh, joy.”
She read aloud:
Evelyn,
I assume you’re still alive and haven’t been completely corrupted by Potter and his Gryffindor ways.
We’re all meeting up before going back to Hogwarts - us Slytherin’s, I mean. Feel free to bring Potter.
Tomorrow. Leaky Cauldron. 2pm . Daphne and I expect you to be there on time.
Pansy
Evelyn rolled her eyes.
Harry smirked. “She’s so thoughtful .”
“She has her moments,” Evelyn said dryly, folding the letter.
Harry tilted his head. “You’re really close with her, aren’t you?”
Evelyn hesitated. “Yeah,” she admitted. “She’s one of the first people who made me feel like I belong in Slytherin.”
Harry nodded, and though he didn’t say anything, she could tell he understood.
Because for the first time in a long time, Evelyn did feel like she belonged.
______________
Evelyn and Harry stood in the clearing again the next morning, the air still crisp with lingering morning dew. They’d been practicing spells for the last half hour, Evelyn demonstrating and Harry copying her movements with growing confidence.
Harry wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “This is brilliant,” he admitted. “I didn’t think I’d be able to do half of this before term started.”
“You pick things up quickly,” Evelyn said, flicking her wand and sending a faint shimmer of blue through the air—another ward. “But if you’re going to get better at nonverbal magic, you need to stop doubting yourself mid-spell.”
“I don’t doubt myself—”
Evelyn gave him a pointed look.
“Alright,” he admitted, scuffing his shoe against the ground. “Maybe I do a little.”
“Magic is as much confidence as it is knowledge,” she said simply. “You hesitate, your magic hesitates.”
Harry exhaled, watching as she demonstrated another defensive charm. He mimicked her movements, furrowing his brow in concentration. After a few attempts, the spell worked, sending a ripple through the air in front of him.
“Not bad,” Evelyn said approvingly.
Harry looked at her, something thoughtful in his expression. “How are we able to do all this? I thought the Ministry would know if we were using magic.”
Evelyn hesitated. She knew she had to be careful with what she said.
“I don’t have the Trace,” she admitted.
Harry frowned. “What? But—how?”
“It’s… complicated,” Evelyn said, choosing her words carefully. “I found out recently that it was never placed on me.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Wait, so—you can do magic anywhere ?”
She nodded. “And since you’re with me, the ministry won’t pick up on your magic either. They’ll just think an adult wix is doing magic.”
“That’s not fair!” he groaned. “You mean to tell me that while I was stuck at the Dursleys’ all summer, not doing magic, you could’ve been dueling dragons if you wanted?”
Evelyn smirked. “Pretty much.”
Harry groaned dramatically. “You’re telling me this now ?”
Evelyn chuckled. “Would it have made a difference?”
“Yes! I would’ve begged you to teach me sooner.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Well, you’re learning now. Come on, one more spell before we go.”
Back in the apartment, Evelyn pulled a few clothes from her wardrobe, tossing them onto the bed. She settled on dark jeans, a fitted green sweater, and boots, figuring she should at least try to look presentable before meeting the others.
Harry, meanwhile, had sprawled across her couch, flipping through one of her books.
“You’re awfully comfortable here,” she noted, raising an eyebrow.
Harry smirked. “I’m testing out the furniture. Very cozy, by the way.”
She rolled her eyes.
As she finished getting ready, she turned to him. “You’re sure you’re okay with meeting them?”
Harry hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. If they’re your friends, they can’t be that bad, right?”
Evelyn snorted. “Don’t say that to Draco.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Malfoy’s an idiot, I can handle him.”
“Alright,” she said, slipping on her boots. “Then let’s go.”
The Leaky Cauldron was bustling as Evelyn and Harry stepped inside. The scent of roasting meat and warm bread filled the air, and voices echoed from all corners of the tavern.
Near the back, a group of familiar faces sat around a table, waiting.
Pansy, Daphne, Blaise, Theo, Evan, and Draco.
Evelyn felt Harry tense slightly beside her.
Pansy spotted them first. She raised an eyebrow before smirking. “Oh, look who finally decided to show up.”
Evan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about us, McCrae.”
“As if you’d let me,” Evelyn shot back, taking the seat between Pansy and Daphne.
Harry, after a brief hesitation, sat next to her.
There was a pause, and then Blaise smirked. “Well, this is unexpected.”
Evelyn exhaled. “Before anyone says anything ridiculous, yes, I’m aware that you’re all staring at Potter.”
Harry gave an awkward wave. “Hi.”
Theo chuckled. “This is so weird.”
Draco scoffed, crossing his arms. “Why is he here?”
Evelyn gave him a look. “Because I invited him.”
Draco made a face.
Pansy, however, leaned forward. “I was going to bring it up anyway—Daphne and I ran into Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the World Cup. And before you say anything, it was actually pleasant .”
Evan raised an eyebrow. “You willingly spent time with Gryffindors?”
Pansy smirked. “Don’t sound so shocked.”
Blaise laughed. “Well, this is new.”
Evelyn exhaled. “And—Harry’s staying with me for a bit.”
That got a reaction.
Draco looked scandalized.
“You what? ”
Evan, Theo, and Blaise all exchanged looks.
“ Well then ,” Theo muttered, taking a sip of his drink.
Blaise raised an eyebrow at Evelyn. “That’s… unexpected.”
Evelyn sighed. “Look, I know this is probably strange for you guys, but I’ve spent time with Harry, and he’s not what you think.”
Draco scoffed. “Oh, please. He’s exactly what I think—a self-righteous, attention-seeking Gryffindor.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Nice to see you too, Malfoy.”
Pansy shot Draco a look. “Oh, shut up, Draco. If Evelyn likes him and I’ve willingly spent time with him, then maybe he’s not completely insufferable.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “I’m right here , you know.”
Theo smirked. “Don’t take it personally, Potter. That’s basically Pansy’s version of a compliment.”
Evan leaned forward, eyeing Evelyn. “You’re serious about this, then?”
Evelyn met his gaze. “Yes. I wouldn’t have brought him if I wasn’t.”
Evan exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, if you trust him…” He turned to Harry, expression unreadable. “I guess we can give you a chance.”
Blaise nodded, lifting his drink. “Agreed. If you’re good enough for Evelyn, you’re good enough for us.”
Harry blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Uh, thanks?”
Theo grinned. “Don’t get used to it.”
Draco still looked reluctant, arms crossed tightly. “I think this is a terrible idea.”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”
Evelyn sighed. “Draco, I’m not asking you to like him, just to tolerate him.”
Draco muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue further.
Harry exhaled, still looking a bit wary but slightly more at ease. “Well, that went better than expected.”
Theo chuckled. “Don’t sound so relieved, Potter. We could still hex you under the table.”
Evelyn smirked. “They could , but they won’t.”
Blaise leaned back. “Maybe. Depends on how annoying you are.”
Harry laughed despite himself. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The tension around the table eased slightly, and soon the conversation shifted to more casual topics—Quidditch, their upcoming fourth year at Hogwarts, and the chaos that had unfolded at the World Cup.
By the time lunch was over, it was clear that while there was still some lingering skepticism—especially from Draco—Harry had at least managed to gain a reluctant acceptance from the Slytherins.
And for now, that was good enough.
After lunch, the group made their way out of the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley. The street was packed with witches and wizards, many of them doing their own last-minute shopping before the new school year began. The air was thick with the scent of freshly brewed potions from the apothecary, the distant hoots of owls from Eeylops, and the excited chatter of students discussing their class lists.
“We should start with Madam Malkin’s,” Pansy said, linking her arm with Evelyn’s. “I need new robes, and I’m sure Evelyn does too.”
Daphne sighed dramatically. “Do we have to? Robe shopping is so dull.”
“Yes, we have to,” Pansy said, dragging her along. “You’re the one who complained about needing new dress robes for whatever ridiculous events your family is hosting this year.”
Harry, who had never gone shopping with a group of Slytherins before, looked mildly alarmed. “Do I have to come with you to buy robes?”
Evelyn smirked. “You could always wait outside.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Potter,” Blaise said, smirking. “You’re one of us today.”
“Merlin help me,” Harry muttered as the group pushed into the shop.
Inside, the shop was bustling with students getting fitted for new school robes. Madam Malkin, a plump, cheerful witch, bustled over the moment she spotted them. “Ah! Back again, I see. Growing like weeds, the lot of you.”
Draco stepped onto a small platform and let one of the assistants begin measuring him, while Pansy and Daphne wandered toward the selection of dress robes.
Evelyn found a pair of standard Hogwarts robes in her size and was about to call it a day when Pansy grabbed her arm. “No, no, you need proper dress robes. You never know when you’ll be invited to something.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “I highly doubt I’ll be invited to anything fancy.”
Pansy scoffed. “Not with that attitude.”
Theo snickered. “Just let her do her thing, Evelyn. You’ll be here all day otherwise.”
Harry stood awkwardly by the doorway, clearly feeling out of place as the girls debated between shades of emerald and black. He leaned toward Blaise. “Do they always take this long?”
“Oh, this is nothing,” Blaise replied. “They could go on for hours .”
Harry groaned. “Maybe I should have waited outside.”
Evelyn overheard him and smirked. “Too late now.”
Once Pansy was satisfied that everyone was properly outfitted, they left Madam Malkin’s and made their way toward Flourish and Blotts to pick up their schoolbooks.
“Finally, something useful ,” Theo said, stretching as they walked.
Evelyn glanced at him. “You actually like book shopping?”
Theo smirked. “Unlike some people, I don’t intend to coast through school on my family name.”
Draco huffed. “That was one time .”
Harry was surprised to see how quickly the Slytherins shifted from teasing to serious discussion once inside the bookstore. Blaise was browsing a section on magical history, Theo and Evelyn were flipping through advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts books, and even Pansy, who had groaned about shopping earlier, was inspecting a book on wandlore with interest.
Harry picked up his own list of required books, shaking his head in amusement. “I don’t know why I thought Slytherins wouldn’t take studying seriously.”
Evan raised an eyebrow. “We’re ambitious, Potter. What did you expect?”
“Fair point.”
After Flourish and Blotts, they made their way through the rest of Diagon Alley, stopping at the apothecary for potion ingredients, and finally, Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour.
By the time they were done, their arms were full of shopping bags, and the afternoon sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon.
“Alright,” Pansy said, stretching. “I think that’s everything.”
Evelyn nodded. “Thanks for today, guys. It was… fun.”
Harry, who had been expecting a tense afternoon, was surprised to find that he had actually enjoyed himself. He still wasn’t sure where he stood with Draco, but at least the rest of the Slytherins had accepted him, and that was more than he’d hoped for.
“Well, Potter,” Theo said, smirking, “looks like you survived a full day with us.”
Harry laughed. “Barely.”
Evelyn glanced at him. “You alright?”
Harry met her gaze and nodded. “Yeah. I think I actually had a good time.”
Pansy grinned. “See? Slytherins aren’t all bad.”
Harry smirked. “Debatable.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile. “Come on, let’s get home.”
Chapter 20: Summer Comes to a Close
Chapter Text
Evelyn had just finished tidying up her kitchen when she heard a pop outside the wards. She quickly made her way up the steps of her trunk and out into the clearing, lowering the wards just enough to allow one person to pass through.
Seconds later, a familiar, plump red-haired woman appeared, balancing a large basket in her arms.
“Mrs. Weasley!” Evelyn greeted, stepping forward to take the basket. “You didn’t have to bring all this.”
“Nonsense, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, beaming as she stepped further into the clearing, taking in the magical barriers Evelyn had set up with an approving nod. “I know you’ve been looking after yourself, but it’s always nice to have some home-cooked meals. And I wanted to see where you’ve been staying.”
Evelyn smiled and led Mrs. Weasley toward her trunk. The older woman hesitated when she saw the enchanted object, but when Evelyn opened it and gestured for her to follow, she climbed in without question.
As soon as they entered the apartment, Mrs. Weasley gasped. “Oh, Evelyn, this is lovely !” She turned in a slow circle, taking in the cozy living room, the dark green accent wall, and the well-stocked bookshelves. “It’s a bit tidier than my house, I’ll admit,” she added with a laugh.
Evelyn chuckled. “That’s because there aren’t seven children running around causing chaos.”
Mrs. Weasley shook her head fondly. “It’s quiet, though. Are you sure you don’t get lonely out here?”
Evelyn hesitated for only a second before answering, “I like the quiet.” It wasn’t a lie—after the madness of the school year and the World Cup, she had needed some time to herself. But at the same time…
“I suppose it’s nice to have Harry here now,” Mrs. Weasley added knowingly.
Evelyn smiled. “Yeah, it is.”
Mrs. Weasley clapped her hands together. “Right then, let me put these meals away, and I’ll make us some tea.”
“I can do it—”
“Absolutely not, dear. You’ve been feeding yourself all summer, I insist .”
Evelyn didn’t argue and instead sat down at the kitchen table as Mrs. Weasley bustled about. The warm smell of freshly baked bread and roasted chicken filled the air as Mrs. Weasley sorted through the food she’d brought.
“So,” Mrs. Weasley said after a moment, “are you looking forward to going back to Hogwarts?”
Evelyn shrugged. “In a way. It’ll be nice to see everyone again.”
Mrs. Weasley nodded. “Harry mentioned you dropped Care of Magical Creatures?”
Evelyn nodded. “Yeah, I took Arithmancy instead. It seems more… useful.”
Mrs. Weasley hummed in agreement. “It certainly has its advantages. Hermione speaks highly of it.”
Evelyn smiled. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
They spent the next hour chatting over tea, Harry joining them after a while, with Mrs. Weasley telling stories about when Bill and Charlie were younger, before eventually bidding Evelyn goodbye, promising to send more food if she ever needed it.
As soon as she was gone, Evelyn sighed, leaning back against the chair. It had been nice having company, even just for a little while.
But now, she had a lesson to prepare.
A couple of hours later, Evelyn stepped out of her trunk and found Harry already waiting outside. He had a determined look on his face, wand in hand.
“Alright, what’s the plan today?” he asked.
Evelyn grinned. “Dueling practice.”
Harry groaned. “Brilliant. Because getting hexed by you is exactly how I wanted to spend my afternoon.”
Evelyn smirked. “You’ll thank me later.”
They started with defensive spells—Protego, Expelliarmus, and even some counter-curses. Harry had improved over the summer, and Evelyn was actually impressed with how quickly he picked up new techniques.
“Alright,” she said after an hour, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Let’s try something different.”
She demonstrated a nonverbal shield charm, showing Harry how to summon it quickly in a duel. He struggled at first, but after several attempts, he managed to conjure a proper shield.
“Not bad, Potter,” Evelyn teased.
Harry grinned. “Think I could take you in a duel yet?”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Absolutely not.”
He laughed. “Figured.”
They continued practicing until the sun began to set, and Harry, exhausted, collapsed onto the grass.
Evelyn sat beside him. “You’re improving.”
Harry sighed. “Not fast enough.”
“You’re getting there.” Evelyn smirked. “But…I could teach you more magic before school starts.”
Harry grinned. “You’re on.”
The next morning, Evelyn and Harry began packing their trunks for Hogwarts. Evelyn’s apartment, which had once been empty, now felt like a proper home, and she was almost sad to leave it behind.
“I’m going to miss this place,” she admitted.
Harry nodded. “It’s nice. You really did a good job with it.”
Evelyn smiled. “Thanks.”
They finished packing and then set up a portable Floo connection. Since Evelyn’s trunk didn’t have a fixed address, she had to anchor it to an existing Floo Network spot.
“This should take us straight to the Leaky.”
Evelyn nodded. “Alright. That’s done.” She closed the lid of her trunk and sighed. “Now we just have to wait.”
Harry grinned. “We could go for a walk.”
The air was cool as they wandered through the forest, the trees rustling overhead.
“I can’t believe we only have like two days left,” Harry said.
“Yeah,” Evelyn murmured.
He glanced at her. “Are you excited?”
Evelyn considered it. “Yeah. It’ll be good to be back.”
“You never told me why you dropped Care of Magical Creatures.”
She sighed. “I just didn’t enjoy it. It felt… too unpredictable. Arithmancy makes more sense.”
Harry grinned. “That’s very Slytherin of you.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes but smirked. “I am a Slytherin.”
They continued walking, talking about their upcoming classes, Quidditch, and everything they had to look forward to.
As they made their way back, Evelyn looked over at Harry. “You know… this year is going to be different.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. But we’ll get through it.”
Evelyn smiled. “Yeah. We will.”
______________
The next morning, Evelyn woke to the sound of knocking on her bedroom door.
“Evelyn?” Harry called. “Breakfast is ready.”
She groaned, rolling over before forcing herself out of bed. It was their last full day before heading back to Hogwarts, and there were still a few things she wanted to do.
After getting dressed, she walked out into the kitchen to find Harry already sitting at the table with a plate of toast and eggs in front of him.
“Did you cook this?” she asked suspiciously.
Harry smirked. “I did.”
Evelyn took a bite and raised an eyebrow. “Not bad, Potter.”
He grinned. “I had to learn at the Dursleys’.”
Her expression softened slightly, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she sat down and dug into her food.
“So,” Harry said between bites, “what’s the plan for today?”
Evelyn leaned back in her chair. “I thought we’d finish packing, maybe go over a few more spells, and then—”
A thump sounded from the other room as something hit the window.
“Post,” Harry said, getting up to retrieve it. He came back holding a letter. “It’s for you.”
Evelyn took it and unfolded the parchment, recognizing Pansy’s handwriting immediately.
Evelyn,
I can’t believe the summer’s almost over! It feels like we were just at the World Cup yesterday.
Blaise’s mother arranged a Portkey for us to get to King’s Cross. We’ll be meeting in Diagon Alley and taking it straight to the station. You can join us if you want, or if you already have plans, we’ll see you on the train.
Also, I assume you’re still bringing Potter? Draco still hasn’t stopped complaining.
See you soon!
— Pansy
Evelyn snorted. “Pansy’s still having to deal with Draco moaning about you.”
Harry grinned. “That makes me feel so much better.”
She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, they’re taking a Portkey to King’s Cross. We could join them, but I already set up the Floo, so we might as well use it.”
Harry nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
They spent the next few hours finishing up their packing, making sure their trunks were organized, and double-checking that everything was ready.
By late afternoon, Harry stretched his arms over his head. “Alright, one last spell practice before we go?”
Evelyn smirked. “You just want an excuse to duel me again, don’t you?”
Harry grinned. “Maybe.”
She shook her head but grabbed her wand. “Fine. Let’s see if you’ve actually learned anything this summer.”
They moved outside, standing in the clearing as the sun began to lower in the sky.
“Alright,” Evelyn said, spinning her wand between her fingers. “You can pick the first spell.”
Harry thought for a moment before flicking his wand. “ Expelliarmus! ”
Evelyn dodged and shot back a Protego , blocking his next attack. “Too slow, Potter.”
Harry huffed. “You just have faster reflexes.”
They practiced for nearly an hour, throwing jinxes, counter-curses, and shield charms at each other. Harry was getting better—his spellwork was quicker, more precise, and his reaction time had improved.
“Alright,” Evelyn said eventually, lowering her wand. “I’d say you’re officially less terrible.”
Harry laughed. “I’ll take it.”
As they walked back to the apartment, Evelyn glanced at him. “You do realize we’ll have to be more careful practicing at Hogwarts, right? We can’t just duel in the middle of the corridor.”
Harry smirked. “Well, you could , but I don’t think the Slytherins would appreciate it.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “I meant we’ll need a more private place.”
“We’ll figure something out,” Harry said easily.
She nodded, but there was something else nagging at the back of her mind. This year was going to be different. She felt it.
And she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
________________
Evelyn and Harry stood side by side in her apartment, their trunks packed and ready for the journey back to Hogwarts. The cozy space, now fully furnished and decorated to Evelyn’s liking, had been a safe retreat for both of them during their time spent there. But the start of the school year was fast approaching, and they needed to get moving.
“Ready?” Harry asked, glancing over at Evelyn, who was double-checking her belongings one last time.
Evelyn nodded, her fingers lingering on the latch of her trunk. “I think so,” she said, though she felt a small pang of reluctance. She had grown attached to her quiet, private haven. “Let’s go then.”
She waved her wand with a practiced motion, and the trunk clicked shut. The subtle weight of magic settled around her, a sense of safety that she always felt when everything was packed away properly. Evelyn glanced at the fireplace.
“You set the Floo up?” Harry asked, and Evelyn gave him a small, reassuring smile.
“All ready. The Leaky Cauldron is just a few steps away from King’s Cross, so it’ll be easier to get to the platform from there. I couldn’t set the floo directly to King’s Cross.”
With a nod from Harry, she cast the last of the incantations. The flames in the fireplace roared to life with an emerald hue. They exchanged a glance before stepping forward into the swirling fire. The sensation of being pulled through the Floo was quick and disorienting, and Evelyn barely had time to brace herself before they emerged at the Leaky Cauldron.
She brushed the soot off her robes as Harry stepped through behind her. The familiar, comforting sight of the pub greeted them. Tom, the innkeeper, gave them a nod as he wiped down the counter.
“Off to King’s Cross, then?” he asked, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Evelyn smiled back. “Yeah, back to Hogwarts. It’s that time already.” She looked down at her trunk, which had made the journey in tow with them, carefully secured by an extension charm.
Tom chuckled. “Well, you two take care. It’ll be another busy year for you, I bet.”
Evelyn’s smile faded a little, her thoughts momentarily drifting to what awaited them in the coming months at Hogwarts. The start of the year always felt like a fresh beginning, but there were always uncertainties. But for now, it was just about getting to the train.
“Thanks, Tom,” Harry said as he waved to the innkeeper. Evelyn followed him as they stepped outside into the familiar, bustling atmosphere of Diagon Alley.
As they made their way toward the archway that led to the Muggle side of the station, Evelyn glanced over at Harry. “You all set for the year?” she asked, trying to make conversation.
Harry exhaled and shrugged, glancing down at his bag. “I suppose. It’s always a bit hectic, right? Getting back into the swing of things.”
Evelyn nodded, understanding the sentiment. The transition from home to Hogwarts never got any easier, but it was something they both were used to. “I guess it’s not just the schoolwork. You know, with everything that happened last year…” Her voice trailed off, the weight of their shared history still lingering.
“Yeah,” Harry said quietly, his expression darkening for a moment. But then he pushed his shoulders back, as if shaking off the thoughts. “But we’ll get through it. We always do.”
They walked the rest of the way to the Muggle entrance, and soon, they were stepping into King’s Cross Station. The familiar hustle and bustle of the place made Evelyn feel a little more grounded. The distant sound of announcements, the low hum of activity—it was all so normal.
“Platform 9¾,” Harry said, grinning. “I can’t believe it’s time for that again.”
Evelyn chuckled, shaking her head. “I think you’ll never get tired of the magic of that platform, huh?”
“Not as long as I’m still going back to Hogwarts,” Harry answered with a smirk.
They approached the barrier, stepping aside as others passed by. Harry grabbed her arm, and with a knowing look, they both sprinted toward the barrier. Just like that, the magic of Platform 9¾ greeted them.
The Hogwarts Express was waiting for them, its red and gold exterior gleaming in the morning sunlight. The sight of it always made Evelyn feel like Hogwarts was just around the corner, just waiting for them.
As they boarded the train, the familiar clattering sounds, the hum of conversation, and the sudden laughter of friends and classmates filled the air. Evelyn felt the slight rush of excitement, but there was a sense of calm in it too. She was ready for the new year—whatever it might bring.
They found an empty compartment and settled in. Evelyn took her seat, and Harry sat across from her, tossing his bag onto the overhead rack.
“You’ll make sure we get off at the right stop, won’t you?” Evelyn teased him, her eyes sparkling.
“Yeah, yeah. No worries. I’ve got it,” Harry said with a mock serious tone, though his grin was unmistakable.
They laughed together, and for a moment, it was as if the weight of everything that had happened over the past months fell away. It was just the two of them, about to head back to Hogwarts, where they could finally focus on their studies, on their friendships—and perhaps even on whatever lay ahead, despite the unknowns. But for now, it was just the calm before the storm.
Evelyn glanced out the window, watching the familiar landscape of the countryside rush by as the train began its journey. This was home, for now. She and Harry didn’t know what the year would hold, but they knew they would face it together.
As the train rumbled along, its rhythmic sound a constant backdrop to the quiet buzz of excited chatter, Evelyn and Harry settled into a comfortable silence. Both of them were lost in thought, the familiarity of the Hogwarts Express soothing any lingering nerves about the upcoming year.
It wasn’t long before the door to their compartment slid open, and a familiar voice broke the quiet.
“Mind if I join you two?” Ron’s grin was wide, and his blue eyes flickered between them as he hovered in the doorway. “Couldn’t find an empty compartment anywhere.”
Evelyn smiled, scooting over to make room. “Of course, Ron. You know you don’t even have to ask.”
Ron dropped his bag onto the seat next to him and collapsed into the spot with an exaggerated sigh. “Feels like there are twice as many first-years this year,” he grumbled. “Everywhere you turn, one of them is in the way.”
Harry chuckled. “They probably feel the same way about you.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, at least I’m not running through the corridors like my head’s on fire.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Chocolate Frog. “I’d rather deal with that than Malfoy, though. Saw him holding court near the back of the train like he owns the place.”
Evelyn snorted. “What else is new?”
Before Ron could respond, the door slid open again, and this time, Daphne and Pansy stepped in, followed closely by Theo. Daphne scanned the compartment, then nodded approvingly.
“Looks like you’ve saved us a spot,” she said, already sliding onto the seat next to Ron before he could protest.
“Mind if we join you?” Pansy asked with a smirk, though she was already plopping down beside Evelyn.
“Not at all,” Evelyn said warmly. “The more, the merrier.”
Theo took the last available seat, adjusting his glasses. “It’s a bit cramped,” he muttered, “but I suppose we’ll live.”
Evelyn glanced around at the group. It had only been a few days since the World Cup, but she already felt a shift in their dynamic. The summer had changed things—strengthened friendships, blurred lines between houses. Even Ron, who had once been wary of her, seemed to have finally come around.
Pansy stretched out her legs and smirked. “Feels like the Slytherin table’s taking over this train.”
Ron narrowed his eyes slightly. “So, is this how it’s gonna be now? One big happy family?”
Evelyn exchanged a glance with Pansy before answering. “I think we’re just used to having good company around.”
Pansy smirked. “Honestly, I don’t see what your issue is, Weasley. You survived the World Cup with us, didn’t you?”
Ron’s ears turned pink. “I’m just getting used to things being… different, that’s all.”
Harry leaned forward with a grin. “This is the first time Ron’s realized we can all actually get along.”
Evelyn snorted, earning a glare from Ron. “I’m just making sure there’s no tension,” Ron muttered, sinking further into his seat.
“There’s no tension,” Evelyn assured him. “Just… adjustments.”
Before the conversation could continue, Blaise pushed open the compartment door and leaned against the frame. “All the other compartments are full, and I’m not sitting with Draco for the next few hours,” he said lazily. “Hope you’ve got room for one more.”
Theo sighed dramatically but shifted to give Blaise space. “Barely.”
Blaise smirked and took the seat anyway. “So,” he said, stretching his arms behind his head, “what’s the topic of conversation?”
“We were just discussing how Ron’s finally realized he can tolerate Slytherins,” Pansy said sweetly.
Ron scowled, but Harry just laughed.
The conversation quickly shifted to Hogwarts and what to expect this year. There was talk about new professors, difficult classes, and Quidditch.
“Flint’s gone,” Theo pointed out. “Montague’s captain now.”
“Good,” Daphne said. “We actually stand a chance of being organized this year.”
“Not that it’ll matter,” Ron said smugly. “Gryffindor’s winning the Cup again.”
“In your dreams,” Pansy shot back, eyes gleaming with competitiveness.
Evelyn listened to the back-and-forth, but her mind was elsewhere. Unlike the others, she knew what this year would bring.
The Triwizard Tournament.
The rest of them had no idea yet. Hogwarts would host two other schools—Beauxbatons and Durmstrang—but not until October. No one knew about the tournament at all, and Evelyn wasn’t about to say anything.
As the train continued its journey, Evelyn let the conversation drift around her. Soon enough, Hogwarts would be in sight, and another year would begin. She just hoped she was ready for it.
Chapter 21: Back At Hogwarts
Chapter Text
As the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station, the usual excitement and energy filled the air. Students spilled out onto the platform, chattering eagerly as they gathered their belongings and moved toward the waiting carriages. The first-years, as always, were led toward the boats by Hagrid, their excited whispers barely audible over the rustling of robes and the creaking of the train doors.
Evelyn stepped onto the platform with Pansy and Daphne at her side, glancing up at the castle in the distance. Even after a year, the sight of Hogwarts still took her breath away. It felt different this time, though—less like she was stepping into the unknown and more like she was returning home.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were only a few feet ahead, climbing into one of the enchanted carriages that would take them up to the castle. Harry turned slightly, catching her eye, and shot her a small grin before disappearing inside.
“Come on,” Pansy said, nudging her. “Let’s find a carriage before we get stuck with second-years.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes fondly but followed Pansy and Daphne to an empty carriage, where Blaise, Theo, and Evan were already waiting. The ride up to the castle was filled with easy conversation, mostly about how different this year would be with Montague as Quidditch captain and how many first-years seemed to be joining Hogwarts this year.
As the carriages rolled to a stop in front of the castle, students spilled out onto the stone steps, filing inside in a chaotic but familiar routine. Evelyn, along with the rest of the Slytherins, made her way into the Great Hall, the enchanted ceiling reflecting the darkening sky outside. Candles hovered above the long wooden tables, casting a warm glow over the students as they took their seats.
The first-years were led into the hall, looking awed and overwhelmed as they lined up near the front. Professor McGonagall, standing beside the Sorting Hat, began calling their names one by one. The Sorting took its usual course—cheers from the respective tables as new students joined their houses, murmured speculations about which first-years might make decent Quidditch players, and impatient sighs from the older students waiting for the feast to begin.
When the last first-year was sorted, Dumbledore rose from his seat at the staff table. The hall quieted instantly.
“Welcome,” he said, his eyes twinkling as he surveyed the students. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. To our returning students, I am delighted to see you all again. To our new students—welcome. You have all been sorted into your houses, where I hope you will find friendship, loyalty, and a place to call home.”
Evelyn listened attentively, her heart thudding slightly in anticipation. This is it.
“As always, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you that the list of forbidden items inside the castle has been expanded yet again. A full list can be found on his office door.”
A few scattered chuckles filled the hall, mostly from students who had likely contributed to that growing list. Evelyn exchanged a glance with Theo, who smirked in amusement.
Dumbledore continued.
“Now, before we begin our feast, I have an announcement—one that will undoubtedly make this year unlike any other.” His voice carried through the hall, commanding everyone’s attention.
Evelyn saw Hermione lean forward slightly, curious. Harry and Ron both looked intrigued.
“The Quidditch Cup will not take place this year,” Dumbledore said. “However, in a month’s time, students from two other wizarding schools—Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and Durmstrang Institute—will be arriving at Hogwarts to participate in a most extraordinary event.”
Excited whispers and chaotic shouts about quidditch broke out immediately. Evelyn kept her expression neutral as Pansy and Daphne turned to her, eyes wide.
“What’s he on about?” Pansy whispered.
Evelyn just raised an eyebrow knowingly.
Dumbledore continued, his voice easily cutting through the noise.
“This year, Hogwarts has been chosen to host the legendary Triwizard Tournament.”
The murmuring exploded into a roar. Gasps, cheers, and disbelieving laughter rippled through the hall. The older students, particularly the seventh-years, looked particularly excited.
“The Triwizard Tournament,” Dumbledore explained, “was established over seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest wizarding schools in Europe—Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion from each school will be selected to compete in a series of dangerous and thrilling tasks, designed to test their magical ability, courage, and intelligence.”
Theo looked interested. “Dangerous?” he repeated, glancing at Evelyn.
Evelyn nodded slightly, but she didn’t say anything. She already knew exactly what would happen, and it was taking all her self-control not to blurt out a warning to Harry right then and there.
“Due to the nature of the tasks, and to ensure the safety of our students,” Dumbledore continued, “only those who are seventeen years of age or older will be allowed to enter their names into the Goblet of Fire.”
Immediate groans and protests filled the hall.
“That’s ridiculous,” Pansy muttered.
“Yeah, Fred and George are gonna be furious.” Evelyn said with a grin.
“They’ll try to get in anyway,” Draco murmured.
Evelyn knew that was true.
Dumbledore’s smile remained as he raised a hand to silence the hall once more.
“The representatives from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October, and I encourage all of you to show them the hospitality that Hogwarts is known for. I will share more details in due time. But for now—” he spread his arms, “—let the feast begin!”
As if on cue, the golden plates in front of them filled with steaming dishes of food. Excited chatter broke out again, but now, the main topic of discussion was the tournament.
Evelyn let the conversation swirl around her as she filled her plate. The Slytherin table was buzzing with speculation—who might enter, what the tasks would be like, whether or not Durmstrang’s students would be intolerable or just annoying.
Evan leaned closer. “You’re awfully quiet.”
Evelyn smiled slightly. “Just listening.”
He eyed her. “Do you know something?”
She met his gaze evenly. “I always know something.”
Evan smirked at that, but he didn’t push her further.
The feast carried on, students indulging in both food and lively discussion. As desserts appeared, the conversations began to slow, exhaustion creeping in after the long journey.
Eventually, Dumbledore rose once more.
“And with that, I wish you all a good night. Sleep well, and be prepared for another magical year ahead.”
Chairs scraped against the stone floor as students got up, stretching and yawning as they filed out of the Great Hall. Evelyn walked alongside Pansy and Daphne, still listening to the excited speculation around her.
“I can’t believe it,” Daphne said, shaking her head. “A tournament. This year’s going to be insane.”
“You don’t even know the half of it,” Evelyn muttered under her breath.
Pansy gave her a curious glance but didn’t press.
As they reached the entrance to the dungeons, Evelyn exhaled, already feeling the comfort of being back in her own space.
Hogwarts was home again.
But this year, everything was about to change.
_______________
The next morning, the castle stirred early as students adjusted to their first full day back at Hogwarts. Evelyn woke in the dimly lit Slytherin dormitory, the green curtains around her bed drawn tightly. She stretched, listening to the soft sounds of the lake outside—the occasional ripple, the muffled creaks of the old pipes, and the distant chatter of her dormmates getting ready.
She had barely slept. The Triwizard Tournament was all anyone could talk about last night, and even though she already knew everything that would happen, she couldn’t help but feel on edge. It was different now that she was part of it. Now that Harry was.
With a sigh, she pushed the thoughts aside and got ready for the day.
The Great Hall buzzed with energy as students received their schedules for the year ahead. Evelyn slid into her usual seat at the Slytherin table beside Pansy and Daphne, pouring herself a cup of tea as schedules were passed down the line.
“Oh, thank Merlin,” Pansy groaned as she scanned her parchment. “We don’t have Double Potions on a Monday morning. That would’ve been miserable.”
“No, but we do today.”
Evelyn skimmed hers, noting the familiar subjects—Potions, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts. But this year, there was something new: Arithmancy. She had officially switched out of Care of Magical Creatures.
“Why would you willingly take Arithmancy?” Blaise asked, eyeing her schedule.
“It’s more useful,” she replied simply.
Across the hall, Evelyn caught sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, deep in discussion. Hermione looked particularly animated, no doubt already planning how she’d tackle the year’s coursework.
Pansy followed Evelyn’s gaze and smirked. “You going over there to say good morning to your favourite Gryffindor?”
Evelyn rolled her eyes, shoving a piece of toast into her mouth instead.
The first lesson of the day was Potions with Professor Snape, and as always, the Slytherins settled into their usual seats at the front while the Gryffindors shuffled reluctantly into the back.
Evelyn took her place beside Evan, who greeted her with an easy smirk.
“You ready to spend another year making Gryffindors miserable?” he asked under his breath.
“I’m sure you’ll handle most of that on your own,” Evelyn replied dryly.
Snape swept into the room, his black robes billowing behind him as he silenced the class with a single look. Without preamble, he flicked his wand toward the blackboard, where today’s potion appeared in elegant script.
Draught of Peace.
A few groans rippled through the Gryffindor side. Snape ignored them.
“This potion is complex,” he said in his smooth, measured tone. “It requires precise measurements and careful handling. Any mistake will render it useless—or worse.”
Evelyn already knew how to make it, having read all the theory, but she kept her expression neutral as Snape continued explaining the instructions.
Halfway through the lesson, as she carefully added powdered moonstone to her cauldron, she caught Harry glancing at her from across the room.
Evan noticed. “He keeps looking at you.”
Evelyn didn’t look up. “He’s my friend.”
“Right,” Evan murmured, amusement in his voice. “Your friend.”
She ignored him, focusing on her potion.
Arithmancy turned out to be exactly what Evelyn had expected—logical, structured, and incredibly interesting. The subject was taught by Professor Vector, a sharp, no-nonsense witch who wasted no time in setting them to work on numerical calculations.
Unlike Potions, where students often worked in pairs, Arithmancy was more independent, which suited Evelyn just fine. She worked through the assigned equations quickly, enjoying the way numbers translated into patterns of magic.
At the end of the lesson, Daphne sighed dramatically. “I already regret this class.”
Evelyn smirked. “It’s not that bad.”
“It is for people who don’t think in numbers,” Daphne muttered.
They packed up their things and made their way to lunch, where Pansy and Blaise were already waiting at the Slytherin table.
The Great Hall was loud with students discussing their first classes of the year. Evelyn slid into her seat, reaching for a goblet of pumpkin juice.
“How was Arithmancy?” Pansy asked.
“Good,” Evelyn replied.
“Boring,” Daphne added at the same time.
Pansy grinned. “That sounds about right.”
Further down the table, Draco Malfoy was talking loudly about the Triwizard Tournament.
“My father says it’ll be glorious to see Hogwarts win,” he was saying. “I hope we get a proper champion.”
“You mean you?” Blaise asked dryly.
Draco smirked. “Obviously.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes and glanced across the hall to where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting. Harry caught her eye and gave a small nod.
The tournament was going to change everything.
The atmosphere in the DADA classroom was different from the moment they stepped inside. The usual whispers and chatter were absent as students settled into their seats, watching the heavily scarred man at the front of the room. Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody.
Evelyn took a seat between Theo and Blaise, her hands folded on the desk as she studied their new professor. She already knew that this wasn’t the real Mad-Eye Moody. But it was one thing to read about it and another to sit in the same room as him, watching his mismatched eyes scan the class, one normal, the other spinning wildly in its socket.
The real Moody was locked in a trunk somewhere in this very castle, Polyjuiced and impersonated by Barty Crouch Jr., a Death Eater. The thought sent a chill down Evelyn’s spine, but she kept her face blank.
“Right,” Moody growled, leaning heavily on his cane as he moved toward the front of the room. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not here to teach you how to pass your exams. I’m here to teach you how to stay alive.”
A few students exchanged nervous glances, but nobody dared to speak.
“There’s dark magic out there, and plenty of people willing to use it,” Moody continued. His voice was rough, like gravel scraping against stone. “The Ministry would have you believe you’re safe, tucked away here at Hogwarts. But the truth is, there’s always danger lurking around the corner. And if you’re not prepared—if you hesitate even for a second—you might not live long enough to regret it.”
He let the words sink in before stomping over to his desk and yanking open a drawer. A small wooden box was pulled out, which he slammed onto the surface. Evelyn kept her breathing even, already knowing what was coming next.
“The Unforgivable Curses,” Moody announced. “Three of the worst spells in existence. Illegal. Powerful. A one way ticket to Azkaban. And, if used correctly, capable of controlling, torturing, or outright killing a person.”
Evelyn could feel the tension in the room. She could see the way some students stiffened at the words.
Moody flicked open the box and reached inside, pulling out a small, twitching spider. “Let’s start with the first—the Imperius Curse.”
He raised his wand. “Imperio.”
The spider’s movements changed instantly. No longer twitching in confusion, it suddenly stood tall on its eight legs before—leaping. It flipped in the air, spinning in an unnatural, graceful arc before landing on Moody’s open palm, standing perfectly still.
A few students gasped. Evelyn clenched her hands beneath the desk.
“Under this curse,” Moody said, his voice low, “you wouldn’t even know you were being controlled. You’d do whatever the caster wanted—jump off the Astronomy Tower, betray your friends, murder your own family—and you’d smile while doing it.”
His wand twitched, and the spider began hopping between desks, making students recoil as it landed near their hands.
“Some wizards have managed to fight it off,” Moody continued, “but it takes serious strength of will. And most of you? You wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Evelyn glanced toward Harry, who was watching the spider with a strange expression.
After a moment, Moody flicked his wand, ending the spell. The spider stumbled, confused, before skittering back toward the center of the desk.
“The second curse,” Moody said darkly, “is much worse.”
Evelyn braced herself.
“Crucio.”
The spider convulsed. Its tiny legs jerked violently, its whole body spasming as an invisible force wracked it with pain. It didn’t have a voice, but if it had—Evelyn knew it would be screaming.
She forced herself to keep watching, though her stomach twisted uncomfortably.
At the back of the room, she saw Neville Longbottom turn pale. His hands clutched at the desk, his knuckles white. Evelyn’s heart clenched—his parents had been tortured with this curse.
Moody held the spell for a few seconds longer before lifting his wand. The spider twitched pitifully on the desk.
“That,” Moody said grimly, “is the Cruciatus Curse. Pain beyond imagination. You won’t be able to think, to breathe, to do anything except wish for death.”
Evelyn had read about it. She had seen it in books, in descriptions, in the recollections of victims. But hearing it spoken so bluntly, watching it performed—it made her sick.
“The last curse,” Moody said, “is the one you all know.”
He raised his wand.
“Avada Kedavra.”
The green light was blinding, and the spider stopped moving immediately. One moment it was alive, the next, gone. No struggle, no pain—just death.
A heavy silence filled the room.
Moody lowered his wand, his magical eye scanning each student. “There’s no blocking it. No shield charm, no counter-curse. The Killing Curse doesn’t care who you are. If it hits, you die.”
Evelyn let out a slow breath, forcing herself to remain composed.
“This,” Moody continued, “is what we’re up against. Dark wizards don’t play fair. They don’t hesitate. And if you’re ever caught on the wrong end of one of these spells, you’d better hope you’ve got a trick up your sleeve.”
He clapped his hands together suddenly, making a few people flinch. “Right then! That’s enough theory. You lot are fourth-years now. Time to start doing some real magic.”
The rest of the lesson was spent learning about counter-curses and basic defensive maneuvers. Moody stalked around the room, barking corrections and keeping everyone on their toes.
Evelyn’s mind was still racing by the time class ended. She knew what to expect from Moody—or rather, Crouch Jr.—but watching it unfold in real time was different. The way he had spoken about the Unforgivable Curses, the way he had demonstrated them… It was a reminder that the wizarding world was far from safe.
She walked alongside Theo and Blaise as they left the classroom, the corridors buzzing with conversation. Everyone was talking about Moody’s lesson—half of them in awe, the other half unnerved.
“That was insane,” Theo muttered, rubbing his arm. “What kind of professor shows us that?”
“The kind that wants to keep us alive,” Blaise said coolly. “Not that I disagree with you, but still.”
Evelyn stayed silent, her thoughts elsewhere. Barty Crouch Jr. is already working on getting Harry’s name into the Goblet.
As much as she wanted to stop it, she knew she couldn’t. The Triwizard Tournament had to happen. She didn’t know what would happen if she interfered too much, if she strayed too far from the events she had read about. It was a fine line—one she had to walk carefully.But, just because she couldn’t stop it altogether, doesn’t mean she can’t help Harry stay alive.
Draco appeared beside them, still looking skeptical. “I don’t care what anyone says, Moody is mad. That lesson was bloody mental.”
“Agreed,” Theo muttered.
They turned the corner toward the Great Hall, where students were already gathering for lunch. Evelyn’s stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. As they entered, she spotted Harry at the Gryffindor table, talking animatedly with Ron and Hermione.
Evelyn took her seat at the Slytherin table, pushing her thoughts aside for now. There would be plenty of time to deal with the Triwizard Tournament later.
For now, she just needed to get through the day.
____________
The first full week of classes at Hogwarts had begun, and with it came the familiar hum of students rushing between lessons, stacks of books threatening to topple from their arms. The castle was alive with the sounds of quills scratching against parchment, bubbling cauldrons, and the occasional explosion from the Gryffindor side of the dungeon.
Evelyn fell back into the rhythm of school easily. Her schedule was packed with challenging classes—Arithmancy instead Care of Magical Creatures this year. Though she had enjoyed Hagrid’s lessons, the class hadn’t been what she expected, and she knew she needed a subject that would push her further.
The second Arithmancy class of the week had been fascinating. Professor Vector had a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue when it came to students not paying attention, but Evelyn enjoyed the way numbers wove into magic. She was partnered with Daphne for the first few exercises, the two of them working through complex equations that linked magical properties to numerical values.
“It’s almost like a puzzle,” Daphne remarked as she jotted down her answer. “It makes sense in a strange way.”
Evelyn nodded, twirling her quill between her fingers. “Yeah, it’s like magic has its own language in numbers.”
Daphne smirked. “Nerd.”
“You’re literally in this class too.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, well, I’m here because my father expects me to be. You, on the other hand, seem to actually enjoy this.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.
The most intense class of the week was, without a doubt, Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Professor Moody—or rather, Barty Crouch Jr. pretending to be Moody—had already made an impression on the students. He was nothing like their past professors. He had a commanding presence, and while some of the students admired his no-nonsense approach, Evelyn couldn’t ignore the unsettling feeling in her gut. She knew he wasn’t who he claimed to be, but she had to act as if she didn’t.
Their third lesson of the week had them learning about the Imperius Curse.
“I’m going to show you what it’s like,” Moody announced, pacing at the front of the class with his magical eye whizzing around. “You’ll understand the danger when you feel it for yourselves.”
Evelyn stiffened as he began selecting students to demonstrate the curse on. She knew she couldn’t make it obvious, but everything in her screamed to stop him. Her hands clenched under the desk as she watched each student succumb to the curse, their faces blank, their bodies obeying without hesitation.
When it was her turn, she forced herself to keep calm.
“Imperio!”
Evelyn felt a sudden weightlessness, like her thoughts were being muffled under a thick fog. A voice that wasn’t her own whispered in her mind, nudging her towards an action—stand on the desk.
But she didn’t.
There was a moment of clarity where she pushed against the influence, shaking it off faster than Moody seemed to expect. She stumbled, blinking rapidly, her breathing uneven.
Moody grunted in approval. “Well, well. Seems we’ve got a fighter here. Not many can throw off the Imperius Curse on their first try.”
Evelyn forced a small, sheepish smile, as if she hadn’t just defied a Death Eater’s spell. Her heart was hammering.
She caught Harry’s eye from across the room, knowing he’d gone through the same thing not ten minutes ago, and gave him the smallest nod.
Later, as they left the classroom, Harry fell into step beside her. “That was mental,” he muttered. “You resisted it almost immediately.”
Evelyn shrugged, pretending to be surprised. “I guess my brain doesn’t like being told what to do.”
Harry huffed a laugh. “You and me both.”
___________
A few nights later, Evelyn decided it was time to show Harry something special.
They had just finished dinner in the Great Hall, and instead of heading back to their respective common rooms, Evelyn nudged Harry and whispered, “Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”
He raised a brow but followed her without hesitation.
She led him up to the seventh floor, glancing around to make sure no one was watching before stopping in front of a seemingly ordinary stretch of wall.
Harry frowned. “Evelyn, this is just—”
“Shh.” She paced back and forth three times, focusing on the need for a space to train.
A door appeared.
Harry’s mouth dropped open slightly as she reached for the handle and pulled it open, revealing a vast, empty room with wooden floors and high ceilings. There were training dummies along the side, stacks of bookshelves filled with spellbooks, and even a few cushions scattered in a corner.
“What is this place?” Harry asked in awe.
“The Room of Requirement,” Evelyn answered, stepping inside. “It appears when someone really needs it, and it changes depending on what you need.”
Harry followed her in, spinning on the spot to take everything in. “This is brilliant.”
Evelyn smirked. “Figured you might like it.”
Harry turned to her. “How did you find out about it?”
She hesitated before shrugging. “Just something I picked up.”
She couldn’t exactly tell him she knew because of the books.
Harry didn’t question it, too excited about testing the space out. “We could use this to practice spells,” he said eagerly. “You could keep teaching me like you did over the summer.”
“That was the plan,” Evelyn said with a grin.
For the next hour, they practiced defensive spells. Evelyn ran Harry through counter-curses and shield charms, helping him fine-tune his technique.
As they wrapped up, Harry wiped his forehead. “I have a feeling this room is going to be very useful.”
Evelyn nodded. More than you know, Harry.
Chapter 22: The Goblet of Fire
Chapter Text
October had settled in with crisp autumn air and golden leaves swirling through the courtyards of Hogwarts. The castle had taken on a new kind of energy—one filled with anticipation and speculation. The Triwizard Tournament had been officially announced, and today, October 30th, was the day the other schools would arrive.
Students gathered in the courtyard, bundled in their cloaks to ward off the chill, as they waited for their visitors. Evelyn stood amongst the Slytherins, arms crossed as she scanned the sky.
“They should be here any moment now,” Theo muttered beside her, rubbing his hands together.
Draco, standing a few feet ahead, was practically vibrating with excitement. “Father says Durmstrang teaches real magic. None of this soft Hogwarts nonsense.”
Pansy scoffed. “I just want to meet Viktor Krum. Can you imagine? The Viktor Krum, here at Hogwarts?”
Evan, standing next to Evelyn, let out a low chuckle. “Merlin, Pansy, you sound like a first-year.”
Pansy ignored him, craning her neck toward the sky.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as the first arrival made itself known.
A massive, powder-blue carriage soared through the clouds, pulled by a team of magnificent winged horses—Abraxans, Evelyn realized, recognizing their sheer size and power. The carriage gleamed in the sunlight, looking almost too elegant against the grey sky.
“It’s huge,” Blaise muttered, his gaze following its descent.
The carriage landed smoothly in an open space near the courtyard, the ground trembling slightly under its weight. The door opened, and out stepped Madame Maxime—an enormous woman, towering over everyone present. She walked with an air of refined authority, her rich navy robes billowing behind her as she gestured for her students to follow.
The Beauxbatons students descended gracefully, their movements almost rehearsed. They were clad in silky robes in varying shades of blue, their posture impeccable, their faces a mix of curiosity and barely concealed distaste. A few shivered dramatically, as if the very air offended them.
“They do know Scotland is cold, right?” Daphne murmured under her breath.
Evelyn smirked.
Before anyone could respond, a deep, rumbling disturbance from the lake drew everyone’s attention.
The water churned violently, ripples expanding outward as if something enormous was shifting beneath the surface. Then, with a mighty swell, a massive ship emerged from the depths, dark wood glistening with water as it broke through the surface. It looked like something out of a Viking legend, complete with towering masts and an almost menacing air.
Students gasped in awe as the Durmstrang ship came to a stop, resting atop the water as a gangplank extended toward the shore. Figures in heavy fur-lined robes stepped out, their boots making solid thuds against the wood.
And then—
“Krum!” Draco practically squeaked, gripping Pansy’s arm in excitement as Viktor Krum himself strode forward, his expression as brooding as ever.
The Durmstrang students carried themselves with a quiet confidence, their postures straight, their gazes sharp as they surveyed the crowd. There was no hesitation in their movements, no fumbling like the Beauxbatons students who still looked like they were debating whether they had made a terrible mistake coming here.
Professor Karkaroff, Durmstrang’s headmaster, stepped forward, his sharp features twisting into something that resembled a smile as he greeted Dumbledore.
Dumbledore, of course, looked delighted by both arrivals.
“Welcome, welcome!” His voice rang out over the courtyard. “To our esteemed guests from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, we are honored to host you for the duration of the Triwizard Tournament. May this be a time of friendship and camaraderie between our schools.”
A murmur of polite applause swept through the gathered Hogwarts students.
Dumbledore gestured toward the castle. “Come, let us feast in celebration of your arrival.”
The crowd began to move inside, but Evelyn couldn’t shake the feeling of unease curling in her stomach.
The Goblet of Fire was about to be unveiled.
And she knew — that despite everything, Harry was going to end up involved.
The Great Hall was more crowded than usual, with the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students seated at their respective House tables—Beauxbatons at the Ravenclaw table and Durmstrang at the Slytherin table. Evelyn found herself next to Pansy and across from Theo, with the Durmstrang students just a few seats down. Draco, for once, was speechless, occasionally shooting glances toward Krum, who was talking in low, serious tones with his fellow Durmstrang students.
The Beauxbatons students, on the other hand, seemed wholly unimpressed by the grandeur of the Great Hall, many of them looking around with vaguely judgmental expressions. A few had produced handkerchiefs and were dabbing at their seats before sitting down, much to the amusement of the Hogwarts students.
Dumbledore stood at the front of the Hall, his hands raised to quiet the murmurs of conversation.
“Now that our guests have arrived safely, it is time to introduce the Goblet of Fire,” he announced, his voice carrying through the hall. A hush fell over the students as Dumbledore waved his hand, and the doors to the side of the hall creaked open.
Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick entered, levitating an ancient-looking wooden cup with glowing blue-white flames flickering inside it. The Goblet of Fire.
It was mesmerizing, its flames dancing hypnotically, casting eerie shadows along the walls.
A ripple of excitement spread through the students.
“The Goblet of Fire is an impartial judge,” Dumbledore continued, his blue eyes twinkling as he looked around the room. “To enter the Triwizard Tournament, you must write your name and school on a slip of parchment and place it inside the goblet. However—” His voice grew sharper. “Only those who are seventeen or older may submit their name. I will personally be placing an Age Line around the goblet to prevent underage students from attempting to enter.”
There were a few groans, mostly from the younger students.
“The goblet will remain in the Entrance Hall for the next twenty-four hours,” Dumbledore said. “Tomorrow night, during the Hallowe’en feast, the three champions will be selected.”
A murmur ran through the hall.
“Until then, enjoy the feast!”
With a clap of his hands, the golden plates filled with food, and the Hall erupted into conversation once more.
Evelyn reached for a serving of roasted chicken, listening as Draco and Pansy began debating which Durmstrang student would be selected.
“I mean, obviously Krum is entering,” Draco said, waving his fork.
“If he doesn’t get picked, I’ll riot,” Pansy agreed, cutting delicately into her meal.
“Bet you wish you were seventeen now,” Blaise smirked at Draco.
Draco scowled. “It’s a stupid rule. Age doesn’t determine skill!”
Evan, who had been quiet for most of the night, snorted. “It does when it comes to not dying.”
Evelyn hid her smirk behind her goblet of pumpkin juice.
She knew how this would end. She knew the goblet wouldn’t just choose three champions. And she knew, deep down, that before long, she and Harry would once again be caught up in something much bigger than they were prepared for.
___________
After the feast, the students made their way back to their dormitories, but Evelyn and Harry had other plans.
“Meet me in the Room of Requirement after curfew,” she whispered to him as they exited the Great Hall.
His green eyes flickered with understanding. “Got it.”
Later that night, under the cover of darkness, they slipped into the hidden room. The moment they entered, the space transformed—walls lined with dueling dummies, shelves of spellbooks, and a vast open area perfect for practicing.
“Alright, Potter,” Evelyn said, cracking her knuckles. “Time for advanced magic lessons.”
Harry grinned. “I’m ready.”
Evelyn started with Aguamenti—a spell she knew would come in handy soon enough. It was a simple water-conjuring charm, but with enough power, it could be used to create a steady stream of water, even underwater.
“Just imagine a constant flow of water from your wand,” she instructed. “It’s all about focus.”
Harry furrowed his brow and flicked his wand. “Aguamenti!”
A weak trickle of water spurted out, barely enough to fill a teacup.
Evelyn smirked. “Not bad. But we need more.”
They practiced for nearly half an hour, Evelyn refining Harry’s technique until he could summon a strong stream of water at will.
“Good,” she said, nodding approvingly. “Now, onto summoning. If you ever lose something—like, say, a broomstick—you’ll need Accio.”
Harry nodded, his face set in determination. He had used Accio before, but Evelyn made him practice until he could summon objects from across the entire room.
Finally, she moved onto defensive spells, teaching him the finer details of Protego and, reinforcing his Expelliarmus. She stressed the importance of keeping a clear head in battle.
Harry wiped his forehead after casting Protego against one of Evelyn’s attacks. “This is hard.”
Evelyn smirked. “Magic isn’t easy, Potter.”
After an hour of training, Evelyn let the Room of Requirement shift into something more relaxed—a cozy common room with a mix of Gryffindor and Slytherin elements. Deep green walls interspersed with Gryffindor red, soft armchairs, a crackling fireplace. A tray of hot chocolate appeared on the table.
Harry flopped onto one of the chairs, looking exhausted but satisfied.
“That was actually fun,” he admitted, taking a sip of hot chocolate.
Evelyn settled into a chair across from him. “Good. Because we’re going to be doing this a lot.”
Harry chuckled. “I figured.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the fire casting long shadows across the room.
“You really think something’s going to happen, don’t you?” Harry asked suddenly, voice quieter.
Evelyn looked into the flames. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I do.”
Harry set down his cup, his expression unreadable. “And you think it’ll involve me?”
Evelyn met his gaze. “It always does.”
Neither of them said anything for a moment, but the unspoken truth hung heavy in the air.
Whatever was coming… it was only the beginning.
Chapter 23: The Champions
Chapter Text
The evening of October 31st spawned crisp and cold, a thick mist lingering over the grounds of Hogwarts. The excitement buzzing through the castle was almost tangible—today was the day the Goblet of Fire would select the champions for the Triwizard Tournament.
Evelyn sat at the Slytherin table, pushing her dinner around her plate as murmurs of anticipation swirled through the Great Hall. The previous evening, students of age had dramatically cast their names into the Goblet, the enchanted flames swallowing each parchment in eerie silence. Now, all that was left to do was wait.
Across the table, Pansy Parkinson was whispering excitedly to Daphne Greengrass.
“Do you think Krum will get picked?” Pansy asked, glancing toward the Durmstrang students sitting at the Slytherin table.
“Obviously,” Daphne replied. “Who else would they choose?”
Evelyn glanced toward the Gryffindor table, where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were deep in conversation. Harry caught her eye and gave her a look that was half-bored, half-exasperated, as if he wished everyone would stop talking about the tournament already. She smirked slightly before returning her attention to the Slytherins.
Draco Malfoy leaned back in his seat, speaking loudly enough for everyone around to hear. “Father says the Triwizard Tournament is going to put Hogwarts back on the map. He says Dumbledore will finally have to prove he can actually run a proper competition.”
Blaise Zabini rolled his eyes. “Right, because your father is such an expert on international magical competitions.”
Draco scowled but didn’t reply, instead turning his attention to Viktor Krum, who was cutting his food with a brooding sort of intensity. Evelyn had to admit, even among the Durmstrang students—who all exuded an air of mystery and toughness—Krum stood out.
Before the conversation could continue, Dumbledore rose from his seat at the staff table, raising his hands for silence.
“The moment we have all been waiting for is finally upon us,” he announced, his voice echoing through the Great Hall. “The Goblet of Fire is ready to make its selection.”
A hush fell over the students. Even the usual whispering and snickering from the Slytherin table ceased as all eyes turned toward the large, ancient wooden cup standing on its pedestal at the front of the hall. Its blue-white flames flickered hypnotically, casting ghostly shadows on the walls.
The tension in the room was palpable as the fire flared suddenly, spitting out a piece of parchment. Dumbledore caught it gracefully and unfolded it.
“The champion for Durmstrang,” he read, “is Viktor Krum!”
The Great Hall erupted into applause. The Durmstrang students pounded the table with their fists, and Krum stood, giving a small nod before making his way toward the front.
The flames turned blue again, another piece of parchment fluttering out.
“The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!”
Evelyn clapped politely along with the rest of the hall, watching as the stunning blonde witch from Beauxbatons stood with effortless grace and glided toward the front.
Finally, the Goblet of Fire flared a third time. The Great Hall fell into an expectant silence.
“The champion for Hogwarts,” Dumbledore called, “is Cedric Diggory!”
Cheers exploded from the Hufflepuff table, where Cedric’s friends pounded him on the back and whistled in excitement. Evelyn clapped along with the others, glad that Hogwarts had chosen someone competent and fair.
Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. “There you have it—our three champions! Now, if they will follow—”
But before he could finish, the Goblet flared again. The flames roared high, burning an ominous red. Gasps rang out as another slip of parchment shot into the air.
Dumbledore snatched it, his brows furrowing. Silence stretched across the Great Hall as he read the name written in bold ink.
“Harry Potter.”
The Great Hall was silent. Not the usual kind of quiet that came from students listening in anticipation, but a stunned, breathless stillness. It was as though the very air had been sucked from the room.
Evelyn’s stomach twisted as she turned toward the Gryffindor table. Harry sat frozen, eyes wide in disbelief.
“Harry Potter!” Dumbledore called again, his voice carrying through the hall.
Whispers broke out, rising into murmurs and then outright talking.
“This has to be a joke,” Blaise muttered from beside Evelyn, frowning at the front of the hall.
“It’s got to be a mistake,” Daphne added, exchanging glances with Pansy.
At the Gryffindor table, Ron was staring at Harry in open-mouthed shock. Hermione leaned toward him, whispering urgently, but Harry didn’t move.
Evelyn felt her pulse quicken. She knew this was coming, but seeing it unfold before her made it all the more real. This was the moment everything changed.
Harry finally stood up, moving stiffly as though he wasn’t in control of his own body. He walked toward the front of the hall, each step accompanied by the buzzing of speculation from the students. The Gryffindors were confused, the Hufflepuffs looked betrayed, the Ravenclaws were whispering rapidly, and the Slytherins—Draco especially—looked furious.
Evelyn could practically feel the venom radiating off Malfoy as he leaned toward her. “Well, well. Of course, it’s Potter. The Chosen One can’t stand not being the center of attention, can he?”
Evelyn clenched her jaw but said nothing.
Dumbledore gestured for Harry to go through the door leading to the chamber where the champions had gathered. As soon as it closed behind him, the Great Hall erupted into chaos.
“He’s underage! That’s cheating!”
“This is ridiculous—he already gets enough attention—”
“I thought he was our friend! Why would he put his name in?”
Evelyn glanced over at the Gryffindor table, where Ron was still staring at the closed door, his expression dark.
Pansy turned to her with raised brows. “Your little Gryffindor friend sure knows how to stir up a scandal.”
Evelyn ignored her, pushing her plate away. Her appetite had disappeared entirely.
The students were sent back to their common rooms, but the rumors spread like wildfire. As Evelyn walked toward the dungeons with the rest of the Slytherins, the air was thick with smug satisfaction from her housemates.
“This is brilliant,” Draco was saying loudly. “Potter’s going to make an absolute fool of himself. Imagine the headlines! ‘The Boy Who Lived—Through a Cheating Scandal!’”
The other Slytherins laughed, but Evelyn said nothing.
Once inside the common room, the gossip only grew worse. Blaise, lounging in one of the armchairs, smirked. “Either he found a way to cheat or someone put his name in for him. Either way, it’s not going to end well for him.”
“Serves him right,” Draco muttered, flopping onto the couch. “Bet he thought he’d get all the glory. He’s probably up there pretending to be shocked, but we all know he loves the attention.”
Evelyn’s patience snapped.
“Or maybe he’s actually in danger,” she said coolly.
Draco turned to her with an exaggerated look of surprise. “Oh? Defending your precious Gryffindor?”
Evelyn crossed her arms. “Think about it logically. If he put his name in, he’d have to want to compete. But he didn’t. He was shocked. And if someone else put it in, why? And how?”
The common room fell quiet for a moment as some of the Slytherins considered that. Even Blaise looked thoughtful.
Draco scoffed. “Please. It’s Potter. He always finds a way to be the hero.”
Evelyn sighed. She wasn’t going to change their minds tonight. Instead, she excused herself and headed toward the girls’ dormitory.
______________
Harry barely slept.
The whispers had started the moment he returned to Gryffindor Tower. Whispers that he was a liar, a cheat—that he’d tricked his way into the tournament. Whispers from students he thought were his friends.
But worst of all was Ron.
Harry had hoped—prayed, even—that Ron would believe him. That his best friend would take one look at him and know that Harry would never put his name in the Goblet of Fire.
Instead, Ron had looked furious.
The last thing Ron had said before going up to bed was, “You could’ve at least told me how you did it.”
That single sentence had sat in Harry’s chest like a lead weight.
Now, in the Great Hall, it was clear things hadn’t improved.
Ron was sitting as far from Harry as possible at the Gryffindor table, shoving eggs into his mouth with unnecessary force.
Hermione sat between them, looking back and forth like she was trying to figure out how to fix this.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Harry muttered, stabbing his toast with his fork.
Ron didn’t respond.
“Ron, honestly,” Hermione said in a hushed voice. “You know Harry didn’t put his name in—”
Ron dropped his fork with a loud clatter. “No, actually, I don’t know that,” he snapped. “Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. But if he didn’t, then how did his name get in there?”
Harry clenched his jaw. “I don’t know, Ron. Maybe that’s the real question you should be asking.”
Ron scoffed. “Or maybe I should be asking why you didn’t think to tell me.”
Harry felt his patience slipping. “Because there’s nothing to tell! I didn’t do it!”
Ron glared at him, shoving another piece of food into his mouth and refusing to speak further.
Hermione sighed. “This is ridiculous. You two are best friends—”
“Well, maybe we’re not,” Ron said hotly, standing up so fast his chair nearly toppled over. “If he doesn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth, then maybe we never were.”
The words cut deep, but Harry said nothing as Ron grabbed his bag and stormed off.
Silence fell between him and Hermione.
She pressed her lips together. “He’ll come around, Harry.”
Harry didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure he believed that.
After breakfast, Harry needed to get away from the stares, the whispers, the overwhelming frustration threatening to burst inside him.
So, when Evelyn pulled him aside outside the Great Hall and told him to meet her in the Room of Requirement in ten minutes, he went without question.
By the time he arrived, the room had already shifted to what looked like a quiet study—a fireplace crackling in the corner, two plush armchairs facing each other, a large bookcase against the far wall. It felt… safe.
Evelyn was sitting in one of the armchairs, waiting. As soon as she saw him, she gestured to the empty seat across from her. “Sit.”
Harry hesitated before dropping into the chair. The warmth from the fire seeped into his skin, but it didn’t thaw the coldness lingering in his chest.
Evelyn studied him for a long moment. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”
Harry huffed a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Where do I even start?”
“Start with Ron.”
His stomach twisted. “He thinks I did it. He thinks I put my name in the Goblet.”
Evelyn frowned. “You didn’t.”
“Of course, I didn’t,” Harry said bitterly. “But he doesn’t believe me. No one does.”
She didn’t say anything right away, just let the words sit between them for a moment. Then, she sighed. “People always believe what they want to believe.”
Harry frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugged. “Ron wants to believe you did it because it makes sense to him. If you did, then that means you’re in control of the situation. But if you didn’t…” She met his eyes. “Then that means something bigger is going on, something dangerous. And that’s a lot harder to accept.”
Harry looked away, staring at the flames flickering in the fireplace. “I just… I don’t know how to fix this.”
Evelyn’s expression softened. “You don’t.”
Harry’s head snapped back toward her.
“You don’t fix it, Harry,” she said. “You just keep moving forward. The truth will come out eventually.”
A lump formed in Harry’s throat. “And what if it doesn’t?”
Evelyn tilted her head slightly. “Then you make your own truth.”
Harry didn’t know how to respond to that.
A silence stretched between them before he finally spoke again, quieter this time. “What if I can’t do this?”
Evelyn leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You can.”
Harry gave her a flat look. “You don’t know that.”
She smirked slightly. “Actually, I do.”
Harry scoffed, but before he could argue, Evelyn continued.
“You’ve been through worse, Harry. You fought off Voldemort when you were eleven, faced a basilisk when you were twelve, and last year you turned a Patronus against a hundred Dementors,” Evelyn said, her voice steady. “So, yeah, I think you can do this.”
Harry swallowed hard. “That’s different. Those things happened to me. I didn’t ask for them. This is… I don’t know. It feels like a setup.”
Evelyn leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “It is a setup. Someone put your name in that Goblet for a reason.”
Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “But why? What do they get out of it?”
Evelyn was quiet for a moment. Then, softly, she said, “I don’t know.”
He exhaled sharply, staring at the flames again. “Ron thinks I did it for attention.”
“He’s being an idiot,” Evelyn said flatly.
Harry let out a dry chuckle. “Tell him that.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “I might.”
They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the occasional crackle from the fireplace. Harry felt the weight on his chest lessen slightly. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed to just talk to someone who actually believed him.
After a while, Evelyn spoke again, more carefully this time. “Are you scared?”
Harry blinked. He wasn’t sure anyone had actually asked him that yet.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I think I should be. But mostly, I’m just… tired.”
Evelyn nodded slowly, as if she understood exactly what he meant. “You’re not alone in this, you know.”
Harry glanced at her. “Aren’t I?”
She shook her head. “No. You have me. You have Hermione. And Ron… well, he’ll come around.”
Harry let out a slow breath. He wanted to believe that.
Evelyn’s expression turned firm. “No matter what happens, I’ll be there. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Something in Harry’s chest eased. He didn’t say it aloud, but the gratitude was clear in his eyes.
Evelyn offered him a small smile. “Now, enough moping. You’re going to be a Triwizard Champion—whether you like it or not.”
Harry groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
She smirked. “Too late.”
For the first time since his name had come out of the Goblet, Harry felt like maybe—just maybe—he could handle this.
And if not, at least he wasn’t alone.
_____________
By the time Harry and Evelyn left the Room of Requirement, the tension in his chest had eased slightly. He still had no idea how his name ended up in the Goblet, nor what the first task would entail, but at least he had someone who believed him. That alone made the weight of the situation a little easier to bear.
As they made their way down the corridor, Evelyn nudged him. “So, what’s the plan for dealing with Ron?”
Harry sighed. “No idea. I think he just needs time.”
Evelyn made a doubtful noise. “Maybe. Or maybe he just needs a good slap.”
Harry snorted. “Yeah, I’ll leave that to you.”
When they entered the Great Hall for lunch, Harry immediately noticed how different the atmosphere was compared to usual. Students weren’t just staring at him anymore—they were openly whispering, pointing, and in some cases, glaring. The Slytherins were the worst, naturally. Malfoy made sure to send a particularly smug smirk in his direction as he walked past.
The Gryffindor table was more complicated. Hermione gave him a warm, encouraging smile and patted the seat next to her, which he took immediately. Seamus and Dean looked at him curiously but didn’t say anything. Neville, looking torn between confusion and concern, gave him an awkward thumbs-up.
Ron, however, was very clearly not sitting with them. Instead, he had moved down the table, sitting beside Dean and Seamus, and refused to look at Harry at all.
Ginny sighed, dropping into the seat across from him. “I’d say give it a day or two, but honestly, I think you should just hex him.”
“Ginny!” Hermione scolded.
Ginny shrugged. “It’d be effective.”
Harry couldn’t help but grin at that.
The moment was short-lived, though, as a group of fourth-year Hufflepuffs passed by, whispering loudly enough for Harry to hear:
“Why would he be in the tournament?”
“He probably found some way to cheat.”
“He’s always getting special treatment, isn’t he?”
Hermione’s jaw tightened. “That’s not fair. They don’t even know what happened.”
Ginny looked like she was considering throwing her goblet at them.
Harry sighed. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” Hermione muttered, stabbing her fork into her salad.
The rest of lunch was spent mostly in silence, save for the occasional glare from Ron, which Harry did his best to ignore.
By the time they got to Transfiguration, it became painfully obvious that Ron had no intention of speaking to Harry anytime soon. He sat on the opposite side of the classroom, working with Seamus instead of Harry, which only made the whole thing feel more ridiculous. Evelyn had taken up Ron’s place next to Harry, but he noticed the stares from the Slytherin’s.
McGonagall noticed everything, of course. Her sharp gaze flickered between Harry and Ron several times throughout the lesson, and while she didn’t say anything, Harry could feel her disapproval.
“Idiots,” Evelyn muttered as she transfigured her quill into a bird. “Honestly, boys.”
Harry, who was currently trying to ignore how Ron had just let Seamus copy his entire page of notes, shot her a look. “You do know I’m a boy, right?”
Evelyn grinned. “Yeah, but you’re only half an idiot.”
Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling a little.
Once class was over, McGonagall pulled him aside. “Potter, a word.”
Evelyn shot him a look but didn’t linger. She grabbed her books and followed the rest of the students out of the classroom.
McGonagall gave him a long, measuring look before speaking. “Are you alright?”
Harry hesitated. “I… yeah.”
McGonagall’s expression softened slightly. “I assume you did not enter yourself into the tournament?”
Harry exhaled. “No, Professor.”
She nodded, as if she already knew. “Then I suggest you keep your head down and focus on preparing. The first task will not be easy.”
Harry swallowed. “Do you know what it is?”
McGonagall’s lips pressed together. “That would be against the rules, Mr. Potter.”
Right. Of course.
She sighed. “However… I do suggest you work on improving your ability to think quickly under pressure.”
Harry blinked. That was almost an answer.
McGonagall gave him a final nod before dismissing him.
When he exited the classroom, Evelyn was waiting for him in the corridor.
“What did she say?” she asked.
Harry frowned. “Not much. Just that the first task won’t be easy.”
Evelyn smirked. “Great. That’s not ominous at all.”
Later that evening, Harry found himself sitting in a corner of the Gryffindor common room, attempting to focus on his homework while Hermione lectured him about preparation.
“You have to start training now, Harry,” she insisted. “You don’t even know what the first task is yet, so you need to be prepared for anything.”
Harry groaned, rubbing his temples. “I know, Hermione.”
Evelyn, who strolled into the common room like she owned the place, sat next to Harry. “Relax, Granger. I’ve got it covered.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean? And how did you get in here?”
“I mean,” Evelyn said, flipping a page in her book that she picked up, “that Harry and I have been training. And we’re going to keep training. Oh, and i just walked in, I think the Fat Lady likes me.”
Hermione still looked skeptical, but at least she didn’t argue. “Alright. Just… make sure it’s proper training.”
Evelyn smirked. “You wound me, Hermione.”
Harry sighed, grateful for at least one moment of peace.
But as he glanced across the room, his stomach twisted uncomfortably.
Ron was sitting by the fireplace, laughing at something Dean had said, looking perfectly at ease.
He hadn’t looked at Harry once.
And for some reason, that hurt more than anything else.
Chapter 24: tensions rise
Chapter Text
The tension in the Gryffindor common room hadn’t lessened overnight. If anything, it had only grown worse. Harry had barely gotten any sleep, his mind constantly replaying the events of the last day—the Goblet of Fire, Ron’s betrayal, the way the entire school seemed to be against him. Even though Evelyn and Hermione were firmly on his side, the weight of everything was pressing down on him.
He had hoped that maybe, just maybe , Ron would come to his senses overnight. But when Harry woke up and saw that Ron had already left the dormitory without even looking his way, he knew that wasn’t happening anytime soon.
Sighing, he dressed quickly and grabbed his bag, heading down to meet Hermione and Evelyn for breakfast.
___________
If yesterday had been bad, today was worse.
The moment Harry stepped into the Great Hall, all conversation seemed to pause for a fraction of a second before resuming in hushed whispers. Students were staring —some openly, some pretending they weren’t. A group of Hufflepuffs shot him looks of disgust, while a few Ravenclaws watched him with open curiosity.
At the Slytherin table, Malfoy was clearly in his element. The moment he caught sight of Harry, he smirked and stood up, dramatically clearing his throat.
“Potter! The Triwizard Champion!” he called out loudly, making sure the entire hall could hear him. “Tell us, how did you manage to cheat your way in?”
A few Slytherins snickered, while some of the Gryffindors glared at Malfoy in annoyance.
Harry ignored him, gritting his teeth as he took his seat next to Hermione. Evelyn, who had sat down next to him at the Gryffindor table, looked furious .
“Want me to hex him?” she muttered, pulling out her wand.
Harry shook his head. “Not worth it.”
She huffed but didn’t lower her wand immediately.
Across the table, Ron was sitting with Seamus and Dean again, acting as if Harry didn’t exist.
“Just ignore him,” Hermione murmured. “He’ll come around eventually.”
Harry wasn’t so sure.
Breakfast was a quiet affair, aside from the constant whispering around them. Hermione was buried in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4 , occasionally jotting down notes. Evelyn, meanwhile, looked like she was plotting Malfoy’s untimely demise.
As they were finishing up, a flutter of wings filled the Great Hall, signaling the morning post. Dozens of owls swooped down, delivering letters and newspapers. A large, unfamiliar owl dropped a thick envelope in front of Harry.
Cautiously, he picked it up and opened it.
Immediately, he wished he hadn’t.
The letter was from Skeeter’s Gossip Column in the Daily Prophet , and the words “The Boy Who Lied?” were printed in large, bold letters.
Harry felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. He didn’t even need to read it to know what it said.
Evelyn snatched it from his hands, skimming through it quickly.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered. “This woman is actually insane .”
“What does it say?” Hermione asked.
Evelyn frowned. “Basically? That Harry is a fame-obsessed liar who tricked his way into the tournament for attention.”
Hermione let out an angry noise. “That’s ridiculous ! Why would he want to be in the tournament?!”
Harry sighed, rubbing his temples. “Doesn’t matter. Everyone already thinks I did it.”
“Well, we know you didn’t,” Evelyn said firmly. “And if Rita Skeeter thinks she can get away with spreading lies, she’s got another thing coming.”
Harry had no idea what that meant, but the way Evelyn’s eyes gleamed with mischief was almost enough to distract him from the headache forming.
Charms should have been an easy, lighthearted class. Normally, Professor Flitwick was enthusiastic, and Harry actually enjoyed learning new spells.
But today, even Flitwick’s usual excitement couldn’t cut through the tension.
As they practiced advanced summoning charms, Harry couldn’t help but notice the way people were still staring at him. Whispers followed him throughout the lesson, and every time he successfully cast the charm, a few students exchanged pointed looks, as if that was proof he had cheated his way into the tournament.
By the time class ended, Harry’s patience was wearing dangerously thin.
As they were leaving, Evelyn nudged him. “Want me to trip someone?”
He actually laughed at that. “No, but thanks for the offer.”
She grinned. “Anytime.”
If Charms was uncomfortable, Defense Against the Dark Arts was borderline unbearable.
Professor Moody was already waiting for them when they arrived. He gave Harry a long, searching look the moment he stepped inside.
“Potter,” Moody greeted gruffly.
Harry hesitated. “Professor.”
Moody’s mismatched eyes flickered over him. “Interesting situation you’ve found yourself in, eh?”
Harry wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he just nodded.
Moody chuckled. “Well. We’ll see what you’re made of soon enough.”
The rest of the class was spent learning about counter-jinxes and the importance of constant vigilance. Moody demonstrated a few defensive techniques, emphasizing their usefulness against unexpected attacks.
Evelyn, standing next to Harry, muttered, “ Everything about this man is sketchy.”
Harry, still unsure how to feel about Moody, just hummed in agreement.
At the end of the lesson, as they were packing up, Moody stopped him.
“Potter. A word.”
Harry exchanged a glance with Evelyn before nodding and stepping forward.
Moody studied him carefully. “You’re in for a rough time, lad.”
Harry tensed. “I didn’t put my name in.”
Moody grinned, though it wasn’t exactly reassuring. “I know.”
Harry blinked. “You— you do ?”
Moody nodded. “Course I do. I’ve been watching.”
That was… concerning.
“But,” Moody continued, “doesn’t matter what I know. Matters what you do next. Keep your wits about you. And if you ever need help… my door’s open.”
Harry nodded slowly, unsure what to make of that.
As he left the classroom, Evelyn was waiting for him.
“What was that about?”
Harry frowned. “I think… I think he actually believes me.”
Evelyn tilted her head. “Huh. Maybe he’s not completely crazy.”
Harry snorted. “That’s the best compliment you’ve given him all year.”
Evelyn smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”
After lunch, Harry and Evelyn made their way back to the Room of Requirement.
Harry was still processing everything—Ron’s continued cold shoulder, the way the entire school seemed to be against him, Moody’s cryptic words.
Evelyn, sensing his mood, didn’t push. Instead, she simply flicked her wand and conjured two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, handing him one.
Harry took it gratefully, exhaling slowly. “Thanks.”
Evelyn clinked her mug against his. “We’ll figure it out, Potter.”
And somehow, he actually believed her.
____________
The air was crisp with a biting chill as Hagrid led Harry through the thick forest on the edge of the school grounds. The normally jolly half-giant seemed more serious than usual, his face set in a grim line as he moved swiftly ahead, clearly not wanting to waste any time.
“Keep up, now,” Hagrid called over his shoulder, his giant stride making it hard for Harry to stay close without practically running. “Gotta show yeh somethin’ important before the others get here.”
Harry’s heart beat in his chest. He didn’t know why, but the excitement of something big coming felt imminent—he just didn’t know exactly what.
They came to a clearing, and Hagrid stopped abruptly, gesturing to the giant wooden shed before them. The smell of fire and smoke wafted through the air, making Harry’s stomach churn slightly.
“Inside, Harry. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it. Thought I’d give yeh a peek before the rest of the champions see ‘em.”
Before Harry could even respond, Hagrid swung the door open with one swift motion, and the scene before him nearly knocked the breath out of him.
Four enormous dragons lay within, shackled to the ground and tethered to poles. Their scales were rough and dark, some glinting like obsidian, others pale and almost translucent. Their eyes glowed with an unnatural intelligence, and each one let out a low growl as they saw Harry approach.
“Don’t get too close, lad,” Hagrid warned. “They’re still a bit agitated. This is a Hungarian Horntail,” he pointed to the nearest dragon, a sleek black creature with terrifyingly sharp horns protruding from its head. “Nasty temper on this one.”
Harry’s mouth went dry as he observed the dragon’s fire-breathing ability—it was clear from the heat radiating off its body that this wasn’t just any ordinary beast.
“Jeez,” Harry muttered, stepping back instinctively. “They’re huge!”
“Most dangerous creatures around here, I reckon,” Hagrid replied, his eyes twinkling despite the seriousness of the moment. “Gonna need to know how to handle these if you’re to face ‘em.”
Harry blinked, suddenly feeling the weight of the situation. “Wait, what?”
“Yeh’ll be face-to-face with ‘em in the First Task,” Hagrid grinned, clearly enjoying Harry’s shocked expression. “But I reckon yeh can do it. Yeh’ve got it in you, lad.”
Later that evening, after dinner, Harry met Evelyn in their usual spot—the Room of Requirement. She was already waiting for him, looking unusually serious as she stood with her arms crossed, her lips pressed into a thin line.
“You’ve seen them, haven’t you?” Evelyn asked without preamble as Harry stepped into the room.
Harry nodded, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten again at the thought of the dragons. “Yeah. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to do this.”
Evelyn was silent for a moment, her expression calculating as she studied him. Finally, she sighed and uncrossed her arms, walking over to him. “Look,” she said in a calm, steady voice. “You’re going to do fine. Remember everything I’ve taught you.”
Harry looked up at her, a little confused.
“The Accio spell,” Evelyn said, her tone gentle but firm. “I didn’t teach you that for no reason, you know. You’ll need to use it on your broomstick—get it to fly to you.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “That’s it? Just Accio?”
Evelyn smirked. “Well, not just Accio, but it’s going to be one of the key spells you’ll need.”
Harry nodded, feeling a little better but still skeptical. “But the dragons… they’re huge. How do I even…?”
“Don’t overthink it,” Evelyn said, her voice surprisingly soft. “You’ve faced worse. Besides, you’ve got more than enough training to handle this. Think of it like when we practiced in the Room of Requirement. Same principle. The dragons are dangerous, but you’ve got the right tools to protect yourself.”
Harry took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.
Evelyn paused for a moment before continuing. “You’ve got this, Harry. I believe in you.”
His heart skipped at her words, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a little more confident.
_____________
The night after Harry’s dragon lesson, Evelyn found herself walking back to the Slytherin common room with a scowl on her face. The whispers, the stares, the looks of judgment—it was enough to make her snap.
The Slytherins had never exactly been friendly to Harry, but since the news of his name coming out of the Goblet, things had gotten worse. It wasn’t just the usual teasing—there were full-on glares now, especially from Draco, who seemed to have taken it upon himself to make Harry’s life miserable.
And it wasn’t just Draco. The whole bloody common room seemed to be siding with him.
As Evelyn stepped into the common room, she could feel the shift in the air. The usual murmur of conversation died down, and all eyes turned to her.
“Evelyn,” Draco called, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ve heard you’ve taken more of a shine to Harry Potter lately. What’s the matter, losing your touch? You used to have better taste.”
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed, and her posture stiffened. “You want to talk about taste, Draco?” she spat, stepping into the middle of the room and drawing every single pair of eyes toward her. “I used to think you had some class—granted, it was always a little bit of a sly sort of class, but still, I didn’t mind it. But now? You’re pathetic. ”
Draco’s smug expression faltered for a moment. “What are you talking about?”
Evelyn’s voice was like steel as she turned on him. “You’ve always been a brat, Draco. But you’ve gone too far. How dare you treat Harry like that after everything he helped you with over the summer? Yes, I know about the letters. You actually got along, for once, and now you’ve decided to be a complete dick for no reason.”
The room went silent.
Evelyn took a step forward, her voice growing louder. “And you, Pansy?” She turned to the girl sitting near the fire. “You think this is funny? You think it’s acceptable to turn your back on your friends - your close friends - just because the whole bloody school’s decided to pick on him?”
Pansy stiffened, opening her mouth to say something, but Evelyn was quicker. “You’re supposed to be loyal to your friends, Pansy. But you can’t even stick to your word.”
She whirled around, glaring at Evan and Daphne. “And you two—don’t think I’m forgetting about you. Just because you’re a little afraid of what’s going on doesn’t mean you can turn your back on what’s right. Harry didn’t put his name in the Goblet. I know that. And if you want to keep pretending that he did, then you’re no better than the rest of them.”
The entire room was quiet now, the tension so thick it could’ve been cut with a knife.
Evelyn took a deep breath, her gaze sweeping over all the Slytherins. “I don’t care if you all want to hate him, but you better get it together . If you think I’m going to sit back and let you bully him, you’ve got another thing coming. I don’t care if I’m the only one who believes in him right now—if I have to fight every last one of you to make sure he’s treated right, then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll stand by him, and if you don’t like it, then tough.”
There was a long pause before anyone spoke. Draco’s eyes were narrowed, but he didn’t say anything. Pansy and the others looked unsure, clearly rattled by Evelyn’s outburst.
Finally, Blaise Zabini spoke up, his voice cool. “She’s right. It’s pointless to pick on him now. It’s not going to change anything.”
Evelyn’s expression softened, but only a little. “Good. That’s what I thought.”
As she turned and made her way to the dormitory, she knew things had shifted. She may not have convinced everyone, but she’d certainly made her point clear. Harry was her friend—and no one was going to stand in her way.
Chapter 25: Apologies
Summary:
a short wee chapter here for you all <3
Chapter Text
The Slytherin common room was quiet, with only the flicker of the fire and the occasional rustle of parchment as students studied. Evelyn was tucked into one of the armchairs near the hearth, her eyes scanning a book about defensive magic—something that had become her obsession in the wake of the Triwizard Tournament. But despite her focus, she couldn’t shake the thought that lingered in the back of her mind: the strain between her and Pansy.
It had been a few days since the dramatic events at the end of the previous week, when the truth about Harry’s involvement with the Goblet of Fire had finally come to light when she’s shouted at the whole common room. Pansy, Daphne, and the others had, at first, turned on Evelyn. She’d stood by Harry when no one else would. She’d defended him, knowing full well that if they all believed he had somehow manipulated the Goblet, she would lose friends. Pansy, in particular, had made it clear she wasn’t happy with Evelyn’s stance. But in the end, Evelyn knew she was right—Harry had been innocent, and he was suffering.
Evelyn let out a soft sigh, closing the book as she heard the familiar click of heels on the stone floor. She looked up just as Pansy approached her chair, her expression hesitant.
“Evelyn,” Pansy began, her voice quieter than usual, “do you mind if we talk?”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow but nodded, her curiosity piqued. Pansy had been distant ever since the fallout in the common room, avoiding Evelyn’s gaze in class and staying with Daphne most of the time. It wasn’t like her at all.
“Sure, sit down,” Evelyn said, gesturing to the empty chair across from her.
Pansy hesitated but then lowered herself into the chair. There was an uncomfortable silence before she spoke again.
“I—” Pansy cleared her throat. “I wanted to apologise.”
Evelyn’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected this. “What for?” she asked cautiously, unsure if she was prepared to hear the answer.
“For… everything,” Pansy admitted. “For not believing you. For not supporting Harry, and for being a terrible friend to you.”
Evelyn blinked, the weight of Pansy’s words settling in. She hadn’t expected the apology to come so soon. Part of her had thought that Pansy might never come around, or at least not for a long time, especially after she shouted at her. But here they were, talking in the quiet of the common room, and for a moment, it felt like the distance between them had narrowed.
“I’m sorry,” Pansy continued, looking down at her hands. “I know I was harsh. I was upset. I couldn’t understand why you’d defend him after everything… everything that happened with the Triwizard Tournament. And I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
Evelyn studied Pansy’s face, searching for sincerity. There was a softness there that had never been present before, a vulnerability that she hadn’t seen in her friend. She leaned forward slightly, her voice calm but firm.
“Pansy, I know you didn’t want to believe Harry. It was a lot to process. But he didn’t put his name in the Goblet. He’s not that kind of person. You should’ve seen him over the summer. He was different then. I thought you saw that too.”
Pansy met her gaze then, her eyes filled with something Evelyn couldn’t quite read. “I did,” she admitted softly. “I spent a lot of time with you both. Harry, I—I’ve never seen him like that before. He wasn’t the same person at Hogwarts. He was relaxed, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. We actually became friends. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”
Evelyn’s chest tightened at the words. She hadn’t expected Pansy to open up like this. It felt… different, the way she was talking now. The harsh, judgmental Pansy that had clashed with Evelyn so many times seemed to have melted away.
“I’m sorry too,” Evelyn said, her voice quiet. “I should’ve tried harder to make you understand. But I knew that even forcing you to see the truth until you were ready wouldn’t work.”
Pansy’s eyes softened. “Well, I’m ready now,” she said with a small smile. “And I want to make it right.”
Evelyn nodded slowly. There was still a lot of work to be done in rebuilding their friendship, but this was a good start. She couldn’t pretend that everything was fine, but at least Pansy had acknowledged her mistake and was making an effort.
“Thanks,” Evelyn said, her voice sincere. “I really appreciate that, Pansy.”
They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments before Pansy spoke again, her voice lighter.
“So,” she said with a teasing smirk. “What do you think of Harry’s chances in the First Task? You know he’s going to be up against dragons, right? I heard Krum talking about it. He’s bound to make a fool of himself, right?”
Evelyn couldn’t help but laugh. Pansy was still Pansy, after all.
“Don’t be so sure,” Evelyn teased, “I taught him a few tricks. He might surprise you.”
Pansy raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “You’ve been teaching him?”
Evelyn shrugged. “Just a little. He’s a quick learner.”
“I’m actually starting to believe he might win this whole thing,” Pansy said, her tone more thoughtful now. “He’s lucky to have you as a friend.”
Evelyn smiled, feeling the warmth of Pansy’s words.
“I’m just glad you believe me now,” Evelyn said quietly.
Pansy smiled back. “So am I.”
___________
The next few days flew by in a blur of excitement, anxiety, and anticipation. Students at Hogwarts had been buzzing nonstop about the upcoming First Task in the Triwizard Tournament. Posters and fliers had been scattered throughout the school with warnings of the dragons—huge, fire-breathing creatures that would serve as the first trial for the champions. The tension in the air was palpable. Even Evelyn couldn’t escape the undercurrent of fear and excitement that seemed to swirl through the hallways. The teachers were trying to figure out how the first task had been exposed.
For Harry, the First Task loomed closer with every passing hour. Evelyn could tell he was nervous, despite his outward confidence. But she also knew he was more capable than he gave himself credit for, especially with the spells and techniques they had been practicing over the past few days.
On the morning before the task, Evelyn found Harry in the Room of Requirement, preparing mentally for what lay ahead. He looked exhausted, his eyes tired from a sleepless night of fretting about the dragons. Evelyn stood by the door, watching him, knowing how he felt.
“You’re not going to get anywhere by worrying, you know,” she said lightly, stepping into the room.
Harry jumped slightly, his eyes locking with hers. “I know,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But… dragons, Evelyn. I’ve never faced anything like this before.”
Evelyn nodded, her expression serious but reassuring. “I get it. Dragons are intimidating, but remember, you’ve got more than just courage. You’ve got skill. You’ve got magic. And, more importantly, you’ve got me.”
Harry managed a small smile. “Thanks. I know you’ve been helping me, but it’s still hard not to panic.”
“I get that,” she said, walking over to him. “But you’ve been training with me for a reason. And today, I’m going to teach you something that’ll help you in the task tomorrow.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “What? More spells?”
“Exactly,” Evelyn replied. “You’ve got the basics down, but tomorrow you’ll need more than just an ‘Accio’ or a ‘Stupefy.’ You’ll need to think fast and use every trick in your arsenal.”
Harry listened intently as she explained. She had spent weeks preparing him for this moment, teaching him spells that he would likely need for the First Task—spells for controlling his broomstick better, for summoning objects in mid-air, and even more defensive spells that would allow him to evade or block the dragon’s fire if necessary.
“First thing’s first,” Evelyn said, “we’ll work on breathing underwater.”
Harry blinked. “What does that have to do with dragons?”
Evelyn grinned. “You’ll see. It’s a control exercise. I’ve been teaching you spells that require focus and precision. Breathing underwater will teach you to stay calm under pressure. Trust me, if you can do that, you can handle a dragon.”
She drew her wand and muttered a spell that conjured a small pool of water in the center of the room. Harry eyed it warily but followed Evelyn’s instructions and stepped into the shallow water. He closed his eyes, holding his breath, and Evelyn used a spell to make the water bubble up around him, simulating the weightlessness of underwater breathing.
“Now,” she instructed, “you need to clear your mind, stay calm, and control your breathing. Let the water surround you but don’t let it overwhelm you.”
Harry stayed still for a moment, focusing, and Evelyn could see the tension in his body gradually relax. She smiled to herself; she could see the change in him. This wasn’t just about spells. This was about making sure Harry believed in himself, too.
After a few minutes, Harry surfaced, breathing deeply. “Okay, I get it now,” he said, shaking his hair out of his face. “That was… actually pretty helpful.”
Evelyn laughed softly. “Good. Now let’s move on. Time for the firebolt.”
Harry’s face brightened at the mention of his broom. He had been working on improving his flying skills, but Evelyn had some more tricks up her sleeve to push him further. They spent the rest of the morning working on flying maneuvers—practicing sharp turns, swerving to avoid obstacles, and learning how to navigate while under pressure. Evelyn didn’t just want Harry to fly; she wanted him to be able to think on his feet and make decisions mid-flight.
As they wrapped up their training, Evelyn turned to him with a serious expression. “Harry, I know you’re scared about tomorrow. But you’ve been training for this your entire life. You’re a Gryffindor, and you’ve got that courage in spades. Don’t let fear hold you back.”
Harry gave her a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks, Evelyn. I think I’m ready now. At least I hope I am.”
“You are,” Evelyn said firmly, her voice strong with conviction. “You’re ready. And no matter what happens, I’m here for you.”
Harry’s smile grew wider, a weight lifting from his shoulders. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Evelyn met his gaze, her expression softening. “You’ll never have to find out,” she said, and the sincerity in her voice left no room for doubt.
Chapter 26: The First Task
Chapter Text
The day had arrived—the First Task. The atmosphere was electric, charged with excitement, anticipation, and a streak of anxiety that hung in the air. As the students gathered around the enclosure where the dragons were being kept, Evelyn couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nervousness. She wasn’t participating, but she knew what Harry was facing. It wasn’t just any task. It was a dragon. Four of them, each one more terrifying than the last.
She had already watched the other champions—Fleur Delacour, Viktor Krum, and Cedric Diggory—preparing in their respective tents. Each one of them, despite their confidence, held an air of caution. But Harry was different. He had always been fearless when it came to facing the unknown, but this was something else. Dragons.
Evelyn stood in the shadows, her eyes glued to Harry as he entered the tent where he’d be briefed on the task. His face was drawn, but there was determination in his stance. She knew he was nervous, even if he didn’t show it as outwardly as others. He had been training for this with her, honing his skills in everything from flying to the basics of defensive magic, but the weight of this task had settled heavily on his shoulders.
Her heart pounded in her chest as the time approached for the task to begin. She had been standing at the side with the other students, watching as the judges—Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and, of course, the ever-distant Ludo Bagman—prepared their positions. She noticed the tension in Harry’s eyes as he took a deep breath, awaiting the start of the challenge.
Then, in an instant, the door to the tent flung open, and Evelyn couldn’t hold herself back any longer. Without thinking, she rushed toward Harry, shoving past a few anxious faces who were hanging around the tent’s entrance. She burst through the flap, immediately wrapping her arms around him.
“Harry, you’ve got this,” she whispered fiercely, her voice breaking through the noise of the growing crowd outside. “Don’t listen to the fear. You’ve trained for this.”
Harry, a little startled, looked down at her for a moment before offering a small, grateful smile. “I’ll be okay, Evelyn. Just—” His voice trailed off, his eyes searching hers.
“I know,” she said firmly, “I know you will be.”
Evelyn held onto him for a few more seconds before releasing him and stepping back. She gave him a look that told him everything she couldn’t say with words. She wasn’t just his friend; she was his ally in this. And whatever happened, she’d be there. He nodded, a brief flicker of reassurance in his eyes before he turned away, heading for the arena where the dragons waited.
As Harry made his way to the task, Evelyn hurriedly joined the group of students who were gathered at the edge of the arena, watching the proceedings unfold. The dragons were massive, their scales shimmering in the sunlight, their eyes fixed on the champions as if they could sense the tension in the air.
Evelyn’s breath caught as Harry summoned his Firebolt with a wave of his wand, zooming past the dragon’s jaws just as it snapped at him. He was faster than the dragon, dodging its fiery blasts and weaving skillfully through the air. The crowd was silent, their attention fixed on Harry as he expertly avoided each new attack. He was using everything they’d practiced, every spell, every maneuver she had taught him. He was in complete control.
And then—there it was. The moment Evelyn had been waiting for. Harry reached into his robes, pulling out his wand and using the “Accio” charm to summon the Golden Egg from the dragon’s grasp. The crowd exploded in applause, but Evelyn’s focus remained solely on Harry. His timing was flawless. The dragon was furious, but Harry was already soaring through the air, clutching the egg triumphantly in his hands.
He had faced the dragon and come out on top.
Evelyn’s heart swelled with pride as she watched Harry land gracefully in the tent. He looked a little shaken, but the adrenaline was already coursing through him. She didn’t wait a second longer before pushing through the crowd to meet him, her hands instinctively reaching for him. Harry caught her eye and, in that moment, they both knew everything had changed.
“Harry,” she said breathlessly, “I knew you could do it.”
He grinned, still panting from the exertion. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he replied, his voice filled with awe.
And as the crowd erupted into applause at the judges scores - 42 out of 50, Evelyn realized just how much this moment meant—not just for Harry, but for both of them. The First Task had been completed, and they had faced it together.
_____________
As Evelyn sat down at the Slytherin table for dinner that night, her nerves from the First Task had finally settled, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The atmosphere at the table was quieter than usual, with murmurs of excitement still lingering in the air as students discussed Harry’s success.
But Evelyn had other things on her mind. She hadn’t expected the evening’s Daily Prophet edition to be anything more than the usual coverage of Hogwarts, the Triwizard Tournament, and any other sensational tidbits Rita Skeeter could unearth. What she hadn’t prepared for was the bold, glaring headline she spotted at the bottom of the front page:
“A First Task to Remember: Hogwarts’ Harry Potter and His ‘Supportive’ Friend”
Beneath the headline was a photograph of her and Harry—an image captured just moments before the First Task began. The photo showed them standing close together, with Evelyn holding Harry in an affectionate hug, her face pressed against his shoulder as she offered a few last words of encouragement.
The photo was taken out of context, as photographs in the Prophet often were, and it made Evelyn cringe. She could see the caption now: “Harry Potter’s mysterious friend Evelyn McCrae, seen here offering maybe more than just encouragement. Are there more feelings between the two? Sources say it might not just be the dragons Harry is facing in the Tournament.”
A wave of heat flushed across her cheeks as she looked around the table, half-expecting someone to bring it up. Sure enough, Pansy Parkinson’s voice cut through the hum of conversation, sharp and unmistakable.
“So,” she said, her tone laced with curiosity and a hint of mischief, “Rita Skeeter’s gossiping again.”
Evelyn froze mid-bite, the fork in her hand hovering just above her plate. She hadn’t been prepared for this. She had never cared about gossip. She glanced over at Pansy, who was eyeing her with an amused smirk, her gaze flickering back to the Daily Prophet in Evelyn’s hands.
“What’s the deal, then?” Pansy asked, her voice dripping with teasing curiosity. “Is it just a friendly hug, or is there something… more?”
Evelyn swallowed hard, trying to calm the pounding in her chest. More? Was there something more? She certainly hadn’t intended for it to look like that.
“No,” she replied quickly, her voice a little more defensive than she’d intended. “It was just… It was before the Task. He was nervous, and I—” Evelyn paused, searching for a way to explain it without sounding like she was overcompensating.
“You were comforting him,” Daphne added from across the table, raising an eyebrow. “It’s really sweet, honestly. You two are close. I just didn’t think Harry would be the type to get so… emotional.”
“He’s not emotional,” Evelyn muttered, but the words came out softer than she wanted. She felt the weight of Pansy’s eyes on her as the conversation shifted gears. It was almost like a game to Pansy, trying to get her to admit something—anything. Evelyn wasn’t sure if she wanted to play along, but at the same time, she couldn’t entirely push it aside.
“Well, maybe Harry’s not the only one who’s a little emotional,” Pansy teased, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. “You were practically clinging to him. You looked like… well, you know, a girlfriend.”
Evelyn’s stomach lurched. It wasn’t that she didn’t care what people thought, it was more about the fact that Pansy had made her realize something she hadn’t fully processed until this very moment: Harry meant something more to her. A lot more.
But she couldn’t admit that—not out loud. Not here, not in front of Pansy, who was always ready to dig and push, and certainly not in front of the whole Slytherin table.
“No,” Evelyn replied softly, looking down at her plate to hide the redness creeping across her face. “It’s not like that. I—he’s my friend. Nothing more.”
The words sounded hollow to her even as she said them, and she felt a tight knot form in her stomach. Was she lying? Or was she just avoiding the truth? She wasn’t sure. She had always thought she could keep things simple, but Harry made things complicated in ways she hadn’t anticipated.
“Right…” Pansy said with a knowing look, her lips curling into a sly smile. She wasn’t fooled.
Evelyn bit her lip and glanced briefly at Draco, who was looking intently at the Daily Prophet article with an unreadable expression. He hadn’t said a word, but his eyes narrowed slightly when he saw Pansy’s teasing look, and Evelyn wasn’t sure if he was quietly judging her or just pretending not to care.
Trying to change the subject, Evelyn quickly looked back at Pansy. “Did you see the article on Viktor Krum, though?” she asked, her voice a little too high-pitched, but it worked. The conversation shifted, much to her relief, and soon the table was filled with excited chatter about the Triwizard Tournament’s other competitors.
But inside, Evelyn was in turmoil. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Pansy had said. It wasn’t that she wasn’t friends with Harry—she was. But there was something else, something growing inside her that she hadn’t been able to put a name to.
As the conversation continued around her, Evelyn felt a surge of quiet frustration and confusion. She knew she cared about Harry, but she wasn’t ready to acknowledge the depths of that care. It was safer to pretend that she didn’t feel anything more than friendship for him. It was easier. But the truth was creeping closer, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it.
The rest of the dinner passed in a blur, Evelyn barely touching her food. Her thoughts kept returning to Harry, and to how close they had grown over the past few months. She had spent most of the summer with him, their bond had strengthened during their time together. She had felt comfortable, safe. More than anything, she had enjoyed being around him. And every time she saw him, every time they talked, she felt an inexplicable pull that she couldn’t quite shake.
Maybe, just maybe, Pansy had been right. Maybe there was more to her feelings than she was ready to admit.
But Evelyn wasn’t ready to deal with it—not yet. Not here, not now.
As the night dragged on and students filed out of the Great Hall, Evelyn remained seated, her thoughts clouded with questions. There was one thing she was sure of, though—whatever was happening between her and Harry, she wasn’t ready to let go of their friendship just yet.
______________
Classes carried on as usual in the following days, but there was an added sense of anticipation in the air, especially at the announcement made in Transfiguration one day. Professor McGonagall’s voice cut through the buzz of conversation, pulling everyone’s attention toward the front of the classroom.
“Now that the excitement of the First Task is behind us,” she began, “I’m sure you’ll all be thrilled to know that starting this Saturday, we’ll be holding ballroom dancing classes every Saturday for the next four weeks. The Yule Ball is fast approaching, and we want everyone to feel prepared.”
A murmur rippled through the classroom. Harry could see Ron’s face blanch, and he wasn’t the only one who looked uncomfortable at the thought of dancing.
Evelyn, however, had a very different reaction. She sat quietly, her fingers absently tapping on the side of her desk as she processed the news. She’d read about the Yule Ball before—she’d practically memorized the book detailing all of the events leading up to it. The Yule Ball had always seemed like a fantastical event, a piece of magical lore that she could only dream about. Now, it was reality, and despite everything that had happened to her since coming to Hogwarts, she found herself excited at the prospect.
After class, when they were all back in the Slytherin common room, the conversation quickly turned to the dancing lessons.
“I can’t believe we have to do this,” Draco muttered, clearly affronted as he flopped onto one of the chairs by the fire. “As if we don’t have better things to do.”
“Can’t be worse than the stuff we’re forced to do in classes,” Theo added dryly, though he didn’t seem any more enthusiastic. “I already know how to dance. My parents made sure of that.”
“Same,” Blaise chimed in, lounging comfortably on one of the couches. “Mother’s obsessed with proper etiquette. Wouldn’t be caught dead if I didn’t know how to dance at a function like that.”
Evelyn, who had been standing by the window, turned slightly to glance at them, though she didn’t join in the conversation. She could sense the unease and discomfort around her, particularly from some of the boys. They were all far too proud to admit that they didn’t relish the idea of looking ridiculous in front of others. But she wasn’t about to point it out, especially when they were already so sensitive.
“I’m sure Professor Snape will make it painless,” Pansy said with a sly smile. “We’ll just have to endure it and get it over with. At least we’re not Gryffindors.”
Evelyn couldn’t help but think about the fact that she already knew what was going to happen next. She had read enough to know that the Yule Ball was coming, and that the dance lessons would probably be an obstacle for some of the students. She knew exactly how this would play out—Snape’s reluctant lessons, the awkward first attempts at the waltz, the forced grace that would eventually emerge from each student in time.
But she kept her thoughts to herself, unsure if it was her place to get involved. Instead, she silently made her way to the back of the room, where a large armchair by the fireplace beckoned.
____________
Saturday arrived faster than expected, and Evelyn found herself dreading the first ballroom dance lesson. Not because she feared the dancing—it was simply that she knew it would be awkward, at least at first, and she didn’t want to be caught in the middle of anyone else’s discomfort.
The students filtered into the Great Hall that Saturday afternoon, the tables having been cleared away to make room for their lessons. Everyone was on edge, knowing that Professor Snape would be the one in charge of the lesson. He had made it clear he wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about teaching the art of ballroom dancing, and judging by the sour look on his face as he stood at the front of the room, Evelyn knew this would be as excruciating as everyone expected.
“Let’s get this over with,” Snape said coldly as the students gathered. “I will not tolerate any nonsense. This is not the time for mockery or impertinence. You will learn how to dance. If you do not know how, I suggest you pay attention closely. Now, pair up.”
Evelyn wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of partnering up with anyone just yet, but it seemed like a formality. After all, most of the students in Slytherin already knew how to dance, as their parents had made sure of it. She found herself paired with Evan, who gave her a knowing look as they stood together.
“Not exactly our favorite thing to do, is it?” he muttered under his breath, though his tone was more amused than anything else.
Evelyn couldn’t help but smile slightly. “Not my first choice,” she agreed.
Snape instructed them to stand in a basic position, showing them how to properly hold their partner’s hand and how to stand with grace. For most of the Slytherins, this was little more than a formality. They already knew how to hold themselves and move with poise; this lesson was mostly about perfecting technique.
“Don’t slouch,” Snape snapped at one of the younger students, glaring at them with disapproval. “This is not a mockery. This is about control.”
Evelyn silently observed as Snape moved around the room, correcting postures and offering icy instructions. His presence, while stern, didn’t seem to faze most of the Slytherins, who were used to his exacting standards in class. The lesson was, for the most part, about fine-tuning their steps and improving their posture rather than learning the basics.
By the end of the hour, the atmosphere had lightened slightly. The students seemed less self-conscious as they grew accustomed to the steps, and a quiet sense of accomplishment filled the air.
As they left the Great Hall, Evelyn felt oddly calm. There was something about the rhythm of the dance that brought an unusual sense of peace. She knew the Yule Ball would be a memorable event, but now she had an inkling of what it might be like to experience it.
Chapter 27: Yule Ball Preparations
Chapter Text
The Room of Requirement was a familiar refuge for Evelyn and Harry now. It was where they often came when they needed to work on their magical skills without the prying eyes of the rest of Hogwarts, or simply when they wanted a space to think in private. The room shifted and changed to meet their needs, always providing exactly what they required. Today, however, the room seemed eerily calm, almost as if it was waiting for them to arrive at a conclusion.
Evelyn paced back and forth across the floor, her mind swirling with ideas as Harry sat on one of the chairs, the golden egg from the First Task resting on his lap. It had become an odd fixture in his life, a constant reminder of his unexpected journey in the Triwizard Tournament.
“So,” Evelyn said, breaking the silence, “Have you figured out anything yet?”
Harry sighed, flipping the egg open for what felt like the hundredth time. The shrill screech that erupted from it filled the room again, making him wince and quickly snap it shut. “No, nothing. It just keeps making that horrible noise. I don’t get it.”
“Maybe you’re not supposed to open it here,” Evelyn wondered, stopping her pacing to face him. “Try taking it with you into the bath or to the lake. The shrieking seems like it’s supposed to be a warning—maybe it’ll make sense if you hear it in a different environment.”
Harry stared at the egg, still not entirely convinced. He’d tried everything to figure out what the egg’s clue meant. He’d been running out of ideas, especially since it had only caused him pain each time he’d opened it.
“You think it’ll work?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “You really think there’s something in there I’m missing?”
Evelyn gave a confident nod. “It’s worth a try, Harry. That shriek doesn’t sound normal. It’s like it’s trying to communicate something… underwater, maybe”
Harry slowly nodded, slipping the egg back into his bag. “Alright, I’ll try it. But I still don’t get what the second task is supposed to be. All we have is a clue that’s basically a mystery wrapped in a riddle.”
“Well, we’re one step closer,” Evelyn reminded him, trying to keep his spirits up. “The second task is definitely tied to water, I can feel it. And you said you’ve seen some of the other champions preparing. Maybe they’ll give us a clue.”
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He still didn’t feel like he belonged in this tournament, especially after all the turmoil surrounding his name being drawn from the Goblet of Fire. But with Evelyn’s encouragement, he had to admit he was starting to believe he could face it—whatever “it” was.
“Yeah,” he said, shaking off his frustration, “I’ll take the egg down to the lake tomorrow and see if it makes a difference.”
As they turned their attention back to their training, their conversation naturally shifted to what lay ahead. Harry’s eyes grew steely with determination.
“Do you think I’ll be ready for it? The second task?” he asked, his voice a little unsure.
Evelyn walked over to him, her eyes full of reassurance. “You’ll be ready. And you know I’ll help you. If you need any more training, we can always come here to practice—get you ready for whatever comes next. We’ve got time. We’ve been preparing since the first task, right? You’ve got this.”
Harry couldn’t help but feel a little better with Evelyn’s words. He leaned back in his chair, giving her a grateful smile.
“Thanks, Evelyn. It means a lot that you’re helping me with all of this.”
Evelyn smiled softly. “You’re my friend, Harry. That’s what friends do.” She paused before adding, “Besides, you’ve been there for me, so it’s only fair I return the favor.”
The conversation lingered on that note, moving toward the topic of their training sessions and the upcoming challenges. Evelyn did her best to help Harry stay calm and focused. He needed all the support he could get, especially with the second task looming on the horizon.
As they spent the next few hours in the Room of Requirement, perfecting Harry’s spellwork, Evelyn could see the changes in him. He was still raw from the events surrounding the Triwizard Tournament, but she was helping him take control of what he could. He was gradually becoming the determined, capable person he had always been—but Evelyn also knew this tournament was about to push him to his limits.
______________
A few days later, Evelyn, Pansy, and Daphne were making their way to lunch, the cold air biting at their cheeks. They chatted idly, mostly about the upcoming Yule Ball and how everyone had been scrambling to find a date. Evelyn, for one, wasn’t feeling the pressure that seemed to come with it. After all, she wasn’t particularly worried about the social aspects of the event—she had enough on her plate with the Triwizard Tournament.
As they neared the entrance of the Great Hall, they spotted Harry and Ron standing outside, talking in hushed voices. The scene immediately caught Evelyn’s attention, and she couldn’t help but overhear part of their conversation.
Ron was fidgeting nervously, his face flushed with embarrassment. “I just… I don’t know how to ask her,” he muttered, glancing nervously at Harry.
Harry gave him an encouraging smile. “Just ask her, mate. She’ll probably say yes. You’ve spoke to her before, right?”
Evelyn recognized the girl Ron was talking about: Fleur Delacour, one of the Beauxbatons students, who had been a subject of many whispered conversations around the school since her arrival. She was beautiful, poised, and quite a bit out of Ron’s league in his own estimation.
Ron took a deep breath. “Yeah, but—”
“Well, just go on then,” Harry urged. “You’ve got this.”
Before Ron could respond, Pansy, Daphne, and Evelyn approached them, catching the tail end of the conversation.
“Everything alright, Weasley?” Pansy asked with a smirk, clearly already anticipating what was going on.
Ron shot her a glare, his face a shade redder. “I was just about to ask Fleur to the ball,” he muttered, glancing at the ground.
Pansy’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Oh, really? Are you sure you’re ready for that, Ron? You might want to start with a simpler target.” She winked at Daphne, who stifled a giggle.
Evelyn watched as Ron, looking increasingly flustered, took a step forward, clearing his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come out as smoothly as he had hoped. He stumbled over his words, clearly overwhelmed by his nerves.
“I—I was wondering if you… if you wanted to go to the ball… with me,” Ron finally blurted out.
There was an awkward pause before Fleur turned to face him, a polite but slightly confused smile on her face. “Oh, Ron, I’m flattered, but I have already been asked.”
Ron’s face fell, and for a moment, Evelyn thought he might sink into the ground. Fleur gave him a small pat on the arm and walked away, leaving Ron standing there, looking defeated.
“Well, that could’ve gone better,” Daphne said, her tone sympathetic yet amused.
“Come on, Ron,” Harry said, clapping him on the back. “There are plenty of other girls. Don’t give up yet.”
Pansy chuckled. “Yes, Ron, don’t worry. Plenty of other fish in the sea. You’re just aiming a bit too high.”
Ron groaned, clearly feeling both embarrassed and disappointed. “It’s just… I really thought… I mean, I thought she’d say yes. What’s the point of even asking now?”
Evelyn, trying to cheer him up, said gently, “Don’t worry, Ron. Like Pansy said, there are loads of other girls who’d love to go with you. Just… maybe try someone you don’t have a massive crush on.”
Ron nodded miserably as the group made their way into the Great Hall for lunch.
_______________
The library was a haven for Evelyn, Pansy, Daphne, and Hermione. With the Yule Ball only a few weeks away, the girls had decided to spend their lunch hour together, poring over dress catalogs and ordering their gowns. Evelyn had no desire to be caught up in the chaos of other students frantically searching for dresses, so she’d taken to browsing in the peace and quiet of the library, away from the hustle of the Great Hall.
“You know,” Daphne began as she flipped through a catalog with a distracted air, “I honestly didn’t think I’d be this excited about the Yule Ball. But here I am, worrying about every single detail.”
Pansy smirked from her seat next to Evelyn, where she was flipping through a thick catalog of gowns. “Well, you should be. It’s one of the biggest events of the year.”
Evelyn nodded in agreement but wasn’t feeling quite the same level of anticipation. She had read all about the Yule Ball in the books and knew exactly what to expect. As a muggle-born who had spent hours reading the Harry Potter series before discovering she was a witch, Evelyn felt strangely detached from the social pressure surrounding the event. But even so, she didn’t mind spending time with her friends.
“We should keep our dresses a secret,” Hermione said, her voice excited as she flipped through the pages. “It’ll be fun to surprise everyone, don’t you think?”
Evelyn grinned. “Agreed. I don’t want anyone guessing what I’m wearing before the night.”
The conversation continued as the girls worked their way through the various catalogs, picking out their preferred designs. Pansy’s eyes lit up when she found a particularly stunning emerald green gown, and Daphne chose a silver number that shimmered as she turned the pages. Hermione was quite practical, preferring a soft lavender dress with simple, elegant lines, while Evelyn had already chosen a dress from a small boutique catalog she had been eyeing for weeks.
Evelyn’s dress was a deep, forest green, crafted from luxurious silk that shimmered in the light. The bodice was fitted to show off her figure, and it had delicate diamonds sewn along the neckline that glinted like stars. It was sleek, elegant, and perfect for a formal occasion. As she examined the image of the dress in the catalog, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement. It was, after all, the first time she would attend a ball as a witch, and though her reasons for going weren’t as socially driven as the others, she did look forward to the magical atmosphere.
“I’m in love with this,” Evelyn said softly, running a finger over the image of her dress. “It’s exactly what I want.”
“Perfect choice,” Hermione said with a smile. “I bet Harry will be blown away.”
Evelyn felt a small heat rise to her cheeks at Hermione’s comment, though she quickly brushed it aside. She couldn’t admit to herself that she might be excited about Harry seeing her in that dress. Not yet, at least. She didn’t even know who Harry was planning to ask to the ball. She felt silly to dream it might be her.
As the girls continued to chat about their choices, Evelyn couldn’t help but notice how much closer she’d become to Hermione over the past few months. She had once felt like an outsider in the Gryffindor-Slytherin dynamic, but now, with the help of shared experiences, the boundaries between her and the others seemed to be eroding. Harry, Ron, Pansy—everyone—felt more like family now than they ever had before.
“Let’s get them ordered before the day ends,” Daphne said, sitting back with a satisfied smile. “We’ve wasted enough time admiring our choices.”
The girls nodded in agreement, and Evelyn took out a piece of parchment to write down the order details, secretly thrilled that she would soon have a perfect dress for the Yule Ball. She wasn’t sure if she was more excited for the night or for the company of the people she’d be with.
Saturday arrived far too quickly for Evelyn’s liking, though she wasn’t particularly upset. It was, after all, just another weekly ballroom dance lesson, which would inevitably drag on and on, leaving everyone involved wishing for the end of class. The prospect of spending another hour in Snape’s company, teaching them to dance, made Evelyn roll her eyes before she even entered the Great Hall.
Her suspicions about the lesson were quickly confirmed when Snape swept in with his usual dramatic flair, his robes billowing behind him. He was never one to miss an opportunity to demonstrate his disdain for his students’ interests—especially if that interest happened to be something as trivial as dancing.
“Today,” Snape began, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “we will be attempting something a little more challenging. The music will be your guide, but not your crutch.”
The students groaned in unison. They’d already had two lessons of clumsy footwork and awkward positions, and now they were going to have to dance to music? Snape’s idea of teaching technique was more about making them work for it than actually explaining how to do it.
Evelyn felt a flash of sympathy for Blaise, who was standing next to her, looking as disinterested as ever. He had no patience for this nonsense, and neither did she. However, there was something oddly amusing about watching him try to make the best of it.
As the music began, Snape turned to the students with an almost imperceptible sneer. He paired them off, and Evelyn found herself with Blaise. It wasn’t that she minded—Blaise was, after all, an excellent dancer—but it did feel somewhat surreal to be in Snape’s ballroom lesson while the music swirled through the hall.
As they began to dance, Blaise’s mood seemed to shift. He wasn’t the enthusiastic type, but there was something in his eyes that indicated he had something on his mind.
“You know,” Blaise said quietly as they moved in time with the music, “I don’t really care about the ball or the dancing. I mean, I already know how to dance. My family made sure of that.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “So why are you even here?”
Blaise smirked, his expression shifting from bored to almost mischievous. “You know i like the entertainment. I don’t want to ask a girl to the ball, Evelyn. I want to ask a boy.”
Evelyn blinked in surprise. “Oh?”
Blaise gave a small nod, his gaze distant. “I know it’s not exactly the most conventional thing, but it’s the truth. I’m just trying to figure out how to go about it. You know how it is. A little bit of a risk, but…” He trailed off, letting the music fill the silence between them.
Evelyn smiled, offering him a supportive look. “I think it’s great, Blaise. Honestly, you should do whatever feels right for you. And if you need any help, you know you can count on me.”
For the first time that afternoon, Blaise looked genuinely relieved. “Thanks, Evelyn. I appreciate that.”
The lesson continued, but Evelyn couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in Blaise’s courage. It wasn’t an easy thing, being true to oneself, especially in a world where expectations were high and conformity was often the norm. But Blaise was breaking free of those constraints, and Evelyn admired him for it.
The rest of the lesson passed in a blur, with Snape huffing and muttering in disapproval whenever anyone missed a step. Evelyn barely noticed his scornful glances; her mind was focused on other things—like the idea that the Yule Ball was, despite all its pretensions, still an event where magic and love and freedom could bloom.
When the music finally stopped, Snape dismissed them with a sneer and a flick of his wand. The students left the Great Hall with mixed feelings, but Evelyn couldn’t help but feel a small sense of contentment. For all the awkwardness of the lesson, she had taken something valuable away from it. And, in the end, that was all that really mattered.
Chapter 28: Harry’s Date
Chapter Text
Harry hadn’t given much thought to the Yule Ball before today. He’d been too preoccupied with surviving dragons and figuring out what the next task entailed to consider things like dance lessons and dates. But as he was spun around the Great Hall, fumbling his steps with Hermione as his partner, something clicked in his mind.
Hermione was an excellent dancer, guiding him when he hesitated, offering him encouraging nods whenever he got something right. But despite their rhythm, Harry’s mind wasn’t on the dance itself. It was on the fact that he needed to ask someone to the ball soon.
More specifically, that he wanted to ask Evelyn.
The realization nearly made him step on Hermione’s foot.
“Harry!” she scolded, yanking him back into place before he crashed into another couple.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
Hermione sighed but didn’t seem too mad. She could probably tell his mind was elsewhere.
“Who are you thinking of asking?” she asked casually.
Harry hesitated. He hadn’t admitted it to himself until now, but there was no point in pretending otherwise. “…Evelyn.”
Hermione’s face lit up in a way that told him she had been expecting this. “Well, it’s about time. I thought you were going to keep pretending you didn’t like her.”
Harry groaned. “I do not—”
“You do,” Hermione interrupted, looking far too smug. “And she obviously likes you too. It’s so obvious, honestly, I don’t know how you two haven’t figured it out yet.”
Harry swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure if that was true. Sure, Evelyn spent a lot of time with him. Sure, she had always been on his side, supporting him through the tournament, training with him, believing him when no one else did. But was that enough? Was that proof that she liked him?
“You think she’ll say yes?” Harry asked hesitantly.
Hermione gave him a look. “Harry. Yes. Just ask her before someone else does.”
That was all the encouragement he needed.
_______________
The week before the Yule Ball, Hogwarts had transformed into a school of gossip. Everywhere Evelyn went, students were whispering about who had asked whom, who had been rejected, and who was still scrambling for a date.
Evelyn, however, was not scrambling. She hadn’t been asked by anyone—not that she minded. She had a feeling she knew why.
“You know, I think people are afraid to ask you,” Daphne said as they walked toward the courtyard, arms linked.
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Pansy smirked. “Because you spend all your time with Harry Potter. Boys probably assume you’re already going with him.”
Evelyn’s stomach twisted at that, but she quickly shook it off. “Well, he hasn’t asked me.”
Daphne hummed. “Maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment.”
Before Evelyn could respond, Hermione suddenly grinned. “Oh! I forgot to tell you all—Viktor Krum asked me.”
The girls froze mid-step.
“What?!” Pansy shrieked. “You’re going with Krum?”
Daphne gasped. “You’re kidding.”
Hermione, clearly pleased with herself, shook her head. “Not kidding.”
“That’s… incredible,” Evelyn said, genuinely impressed. “Did you say yes?”
“Of course I did!” Hermione beamed.
They were still processing that when Daphne casually added, “Oh, by the way, I’m going with Theo. Just as friends.”
Pansy nodded approvingly. “Good choice. Theo’s a good dancer.”
They were almost at the entrance to the Great Hall when Ron appeared out of nowhere, looking slightly pale but determined.
“Pansy,” he said, somewhat breathless. “Will you go to the ball with me?”
There was a moment of stunned silence.
Pansy blinked. “…Alright, Weasley.”
Ron sagged with relief.
Evelyn and Daphne exchanged amused glances as Hermione sighed. This was going to be interesting.
The Room of Requirement was their usual meeting place, where they trained in secret, preparing for whatever the tournament would throw at Harry next. Tonight was no different.
Harry barely dodged Evelyn’s spell, rolling out of the way as she sent a well-aimed Stupefy at him. “You’re getting faster,” Evelyn noted, twirling her wand between her fingers.
“You’re getting scarier,” Harry shot back.
She smirked. “Good. You’ll need to be scared of me if you want to survive the next task.”
Harry sighed, straightening. “Right. Because surviving is my top priority these days.”
Evelyn lowered her wand. “It should be.”
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, catching their breath. Then, because he couldn’t help himself, Harry blurted, “I’ve been asked to the ball. A lot.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Loads of girls. Some I don’t even know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve said no to everyone.”
Evelyn tilted her head. “Waiting for someone in particular?”
Harry swallowed. “Maybe.”
Evelyn smiled. “Well, you should hurry up. You don’t want to run out of time.”
Harry knew she was right. He just had to gather the nerve.
________________
The next day, Evelyn moved from class to class, her thoughts preoccupied but her routine unchanged.
In Potions, she was paired with Evan, who kept grumbling about how ridiculous the whole ball thing was. In Transfiguration, she sat beside Blaise, who was still debating whether to ask a boy or not. In Ancient Runes, she worked with Daphne, who spent most of the class subtly bragging about her dress. In Charms, she partnered with Pansy, who was surprisingly not complaining about going with Ron. And in Defense Against the Dark Arts, she sat between Evan and Theo, both of whom seemed indifferent about the ball.
It was a normal day, but Evelyn couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to change.
That evening, Evelyn made her way to the Room of Requirement, expecting another night of training. But when she opened the door, she was met with something entirely different.
The room had transformed.
Fairy lights floated above, casting a soft golden glow. Candles lined the walls, illuminating the space with a warm flickering light. A table with hot chocolate and biscuits sat nearby, and in the center of it all stood Harry, looking nervous.
Evelyn’s heart skipped a beat.
Harry cleared his throat. “So, uh. I—um.”
Evelyn crossed her arms, amused. “Go on.”
“I want to—” He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?”
The words came out in a rush, and before Evelyn could answer, he kept going. “I mean, you don’t have to, but I just thought—because we’re always hanging out—and you’re kind of—well, you’re really—”
Evelyn cut him off by stepping forward and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
Harry went silent.
“Yes,” she said simply, smiling.
Harry blinked. “Yes?”
“Yes.”
His face broke into the biggest grin she had ever seen.
Evelyn wasn’t sure if the butterflies in her stomach were from excitement or the fact that she definitely had feelings for Harry Potter.
Maybe both.
Chapter 29: The Yule Ball of ‘94
Summary:
a couple short wee chapters to keep us all going <3
Chapter Text
The Slytherin common room was alive with excitement. Girls were rushing between dormitories, charmed mirrors floating in midair as they adjusted their gowns and perfected their hair. The usual greenish glow from the lake outside cast an eerie shimmer across the stone walls, but tonight, it was softened by the warm flicker of candles and the murmurs of anticipation.
Evelyn sat before a large mirror, carefully fastening an emerald-green pendant around her neck. It matched her dress perfectly—a deep green, sleek and fitted to her frame, with a scattering of small diamonds along the neckline that caught the candlelight. The fabric clung to her waist before flowing down to the floor, moving like liquid as she adjusted the skirt.
Behind her, Pansy was fussing over Daphne’s hair. “Merlin, stand still.”
Daphne huffed. “It doesn’t need fixing.”
“It does,” Pansy insisted, tugging a lock of blonde hair into place. “You’ll thank me later.”
Daphne, wearing a stunning ice-blue gown, crossed her arms impatiently. “It’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone.”
Evelyn smirked. “You’re literally going with Theo.”
“As friends,” Daphne corrected.
Pansy shot Evelyn a look and mouthed, Sure.
Pansy herself was in a dark purple gown, cut elegantly, her makeup carefully applied to enhance her sharp features. She had done Evelyn’s makeup as well—just enough to highlight her eyes, making the green stand out even more.
Evelyn glanced at her reflection one last time, smoothing down the front of her dress. She could hardly believe this was real. She was going to the Yule Ball. With Harry Potter.
Pansy flopped onto the couch with an exaggerated sigh. “I can’t believe Weasley asked me.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “You said yes.”
“Well, obviously.” Pansy smirked. “Someone has to make sure he doesn’t embarrass himself.”
Daphne rolled her eyes. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“I am,” Pansy admitted.
Evelyn shook her head fondly before checking the clock. “We should probably head up soon.”
Pansy and Daphne exchanged glances.
“What?” Evelyn asked.
Pansy smirked. “Just wondering how Harry’s going to react when he sees you.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes, but she could feel the warmth rising to her cheeks.
The Entrance Hall was already bustling with students in formal attire. The boys looked unusually polished in their dress robes, some more uncomfortable than others. Evelyn’s eyes immediately found Harry, standing near the bottom of the stairs with Ron.
Ron, to no one’s surprise, looked utterly miserable in his ancient maroon robes. But Harry—
Evelyn’s heart did something strange.
Harry looked good. Really good.
He was dressed in sleek black dress robes, his hair as messy as ever, but in an almost intentional way. He was fidgeting slightly, glancing around, and when his gaze landed on her, his eyes widened.
She walked down the last few steps, the heels of her shoes clicking softly against the stone floor.
Harry blinked. “You… you look…”
Evelyn smirked. “Careful, Potter. You’re staring.”
He flushed. “Right. Um. You look amazing.”
Pansy snickered behind her.
Evelyn let herself smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
Harry grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shall we?”
She took his offered arm, and together, they made their way into the Great Hall with the other champions.
The hall had been transformed into a winter wonderland—frosted trees lined the edges of the room, icicles hung from the enchanted ceiling, and the usual long house tables had been replaced with round ones dressed in silver tablecloths. The champions and their dates were led to a special table at the front, where Dumbledore, Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and Ludo Bagman were already seated.
As the night unfolded, Evelyn found herself genuinely enjoying it. The formal dinner was surprisingly good. When the music started, Harry offered his hand with only a slightly nervous expression.
“Let’s get this over with,” he muttered, leading her onto the dance floor.
Evelyn chuckled. “It’s just dancing, Harry.”
“Easy for you to say.”
She squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry, you’re doing fine.”
And he was. A little stiff at first, but as the song went on, he loosened up, falling into step with her. Evelyn found herself grinning. She had never imagined this would be her reality—dancing at the Yule Ball with Harry Potter.
They weren’t perfect dancers, but at that moment, she didn’t care.
As the ball continued, Evelyn drifted between groups, chatting with Pansy, Daphne, and even Hermione—who looked absolutely stunning in her periwinkle dress. Evelyn noticed the way Ron kept glancing at Pansy and bit back a knowing smirk.
Harry, on the other hand, looked increasingly overwhelmed by the number of girls trying to dance with him. Evelyn had stepped away for one minute, and somehow, a small group had surrounded him.
She raised an eyebrow. “Enjoying yourself?”
Harry looked helpless. “Save me.”
Evelyn bit back a laugh before smoothly taking his hand. “Sorry, ladies, I’m stealing him.”
Harry practically melted with relief as she led him away.
“You’re my favorite person right now,” he muttered.
“I know.”
They found a quieter spot near the edge of the dance floor, watching as the rest of the students twirled under the enchanted icicles.
Evelyn leaned in slightly. “Having fun?”
Harry sighed. “Yeah. Surprisingly.”
She smiled.
He hesitated before saying, “Thanks for coming with me.”
Evelyn glanced at him. “Thanks for asking me.”
For a moment, they just stood there, the music playing around them, the flickering candlelight reflecting in Harry’s green eyes. Evelyn felt a strange, warm feeling settle in her chest.
She really liked him.
And judging by the way he was looking at her—
Maybe he felt the same way.
As the ball came to an end, the couples slowly drifted apart, some lingering in the hall, reluctant to leave the magic of the evening behind.
Evelyn and Harry walked together toward the staircase leading to the dormitories, the night air cool against their skin.
Harry let out a breath. “Well. That was… an experience.”
Evelyn smirked. “You didn’t step on my feet, so I’d call it a success.”
Harry chuckled. “Thanks for that.”
They stopped at the split between the staircases. Evelyn turned to him. “Night, Harry.”
He hesitated. “Night, Evelyn.”
For a second, it looked like he wanted to say something else. But instead, he just smiled, gave a small, awkward wave, and turned toward the Gryffindor Tower.
Evelyn watched him go, a small smile tugging at her lips. Tonight had been perfect.
Chapter 30: The Clue
Chapter Text
The morning after the Yule Ball, Evelyn found herself heading toward the Great Hall for breakfast, her mind still replaying the previous night. The music, the dancing, the way Harry had looked at her…
She shook herself. Focus.
She spotted Harry at the Gryffindor table, shoveling toast into his mouth as he spoke to Ron, who was laughing about something. Their friendship had fully recovered now, and it was obvious in the easy way they spoke. Hermione, ever the responsible one, was reading the Daily Prophet beside them.
Harry caught her eye and grinned. He gestured toward the entrance hall, silently asking if she wanted to talk.
Evelyn nodded, waiting by the doors as he hurried to finish his breakfast.
“So,” she said as he joined her. “What’s the plan? We still need to figure out the second task.”
Harry sighed. “Yeah, and I’m running out of time. The task is in—”
“A month,” Evelyn finished for him. “We need to crack that egg.”
Harry groaned. “It just screams when I open it.”
Evelyn smirked. “Well, have you tried it underwater yet, like I suggested?”
Harry frowned. “I haven’t had a chance.”
Evelyn shrugged, leading the way toward the prefects’ bathroom. “Come on. I have a theory.”
Minutes later, Harry stood beside the massive, luxurious bathtub, holding the golden egg uncertainly. The room was empty except for Evelyn, who had perched herself on the edge of the tub, arms crossed.
“Just trust me,” she said, amused by his hesitation.
Harry sighed before stepping into the warm water, still wearing his school shirt and trousers. He sat at the edge, gripping the egg.
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “You could take off your shirt, you know.”
Harry turned bright red. “I—It’s fine.”
Evelyn smirked. “Suit yourself.”
Harry cleared his throat, shooting her a look before sinking under the water.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, after a few seconds, Harry came bursting up again, gasping.
“I knew it,” Evelyn said smugly.
Harry stared at her, still dripping. “It’s a song underwater. I could hear it perfectly.”
Evelyn grinned. “What did it say?”
Harry furrowed his brows, concentrating. “Something about losing what I’ll sorely miss… something will be taken and put at the bottom of the lake, and I have an hour to get it back.” He groaned. “Brilliant.”
Evelyn leaned forward. “Okay. So how do we get you to breathe underwater for an hour?”
Harry gave her a helpless look. “No idea.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “That’s what I’m here for.”
The next few weeks were filled with training. Every evening, Evelyn and Harry met in the Room of Requirement, practicing spells that might help him survive the depths of the Black Lake.
“I still say the Bubble-Head Charm is the best bet,” Evelyn said one evening, flipping through an old spellbook. “It lasts for as long as you need and doesn’t limit mobility.”
Harry groaned, tossing his wand onto the floor. “Yeah, well, I still can’t do it.”
Evelyn bit back a sigh. The charm was advanced, and despite Harry’s talent, he struggled with the delicate wand movements.
“Alright,” she said, shutting the book. “Let’s try something else.”
She flicked her wand, and the room changed. The floor turned into a shallow pool, shimmering with enchanted water.
Harry raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”
“You need to practice swimming while casting spells,” Evelyn said simply. “So we’re going to work on that.”
Harry groaned. “You love torturing me, don’t you?”
Evelyn smirked. “A little.”
Despite his complaints, Harry trained hard. They tried every spell they could think of—water-repelling charms, movement-enhancing spells—but nothing lasted long enough for a full hour underwater.
One evening, after another failed attempt, Harry flopped onto the floor, exhausted.
“I don’t suppose I can just ask the merpeople to give me back whatever they’re taking?” he muttered.
Evelyn snorted. “Yeah, and while you’re at it, maybe ask them for a cup of tea, too.”
Harry chuckled, covering his face with his arm. “I’m doomed.”
Evelyn shook her head. “No, you’re not. We’ll figure it out.”
And she meant it.
____________
The night before the second task, Harry and Evelyn sat in the Room of Requirement, going over their options. Nothing was working. Harry’s frustration was evident in the way he ran his hands through his already-messy hair.
“I don’t know what else to do,” he muttered. “Maybe I am doomed.”
Before Evelyn could reply, there was a pop, and a small, wide-eyed house-elf appeared before them.
“Harry Potter, sir!” Dobby squeaked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Dobby has something for you!”
Harry blinked. “Dobby? What are you—?”
Dobby held up a bundle of slimy green weeds. “Gillyweed, sir! It will let Harry Potter breathe underwater!”
Harry and Evelyn exchanged glances.
“Where did you get that?” Evelyn asked.
“Dobby hears Professor Moody talking about it, miss!” Dobby beamed. “Says it would be very useful if Harry Potter knew about Gillyweed.”
Harry took the bundle, inspecting it with newfound hope. “How does it work?”
“Just eats it, sir!” Dobby said happily. “It will give Harry Potter gills and webbed feet—very good for swimming!”
Harry looked at Evelyn. “This might actually work.”
Evelyn smirked. “Might? It’s brilliant.”
Dobby clapped his hands excitedly. “Harry Potter must win!”
Harry laughed. “I’ll settle for not drowning.”
Evelyn patted his shoulder. “Tomorrow, you’re going to be fine.”
And for the first time in weeks, Harry actually believed it.
Chapter 31: The Second Task
Chapter Text
The Great Hall buzzed with nervous excitement as students shoveled down their breakfast, eager for the second task to begin. Snow drifted gently outside the tall windows, and the enchanted ceiling reflected the steel-gray sky over the Black Lake.
Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, barely touching his food. His fingers absently toyed with the edge of the napkin on his lap as he tried to keep his nerves in check.
At least he had a plan.
Gillyweed.
It was strange to feel this prepared going into a task. He had spent weeks panicking over how to breathe underwater, and then, at the very last second, Dobby had handed him the perfect solution.
Still, something didn’t feel right.
He glanced over at the Slytherin table. Evelyn wasn’t there.
That was odd.
He frowned, scanning the hall again. Maybe she had already left for the stands? Maybe she was waiting by the lake?
Before he could dwell on it further, two familiar figures approached his table.
“Harry,” Pansy Parkinson said, arms crossed, her usual smirk nowhere in sight.
Evan was right beside her, looking uncharacteristically uneasy. “Have you seen Eve?”
Harry blinked. “What?”
Pansy huffed, rolling her eyes. “You heard him. Have you seen her?”
Harry’s frown deepened. “Not since last night. We left the Room of Requirement together, and she was heading back to the dungeons.”
Pansy and Evan exchanged a look.
“Well, she’s not there,” Evan said, jaw tight. “No one’s seen her all morning.”
Harry’s stomach twisted.
“She didn’t say anything to you?” Pansy pressed. “She always tells us what she’s up to.”
Harry shook his head, his chest tightening. Evelyn wouldn’t just disappear.
Unless—
A sudden, terrible thought slammed into him like a rogue Bludger.
Something you will sorely miss…
No.
No, it couldn’t be.
But as he looked at Pansy and Evan’s worried faces, at the empty seat at the Slytherin table, at the too-quiet feeling in his gut—
Harry knew.
Evelyn was gone.
And he knew exactly where she was.
_______________
The second task was about to begin.
The freezing morning air stung Harry’s face as he stood on the dock beside the Black Lake, surrounded by the other champions. The judges sat on a platform nearby, their eyes fixed on the competitors.
The murky water stretched out before him, cold and uninviting.
Harry clutched the Gillyweed in his hand. His mind was racing.
Evelyn was his hostage.
Of course, she was.
The tournament took what the champions would “sorely miss.” And despite how often Harry pushed down the thought, the truth was undeniable—Evelyn had become one of the most important people in his life.
He needed to get to her.
Dumbledore raised his wand. A loud bang echoed through the cold air.
The task had begun.
Harry shoved the Gillyweed into his mouth and swallowed. It was slimy and bitter, but within moments, a sharp pain spread through his neck.
He gasped—and suddenly, he couldn’t breathe.
Panicked, he clutched at his throat—until he realized something.
He couldn’t breathe air.
Because he had gills.
Harry wasted no more time. He dove into the Black Lake, feeling his body adjust. Webbing stretched between his fingers, his vision sharpened, and his lungs filled effortlessly with water.
He kicked forward, swimming deeper into the dark abyss.
Minutes passed as he navigated through the eerie underwater world, dodging schools of fish and swaying strands of kelp. Shadows loomed in the distance—Grindylows.
Harry’s heart pounded as the creatures lunged at him, but he was ready. He flicked his wand.
“Relashio!”
A burst of boiling water sent the creatures retreating, giving him enough time to push forward.
Then, at last, he saw it.
The merpeople’s village.
Stone structures littered the lakebed, strange and ancient. And in the center—
Four figures, tied to a carved statue.
His stomach clenched.
Evelyn.
Her long dark hair floated around her, her face eerily peaceful. Strands of kelp bound her wrists, holding her in place.
Beside her, Hermione, Cho Chang, and Gabrielle Delacour remained unconscious, trapped in the same eerie stillness.
Harry swam faster.
The merpeople stirred, watching with sharp, knowing eyes.
I have to get her out of here.
He reached for his wand—only for Viktor Krum to suddenly appear beside him, his face half-transformed into a shark. Without hesitation, Krum bit through Hermione’s bindings and pulled her free.
Cedric arrived a second later, cutting Cho loose.
That left Evelyn and Gabrielle.
Harry turned to the merpeople and pointed at the last two hostages. He tried to motion—let them go—but the merpeople shook their heads, their spears crossing in front of him.
Only one more could be taken.
Harry gritted his teeth.
He grabbed at Evelyn’s bindings, using his wand to cut through them. The moment she was free, he caught her around the waist, pulling her toward him.
The merpeople did nothing to stop him this time.
But Gabrielle was still there.
Harry hesitated.
I can’t just leave her.
He grabbed for Gabrielle’s bindings, but the merpeople blocked him again, shaking their heads. He tried to argue—tried to tell them it wasn’t right—but they refused to let him take more than his share.
The gillyweed’s effects were starting to fade. His gills burned. His webbed fingers were shrinking.
He was running out of time.
He tightened his hold on Evelyn and kicked upward, propelling them toward the surface.
As they broke through the water, Harry gasped for air. Evelyn stirred against him, her eyelids fluttering open.
“Harry?” she murmured, disoriented.
He let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. It’s me.”
Evelyn blinked groggily, realization dawning in her expression. “Oh my God—did you save me?”
Harry let out a breathless laugh. “Yeah.”
Evelyn stared at him. Then, much to his surprise, she smacked his arm.
“You idiot! You could’ve drowned!”
Harry burst out laughing. “Well, I didn’t, did I?”
Evelyn huffed. “I hate this tournament.”
“I know.”
Cheers erupted from the stands as lifeguards pulled them onto the dock. Harry turned in time to see Fleur sobbing over Gabrielle, clearly grateful that someone had tried to save her.
The judges were talking amongst themselves. Dumbledore gave him a knowing look.
After a long discussion, Bagman’s voice boomed through the enchanted microphone:
“Harry Potter is awarded forty-five points for his bravery and moral fiber!”
The crowd exploded in cheers.
But Harry barely heard them.
Because as Evelyn sat beside him, shivering, she reached for his hand.
And, despite the freezing cold, Harry felt warmth spread through his chest.
They made it back up to the castle in what felt like record time. Both heading straight for the room of requirement and sitting down with a hot chocolate.
Chapter 32: Barty Crouch
Chapter Text
The dream was the same as before.
A graveyard.
The air was damp and thick with fog. A single, crooked headstone stood in the center, the name barely visible in the dim light—Tom Riddle Sr.
Harry couldn’t move.
A figure loomed before him, shrouded in darkness.
Then a voice—high, cold, and cruel.
“Kill the spare.”
A flash of green light. A body hitting the ground.
Pain seared across Harry’s scar, white-hot and unbearable.
He gasped—
And jolted awake.
His forehead was damp with sweat, his breathing ragged as he sat up in bed, gripping his sheets like a lifeline. The room was silent around him, the Gryffindor dormitory dark except for the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the window.
His scar throbbed painfully.
It had felt so real.
He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his heart to slow down.
But he already knew.
This wasn’t just a dream.
It was a warning. Something bad was coming.
______________
“Your scar hurt again?” Evelyn asked, frowning.
They were in the Room of Requirement, a small fire crackling in the hearth as they sat cross-legged on the floor. Books on defensive spells were stacked around them, though neither of them had touched them since Harry told her about the dream.
“Yeah,” Harry admitted. He rubbed his forehead absently. “It was the same dream. The graveyard. Someone dying. Voldemort was there.”
Evelyn’s expression darkened.
“Have you told Dumbledore?”
Harry scoffed. “He already knows about the dreams. What’s he gonna do? Give me a dreamless sleep potion and call it a day?”
Evelyn crossed her arms. “No, but something is going on. Your scar didn’t hurt last year, did it?”
Harry shook his head.
“Right,” she said. “So why is it happening now?”
Harry had no answer to that.
Evelyn sighed. “I don’t like this.”
“Yeah, well, me neither,” Harry muttered, leaning back against the couch.
They sat in silence for a moment, the fire casting flickering shadows across the stone walls.
Then Evelyn smirked. “I bet you screamed in your sleep.”
Harry groaned. “Shut up.”
Evelyn just grinned.
Before Harry could retort, a tapping noise echoed through the room.
An owl.
They both turned toward the window. A large, scruffy-looking bird perched on the sill, a letter clutched in its beak.
Harry’s stomach did a small flip.
Sirius.
He hurried over, untying the letter. The owl hooted once and took off, disappearing into the night.
Harry unfolded the parchment. Evelyn leaned in, reading over his shoulder.
“Be at the end of the road out of Hogsmeade, past Dervish & Banges, at 2 o’clock on Saturday. Bring as much food as you can.”
No signature. None was needed.
Harry grinned. “Sirius wants to meet.”
Evelyn raised a brow. “You’re going, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
Harry turned to her, surprised. “You don’t have to—”
“Shut up, Potter.” Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Of course I’m coming.”
He couldn’t help but smile.
“Alright,” he said. “Saturday it is.”
_____________
Two days later, the halls were filled with gossip.
The Yule Ball had passed, but its aftermath remained.
“Honestly, I cannot believe Krum asked you out again,” Daphne said as she, Evelyn, and Pansy made their way to lunch.
Hermione, walking beside them, flushed. “It’s not—he just wanted to have dinner in Hogsmeade.”
Pansy smirked. “Sounds like a date to me.”
“It’s not,” Hermione insisted, though the pink in her cheeks betrayed her.
Daphne grinned. “Are you going, then?”
Hermione hesitated. “…Yes.”
Evelyn and Pansy exchanged a look.
“Oh, Hermione,” Pansy said dramatically, “our little bookworm is growing up.”
Hermione groaned. “Shut up.”
Before the teasing could continue, Ron suddenly stepped in front of them, blocking their path.
“Pansy.”
Pansy raised a brow. “Weasley.”
Ron cleared his throat, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “Uh… do you wanna go to Hogsmeade with me? On Saturday?”
The group blinked.
Pansy stared at him.
Then she tossed her hair over her shoulder and said, “Sure.”
Ron blinked. “Wait—really?”
Pansy smirked. “Yeah. Why not? We had a good time at the ball.”
Ron gaped at her, as if expecting her to take it back. When she didn’t, he turned bright red and mumbled something about meeting her in the Entrance Hall before practically running off.
The moment he was gone, Pansy turned to Evelyn, who was grinning.
“Shut up,” she said.
Evelyn just laughed.
_______________
The path out of Hogsmeade was quiet. Snow crunched under Harry and Evelyn’s boots as they made their way toward the end of the road, past Dervish & Banges.
The meeting spot was deserted, save for a large, black dog sitting near the treeline.
Padfoot.
Harry grinned. “Sirius.”
The dog’s tail thumped against the ground before it turned, trotting toward the forest.
Harry and Evelyn followed.
They wove through the trees, climbing a small hill before reaching a shallow cave hidden within the rocks. The moment they stepped inside, Padfoot transformed.
Sirius Black stood before them, his face gaunt but his eyes bright.
“Good to see you, Harry.”
Harry grinned. “You too.”
Sirius glanced at Evelyn, smirking. “And you must be the one who helped me escape the dementors.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
Sirius chuckled. “Oh, I like you.”
Harry snorted.
Evelyn grinned. “Well, considering I was there when you escaped, I should hope so.”
Sirius blinked. “Wait—you actually helped?”
“She was with me when we freed Buckbeak,” Harry explained.
Sirius let out a bark of laughter. “Brilliant.” He turned back to Evelyn. “And now you’re going to the Ball with my godson? Bold choice.”
Harry groaned. “Sirius.”
Evelyn smirked. “What can I say? He’s charming.”
Sirius snorted.
Then his gaze flickered behind them. “Where are Ron and Hermione?”
Harry sighed. “Hermione’s out with Krum.”
Sirius raised a brow.
Evelyn grinned. “And Ron’s on a date with Pansy.”
Sirius gawked at them.
Then he burst out laughing.
Sirius shook his head, grinning. “Ron Weasley is dating a Slytherin?”
Evelyn smirked. “You sound shocked, Black.”
“I am,” Sirius admitted. He glanced at Harry. “Did you see that coming?”
“Not in a million years,” Harry said honestly. “I think Ron barely saw it coming either.”
Sirius barked out a laugh. “Merlin, I love this world.” He turned back to Evelyn, eyes twinkling. “So, tell me—how did that happen?”
Evelyn shrugged. “Ron asked. Pansy said yes.”
“Just like that?” Sirius arched a brow.
“Well,” Evelyn mused, “he looked like he was about to pass out, but Pansy found it hilarious, so she said yes just to see what would happen.”
Sirius shook his head in amusement. “I almost feel bad for the poor kid.”
Evelyn smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. If Ron screws up, Pansy will personally make him regret it.”
Harry winced. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
Sirius chuckled, stretching his legs out. “Well, at least he’s got guts. That’s a very Gryffindor thing to do—marching up to a Slytherin and asking her out.”
Evelyn shot Harry a sly look. “Guess Gryffindors do have some redeeming qualities.”
Harry smirked. “Some?”
“I mean,” Evelyn said dramatically, “you do have a habit of rushing into danger with zero thought.”
Harry gave her a look. “Excuse me?”
Sirius grinned. “Oh, she knows you well, doesn’t she?”
Evelyn leaned back against the cave wall, arms crossed. “I do spend most of my free time either dragging him out of trouble or helping him prepare for whatever nonsense he’s gotten himself into next.”
Harry sighed. “I regret introducing you two.”
Sirius laughed.
Then his expression turned serious. “Speaking of nonsense… how’s everything with your scar, Harry?”
Harry hesitated. He glanced at Evelyn, who nodded encouragingly.
“It’s been hurting,” Harry admitted. “I’ve been having these… dreams. More like visions, actually.”
Sirius’s smile faded. “Tell me.”
Harry recounted everything—the graveyard, the voice, the pain in his scar. Sirius listened in silence, his face darkening with each word.
When Harry finished, Sirius let out a slow breath. “That’s not just a dream.”
“I figured,” Harry muttered.
Sirius ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t like this, Harry. It means Voldemort’s getting stronger.”
Evelyn frowned. “But how? I mean, I know he’s been trying to come back, but—”
“There are ways,” Sirius said grimly. “Old magic. Dark magic. If he’s getting stronger, it means something’s happening.” He looked at Harry. “And if you’re seeing it—if you’re feeling it—it means you’re connected to it somehow.”
Harry’s stomach turned uncomfortably. “Great.”
Evelyn scowled. “So, what do we do?”
Sirius sighed. “For now, just be careful. Keep your head down. And if anything changes, tell me.”
Harry nodded.
Sirius glanced at Evelyn. “That goes for you, too.”
Evelyn smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m keeping very close watch on this one.” She nudged Harry’s shoulder. “If he so much as sneezes suspiciously, I’ll let you know.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Brilliant. My own personal babysitter.”
Sirius grinned. “Good. Someone’s gotta keep you alive.”
Evelyn smirked. “Exactly.”
Harry sighed. “I really really regret introducing you two.”
Sirius laughed. “Too late, kid.”
The cave fell into a comfortable silence. Outside, the wind howled, sending snow swirling through the entrance.
After a moment, Sirius leaned back, expression softening. “I’m glad you’re not dealing with all of this alone, Harry.”
Harry glanced at Evelyn, who met his gaze with a small, knowing smile.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Me too.”
_______________
The warmth of the castle was a welcome relief after the freezing winds outside. Evelyn and Harry stepped into the entrance hall, brushing snow off their cloaks before heading toward the Great Hall. It was late afternoon, and most students weren’t eating but rather gathered in quiet groups, poring over textbooks and notes. A few Slytherins had claimed the far end of the Slytherin table, books spread out, quills scratching against parchment.
Theo and Evan were among them.
“Oi, Eve, Harry,” Evan called, glancing up from his Transfiguration notes. “Come sit.”
Evelyn slid onto the bench beside him, Harry across from her next to Theo.
“Studying?” Evelyn asked, eyeing Evan’s mess of parchment.
“Unfortunately,” Evan said, twirling his quill between his fingers. “McGonagall’s got it in for us.”
Theo smirked. “That’s because you don’t try in class.”
“Exactly,” Evan said. “She hates untapped potential.”
Evelyn shook her head, amused, but before she could respond, Evan reached into his bag and slid a copy of the Daily Prophet across the table. “Here. This’ll be more interesting.”
Harry picked it up. His eyes scanned the front page, and Evelyn already knew what it would say before he even read it out loud.
Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, has taken indefinite leave due to illness, the Ministry confirmed yesterday…
Harry frowned. “Illness?”
Theo leaned forward. “That’s what they want us to think.”
Evan nodded. “It’s suspicious. Crouch doesn’t just disappear. He was at Hogwarts all through the first task, acting perfectly fine, and now suddenly, he’s too sick to leave his house?”
Evelyn said nothing, though she could have.
Theo tapped a finger against the paper. “Did you know his son died in Azkaban?”
Harry looked up. “Crouch had a son?”
Theo nodded. “Yeah. Barty Crouch Jr. He was arrested for being a Death Eater. One of the worst, supposedly. Got caught with the Lestranges after the war.”
Harry’s eyes widened. Evelyn kept her expression carefully neutral.
Theo continued, “Crouch put him in Azkaban himself. They say he never visited, never wrote—just let him rot there.”
Evan hummed. “Poetic justice, in a way.”
Harry set the newspaper down, still frowning. “I dunno. It just seems odd.”
“You’re right to think that,” Theo murmured. “Nothing about this is normal.”
Evelyn glanced at the article one last time before pushing it aside. She knew exactly what was going on, but for now, she kept quiet.
____________
The afternoon sun cast long shadows over the castle grounds as Harry made his way toward the Quidditch pitch. McGonagall had pulled him aside after class, instructing him to go down there—no explanation, just a pointed look that meant he had to go.
As he stepped onto the pitch, he saw the other champions already gathered: Cedric, Fleur, and Krum. Ludo Bagman stood before them, grinning widely.
“Ah, Harry, good, you’re here!” Bagman clapped his hands together. “Right then, champions! It’s time to find out what your third task will be.”
Harry listened as Bagman explained the maze, the hedges growing high above their heads, the creatures within, the magical obstacles they’d have to overcome. The Triwizard Cup would be placed at the very center, and the first champion to reach it would be the winner.
It sounded simple enough, but Harry knew nothing in this tournament was ever simple.
When the meeting ended, Krum fell into step beside him as they made their way back toward the castle.
“You haff a minute?” Krum asked.
“Er—yeah,” Harry said.
They stopped near the edge of the forest, where the trees cast long, jagged shadows on the ground. Krum turned to face him.
“I vant to ask you something,” Krum said.
Harry nodded. “Okay.”
Krum hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. “You and Herm-own-ninny… you are—how do you say—close, yes?”
Harry blinked. “Hermione? Oh—yeah, we’re friends.”
Krum studied him for a moment before nodding, looking somewhat relieved. “Good. I vanted to be sure.”
Harry wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but before he could say anything, a rustling noise came from the nearby trees. Both he and Krum turned—
A man was stumbling toward them.
Harry’s stomach dropped. It was Bartemius Crouch.
Crouch looked like he’d been through hell—his robes were torn, his hair unkempt, his eyes wild. He was muttering under his breath, half-swaying, as if he could barely stand.
“I—I need… to see… Dumbledore…”
Harry and Krum exchanged alarmed looks.
Crouch’s gaze flickered up, locking onto Harry. “I’ve done… stupid things… very stupid things…”
Harry felt his heart rate pick up. “Professor Dumbledore’s not here right now, sir, but we can take you—”
“No,” Crouch cut him off, his voice sharp. “I need to see Dumbledore…” His breath hitched. “Tell him… tell him… it’s all… my fault…”
Then, without warning, he crumpled to the ground.
Chapter 33: Barty Crouch pt.2
Chapter Text
Harry didn’t wait. As soon as Crouch collapsed, he turned on his heel and sprinted back toward the castle. His breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding in his chest. He barely registered Krum’s voice behind him, calling after him, but he didn’t stop.
He tore through the entrance hall, up the marble staircase, nearly colliding with a group of Hufflepuffs on their way to dinner. He took the moving staircases two at a time, muttering curses under his breath when they shifted in the wrong direction.
Finally, he reached the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore’s office.
“ Fizzing Whizzbee! ” Harry gasped.
The gargoyle sprang aside. Harry didn’t even wait for the staircase to fully reveal itself before he was running up, slamming his fist against the heavy wooden door.
“Enter,” came Dumbledore’s calm voice.
Harry practically stumbled inside. “Professor—Crouch—he’s out by the forest—something’s wrong—”
Dumbledore stood immediately. His usually serene face sharpened with alertness. “Where exactly?”
“By the edge of the trees—near where the champions were—he just—he collapsed—he kept saying he needed to see you—”
Dumbledore had already moved past him, sweeping toward the door. “Stay here, Harry.”
Harry shook his head. “But—”
“Stay,” Dumbledore repeated firmly. Then he was gone.
The door shut behind him with a soft click , and Harry stood there for a moment, catching his breath, his mind racing.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
And he wasn’t going to sit around waiting.
Instead of staying in the office like Dumbledore had told him to, Harry turned sharply and made his way to the Room of Requirement.
He paced in front of the wall three times, thinking: I need a quiet place to talk to Evelyn.
The door appeared.
Harry slipped inside, exhaling heavily. The room was cozy, smaller than usual, with just a couch and a table. He grabbed a spare bit of parchment from his bag and scrawled a quick note.
He folded the note and murmured, “Dobby.”
With a pop , the little elf appeared, his bat-like ears twitching. “Harry Potter, sir!”
“Can you take this to Evelyn McCrae?” Harry asked, handing over the note.
Dobby took it with a nod. “Right away, sir!” And with another pop , he was gone.
Harry sat back, rubbing his face.
He didn’t know what was happening. But he had a feeling it wasn’t good.
Evelyn was in the middle of reviewing her Arithmancy notes when Dobby appeared with a pop! right beside her chair in the Slytherin common room.
“Miss Evelyn!” the elf squeaked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Harry Potter is needing you! He is in the Room of Requirement!”
Evelyn blinked, sitting up straighter. “What? Why?”
“Dobby does not know, miss! But he is saying it is important!”
Evelyn took the folded note from Dobby and flipped it open. She recognized Harry’s scrawl immediately:
Evelyn—Come to the Room of Requirement. I need to talk.
A chill ran down her spine. Harry wasn’t the type to send cryptic messages like this unless something was really wrong.
“Thanks, Dobby,” she said, quickly stuffing her notes into her bag. “I’ll go now.”
Dobby beamed. “Dobby is always happy to help Harry Potter and his friends!” And with another pop , he was gone.
Evelyn slung her bag over her shoulder and hurried out of the common room, her mind racing, trying to remember. What happened now?
She made her way up through the castle, ignoring the curious looks from a few younger Slytherins. By the time she reached the seventh floor, she was already running through worst-case scenarios in her head.
Did something happen with the Tournament? Was Harry hurt?
She reached the wall where the Room of Requirement was hidden and walked past it three times, thinking: I need to see Harry.
The door appeared instantly.
Evelyn stepped inside.
Harry was sitting on the couch, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. He looked up the moment she walked in, his expression tense.
“What happened?” she asked, shutting the door behind her.
Harry exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “It’s Crouch,” he said. “Barty Crouch, the real one—he was out by the forest.”
Evelyn’s stomach dropped. “What?”
“He showed up near the edge of the woods, just after Krum and I left the Quidditch pitch. He looked awful—like he hadn’t slept in weeks. He kept saying he needed to see Dumbledore.” Harry leaned back against the couch, rubbing his temples. “Then he just…collapsed.”
Evelyn felt a wave of nausea. She knew what had happened—or at least, what would happen.
“Did you get Dumbledore?” she asked.
Harry nodded. “Yeah. He told me to stay in his office, but…” He shrugged. “I needed to talk to someone first.”
Evelyn sat down beside him, hands clasped together. “And when you left? Was Crouch still there?”
Harry hesitated, then shook his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t see what happened after I ran for Dumbledore.”
Of course you didn’t.
Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek. She knew Barty Crouch Sr. wasn’t going to make it. His son —who was supposed to be dead—would see to that.
But she couldn’t say that.
She swallowed hard. “You don’t think…someone could’ve taken him, do you?”
Harry looked at her, his expression grim. “I don’t know. But something’s not right.”
No, it definitely wasn’t.
Evelyn exhaled slowly, forcing herself to stay calm. You knew this would happen. Just act normal.
“Maybe he’ll turn up,” she said, though she didn’t believe it for a second. “Dumbledore will figure it out.”
Harry didn’t look convinced, but he nodded.
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then Harry shook his head, laughing weakly. “You know, I thought things might finally calm down after the second task.”
Evelyn snorted. “Come on, it’s you , Harry. That was never going to happen.”
That got a small smile out of him.
She nudged his shoulder. “Listen, we’ll keep an ear out, okay? If anything else weird happens, we’ll deal with it.”
Harry sighed but nodded. “Yeah. Alright.”
_________________
Harry trudged up the spiral staircase leading to Dumbledore’s office, his thoughts still tangled in the events of the night before. He’d barely slept, his mind constantly replaying the sight of Barty Crouch’s wild, panicked expression and the way he had suddenly disappeared before he could even get help.
When he reached the top, the griffin statue moved aside, and the heavy wooden door creaked open. Dumbledore sat at his desk, his expression unreadable, fingers steepled together as he watched Harry step inside.
“Please, sit,” Dumbledore said, gesturing to a chair in front of him. Fawkes let out a soft trill from his perch, the warm glow of the fire making his feathers gleam.
Harry lowered himself into the chair, waiting for Dumbledore to speak.
“I believe you have some concerns about last night,” Dumbledore began, his voice calm yet serious. “And I regret to say that there are still more questions than answers.”
Harry sat up straighter. “What happened after I left?”
“When I arrived,” Dumbledore said, “I found Viktor Krum unconscious, having been hit with a Stupefy curse. Barty Crouch, however, was nowhere to be found.”
Harry’s stomach twisted. “Gone?”
Dumbledore nodded. “No trace of him. Not a single footprint, not a single disturbance of the grass. It was as if he vanished into thin air.”
Harry swallowed. That didn’t make sense. Crouch had been there . He had been talking— rambling —before Harry left to get help.
“I took Mr. Krum back to the Durmstrang ship,” Dumbledore continued. “He woke up shortly after, confused but unharmed. He has no memory of what happened after he turned his back on Mr. Crouch.”
Harry clenched his fists. “Then someone must have taken him. Someone must have—”
Dumbledore raised a hand to calm him. “I suspect the same. But until we have more information, I must ask you not to dwell on it too much, Harry. You already have enough on your mind.”
Harry exhaled sharply. “Yeah. The third task.”
Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkled with something unreadable. “Indeed.”
Harry knew he was being dismissed, but the unease in his gut didn’t fade as he left the office. If Crouch had been taken, that meant someone didn’t want him talking. But who? And why?
____________
Evelyn had barely stepped into the corridor after lunch when Fred and George Weasley flanked her on either side, matching grins plastered on their faces.
“Evelyn,” Fred greeted, slinging an arm over her shoulder.
“Brilliant, wonderful Evelyn,” George added, mirroring his twin’s movement.
Evelyn smirked. “What do you two want?”
“Now, now, don’t be so suspicious—”
“—we’re only here to ask for a small favor.”
She raised a brow, pushing Fred’s arm off her. “I’m listening.”
The twins exchanged a look before Fred leaned in conspiratorially. “We need your help with a little… financial problem.”
George nodded. “See, we made a bet at the World Cup—”
“—a rather smart bet—”
“—on Ireland winning but Krum catching the Snitch.”
Evelyn folded her arms. “And?”
Fred scowled. “And Ludo Bagman still hasn’t paid us.”
Evelyn blinked. “Bagman?” That wasn’t surprising—she had read about his gambling habits before she ever landed in this world.
George sighed dramatically. “Every time we try to corner him, he wriggles his way out of it. Says he’ll pay us ‘soon.’”
Fred shook his head. “We’d ask Percy to file an official complaint, but he’s too much of a git to care.”
Evelyn tapped her chin. “How much does he owe you?”
“Thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles,” George said without hesitation.
Evelyn considered it. “I could give you the money from my vault.”
The twins looked horrified.
“We’d never take your money,” Fred said, as if offended she even offered.
“Exactly,” George agreed. “But we’d love your brains .”
Evelyn grinned. “I’ll think of a way to help you get your money. Give me a few days.”
The twins beamed at her before vanishing down the corridor, already plotting Merlin-knows-what.
The Room of Requirement had transformed into a vast dueling space, torches flickering along the stone walls. Evelyn and Harry stood across from each other, wands raised.
Harry wiped sweat from his brow, breathing hard. “Again.”
Evelyn smirked. “Alright, Potter. Show me what you’ve got.”
Harry lunged forward. “ Expelliarmus! ”
Evelyn sidestepped easily, flicking her wand. “ Protego. You’re too obvious, Harry.”
“Yeah?” He gritted his teeth. “ Stupefy! ”
Evelyn blocked it again and sent a Petrificus Totalus his way. Harry dodged, rolling to the side, wand still at the ready.
As they exchanged spells, dodging and countering, Harry’s mind drifted back to the reality of the situation.
Someone had put his name in the Goblet. Someone had been orchestrating all of this. And now, with the third task looming, whoever it was was running out of chances to do whatever they were planning.
Evelyn must have noticed his distraction because her next spell— Expelliarmus —hit him square in the chest, sending his wand flying.
He groaned, rubbing his shoulder as he sat up. Evelyn walked over, smirking. “Got you.”
Harry let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. You did.”
She extended a hand, helping him up. “Be careful in the last task, Harry. I have a bad feeling about it.”
Harry nodded. “Me too.”
Later that evening, Evelyn and Harry gathered their usual group—Theo, Evan, Draco, Blaise, Daphne, and Hermione—and headed to the library.
They found Pansy and Ron already seated in a back corner, deep in conversation. When Ron spotted them, he quickly straightened, clearing his throat. Pansy smirked.
The group settled in, pulling out books about defensive magic, dueling techniques, and survival spells.
“We need to make sure Harry is as prepared as possible,” Hermione said firmly.
Theo nodded. “The maze is unpredictable. It won’t just be creatures—it’ll be enchantments, obstacles designed to make you fail.”
Harry sighed. “Great. Another death trap.”
Draco smirked. “At least this time you know what’s coming.”
They all spent the next few hours researching, jotting down notes, and throwing around ideas. As the evening stretched on, Evelyn sat back in her chair, watching the people around her.
She had built something here—something she had never expected. A home. A family.
And she was going to do everything she could to protect it.
Chapter 34: A Warning
Chapter Text
The corridors of Hogwarts felt oddly suffocating as June rolled in, the heavy weight of the final task pressing down on everyone—especially the champions. Evelyn found herself lingering outside the Charms classroom, waiting for Cedric Diggory to emerge.
She had spent days debating whether or not to talk to him. Her knowledge of the tournament’s outcome clawed at her insides, making her stomach churn every time she thought about it. She knew she couldn’t stop what was coming—but maybe, just maybe, she could give Cedric a chance to be cautious.
The classroom door opened, and students began filing out. Cedric emerged moments later, his easy smile in place as he laughed at something one of his friends said.
Evelyn stepped forward. “Hey, Cedric.”
He turned, surprised to see her. “Oh, McCrae. What’s up?”
She hesitated, then pulled him aside, lowering her voice. “Look, I know this is going to sound strange, but I have a bad feeling about the third task.”
Cedric raised an eyebrow, amused. “A bad feeling?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I can’t explain why, but something’s not right. I think you should be extra careful in the maze.”
His smile didn’t falter, but there was something teasing in his eyes. “Evelyn, are you trying to psych me out before the final task?”
Her stomach dropped. “No! I swear, it’s not like that.”
Cedric chuckled, shaking his head. “I appreciate the concern, really, but I think you might just be overthinking it. Dumbledore and the other professors will be watching, right? How bad can it be?”
Very bad, she wanted to say. Instead, she forced a small smile. “Just… promise me you’ll be careful, okay?”
Cedric gave her a half-salute. “Promise.”
Evelyn watched him go, dread curling in her stomach.
It’s not enough, she thought. But it’s all I can do.
A week later, the day before the third task, the champions’ families arrived at Hogwarts. Evelyn wasn’t surprised when Harry told her that he didn’t expect anyone to come—until he returned from meeting them, looking slightly overwhelmed.
“Mrs. Weasley and Bill showed up,” he said as they walked toward the Entrance Hall. “Dumbledore must’ve arranged it.”
Evelyn smiled. “That’s good. You deserve to have someone here for you.”
A few minutes later, she saw them outside—Mrs. Weasley beaming as she chatted with Bill, who stood next to Fleur Delacour. Fleur looked particularly interested in Bill, and Harry, to his clear embarrassment, had been the one to introduce them.
Evelyn hung back for a while, not wanting to intrude on their family time. Instead, she walked toward the lake, where she spotted Pansy and Ron sitting on the grass, parchment and books spread out between them.
She smirked as she approached. “Look at you two, being all studious.”
Ron groaned. “Don’t remind me. This is absolute torture.”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Only because you never take notes in class.”
Before Evelyn could respond, she heard footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw Harry approaching with Bill and Mrs. Weasley.
Harry gestured to them. “Uh, this is Pansy. They’re… doing homework?” He gave Evelyn a pointed look.
Evelyn smirked. “Shocking, I know.”
Mrs. Weasley chuckled. “It’s nice to see that Ron’s making friends outside of Gryffindor.”
Pansy smirked. “Oh, we adore him.”
Ron shot her another glare, but Evelyn caught the way his ears turned pink.
They all chatted for a few minutes before Mrs. Weasley and Bill moved on, and Evelyn watched Harry walk away with them, a small smile on his face.
It was good to see him happy, even if just for a moment.
______________
The final night before the third task, Evelyn, Theo, Daphne, and Harry huddled together in the library, books and parchment scattered across their table.
“The maze is going to be filled with obstacles,” Theo said, flipping through a particularly thick tome. “You’ll need more than just basic defensive spells.”
Harry nodded. “Any suggestions?”
Daphne tapped her quill against her chin. “Summoning charms might be useful again, in case you need to get something quickly.”
Evelyn leaned forward. “Protego should be your default defense. You’ll also need to be quick on your feet—literally. If you get stuck in some kind of trap, Relashio might help break you free.”
Theo nodded. “And don’t forget Lumos Maxima. The maze is probably going to be dark.”
Harry scribbled the notes down. “Right. Anything else?”
They continued researching until the library doors creaked, signaling that it was closing.
As they packed up their things, Evelyn stole a glance at Harry.
“You ready for this?” she asked quietly.
Harry exhaled. “I don’t know. But I’ll try to be.”
Evelyn patted his shoulder. “That’s all you can do.”
And as they walked out of the library together, the weight of what was coming settled heavily on them all.
Chapter 35: The Third Task
Chapter Text
The stands were packed with students and teachers, all buzzing with excitement as the final task of the Triwizard Tournament began. Evelyn sat with Theo, Daphne, and Pansy in the Slytherin section, though their eyes weren’t on Viktor, Fleur or Cedric—but on Harry.
She gripped the railing tightly, her stomach twisting in knots.
“Are you alright?” Theo asked, watching her closely. “You look like you’re about to be sick.”
“I’m fine,” she muttered. “Just… nervous.”
Daphne adjusted her enchanted binoculars. “At least Harry got a head start. He went in first.”
They had been watching for several minutes, but the enchanted hedges blocked most of the maze from view. Only brief glimpses of the champions flickered in and out of sight.
Suddenly, the crowd gasped. Evelyn’s breath caught.
Krum had sent a stunning spell at Cedric.
“What the hell?” Theo demanded. “Did he just attack Diggory?”
“I think he’s been Imperiused,” Evelyn murmured, her nails digging into her palms.
Cedric barely managed to escape, sprinting away and disappearing into the maze again. Krum stood eerily still before walking off in another direction.
Evelyn exhaled shakily, forcing herself to focus. She caught sight of Harry again—dodging spells, countering obstacles. He looked more focused than she had ever seen him.
Then, suddenly, Cedric came into view, running toward the center of the maze.
Daphne tensed. “Cedric’s almost there.”
Pansy’s eyes darted back toward Harry. “Wait—Harry’s close, too!”
Sure enough, Harry had come into view, sprinting toward the Cup. But something large moved into his path.
Evelyn’s heart stopped.
A sphinx.
The crowd murmured excitedly, but Evelyn barely registered it.
She could do nothing but watch.
Harry spoke to the sphinx. A moment passed. And then she stepped aside.
Harry took a breath and stepped forward—
And the hedges shifted.
He was gone.
________
Harry’s heart pounded in his chest as he sprinted toward the Triwizard Cup. His lungs burned, his robes were torn from dodging curses and obstacles, but none of that mattered now.
Cedric was running beside him.
“You take it,” Cedric panted. “You should win. You saved me twice.”
Harry shook his head. “We’ll take it together.”
Cedric hesitated. Then, with a nod, they reached out—
The moment their fingers touched the Cup, the world vanished.
A sharp yank behind his navel.
His feet left the ground.
The sensation was horribly familiar—like being pulled forward by a Portkey.
His stomach lurched.
His feet slammed into solid ground.
The impact sent him stumbling forward. He barely managed to keep his balance as his head spun, his vision adjusting to the dim surroundings.
Damp earth. Twisting gravestones. A bitter, chilly air.
Harry’s stomach dropped.
They weren’t in Hogwarts anymore.
Cedric straightened beside him, blinking in confusion. “Where are we?”
Harry had no answer. His scar burned suddenly, sharp and searing.
A rustling sound.
Harry’s breath caught. He turned just as a hunched figure emerged from the shadows.
Wormtail.
His pulse slammed against his ribs.
“Cedric,” he whispered, his throat dry. “Get back to the Cup. Now.”
Cedric frowned. “What are you—”
“Kill the spare.”
The words cut through the air like a knife. A jet of green light flashed. Harry watched in horror as Cedric’s body hit the ground with a dull thud.
Dead.
His mind went blank.
A scream built in his throat but never escaped. He was yanked forward. His back hit cold stone. His wand was ripped from his grasp.
A second later, ropes tightened around him, binding him against the base of a towering headstone.
His breathing came in sharp, ragged gasps.
He couldn’t move.
Couldn’t think.
All he could do was watch as Wormtail moved quickly, dragging something toward the large, steaming cauldron in the center of the graveyard.
A high, cold voice spoke.
“Hurry.”
Harry’s blood turned to ice.
The thing in Wormtail’s arms—small, twisted, barely human—shifted. Voldemort. Wormtail dropped him into the cauldron. And then the ritual began.
Harry flinched as Wormtail took a long, jagged dagger and lifted it to his own wrist. He whimpered but sliced through his flesh, letting his blood spill into the potion.
The liquid hissed violently, turning black.
A moment later, he turned toward Harry.
His heart clenched as Wormtail reached for him.
“No—NO—”
The dagger sliced through his sleeve, cutting deep into his arm.
Pain flared across his body. Harry barely registered the next words. Barely registered the way the potion bubbled and roared, sending steam into the sky.
A figure rose from the cauldron.
A pale, skeletal figure.
Voldemort.
His red eyes gleamed in the darkness. He stretched his long fingers, examining them before turning.
“Robe me.”
Wormtail scrambled forward, trembling as he draped black robes over his master’s shoulders.
Harry’s heart pounded.
His scar burned like fire.
Voldemort turned.
And smiled.
“Harry Potter,” he whispered. “The boy who lived… come to die.”
Harry’s fingers twitched against the ropes.
Death Eaters began appearing around them, materializing from the darkness, their silver masks gleaming in the moonlight.
“Untie him,” Voldemort ordered. Wormtail obeyed.
The ropes loosened. Harry staggered forward, barely catching himself. His wrist throbbed where he had been cut. His wand was shoved back into his hand.
“Do you know how to duel?” Voldemort smiled. “We bow to each other, Harry.”
Harry didn’t move.
Voldemort’s eyes flashed.
“I said—bow.”
An invisible force yanked Harry forward. He stumbled, barely staying upright. Then Voldemort raised his wand.
“Crucio.”
Pain exploded through him. His body convulsed. His vision blurred. When it finally stopped, he gasped for breath, his limbs shaking violently.
Voldemort raised his wand again. So did Harry.
“Expelliarmus!”
“Avada Kedavra!”
The spells collided.
A golden thread of light connected their wands, crackling with raw magic.
Harry’s hands trembled, his entire body shaking with the force of it.
Ghostly figures emerged from Voldemort’s wand.
Cedric.
Harry blinked as he looked at his fellow champion. “Take my body back, Harry. Take it back to my parents.” Harry nodded.
Bertha Jorkins.
An old man. Harry recognised him as the muggle from his dream.
And then—
Lily Potter.
Harry’s throat tightened.
“Your father is coming,” Lily whispered. “Hold on, Harry.”
James turned to him, his eyes fierce. “When the connection breaks, we’ll linger for a moment… but you must get to the Cup.”
Harry nodded, his chest constricting.
The moment the connection broke, the spirits surged forward, attacking Voldemort and the Death Eaters.
Harry turned, sprinting toward Cedric’s body.
His hands shook as he grabbed his arm.
“I’ll take you back,” he whispered.
Then, lunging forward, he grasped the Cup—
And the world vanished.
The stands had gone completely silent.
A moment ago, the entire crowd had been buzzing with excitement, eagerly awaiting the return of the Triwizard champion. The Cup had disappeared into the maze with Harry and Cedric nearly an hour ago. The anticipation had turned to anxiety. Murmurs of concern spread like wildfire. Even Bagman, who had spent most of the tournament playing the enthusiastic commentator, had gone quiet.
Evelyn’s grip on the railing was so tight her knuckles turned white. Something was wrong.
She barely registered Theo and Pansy arguing next to her. Daphne was watching the maze with an unblinking stare, her fingers twitching against her robes.
Then, without warning—
A flash of blue light erupted in the center of the pitch.
The Triwizard Cup slammed into the ground.
And two figures appeared.
A heartbeat passed.
Then screams.
The first thing Evelyn saw was Cedric’s body sprawled lifelessly on the grass, his face pale and empty.
The second thing she saw was Harry—on his knees, gasping for air, his face streaked with dirt and blood.
The entire stadium exploded into chaos.
Students screamed, gasping, shouting in confusion. Teachers rushed forward.
Evelyn didn’t think. She bolted from the stands, pushing past students, nearly tripping down the steps in her desperation to reach the field.
Somewhere in the chaos, Amos Diggory’s anguished cries tore through the air as he collapsed beside Cedric’s body. Professor Dumbledore had moved quickly, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder, his face grave and unreadable.
Evelyn barely heard any of it.
She fell to her knees beside Harry, gripping his arms. “Harry,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “What happened?”
His skin was clammy. His entire body trembled. His wand was still clenched in his fist, his knuckles white with how hard he was holding it.
Evelyn could see it in his eyes.
Something terrible had happened.
“V—Voldemort,” he choked out. “He’s back. He’s back.”
Evelyn’s breath hitched.
Dumbledore’s gaze sharpened instantly. “What do you mean, Harry?”
“The Cup—it was a Portkey,” Harry gasped. “It took us to a graveyard. Cedric—he killed Cedric—he used my blood—”
A fresh wave of shudders wracked his body. Evelyn tightened her grip on him, steadying him.
“Potter, come with me,” a new voice said.
Evelyn turned sharply.
Mad-Eye Moody was standing over them. His magical eye spun wildly before fixing on Harry. “Come on, Potter. Dumbledore, let me take him. Get him away from all this.”
Evelyn’s stomach twisted. Something about the way Moody was looking at Harry made her uneasy. Then she remembered.
Dumbledore hesitated for only a fraction of a second before nodding.
“Alright. But bring him to my office.”
Moody grunted in agreement before reaching down and hauling Harry up.
Evelyn immediately stood as well. “I’m coming too,” she said firmly.
Moody’s magical eye whizzed to her.
“No, you’re not.”
Evelyn lifted her chin. “Yes, I am.”
Harry’s hand clenched around her sleeve.
Moody exhaled sharply, then gave a curt nod. “Fine. But don’t slow us down.”
Evelyn barely had time to register the warning in his tone before Moody was leading them away from the chaos, his grip on Harry tight.
She cast one last glance over her shoulder.
Cedric’s body lay still on the ground.
Tears blurred her vision, but she forced herself to move.
She had a horrible, sinking feeling that they weren’t safe yet.
Chapter 36: Professor Moody
Chapter Text
The chaos on the pitch had not yet subsided when a heavy hand seized Harry’s arm. Evelyn’s heart pounded as she felt herself pulled away from the cheering crowd. The cold autumn air still clung to her robes, and the distant echoes of the task’s aftermath—of Cedric’s lifeless form and Harry’s anguished cries—faded into a surreal background as she was forcibly escorted from the arena. Moody dragged Harry and Evelyn down a narrow, torchlit corridor. The tension in the air was palpable; every footstep felt like it carried the weight of unsaid secrets.
Evelyn’s mind raced as she was pushed along. Harry’s face was set in grim lines, his eyes shadowed by confusion and pain. Neither of them spoke as they were hauled through winding corridors until they reached a heavy oak door adorned with intricate silver filigree. Moody flung the door open without ceremony, and they were thrust into a cramped, dim office.
The room was a study in muted gloom. Enchanted candelabras cast dancing shadows on ancient, dust-laden shelves, and an enormous desk dominated the space. Behind it sat Moody, whose presence was even more intimidating in the enclosed quarters. His mismatched eyes—one perpetually spinning, the other fixed—gleamed with an unsettling mixture of authority and secret torment.
“Sit,” he ordered in a voice that brooked no argument. Harry and Evelyn exchanged a quick glance before obeying, sinking into two hard-backed chairs placed before the cluttered desk. The air in the office was thick with the scent of old parchment and a hint of something darker—magic tainted by guilt and regret.
Moody’s gaze shifted slowly between them. “Potter,” he began, his tone low and gravelly, “what happened in the graveyard?” His words cut through the silence like a knife.
Harry’s brow furrowed, and he looked utterly confused. “What…graveyard? I—” His voice trailed off, genuine perplexity evident. He hadn’t mentioned any graveyard at all. Evelyn felt a chill crawl up her spine as Moody’s eyes narrowed further.
“Don’t play coy, Potter,” Moody snapped. “You were there. Your name was in the Goblet—placed there deliberately. Now, tell me what you saw!”
Harry opened his mouth as if to protest, but then his eyes widened in horror. “I—I never said anything about a graveyard! I only remember…” He trailed off, his face paling further as he searched for words.
Moody leaned forward, his tone growing bitter and heavy. “It matters not what you said, Potter. The truth is already evident. I admit—I was the one who put your name in the Goblet of Fire.” His voice was almost a whisper, but it carried in the oppressive silence of the office. “I did it for reasons that are clear to me—reasons that only dark magic can justify. But tell me, Potter, did the Dark Lord forgive his Death Eaters?”
Harry’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What? You… you did that? And… did he?”
Before Harry could answer, Moody’s voice became menacing, rising to a crescendo of fury. “Answer me, Potter! Do you know if the Dark Lord has pardoned those who served him?” His hand twitched, and Evelyn felt the air grow thick with imminent threat.
Harry swallowed hard, his mind reeling. “I—I don’t know!” he stammered, his voice barely audible.
Just as Moody raised his wand, his face contorted into a snarl as if he were about to strike, a sudden sound of a sharp spell cracking through the air interrupted him.
“Stupefy!” boomed a firm, authoritative voice.
Before Moody could launch his next curse, a brilliant flash of blue light burst through the doorway. Dumbledore stood there, his eyes twinkling with an unexpected severity. In the same moment, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape appeared behind him, their expressions resolute and their wands at the ready.
Moody’s head jerked back as the Stupefy hit him squarely. His wand clattered to the floor, and as he slumped, a strange shimmering began to spread across his face. The Polyjuice potion that had held his guise in place was beginning to wear off. His features blurred and twisted, and the true identity behind the familiar, gruff mask was revealed: Barty Crouch Jr.
For a long, heart-stopping moment, no one moved. The reality of the situation sank in like ice.
Snape stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he produced a small vial. “Veritaserum,” he declared, and without ceremony, he administered a drop to the dazed figure on the floor.
Barty Crouch Jr.’s eyes fluttered, and when they opened again, they were clear and haunted.
Dumbledore stepped forward, “How are you here? Tell me everything.”
In a voice trembling with reluctant honesty, he began: “I—I kidnapped the real Alastor Moody. I used Polyjuice Potion to impersonate him… and I killed my own father the night that Harry Potter and Viktor Krum found me.” His confession came in stuttering bursts, punctuated by heavy breaths. “I planted the Triwizard Cup in the maze as a Portkey… all to ensure that Potter would be drawn into the Tournament.”
The words fell over the room like a curse. Harry’s shock was evident, his face pale as the truth of the revelation sank in. Evelyn’s own heart pounded so fiercely she could barely breathe; everything she had suspected, everything she had feared, was now laid bare before them.
Barty Crouch Jr. continued, his voice growing steadier as Snape’s serum forced the truth from him. “I never meant for anyone to be harmed, nobody but Potter. I was desperate to return Voldemort to power, to show my loyalty, and I did what was necessary.” His voice broke, and he fell silent, eyes downcast in despair.
Moody—no, Barty—was silent now, the man they thought was a gruff, unyielding professor reduced to a broken figure in the center of the office. Dumbledore’s expression was one of quiet sorrow, while McGonagall’s steely gaze never wavered.
“Enough,” Dumbledore said softly, but firmly. “This conversation is over.” He gestured to Snape. “Take Mister Potter and Miss McCrae to the hospital wing immediately. They need rest and care.”
Snape moved without hesitation. “Come with me,” he ordered in a clipped tone. Before Harry or Evelyn could protest further, he ushered them out of the office. The last thing Harry saw as he was dragged away was Barty Crouch Jr.’s broken form lying on the floor—truths spilling like dark ink over the ancient desk.
Snape’s grip on Harry was unyielding as they hurried through the echoing corridors of Hogwarts. Evelyn’s heart pounded in her ears as she clutched at Harry’s arm, her mind reeling from the revelations in the office. The shock of Barty Crouch Jr.’s confession still reverberated in every word, every haunted glance.
“Don’t worry,” Snape said curtly as he navigated the twisting passageways, “we will get you both to the hospital wing.” His tone left no room for argument; the urgency in his voice was matched only by the somber determination in his eyes.
The corridors seemed to close in on them, shadows dancing on the walls as the distant sound of footsteps and muffled voices faded into the background. Harry’s hand was trembling, and Evelyn could see the lingering pain etched on his face. The world outside the office felt suddenly fragile, as though it might shatter at any moment under the weight of dark secrets.
When they finally reached the hospital wing, Professor Snape briskly escorted Harry and Evelyn into a quiet room. Madam Pomfrey was already there, her kind but concerned eyes quickly taking in their disheveled states. “Get on the bed, both of you,” she instructed gently. “I’ll patch you up.”
As Harry was helped onto the bed, Evelyn sank into a nearby chair. She stared at the closed door for a moment, her mind reeling. The events of the day—the horrifying confession, the sight of Barty Crouch Jr. transformed from the feared Moody—would haunt her for a long time. Yet amid the sorrow and fear, a fierce determination stirred within her. She would do everything in her power to protect Harry, to stand by him no matter what dark forces were at play.
Snape’s final words as he left echoed in her ears: “Trust no one completely. Be vigilant.”
Evelyn reached out and squeezed Harry’s hand. “We’ll get through this,” she whispered, though her voice trembled with uncertainty. Harry managed a small nod before his eyes drifted shut, exhausted and pained.
Madam Pomfrey bustled about, tending to their wounds and ensuring they were as comfortable as possible. Evelyn sat beside Harry, lost in thought. The revelations of the day—Barty Crouch Jr.’s confession, the dark conspiracies, and the perilous fate of the Tournament— still swirled in her mind like a maelstrom.
As the hours passed and the hospital wing grew quieter, Evelyn vowed silently to herself: no matter how dark the path ahead might be, she would protect Harry and fight against the forces that sought to drag them into oblivion. The secrets of that dreadful day would fuel her determination, and she knew that in the long battle against darkness, every choice, every alliance, would matter.
Later that night, in the solitude of a quiet hospital wing corridor, Evelyn sat by the window, staring out into the star-speckled darkness. The events of the day played over in her mind—the horror of the graveyard, the confession in the office, and the shocking truth behind Moody’s disguise. Tears threatened to spill, but she blinked them away, steeling herself with a promise.
I won’t let this darkness take him, she vowed silently. No matter what sacrifices I must make, I will stand by Harry’s side.
Her thoughts turned to the future. The Tournament was not over, and dark forces still loomed large. But in that moment, amidst the flickering candlelight and the steady hum of magical healing, Evelyn’s resolve crystallized. She would be the shield against the darkness. She would find answers, and she would do whatever it took to protect the ones she loved.
Before she drifted into a fitful sleep, she whispered softly, “We’re going to get through this, Harry. I promise.”
_____________
In the hospital wing, the day’s revelations mingled with the soft sounds of mending spells and hushed conversations between Madam Pomfrey and Snape. Harry slept fitfully, his breathing uneven but steadier than before, while Evelyn sat vigilantly by his side.
Every now and then, she would glance at the door, expecting another twist in the tale or a dark omen to appear. But for now, silence reigned—a silence heavy with sorrow and the promise of battle yet to come.
Evelyn knew that the events of that day would change everything. The revelation that Barty Crouch Jr. had been masquerading as Moody was only the beginning. The dark forces behind the Tournament, the intricate web of betrayal and ambition, and Voldemort’s relentless resurgence were all converging toward a final, climactic confrontation.
And she, Evelyn McCrae—once a muggle who had been sucked into this magical world—would stand by Harry no matter the cost. As the night deepened and the whispers of the hospital wing faded into quiet murmurs, Evelyn closed her eyes for a moment, her resolve firm and unwavering.
Tomorrow, they would face whatever came next. And if darkness fell, they would light the way—together.
Chapter 37: What time is it?
Summary:
SUMMER TIME. it’s our vacation!!
Chapter Text
The dim glow of candlelight flickered against the high stone walls of the hospital wing. Evelyn lay on one of the many white-sheeted beds, exhaustion weighing down her limbs. The events of the Third Task still swirled in her mind like a fever dream—Cedric’s lifeless body, Harry’s cries, the blinding light of the Portkey returning them to the pitch. But now, her eyes remained closed as she fought against the pull of sleep, half-conscious and listening to the hushed voices near the entrance of the ward.
She recognized them immediately—Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and… Cornelius Fudge.
“You cannot be serious, Dumbledore,” Fudge scoffed, his voice laced with irritation. “You-know-who is dead. He has been dead for thirteen years. This—this boy has always been prone to exaggeration!”
A pause. Then Dumbledore’s voice, slow and measured. “Harry is not exaggerating.”
Silence followed, heavy with unspoken truths.
“Voldemort has returned,” Dumbledore continued. “He has regained a body, and he stands among us once more. You would do well, Cornelius, not to ignore the evidence before you.”
Fudge made an exasperated noise. “I refuse to accept this! You expect me to believe that the Dark Lord has been resurrected by a group of ragtag Death Eaters? That he dueled a fourteen-year-old boy and lost?”
McGonagall’s voice, cold as ice, cut through the room. “Harry is lucky to be alive, Minister.”
Evelyn’s hands curled into the blankets.
“This is madness,” Fudge muttered, pacing. “Madness! I will not cause mass panic when there is no proof—”
“The proof is standing right before you,” Dumbledore interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “The Dark Mark was seen in the sky. Harry saw Voldemort rise from the cauldron. He dueled him, and the ghosts of his victims emerged from Voldemort’s wand. Is that not enough?”
A sharp intake of breath, followed by the rustling of robes. Fudge’s voice hardened. “I will not spread such lies. There is no solid evidence, only the word of a boy. And I will not act based on the delusions of a traumatized child.”
The next sound was the snap of Fudge’s cloak as he stormed from the hospital wing.
McGonagall let out a weary sigh. “We’re on our own, then.”
“I’m afraid so, Minerva.”
Evelyn kept her breathing even, her heart hammering in her chest. The weight of their conversation settled on her like a lead blanket. Voldemort was back. And no one was coming to help.
____________
A few days later, Harry left the hospital wing, his thoughts still clouded by the events of the maze and everything that had come after. He barely paid attention as he was led into the entrance hall, where Ludo Bagman stood waiting for him. The man looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, his face pale and drawn, but he still forced a smile.
“Harry, my boy,” Bagman said, clapping him on the back. “Congratulations.”
Harry flinched. “Cedric’s dead.”
Bagman’s smile faltered. “Yes, well… tragic, truly tragic. But, er, we mustn’t forget the winnings. One thousand Galleons, as promised.” He extended a small, heavy sack of gold coins.
Harry’s stomach churned. “I don’t want it.”
Bagman blinked. “Pardon?”
“I don’t want the money,” Harry repeated, voice firmer this time. “It should’ve been Cedric’s. Give it to his family.”
Bagman shifted uncomfortably. “Ah… that might not be possible. You see, tournament rules—”
“I don’t care about the rules,” Harry snapped.
Bagman sighed. “Harry, listen. I can’t give it to the Diggorys. But I can give it to you. You earned it, lad.”
Before Harry could protest further, Bagman shoved the sack into his hands and hurried away, as though afraid Harry might throw it back at him.
Fuming, Harry stalked through the castle, his hands clenched around the bag. He needed to get rid of this money.
Later that night, he met Evelyn in the Room of Requirement. It had reshaped itself into a cozy lounge with dimly lit lanterns, a warm fire crackling in the hearth, and a comfortable armchair where she sat waiting for him.
“You look like you’re about to murder someone,” Evelyn commented dryly as he threw himself into a chair.
Harry tossed the sack onto the table. “Bagman forced me to take the winnings.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “That’s what’s got you so worked up?”
“I don’t want it,” Harry muttered, rubbing his temples.
Evelyn was silent for a moment, then said, “Give it to the twins.”
Harry looked up. “What?”
“The Weasley twins,” she explained. “They came to me months ago, asking for my help to get their money back from Bagman. They made a bet at the Quidditch World Cup, and he never paid them. But with everything that’s happened, I forgot about it.” She nudged the sack toward him. “They could use this.”
Harry thought about Fred and George, about their dream to start a joke shop. About how much they had helped him over the years. Slowly, a smile crept onto his face.
“You’re right,” he said, standing. “I’m going to find them now.”
Evelyn grinned. “Tell them I said they owe me.”
___________
A week later, the Great Hall was quieter than usual as students gathered for the Leaving Feast. The usual excitement before summer break was absent, replaced by a heavy, unspoken grief. The black banners draped over the hall were a stark reminder of why.
Dumbledore stood at the front, his expression solemn. When he spoke, his voice was heavy with sorrow.
“This year, we lost one of our own,” he said. “Cedric Diggory was kind, talented, and honorable. He was a true Hogwarts champion. His life was taken from him far too soon.”
Silence.
Dumbledore continued, “His body has been returned to his family, and a funeral will be held next week in Ottery St. Catchpole. For those who wish to pay their respects, you may do so.”
He paused, surveying the hall. “I must also warn you. Lord Voldemort has returned. I ask that you all remain vigilant this summer. Be cautious. Look after one another. We are entering dark times.”
A chill spread through the hall.
Dumbledore’s blue eyes met Harry’s, then Evelyn’s.
“No matter what comes, we will stand together.”
_____________
In the Slytherin dormitories, Evelyn, Pansy, and Daphne packed their trunks, the atmosphere lighter than it had been all week.
“Finally,” Pansy sighed, folding her robes. “Two months without school.”
Daphne smirked. “Two months without Malfoy.”
Evelyn chuckled but said, “I think I’m staying in my trunk’s apartment most of the summer.”
Pansy and Daphne glanced over at her. Evelyn shrugged. “I was thinking of adding a guest room or two, actually.”
Pansy eyed her. “Are you inviting us over?”
Evelyn smirked. “Depends. Do you want to?”
The girls exchanged a glance.
Daphne grinned. “I’d love to.”
Pansy rolled her eyes but nodded. “Fine. But I demand luxury.”
Evelyn laughed, for the first time in days.
______________
The morning air was crisp as students gathered on the platform outside of the Hogwarts Express, their trunks and owls in tow. The weight of the past few weeks still lingered, making the usual chatter more subdued than normal. Evelyn stood near the train, adjusting the strap of her bag, when she heard a familiar voice call out.
“There she is! Our favorite Slytherin!”
She turned just in time for Fred and George Weasley to appear on either side of her, identical grins on their faces. Before she could react, George threw an arm around her shoulders while Fred gave her an exaggerated bow.
“Evelyn McCrae, the true mastermind behind Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes,” Fred announced.
“Our dear investor, our generous benefactor, our—”
“Alright, alright, what are you two on about?” Evelyn laughed, shoving George off her.
“Harry told us,” George said, his grin widening. “That you were the one who convinced him to give us his Triwizard winnings.”
Fred clapped a hand over his heart. “And we are eternally grateful.”
Evelyn shrugged. “You deserved it. Bagman scammed you out of your money. I just… helped Harry figure out what to do with it.”
Fred and George exchanged a glance before Fred said, “Regardless, we owe you one. And by ‘one,’ I mean an endless supply of our finest joke products.”
George nodded. “Or, you know, a lifetime of us being completely and utterly annoying in your presence. Whichever you prefer.”
Evelyn smirked. “I think you already provide the second one for free.”
“Touché,” Fred said with a mock bow.
George leaned against the train. “You better stay in touch with us over the summer, you know. We expect updates on all your thrilling Slytherin adventures.”
“Yeah,” Fred added. “And if you don’t, we’ll just have to track you down. We are very resourceful.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes but smiled. “I will keep in touch. And if I don’t, I’m sure you’ll find some ridiculous way to make sure I regret it.”
Fred grinned. “That’s the spirit.”
“Also,” George said, lowering his voice slightly, “you should come visit again. Mum really liked you.”
“She actually complimented a Slytherin,” Fred added dramatically. “A historic moment.”
Evelyn chuckled. “I’ll visit. Maybe sooner than you think.”
Just then, the whistle of the train blew, signaling that it was time to board. Fred and George gave her one last grin before dashing off toward their friends, leaving Evelyn standing there, shaking her head.
As the Hogwarts Express began to pull away from the station, she spotted the twins waving wildly at her from the platform.
She smirked to herself.
Evelyn wandered through the train, searching for an empty compartment when she heard a familiar voice call out.
“Evelyn! In here!”
She turned to find Harry leaning out of a compartment door, grinning at her. Ron was seated next to him, already shuffling through a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans with a cautious expression.
“Didn’t think you’d ditch us, did you?” Harry teased as Evelyn stepped inside.
“I considered it,” she said with a smirk, tossing her bag onto the seat across from them before settling in. “But then I thought, who else would I have to annoy over the summer?”
Ron snorted. “That’s funny, ‘cause I was just about to say the same thing about you.”
Before Evelyn could retort, the compartment door slid open again, and a group of familiar figures appeared. Pansy, Daphne, Theo, Evan, Blaise, and Draco all squeezed their way in, making the already small space even more cramped.
“Oh, lovely,” Evelyn said, shifting over so Daphne could sit next to her. “Now it’s a real party.”
“You didn’t think we’d let you have a peaceful train ride home, did you?” Pansy grinned as she dropped into the seat beside Ron, nudging him playfully.
Draco took the last remaining seat, sitting stiffly at the edge of the cushion. “This is already too cramped.”
“Oh, stop complaining,” Blaise said lazily, stretching out his legs. “I think it’s quite cozy.”
The door slid open once again, and Hermione poked her head in. “Is there room for one more?”
“Of course,” Evelyn said immediately, patting the space next to her.
With all of them packed in, their compartment was almost suffocatingly full, but no one seemed to mind. They were all tired, all emotionally drained from the tournament and Cedric’s death, but for the first time in what felt like ages, there was no immediate danger looming over them. They could just be.
As the train lurched forward, Pansy turned to Evelyn. “So, tell me more about this guest room you’re adding to your apartment. You barely explained anything when we were packing earlier.”
Evelyn smirked, stretching her legs out. “I’ve decided to expand my little space in my trunk. I figured, since I’ve already invited you and Daphne to stay over the summer, I should make room for more guests.”
Ron raised a brow. “Wait, what do you mean, your space in your trunk?”
“Oh, right,” Evelyn said, realizing he hadn’t been there when she’d explained it before. “My trunk has a charmed interior. Basically, I have a fully furnished apartment inside of it.”
Ron’s jaw dropped. “You have an apartment inside your trunk?!”
“Yep,” Evelyn said smugly. “And I’m adding a guest room so my friends can come and stay with me.”
Harry grinned. “So I’m guessing that means you’re inviting us?”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Obviously.” She looked around at the group. “All of you are invited to come and stay with me at some point over the summer. I’ll send a letter with the dates once I figure everything out.”
Pansy and Daphne exchanged excited looks. “It’s going to be so much fun,” Pansy said.
Hermione beamed. “I’ve never really had a friend’s house to stay at over the summer before. I can’t wait.”
Blaise tilted his head, considering it. “If I can get away from my mother while we’re in Italy, I’d love to stop by for a while.”
Theo nodded. “I’d be happy to stay for as long as you’ll have me.”
Draco hesitated before saying, “I’ll have to talk to my parents about it, but I should be able to come for at least a few days.”
Ron, still looking stunned about the whole trunk apartment situation, finally said, “Yeah, I’ll come, obviously.”
Harry nodded. “Me too. No question about it.”
Evelyn smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. A year ago, she never would have imagined having a group of friends like this, but here they all were, casually making summer plans together.
The rest of the train ride passed in a blur of laughter, games, and endless conversations.
At one point, they started a game of Exploding Snap, which quickly turned chaotic when Ron and Theo got into a heated debate over whether or not Theo had cheated.
“You clearly swapped cards when I wasn’t looking!” Ron accused, pointing at Theo.
Theo smirked. “I would never.”
“You absolutely would,” Pansy said, smirking. “And you did.”
Evan, who had been watching the game with amusement, chuckled. “I think Ron’s just upset because he’s losing.”
“I am not!”
“You kind of are,” Harry added, grinning.
Ron huffed. “Fine. Rematch.”
They played two more rounds before moving on to wizard’s chess, where Ron absolutely annihilated Blaise in record time.
Blaise groaned, rubbing his temples. “I hate this game.”
“Because you lost?” Hermione asked, smirking.
“Because I lost miserably,” Blaise corrected.
“I told you not to challenge Ron,” Evelyn said, laughing.
They spent the next couple of hours talking, telling stories, and sneaking treats from the trolley cart. Draco and Ron got into an argument about the best Quidditch teams, Hermione and Pansy debated the importance of proper spell pronunciation, and Evelyn found herself completely content just sitting back and listening to them all.
As the train neared King’s Cross, a quiet lull fell over the group, as if none of them wanted to acknowledge that they were about to go their separate ways for the summer.
Harry looked at Evelyn. “You’ll send the letters soon, right?”
“Of course,” she promised.
He nodded, satisfied. “Good.”
When the train finally pulled into the station, everyone reluctantly stood, gathering their trunks and preparing to step back into the real world.
Evelyn took one last glance at her friends, her heart full.
This summer was going to be different.
This summer was going to be the best one yet. She would make sure of it.
Chapter 38: Early Visits
Chapter Text
Two days after returning home from Hogwarts, Evelyn sat at her desk, quill poised above a fresh piece of parchment. She had been thinking about Harry non-stop, wondering how he was holding up at the Dursleys’. He hadn’t written to her yet, and she knew from what he had told her that his relatives weren’t exactly welcoming.
She chewed her lip, then dipped her quill into the ink and began writing.
Harry,
I hope you’re surviving over there. Actually, scratch that, I know you’re miserable. Which is why I’m inviting you to come and stay with me—early. I know we planned for everyone to come later, but let’s be honest, you don’t want to be there, and I have plenty of space here.
If you want, I’ll come and pick you up tomorrow with a Portkey. Just say the word, and you’ll be out of there.
-Evelyn
She folded the letter neatly and attached it to her owl’s leg. “Take this to Harry, quickly,” she whispered.
The owl hooted softly and soared into the night.
The response came less than an hour later, scribbled in untidy handwriting.
Evelyn,
Yes. Get me out of here. Please.
-Harry
Evelyn grinned, already making plans for the next morning.
____________
The next day, at exactly noon, Evelyn grabbed hold of a Portkey she had enchanted—a simple, worn-down book—and felt the familiar tug at her navel.
She landed smoothly on the neatly trimmed lawn of 4 Privet Drive, a street so aggressively normal it made her feel out of place just standing there. Taking a deep breath, she marched up to the door and knocked.
A few seconds later, the door swung open to reveal a large, red-faced man with a bushy mustache—Vernon Dursley. His small, beady eyes widened in immediate horror as he took in Evelyn’s presence.
“Who the bloody hell are you?” he demanded.
Evelyn crossed her arms. “I’m here for Harry.”
Vernon’s face turned an impressive shade of purple. “ Another one of you freaks?!”
Ah. So this was going well.
“I’m taking him away,” she said calmly. “Don’t worry, you’ll be rid of him soon enough.”
Vernon spluttered incoherently, his massive hands clenched into fists. “You people think you can just barge into my house whenever you please?! That boy has already been enough of a burden—”
“I don’t care,” Evelyn interrupted coolly. “Now, are you going to let him come down, or do I have to start using magic?”
That shut him up. Vernon’s eyes darted toward the staircase, as if afraid she might actually hex him.
A minute later, hurried footsteps echoed down the hall, and Harry appeared at the top of the stairs, his trunk and Hedwig’s cage in tow. He looked tired, but the moment he spotted Evelyn, relief flooded his face.
“I’m ready,” he said quickly.
Without another word, Evelyn grabbed his hand, pressed the book-Portkey between their palms, and in a flash, they disappeared from Privet Drive.
The moment they landed in Evelyn’s apartment, Harry let out a sigh of relief. “Thank Merlin ,” he muttered, setting down his trunk. “I thought I was going to have to hex my uncle if I stayed there any longer.”
Evelyn laughed. “If you had, I would’ve backed you up.”
Harry looked around, taking in the new changes. “So… which room am I in?”
Evelyn grinned, leading him down the hallway. “I added two new guest rooms. You can pick whichever one you like.”
Harry peeked into the first room. It had dark green bedding, a cozy armchair in the corner, and a bookshelf lining one wall.
The second new room had navy blue bedding, a desk, and a window that overlooked a charmed cityscape.
“Hmm,” Harry mused, tapping his chin. “Or, I could just share your room.”
Evelyn choked on air. “ What?! ”
Harry smirked. “Kidding.”
Evelyn turned bright red. “ You are the worst. ”
Harry chuckled, finally settling on the first room. “This one feels right.”
Evelyn, still flustered, rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Just don’t forget to set an alarm, because tomorrow is my birthday .”
Harry’s eyes widened slightly. “Your birthday?”
Evelyn nodded. “Yep. I’m officially another year older.”
Harry’s expression turned thoughtful as if he was already plotting something.
___________
The next morning, Evelyn woke up to the smell of something delicious. Blinking blearily, she sat up in bed, only to find her entire apartment decorated.
Banners hung from the ceiling, streamers twirled along the walls, and a large pile of gifts sat on the coffee table.
Harry stood in the kitchen, flipping pancakes. “Morning, birthday girl.”
Evelyn stared. “What did you do ?”
Harry grinned. “Made breakfast. And decorated. And—oh yeah—you have a ton of presents.”
Evelyn felt warmth flood her chest. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“Of course I did,” Harry said, setting down a plate in front of her. “Now, open your presents.”
Evelyn grabbed the first box, reading the label. From Daphne. She unwrapped it to reveal a red dress, sleek and elegant.
“Oh, I love this.”
Next was Pansy’s—a baby pink jewelry box with delicate floral designs.
Evelyn grinned. “This is adorable.”
Evan’s gift was a beautifully bound notebook. “For all your great ideas,” his note read.
Theo and Blaise had gotten her books about prophecies and magical law.
Draco had left her a simple card with 30 Galleons inside. Evelyn smirked at Harry . “Is he telling me to go shopping?”
Draco’s note simply read, “Get yourself something good.”
Ron, Fred, and George had sent a new wizard’s chess set, along with a note from the twins: Use this to destroy Ron in our honor.
Hermione had gifted her a gorgeous new coat, perfect for next winter.
And Mrs. Weasley had sent homemade fudge and a green sweater, almost identical to the one she had made for Harry, except—
Evelyn glanced at the color.
It was the exact shade of Harry’s eyes.
Her heart did something funny in her chest.
“Well?” Harry asked, watching her reaction.
Evelyn hugged the sweater close. “I love it. All of it .”
Harry grinned. “Good. Now eat your pancakes before they get cold.”
“Hey, where’s yours?” Evelyn grinned as Harry turned a beautiful shade of red.
“It’s a surprise.”
Evelyn smiled. This was already turning out to be her best birthday ever.
Later that evening, Evelyn was curled up on the couch, flipping through one of the books Theo and Blaise had gifted her, when Harry suddenly stood up and stretched.
“All right,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Go get ready.”
Evelyn blinked. “Ready for what?”
Harry grinned. “We’re going out.”
“ Out ?” she echoed.
“Yep. It’s your birthday, and I’m taking you somewhere nice.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself. “I reckon you wear that new dress Daphne gave you.”
Evelyn raised a brow, but a flutter of excitement stirred in her chest. “You planned something?”
“Of course I did,” Harry said simply.
Feeling a little breathless, Evelyn stood up and made her way to her bedroom. She carefully unwrapped the red dress Daphne had gifted her, running her fingers over the soft fabric. It was stunning—elegant yet playful, with lace sleeves and a fitted bodice that flared out into a flowing skirt.
After slipping it on, she styled her hair in soft waves, added a touch of makeup, and fastened a simple silver necklace around her neck. When she stepped back out into the living room, Harry was already waiting for her, now dressed in a black button-down and dark jeans.
His green eyes widened slightly when he saw her.
“You look…” He trailed off, then shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Wow.”
Evelyn felt warmth rise to her cheeks. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Potter.”
Harry grinned. “Shall we?”
They arrived at a small, intimate restaurant just outside of London. The place was warm and inviting, with candlelit tables and soft music playing in the background.
Harry pulled out Evelyn’s chair for her before sitting down across from her.
“Chivalry,” Evelyn teased. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Harry smirked. “I have layers, McCrae.”
As the evening went on, they talked about everything and nothing. About Hogwarts, their friends, the past year, and even silly things—like whether chocolate frogs or cauldron cakes were the superior treat.
At one point, Harry leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look in his eyes.
“I know I don’t say this a lot,” he said, “but I really am glad I met you.”
Evelyn tilted her head. “Yeah?”
Harry nodded. “It’s just… for a long time, it felt like everything in my life was temporary. But then you showed up, and it was different. You never left, no matter what happened. I don’t think I ever told you how much that means to me.”
Evelyn felt a lump form in her throat.
“You don’t have to,” she said softly. “I already know.”
Harry smiled at her, and for a moment, it felt like the world had quieted around them.
After dinner, they decided to walk back instead of taking a Portkey. The night air was crisp, the stars twinkling above them.
Evelyn shivered slightly, hugging her arms around herself.
Harry immediately shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “Better?”
Evelyn pulled it tighter around herself, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne. “Much.”
They walked in comfortable silence, but as they neared Evelyn’s place, Harry suddenly stopped.
She turned to him, confused. “Harry?”
He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair.
“There’s something I need to say,” he admitted. “And I’ve been trying to figure out the right time, but I don’t think there is one, so I’m just gonna say it.”
Evelyn’s heart pounded. “Okay.”
Harry met her gaze, his green eyes full of something raw and real.
“You’ve been my rock, Eve,” he said. “Through everything. You’re the one person who’s always been beside me, and I—” He exhaled sharply. “I realised at the Yule Ball that I liked you. More than a friend. But I wasn’t confident enough to do anything about it.”
Evelyn’s breath caught.
Harry swallowed hard. “But I don’t want to wait anymore. I don’t want to pretend I don’t feel this way.” He hesitated for just a second before finally asking, “Will you be my girlfriend?”
Evelyn didn’t even have to think about it.
“Yes.”
Harry blinked. “Wait—really?”
She laughed, stepping closer. “Of course , you idiot. I’ve liked you for a while too.”
Harry let out a breathless chuckle, looking both relieved and overjoyed. “Oh. That’s… brilliant.”
Then, before she could say anything else, he reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers.
It felt right.
Back at Evelyn’s apartment, they changed into comfortable clothes and curled up on the couch. Evelyn had showed Harry the muggle movies she collected, and they spent the rest of the night watching them, wrapped in blankets, eating leftover birthday cake.
At some point, Evelyn rested her head on Harry’s shoulder, and he absentmindedly ran his fingers through her hair.
“Happy birthday, Eve,” he murmured.
Evelyn smiled. “Best one yet.”
And with that, she closed her eyes, feeling happier than she had in a long, long time.
Chapter 39: Chaos Arrives
Notes:
hey everyone!! just to let you know i’m on holiday in Lanzarote at the moment so updates probably won’t be as frequent as they have been.
Chapter Text
Evelyn stretched out on the sofa, basking in the quiet hum of summer. The past few days had been nothing short of blissful—lazy mornings with Harry, late-night conversations that blurred into early hours, and the occasional stolen kiss when she wasn’t expecting it. Being with Harry felt natural, like the missing piece of something she hadn’t realized she needed.
But today, their peaceful bubble was about to burst in the best way possible. Their friends were arriving.
“Are you sure we’re ready for this?” Harry asked, leaning against the kitchen counter as Evelyn set out a few last-minute things before the chaos ensued.
“You say that like we’re about to be invaded,” she teased, adjusting a stack of plates. “They’re our friends, Harry.”
“Yes, but now we live together,” he pointed out, a playful glint in his eye. “This is basically an ambush.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes just as a knock sounded at the door. “No turning back now.”
She opened the door to Pansy and Ron, both of whom stepped inside like they already owned the place.
“Dibs on the first guest room,” Pansy announced immediately, tossing her bag on the floor.
Ron raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t even wait for a ‘hello,’ did you?”
Evelyn just laughed. “You get first pick, but only because you got here first.”
Over the next half hour, the rest of their friends trickled in. Hermione and Daphne arrived together, immediately laying claim to the second guest room. Evan and Theo took the last one, leaving Blaise and Draco to dramatically complain about having to take the sofa bed.
“We should at least get a conjured room,” Draco muttered.
“Oh, absolutely,” Blaise agreed. “This is an outrage.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “You two are fine. It’s not like you’re sleeping in a cupboard.”
“That’s true,” Harry muttered under his breath, and Evelyn shot him a quick look before squeezing his hand reassuringly.
With everyone settled in, it was time to make lunch. Evelyn took over the kitchen while the others helped set the table, and soon enough, they were all gathered around, laughing and catching up.
It was in the middle of this meal—while Blaise was making some ridiculous joke about pureblood family politics—that Evelyn decided it was time to tell them. She met Harry’s eyes across the table, and he gave her a subtle nod.
Evelyn cleared her throat. “So, Harry and I have something to tell you all.”
Pansy, always the sharp one, gasped dramatically. “You’re pregnant.”
Harry choked on his pumpkin juice. Evelyn smacked Pansy’s arm. “No! Merlin, no. We’re just… together. Officially.”
For a moment, the group stared at them in silence. Then—
Ron groaned. “Bloody hell, I owe Fred five Galleons.”
“Wait, you guys bet on us?” Harry asked incredulously.
Ron shrugged. “Mate, it was obvious.”
Evelyn groaned and buried her face in her hands. “I hate all of you.”
Blaise grinned. “No, you don’t.”
And, well… he was right.
As the laughter and teasing continued, Evelyn couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in a long while, everything felt right.
After lunch, the group decided to take a trip into town. Evelyn’s apartment was tucked away in the countryside, but a short walk brought them to a charming little village filled with small shops, cozy cafés, and the occasional bustling market stall.
The sun was warm, a perfect day for wandering, and Evelyn led the way with Harry at her side. Pansy and Daphne were deep in conversation about the latest Witch Weekly article, while Ron and Theo were animatedly discussing Quidditch tactics.
Their group wandered in and out of a few shops, with Draco making a big deal about how “Muggle shopping” was beneath him—only for him to purchase a ridiculously expensive-looking leather-bound notebook.
But the real fun started when they passed a large building with a glowing sign that read Indoor Ice Skating Rink – Open to the Public!
Harry’s eyes lit up instantly. “Let’s do it.”
“What? No,” Evelyn said immediately, glancing at the rink beyond the glass windows. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on,” Harry grinned, tugging on her hand. “It’ll be fun.”
“I do not trust you on ice.”
“I don’t trust myself on ice,” Ron added.
“Then it’ll be hilarious,” Blaise smirked, already heading inside.
Despite her protests, Evelyn soon found herself lacing up a pair of skates alongside the rest of the group. The rink was packed with Muggles, but luckily, no one paid them much attention.
The second Evelyn stepped onto the ice, she immediately regretted every decision that had led her to this point.
Pansy and Daphne clung to each other for balance, Blaise and Theo seemed relatively steady, and Ron had already fallen flat on his back. Hermione, unsurprisingly, was perfect at it, gliding effortlessly across the ice.
Evelyn, however, was barely staying upright.
“You’re doing fine,” Harry encouraged, skating beside her with annoying ease.
“I swear, if you make me fall—”
Before she could finish, Harry—who had been trying to show off by skating backward—suddenly lost his balance. He grabbed Evelyn’s arm to steady himself, which only resulted in both of them toppling over.
Evelyn let out a very undignified yelp as she landed flat on top of Harry.
“Nice catch,” Draco called from a safe distance, watching with pure amusement.
“Oh, shut up, Malfoy,” Evelyn groaned, trying to push herself up.
Harry, however, was laughing—genuine, bright laughter that made her momentary embarrassment worth it.
“Maybe you should just stay on the ground,” he suggested. “Seems safer.”
Evelyn smacked his arm before letting him help her up. Their friends, meanwhile, were in various states of struggling, and by the time their session ended, nearly everyone had fallen at least once.
“Well,” Theo said as they sat on a bench unlacing their skates, “that was a disaster.”
“But a fun disaster,” Evan added.
Evelyn huffed but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “Fine. Maybe it wasn’t completely terrible.”
Harry nudged her playfully. “Told you.”
_____________
After their chaotic yet hilarious ice-skating adventure, the group returned to Evelyn’s apartment, where she flopped onto the sofa, utterly exhausted.
“Never again,” she mumbled into a cushion.
Harry chuckled as he sat beside her, draping an arm around her shoulders. “You say that now, but I give it a year before you willingly go ice skating again.”
She shot him a look but didn’t argue.
The rest of their friends had spread out around the living room—Ron and Theo were battling it out in a game of wizard’s chess, Daphne and Hermione were flipping through a book they’d bought in town, and Pansy was sprawled across an armchair, examining her nails. Draco and Blaise were both lounging on the floor, occasionally tossing comments at the chess match.
Just as Evelyn was about to doze off, a tapping sound echoed through the room.
She sat up, frowning, and turned toward the window, where a very impatient-looking owl was pecking at the glass.
Evelyn untangled herself from Harry and went to let the bird in. The moment she took the letter from its leg, the owl gave her a rather judgmental hoot and immediately took off again.
“Well, that’s ominous,” she muttered, unfolding the parchment.
The moment her eyes scanned the messy, familiar handwriting, she sighed.
“What is it?” Harry asked, peering over her shoulder.
She turned to face the room. “Fred and George.”
That immediately caught Ron’s attention. “What do they want?”
Evelyn cleared her throat and read aloud:
Evelyn,
You didn’t write, and it’s been a whole week since we left for summer holidays, so obviously, we’re coming to you. Give us your address, and we’ll Apparate.
- Your Favorite Weasley Twins
There was a pause.
“Merlin, help us all,” Theo said dryly.
Pansy snorted. “Oh, this should be fun.”
Evelyn sighed dramatically. “I should’ve known they wouldn’t leave me alone.”
But despite her exasperated tone, she was smiling. She grabbed a spare piece of parchment and scribbled a quick response, giving them her address and letting them know they were welcome to drop by whenever they wanted.
“If you think our peaceful days here are going to last,” she told the group, “you’re sorely mistaken.”
Blaise smirked. “Oh, we were never expecting peace and quiet.”
With that, Evelyn sent the letter off with her own owl and returned to the sofa, curling up beside Harry once again.
___________
The next morning, Evelyn was woken by a loud crack!
Before she could even register what was happening, two red-headed blurs appeared in the middle of her bedroom.
“Morning, Evelyn!” Fred Weasley greeted cheerfully.
“Hope you didn’t think you could get rid of us that easily,” George added.
Evelyn groaned and buried her face in her pillow. She had fallen asleep last night after staying up late talking with Harry, and now the twins had arrived at an ungodly hour.
“Do you two have no sense of time?” she mumbled.
“Not when it comes to important matters,” Fred said, grinning.
“Like checking up on our dear friend,” George continued.
Pansy, who had come to wake Evelyn and Harry, watched the entire exchange with amusement, raised a brow. “You mean you were bored, so you decided to invade Evelyn’s home?”
“Exactly!” Fred said cheerfully.
Before Evelyn could even think about getting up, Ron came trudging into the room, hair a mess, looking like he had just rolled out of bed. He blinked at his brothers. “You two work fast.”
“We aim to please,” George said with a bow.
By now, the commotion had woken the rest of the house. Harry, looking half-asleep but still amused, rolled over beside Evelyn and nudged her. “You alive?”
“Barely,” she grumbled, sitting up and stretching.
Draco and Blaise strolled in next, both eyeing the twins with cautious curiosity.
Despite the ridiculous start to the morning, the rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of fun.
After a late breakfast (which Evelyn had to remind everyone multiple times not to let Fred and George help with), the group split off to do their own things. Some played Exploding Snap, others talked in the kitchen, and at one point, Ron, Theo, and Blaise got into a competitive game of wizard’s chess that had half the group gathered around watching.
Evelyn couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed this much.
At one point, Harry pulled her aside, a soft smile on his face. “You okay?”
She blinked. “Yeah, why?”
He shrugged. “You just seem… really happy.”
Evelyn hesitated. Then, she smiled. “I am.”
She hadn’t realized just how much she needed this—a summer filled with laughter, surrounded by the people she cared about most.
And for once, she wasn’t worried about what came next.
Chapter 40: The Truth
Chapter Text
The morning passed in a flurry of goodbyes as the first group of friends prepared to leave. Blaise, Theo, Draco, and Daphne had gathered in the living room, packing their bags and bidding everyone farewell. The atmosphere was oddly quiet despite the usual chaos that came with their presence.
Evelyn sat on the couch, her legs crossed, watching the group as they finished packing. The twins were nowhere to be found, off causing trouble no doubt, while Ron had went back to bed after already seeing them off.
“I can’t believe you’re all leaving already,” she said, a touch of sadness in her voice as she looked at her friends.
Draco, who had been standing near the door, glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. “What, you’re going to miss us?”
Evelyn snorted. “Not you specifically, but the general chaos you bring. Who else will I have to keep me on my toes?”
Theo gave a crooked grin. “Well, you’ll have to manage without us. I’m sure you’ll survive.”
Blaise, packing the last of his things into a sleek leather bag, smirked. “Just remember, Evelyn, no one else is going to be able to keep your secrets quite like we do. Especially about you and Harry.”
Evelyn shot him a glare, but the corner of her mouth quirked up into a smile. “I’m sure you’ll manage to ruin your own fun without spilling the beans.”
Pansy appeared from the hallway, arms crossed and a mischievous grin on her face. “They won’t be able to help themselves. It’s a bit of a trademark, really.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Draco muttered. He leaned over to give Evelyn a hug.
The others soon followed suit, offering quick goodbyes and promises to keep in touch. The quiet moments lingered before the front door closed behind them, leaving the house noticeably emptier.
“Looks like it’s just us,” Evelyn said, her voice oddly soft now that the bustle had died down. She glanced over at Harry, who had been lounging nearby.
“Yeah, it’ll be strange without them,” Harry replied, his tone equally quiet. “But it’s kind of nice too, don’t you think?”
Before Evelyn could respond, a knock echoed through the house. Harry raised an eyebrow. “Expecting someone?”
Evelyn shook her head. “Not really.”
She went to answer the door, only to be greeted by the sight of Mrs. Weasley standing on the doorstep, her hands laden with baskets of food.
“Well, hello there, dear,” Mrs. Weasley greeted warmly, her usual motherly smile lighting up her face. “I thought I’d stop by, check on my boys, and bring you all a bit of dinner. You must be starving after all the chaos.”
Evelyn stepped aside to let her in. “Of course, Mrs. Weasley. You really didn’t have to, but thank you. It’s so kind of you.”
“Oh, it’s nothing at all,” Mrs. Weasley insisted. “I’m just glad to see you all doing well. I heard from Ron that things have been going splendidly.” She glanced around the room, her gaze falling on Harry, then Evelyn. Her eyes softened. “I see you two are getting along quite well. How’s everything?”
Evelyn felt a slight flush creep up her neck, but she smiled. “We’re doing great, Mrs. Weasley.”
Harry, equally at ease, nodded. “Everything’s been good. We’ve had a good few days here.”
Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly before setting the baskets down on the kitchen counter. “Well, I’ve made a nice meal for you all. I figured it would be a good way to celebrate the summer before everything gets back to normal.”
The familiar scent of roast chicken, potatoes, and vegetables filled the room, instantly making Evelyn’s stomach growl. Mrs. Weasley didn’t hesitate to start serving up dinner, chatting away about the latest happenings at the Burrow.
“We’ve had a few adventures back at home, nothing too exciting. Fred and George have been working on their latest products, as usual. You should see the new inventions they’ve got.” She raised an eyebrow and winked at Harry. “I’m sure they’d be happy to send a few your way if you’re interested. I think they’ve finally perfected their Skiving Snackboxes. Although they really shouldn’t.”
Evelyn chuckled. “I think we might have had enough of that sort of thing around here.”
“Well, they do have a knack for keeping things interesting,” Mrs. Weasley agreed, her voice fond. “Just make sure to stay out of trouble, alright?”
They all gathered around the table, enjoying Mrs. Weasley’s hearty meal. It was a brief but heartfelt visit, with Mrs. Weasley making sure they were all well-fed before she excused herself.
“Thanks again for everything, Mrs. Weasley,” Evelyn said as she hugged her.
“Of course, dear. Take care of yourselves,” Mrs. Weasley replied before making her exit, leaving behind the warmth of her presence and a meal to remember.
____________
After Mrs. Weasley left, the house felt quiet again, but the calm didn’t last for long. Pansy was already in full planning mode, clearly not content with the peaceful atmosphere.
“Right, Ron,” she said with an eager glint in her eye, walking into the living room where Ron was lounging. “You and I are going to town. I need a few things, and you’re coming with me.”
Ron, who had been half-heartedly flicking through a magazine, looked up with a groan. “Do I have a choice in this?”
“No,” Pansy replied, grabbing him by the arm and practically dragging him toward the door. “You’ve been moaning about being bored, so now you’re going to come and be useful.”
Ron opened his mouth to protest, but it was too late—Pansy had already moved them toward the door, and Evelyn couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. Ron looked like a man walking to his doom, but she knew he’d enjoy it once they were out in the village.
With them gone, the house fell back into its previous rhythm. Evelyn and Hermione had already planned a quiet afternoon of reading. They made their way to the living room, curling up on the sofa with books in hand. The house felt unusually serene without the rest of their friends causing mayhem, and Evelyn found herself appreciating the stillness.
“Have you read this one before?” Hermione asked, her voice soft as she flipped through the pages of her book.
Evelyn glanced at the book Hermione had in hand. “No, I haven’t. What’s it about?”
Hermione grinned. “It’s a fascinating history of magical creatures—did you know there are some that are still undiscovered? I’ve been reading about the Nundus in particular. They’re incredibly rare.”
Evelyn hummed in acknowledgment. “Sounds intriguing. I’ve always preferred more practical books. Something about the magical world’s history makes my head spin.”
“Fair enough,” Hermione said with a knowing smile, turning the page. “But there’s something about diving into these books that just feels… grounding, I suppose. Especially after all the chaos.”
Evelyn agreed. There was something soothing about the quiet exchange of words, the rustle of pages, and the soft murmurs of a world that seemed so distant from everything that had happened.
Meanwhile, in the backyard, Fred, George, Harry, and Evan were setting up a makeshift Quidditch pitch. Harry had been hinting at Quidditch drills all day, and now the rest of the group was finally on board. Fred and George immediately took the role of announcers, even though no one had asked for their commentary.
“Alright, team,” Fred called out dramatically as he tapped his broom against the ground. “We’re going to start with some basic drills. Evan, you’re with Harry on defense. I’m going to show George how it’s done with some maneuvers—”
“I’m sure you will,” George interrupted, already mounting his broom with a grin. “But don’t be too surprised when I outperform you.”
“Dream on,” Fred shot back as he zoomed into the air, and George quickly followed.
Harry and Evan were already practicing passing the Quaffle, their movements in sync as they hovered in the air. Evelyn stood at the window watching them, a fond smile playing on her lips. Even though she wasn’t a Quidditch player herself, there was something about the way they moved—so carefree and yet so determined—that made the sight incredibly satisfying.
“Ready to join them?” Hermione asked, looking over at Evelyn from her book.
Evelyn shrugged, tapping her fingers on the arm of the sofa. “I’m not the best on a broom, remember?”
Hermione grinned knowingly. “True, but you might want to give it a go. You’d be surprised. Besides, it might be fun to watch them compete.”
“True,” Evelyn said with a laugh. “I’m just worried about breaking a bone or two.”
Hermione rolled her eyes but said nothing more. Instead, they both turned their attention back to the Quidditch drills outside, where Fred was now orchestrating some elaborate passing routines, much to George’s dismay.
After a few hours of Quidditch drills and the sound of laughter filling the air, the rest of the group finally returned from town. Ron, looking mildly disheveled but somehow still in high spirits, came in with Pansy trailing behind him.
“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” Pansy asked smugly, clearly pleased with herself for dragging Ron around town.
Ron made a face but then grinned. “I’ll admit, I did enjoy it. There’s something about all the little shops and food stalls… it’s like a different world.”
“Well, now that we’re all back together, I think we should wrap up this lovely day with something better than just books and Quidditch,” Pansy declared, setting her bags down.
“Like what?” Evelyn asked, raising an eyebrow.
Pansy gave her a sly look. “I’m sure Fred and George could help us with that. A little dinner party, perhaps? Some fireworks, maybe?”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “I think we’ve had enough chaos for one day.”
Ron laughed, plopping down next to her. “I’m with you there.”
After dinner, they all gathered together in the living room, chatting about everything and nothing. The light of the setting sun streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow over the room. It was moments like this that made Evelyn feel at peace, as if the weight of the world had lifted for just a little while.
As the evening wore on, the group settled in, each person enjoying the comfort of being surrounded by good friends. The laughter and conversation continued well into the night, with Fred and George inevitably setting off some harmless fireworks in the backyard, filling the evening air with bright, colorful bursts of light.
Evelyn leaned back against the couch, Harry sitting beside her with his arm around her shoulders.
_____________
Two days had passed since the quiet day filled with reading, Quidditch drills, and spontaneous fireworks.
Pansy, Hermione, Ron, Evan, and the twins were all gathered in the living room, their bags packed, their faces mixed with excitement and a touch of reluctance. Everyone had agreed to meet again before they went back to school—one last chance to catch up before the chaos of the next term.
“We’ll see you all soon,” Ron said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Same place, same time.”
“Don’t forget,” Pansy added, a knowing look in her eyes as she glanced at Evelyn. “Next time, we’re making sure you join us for shopping.”
Evelyn laughed softly but nodded in agreement. “I’ll make time for it, promise.”
“Don’t have too much fun without us,” Fred said, flashing a grin as he slung his broomstick over his shoulder. “We expect full reports.”
“Yeah, full of boring, sensible things, preferably,” George added. “Just don’t go causing any trouble, alright?”
With a few final words, the group left one by one, stepping out into the crisp air, leaving Evelyn and Harry alone in the house.
Evelyn took a deep breath, feeling the sudden emptiness of the house fill her. It had been so busy with all their friends around that the silence now felt heavier.
“Well,” Harry said, his voice light but tinged with the same unease that Evelyn felt. “I guess it’s just us now.”
Evelyn smiled faintly. “Yeah, just us.”
The house felt quieter without the group’s chatter and laughter, but it also seemed more intimate. As they cleaned up together after a light lunch, the last few days hung in the air like a heavy mist. The warmth of the meal had settled into Evelyn’s chest, but there was something gnawing at her—a feeling she could no longer ignore.
Harry was stacking the last of the plates into the sink when Evelyn stepped forward, her voice soft but determined.
“Harry, I need to talk to you about something important.”
He turned to her, wiping his hands on a towel. “What’s up?”
Evelyn’s eyes flickered nervously, but she knew she had to do this. The time had come. She motioned for him to sit down on the couch, and she joined him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about this,” she started, her voice low but steady. “And I think you deserve to know the truth. About me. About how I ended up here.”
Harry’s brow furrowed slightly. “What do you mean? You’ve told me everything already.”
Evelyn took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. “No, Harry, I haven’t. There’s something I’ve been keeping from you.”
She paused, looking at him carefully. “I wasn’t always a witch. I used to be a Muggle. I didn’t have magic or a part in the wizarding world at all. I was just… like any other person.”
Harry’s expression shifted to confusion. “Wait, what? But you—”
Evelyn cut him off with a raised hand. “Let me explain.” She met his eyes, trying to find the right words. “One day, I was reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I was just a regular Muggle girl reading a Muggle book, and something happened. I—I got sucked into the story. It was like I was pulled inside, and I wasn’t in my world anymore.”
Harry blinked, clearly trying to process what she was saying. “You’re telling me… you just appeared here from the book?”
“Yes,” she said softly, nodding. “It doesn’t make sense, I know. But I was stuck here, in the world of Hogwarts, and I had no idea how to explain it. I couldn’t just tell anyone that I came from another world.”
Evelyn’s eyes darkened as she continued. “I knew I had to make up a fake background so that no one would suspect anything. So I told people I was from a wizarding family. But… it wasn’t true. None of it was. And then Lady Magic visited me, and she gave me magic. She told me that I was meant to be here. That I had a role to play.”
Harry stared at her in disbelief. “You—you’ve been lying to me? All this time?”
Evelyn’s heart clenched, but she pushed through. “I didn’t want to lie, Harry. I didn’t know what else to do. The truth was… impossible to explain. But it doesn’t change what I want to do. I’ve read all the Harry Potter books in the Muggle world. I knew everything that would happen—how Cedric would die, how the Triwizard Tournament would end, how Voldemort would return. I knew all of it.”
Harry’s face had gone pale, and he opened his mouth to speak, but she continued.
“And that’s why I’m telling you now. I want to change things. I want to stop the Second Wizarding War from happening. I want to make sure the people who should never have died—don’t die. I want to change the future, Harry. I need your help to do that.”
The room was silent as Evelyn finished her explanation, her breath shallow and her hands trembling.
Harry sat back, his expression unreadable, and Evelyn’s heart hammered in her chest. She had expected something—some kind of reaction—but not this.
“Harry…?”
He didn’t look at her right away. When he did, his eyes were filled with a mix of anger and hurt.
“You knew Cedric was going to die,” Harry said, his voice a low hiss. “And you didn’t say anything? You let it happen. You let it happen, and you didn’t warn me. You didn’t warn anyone!”
Evelyn opened her mouth to speak, but Harry stood abruptly, his fists clenched at his sides. “How could you do that, Evelyn? You knew what was coming, and you did nothing! You could have stopped it—you could have saved him. But you didn’t say a word.”
She stood up, her own anger rising now. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to risk changing the timeline too much! I didn’t know if telling you would’ve caused more harm than good. It wasn’t just about Cedric, Harry. It was about the bigger picture—the war, everything! I was trying to protect you!”
“I didn’t need your protection!” Harry snapped, his voice rising. “I needed you to be honest with me! And now—now I can’t trust you. How am I supposed to believe anything you say if you’ve been lying to me from the start?”
Evelyn’s heart shattered, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. The anger between them was palpable, like a physical barrier. She opened her mouth to apologize, but Harry was already walking toward the door.
“I can’t do this right now,” he said, his voice strained. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight. We’ll talk when we’ve both calmed down.”
The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Evelyn standing alone in the living room. Her breath came in shallow gasps, the weight of the argument crashing down on her like a tidal wave. She had thought this would bring them closer—but now, it felt like they were worlds apart.
And the silence that followed felt colder than ever.
Chapter 41: Harry’s Birthday
Chapter Text
The soft light of the morning filtered in through the curtains as Harry woke, his mind still clouded with the remnants of the argument from the night before. The quiet of the house was a stark contrast to the turmoil he had felt while lying awake, replaying Evelyn’s confession in his head over and over again. He hadn’t slept much at all, the weight of her words still pressing heavily on his chest.
His eyes flickered to the clock—mid-morning. He hadn’t realized how long he had been lying there, lost in thought. He groaned softly, rubbing his temples, and slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He needed to face this. Needed to talk to Evelyn.
Next door, the kitchen smelled of freshly brewed coffee and something warm—a quiet comfort that only added to the awkwardness of the morning. Harry padded into the kitchen, and there she was. Evelyn was already sitting at the table, a mug of tea in her hands, her expression pensive, as if she’d been up far longer than he had.
She looked up as he entered, and her eyes met his, a soft vulnerability in them that made his chest tighten. For a moment, neither of them said anything. There was so much left unsaid between them, so much that still hung in the air from the night before. But they were together now, and they had to deal with it.
“Morning,” Evelyn said quietly, offering him a small, uncertain smile.
Harry nodded in return, his voice hoarse as he spoke. “Morning.”
He went over to the counter, grabbing a mug, and filled it with the coffee that had been brewed. The warmth from the cup seeped into his hands, but it didn’t chase away the lingering tension between them.
Evelyn watched him, her fingers tightening around her mug. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Harry,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. “I never wanted to cause you any pain.”
“I know,” Harry replied, taking a seat at the table, still avoiding her gaze. He stared down into his coffee, unable to meet her eyes just yet. His emotions were still raw, the anger still simmering beneath the surface. But there was something else too—a quiet ache, a need to understand, to make sense of everything she’d told him.
After a long pause, Evelyn broke the silence again. “I meant what I said last night. About wanting to change things… about helping you. About the war.”
Harry slowly looked up at her, his gaze intense. “I know you did. But you should’ve told me sooner. You should’ve told me everything, not just… kept it hidden.”
“I didn’t know how,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “I thought I could protect you by keeping the truth to myself. But I see now that was a mistake. I should’ve trusted you, Harry. I should’ve trusted you with the truth.”
There was a long pause between them as Harry processed her words, the remnants of his anger still stirring but less intense now, softened by her honesty and the vulnerability she was showing. She had admitted she was wrong, and that meant something.
“I’ve spent the whole night thinking about what you said,” Harry finally confessed, his voice low. “I was angry—really angry. I thought you had betrayed me. But I know that wasn’t your intention.”
Evelyn’s shoulders relaxed, a small breath escaping her lips. “I was scared, Harry. Scared of changing things too much. Scared of messing up the future in ways that would be worse. I didn’t want to risk it, but I also wanted to help.”
Harry leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, but as he looked at her, really looked at her, he realized something—he trusted her. He trusted her even with all the lies, even with everything that had happened. She was here now, and they were in this together.
“Look,” he began, his voice steady now. “I still don’t like that you kept all this from me. I still don’t like that you didn’t warn me about Cedric. But… I get it. I understand why you did it.”
Evelyn met his gaze, her eyes wide with relief. “You do?”
“Yeah,” Harry said, his tone softening. “You wanted to protect the future. But it doesn’t matter now. We’re here, together, and we’ve got a chance to change things. But no more lies, Evelyn. No more secrets.”
Evelyn nodded quickly, her throat tight. “I promise, Harry. No more lies. From now on, I’ll tell you everything. Any key events, any changes that could happen… I’ll tell you the moment I know. No more keeping things from you.”
Harry’s expression softened as he reached across the table and placed his hand over hers, squeezing gently. “We’ll do it together,” he said. “No more pretending. No more hiding.”
Evelyn’s heart swelled at his words. It wasn’t easy, what they had just gone through, but she could see the path forward now. They had both been wrong in different ways, but they were willing to move past it. They were willing to trust each other, to be honest, and that was what mattered.
“I’m grateful, Harry,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”
He smiled, his thumb brushing over her hand. “You don’t need to thank me. We’re in this together, remember?”
The weight of the last few days seemed to lift in that moment. Evelyn felt lighter, freer, knowing that they had made it through the storm and could start again. They were no longer burdened by secrets or lies, and the future—however uncertain—felt like something they could face together.
“I’ll do my best,” Evelyn said, her voice filled with determination. “We’ll change things. For the better. I won’t let history repeat itself.”
Harry nodded, his eyes full of conviction. “We’ll make sure it doesn’t. Together.”
They sat there for a while longer, simply enjoying the quiet, knowing that they had started to rebuild what had been fractured. It wasn’t going to be easy—nothing worth having ever was—but they were ready.
And as they finished their breakfast, they both felt something new settle between them: trust, hope, and a promise to move forward. No more lies. No more fear. Just the two of them, ready to face whatever came next.
_______________
The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room. Harry stirred beneath the covers, blinking sleepily as he registered the soft hum of activity from the kitchen. It was a familiar sound by now—Evelyn making breakfast, pots clinking together, the occasional muttered spell.
A small smile tugged at his lips. Three weeks had passed since their argument, and in that time, they had worked through every doubt, every question, and every unspoken thought that lingered between them. Things between them now felt more solid than ever—built on honesty, trust, and an unspoken promise that they would face the future together.
And today was his birthday.
The thought made him stretch, yawning as he sat up. Just as he swung his legs over the bed, there was a sharp knock at the door.
“Harry, are you awake?” Evelyn’s voice called through the wood.
He chuckled. “Barely.”
“Good enough,” she replied, and a second later, the door creaked open. Evelyn stepped inside, her dark green pajama shorts and oversized t-shirt making her look far too comfortable for how awake she seemed. She held a steaming mug in her hands and passed it to him. “Happy birthday.”
Harry took the cup gratefully, inhaling the rich scent of tea. “Thanks.”
She leaned against the doorframe, watching him. “How does it feel to be sixteen?”
Harry shrugged. “Like being fifteen, but with slightly less sleep.”
Evelyn snorted. “That’s because you were up all night worrying about what I was going to do for your birthday.”
“I was not.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Oh? So you weren’t muttering in your sleep about ‘no surprises, Evelyn’?”
Harry groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Merlin, you’re impossible.”
“And you’re terrible at hiding your curiosity,” she shot back with a grin. “Now, finish your tea and get dressed. You’ve got a lot of presents waiting for you.”
His eyes widened. “Presents?”
Evelyn smirked. “Obviously. You didn’t think everyone forgot, did you?”
After finishing his tea and getting dressed, Harry made his way to the living room, where a pile of presents sat waiting on the coffee table. Evelyn was perched on the arm of the sofa, arms crossed smugly as she watched his reaction.
“You weren’t kidding,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he took in the stack of neatly wrapped packages.
“Of course not,” she said, standing up and nudging him toward the couch. “Now, sit. Open.”
Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He dropped onto the sofa and reached for the first package, one wrapped in bright red paper with a hastily scribbled note attached:
Happy Birthday, mate! Hope you’re having a brilliant summer. See you soon! – Ron
Inside was a set of Chudley Cannons merchandise—scarves, badges, even a tiny moving figurine of the team’s Seeker zooming around on his broom.
“Figures,” Harry said with a grin.
Evelyn peered over his shoulder. “Subtle as ever.”
The next package, wrapped much more neatly in elegant brown parchment, had Hermione’s precise handwriting on the card:
Wishing you the happiest of birthdays, Harry! Hope you find this useful. – Hermione
Harry unwrapped it to find a book— Advanced Defensive Magic: A Study of Countercurses and Practical Dueling Techniques.
“Very Hermione,” Evelyn noted.
“Extremely.” Harry flipped through the pages, already spotting spells that would be useful.
One by one, he unwrapped the rest of his gifts. The twins had sent him a box of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes products—complete with a warning that some of them were “still in testing.” From Theo and Evan came a rare magical plant encased in a protective glass sphere, with a note explaining that it could glow in the dark and was completely harmless. Hagrid’s gift was a knitted sweater (a size too large, of course) and a tin of homemade rock cakes, which Evelyn immediately confiscated “for their own safety.”
Finally, there was a small, unmarked package. Harry frowned as he picked it up. “Who’s this from?”
Evelyn’s expression softened. “Open it and find out.”
Curious, Harry unwrapped it and found a black leather journal. It was simple, but when he opened it, he noticed the pages weren’t blank. Instead, there was a handwritten note on the first page:
For when you need a place to sort your thoughts. Happy birthday, Harry. – Evelyn
Harry glanced up, meeting her gaze. “You got me a journal?”
“You keep everything in your head,” she pointed out. “Figured it might help to write things down every now and then.”
It was such a simple gift, but it was thoughtful—something meant just for him. He turned the journal over in his hands, something warm settling in his chest. “Thanks, Ev.”
Evelyn shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but the way her lips twitched told him she was pleased.
Harry looked at the pile of presents, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude. For years, birthdays had been nothing special—just another day to survive at the Dursleys’. But now, he had this. Friends who cared. A place that felt like home. And Evelyn, always by his side.
“Well?” she said, nudging his knee with her foot. “Best birthday yet?”
Harry grinned. “Easily.”
The day passed in a comfortable blur. Harry and Evelyn spent the afternoon lounging around, playing a few rounds of Exploding Snap before switching to a more relaxed game of Wizard’s Chess. Evelyn, much to Harry’s surprise, wasn’t half bad—though she claimed she wasn’t on Ron’s level.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Evelyn stood abruptly and stretched. “Right. Dinner.”
Harry blinked up at her. “You’re cooking?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Harry. I do know how to cook.”
He smirked. “I dunno. I’ve only ever seen you make tea and toast.”
Evelyn gasped dramatically. “How dare you?” She placed a hand over her heart as if personally offended. “You doubt my culinary skills?”
“Well—”
“I’ll prove you wrong,” she declared, pointing a finger at him. “You just sit there and be amazed.”
Harry chuckled as she marched off to the kitchen, shaking his head. He leaned back on the couch, listening as she moved around, opening cupboards and muttering under her breath.
Over the next hour, the delicious scent of roasting chicken and herbs filled the apartment. At one point, Harry wandered in to find Evelyn stirring a pot of mashed potatoes with an impressive level of focus.
“Alright, I take it back,” he admitted, watching as she expertly seasoned the dish. “This looks amazing.”
She smirked but didn’t look up. “Told you.”
Soon, the table was set, and Harry found himself staring at a meal that would have put anything the Dursleys ever made to shame. There was perfectly roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, buttery green beans, and even warm dinner rolls.
They sat across from each other, and Evelyn lifted her glass. “To you, birthday boy.”
Harry clinked his glass against hers. “To me.”
As they ate, Harry felt something settle in his chest—a quiet, steady warmth. The kind that came with knowing he was exactly where he was meant to be.
After dinner, they moved back to the living room, finishing off the evening with a slice of treacle tart (which Evelyn had conveniently bought earlier). Just as they were finishing up, there was a soft whoosh of flames from the fireplace, followed by the appearance of a rolled parchment on the mantelpiece.
Harry frowned, standing up and grabbing it. “It’s from Dumbledore.”
Evelyn straightened, watching as he unrolled the letter. His eyes moved across the page, his expression shifting from curiosity to something more unreadable.
“What does it say?” she asked.
Harry cleared his throat and read aloud:
Dear Harry,
I trust this letter finds you well. As you are aware, the summer holidays will soon come to an end, and it is imperative that we ensure your safe return to headquarters before the school term begins. I will be arriving at Privet Drive within the next few days to escort you to a secure location. Be prepared to leave upon my arrival.
Until then, take care.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledor e
A heavy silence settled over the room.
“Well,” Evelyn said after a moment, “that’s… vague.”
Harry let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, no kidding.”
Evelyn chewed on her bottom lip. “He’s expecting you to be at the Dursleys’.”
Harry nodded slowly, then folded the letter and set it down on the coffee table. “I’ll have to write back. Tell him I’m not there.”
Evelyn hesitated. “Are you going to tell him where you are?”
Harry looked at her, then shook his head. “No. Not yet.”
Something flickered in Evelyn’s expression—something unreadable—but she nodded. “Alright.”
Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, quickly scrawling a response:
Professor Dumbledore,
I received your letter. I just wanted to let you know that I’m not at Privet Drive. I’m safe, but I won’t be there when you arrive.
Let me know what I should do next.
Harry
He sealed the letter and stood, grabbing Hedwig’s cage. The snowy owl hooted softly, ruffling her feathers as he tied the parchment to her leg.
“Take this to Dumbledore,” he murmured. “And be careful.”
Hedwig nipped at his finger affectionately before taking off through the open window, disappearing into the night.
Harry exhaled slowly and turned back to Evelyn. She was watching him closely, her expression unreadable.
“Well,” he said, sitting back down, “that should be interesting.”
Evelyn snorted. “Understatement.”
They sat in silence for a moment before Evelyn nudged his foot with hers. “Hey.”
He glanced up.
“Happy birthday, Harry.”
A small smile tugged at his lips as he leaned forward to give her a kiss. “Thanks, Eve.”
And despite everything—the uncertainty, the secrecy, the weight of the future—Harry found that, for once, he wasn’t dreading what came next. Because for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t facing it alone.
Chapter 42: A Cold Visit to Privet Drive
Chapter Text
The following morning, Harry awoke to sunlight streaming through the curtains and the faint sounds of movement from the kitchen. He stretched, still feeling the warmth of last night’s dinner and celebration lingering in his mind.
Evelyn had done so much to make his birthday special—more than he’d ever expected. And now, with Dumbledore’s letter hanging over them, reality was creeping back in.
Pushing himself out of bed, he quickly changed into a fresh shirt and made his way to the kitchen, where he found Evelyn already awake, stirring a cup of tea.
“Morning,” she greeted, glancing up at him.
“Morning,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat at the table. “Did Hedwig come back yet?”
Evelyn shook her head. “Not yet. But she’s smart—she’ll be fine.”
Harry nodded, though he still felt a bit uneasy about it.
Evelyn slid a plate toward him, filled with scrambled eggs and toast. “Eat.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is this part of the whole ‘making sure I don’t starve’ thing?”
“Absolutely,” she said without missing a beat, smirking as she took a sip of tea.
Harry chuckled, digging into his breakfast. The food was simple but good, and as they sat in quiet companionship, he found himself appreciating the normalcy of it all.
But eventually, the unspoken weight of last night’s letter settled between them, and Evelyn was the first to break the silence.
“So,” she started, setting her mug down. “What are you thinking?”
Harry exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I dunno. I guess I just don’t like not knowing what Dumbledore’s planning.” He frowned. “I’m sick of him being vague.”
Evelyn nodded. “He obviously has something in mind, but whether he tells you what it is…” She trailed off, her meaning clear.
Harry huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well, wouldn’t be the first time.”
They sat in silence for a moment before Evelyn hesitated, then spoke again. “Are you sure about not telling him where you are?”
Harry looked at her carefully. “Yeah. At least, not yet. It’s not that I don’t trust him , but… I like that we have this. That this is ours .”
Evelyn studied him for a long moment, something softening in her expression. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Me too.”
_____________
The next few days passed in an odd sort of limbo. Harry and Evelyn continued their usual routine—eating together, training in the afternoons, and occasionally heading into the city for errands—but a lingering anticipation remained.
When Hedwig finally returned, swooping through the window with a reply from Dumbledore, they both knew things were about to change.
Harry unrolled the parchment, reading aloud:
Harry,
I am relieved to hear that you are safe. While your absence from Privet Drive is not what I had anticipated, I trust that you are in good hands. However, I must ask that you tell me where you are and allow me to come collect you.
There are matters of great importance to discuss before the summer’s end and I assure you, you will be safer at headquarters.
Take care until then.
Albus Dumbledore
Evelyn frowned. “That’s still pretty vague.”
Harry let out a breath. “Yeah. But at least he’s not demanding I go back.”
She tilted her head, considering. “He’s leaving room for you to make the next move.”
Harry nodded, staring at the letter. “What does he mean by ‘headquarters’?”
Evelyn grinned, “He’s talking about the Order of the Phoenix.”
Harry only blinked in confusion.
“The Order was founded by Dumbledore at the start of the first war. It’s a group of vigilantes, all super loyal to Dumbledore. Your mum and dad were members in the first war.”
“They were?”
“Yeah, and in the books the Weasley’s and Hermione all stayed at headquarters over this summer. Headquarters is Sirius’ house in London. I’m betting that’s why he hasn’t been in contact this summer. Ron and Hermione too, we haven’t heard a word from them since they left. Dumbledore won’t let anyone from headquarters contact you.”
Harry sighed, whatever Dumbledore was planning, it was only a matter of time before things shifted again. But for now, at least, he and Evelyn had this moment.
And for once, Harry wasn’t in a rush to let it go.
Harry tapped his fingers against the edge of the parchment, frowning in thought. The idea of finally learning more about his parents’ past, about the Order of the Phoenix, was tempting. But the thought of leaving this —the peace, the independence, the normalcy he had with Evelyn—made him hesitate.
“What are you thinking?” Evelyn asked, watching him closely.
He exhaled. “That if I go, everything changes.”
Evelyn nodded slowly. “It will. But, Harry… this was always going to happen. Dumbledore was never going to leave you alone forever. And if you go to headquarters, you might get answers. More than I can tell you. About your parents. About Sirius.”
Harry looked down at the letter again, rereading Dumbledore’s words.
Allow me to come collect you.
A part of him bristled at the phrasing. Dumbledore wasn’t demanding , but he wasn’t exactly asking , either. And if he went, there was no guarantee he’d be able to come back here.
“I don’t want to just… leave,” Harry admitted.
“You don’t have to,” Evelyn said. “Not yet, at least. You still have a choice.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
They sat in silence for a few moments before Harry sighed and reached for a fresh piece of parchment.
“I’ll write back,” he said. “But I’m not telling him where I am. Not yet.”
Harry’s reply was short but firm:
Professor Dumbledore,
I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine where I am. I’d like to know more about the Order, but I need to understand what’s happening first. Why is it so important that I go to headquarters now?
I’ll be in touch.
Harry
He read it over twice before tying it to Hedwig’s leg.
“Take this to Dumbledore,” he said quietly. Hedwig gave him a soft nip of understanding before flying off into the night.
As he watched her go, a strange sense of finality settled over him. No matter what Dumbledore’s next response would be, Harry knew one thing for certain—his summer was no longer entirely his own.
He turned back to Evelyn, who was watching him carefully.
“Now we wait,” she said.
Harry nodded, knowing that whatever happened next, it was only the beginning.
_____________
The morning was unusually quiet, the kind of stillness that put Harry on edge. He sat at the kitchen table, absently flipping through The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5 , while Evelyn sipped her tea across from him.
“I just realized,” Harry muttered, rubbing his forehead. “I left some of my school books at the Dursleys’.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “You’re just now realizing that?”
“I wasn’t exactly in a rush to go back there, was I?” he grumbled.
Evelyn leaned forward, setting her cup down. “How are you planning to get them? You can’t exactly stroll up to their doorstep.”
Harry hesitated. He didn’t want to ask for help—not when he’d spent weeks feeling the freest he ever had. But the thought of going back, even for a few minutes, made his stomach churn.
“I could take a Portkey,” he said finally. “Get in, grab my stuff, get out.”
Evelyn frowned. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“It’s fine,” Harry assured her, already standing up. “I’ll be quick.”
Evelyn didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she retrieved an old teacup from the cupboard and, with a few murmured words and a flick of her wand, transformed it into a Portkey.
“Just touch it when you’re ready,” she said, holding it out to him.
Harry exhaled and placed his hand on the cup. A sharp pull behind his navel later, and he was gone.
Harry landed with a jolt in the overgrown grass of the Dursleys’ backyard. He straightened quickly, scanning his surroundings. The house was as unwelcoming as ever—curtains drawn, perfectly trimmed hedges standing stiffly in the summer heat. It felt strange being back after so many weeks away.
He slipped through the back door, careful not to make any noise. The house smelled the same—overly sanitized, as if trying to erase any trace that he’d ever lived there. It was eerily silent, which meant either the Dursleys were out, or they were pretending he didn’t exist. Either way, it made things easier.
Upstairs in his room, everything was as he’d left it. His trunk had been shoved into the corner, but when he flipped it open, his missing books were there. He gathered them quickly, stuffing them into his bag. He was about to leave when a movement outside the window caught his eye.
Dudley was in the front garden, kicking at a loose stone on the pavement. He looked bored, hunched over in his oversized clothes. Harry hesitated. He had no reason to go outside, but a nagging voice in his head told him to check on his cousin anyway.
With a sigh, he slung the bag over his shoulder and made his way downstairs. He slipped out the front door, keeping to the shadows.
“Oi, Dudley,” he called softly.
Dudley turned, his piggy eyes narrowing. “What are you doing here?”
“Just picking up my stuff,” Harry muttered. “Why are you out here alone?”
Dudley scowled. “None of your business, freak.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Right. Whatever.” He turned to leave and then the streetlights flickered out.
A chill ran through the air. Harry froze. He knew that feeling.
Dementors.
“Dudley,” he hissed, his heart hammering. “Get inside. Now.”
“What?”
“Go—”
The temperature plummeted. A shadow loomed at the end of the driveway, gliding closer. Another followed.
Harry didn’t waste time. “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
The stag burst forth, brilliant and silver, charging at the Dementors. They recoiled, but one of them was already too close.
Dudley let out a strangled cry and collapsed, his hands clutching at his head. His breath came in panicked gasps.
Harry gritted his teeth and pushed his magic harder. The Patronus surged forward, driving the Dementors back. A moment later, they vanished into the darkness.
Harry dropped to Dudley’s side. “Dudley? Can you hear me?”
Dudley groaned, his face pale and clammy. He looked utterly terrified.
Panic clawed at Harry’s chest. He had to get out of here. Now.
And then, without thinking, his magic flared inside his body and with a crack, the Dursleys’ neighborhood vanished.
He landed hard on the wooden floor of Evelyn’s apartment. His entire body was trembling, his heart still racing. He barely registered the sound of Evelyn’s chair scraping back as she leapt to her feet.
“Harry?” She rushed over. “What happened?”
Harry took a shuddering breath. “Dementors,” he rasped. “At the Dursleys’. I didn’t— I wasn’t thinking. I just— I Apparated.”
Evelyn’s eyes widened. “You apparated?”
He nodded numbly. “I wasn’t even trying. I just— I panicked, and my magic brought me here.”
She grabbed his shoulders, steadying him. “You’re safe now. Just breathe.”
Harry exhaled shakily. But just as the tension began to ease, there was a sharp tap-tap-tap at the window.
An official-looking owl perched outside, a letter tied to its leg.
Harry swallowed hard. He had a terrible feeling about this.
With stiff fingers, he untied the envelope and ripped it open.
His stomach dropped as he read:
Dear Mr. Potter,
We have received intelligence that you performed a Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past eleven this morning in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle.
As this is a clear violation of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, you are hereby expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Further to this, representatives of the Ministry will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand.
You are invited to present yourself at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 A.M. on the twelfth of August.
Hoping you are well,
Mafalda Hopkirk
Improper Use of Magic Office
The letter slipped from Harry’s fingers. His blood ran cold.
Expelled.
He was expelled from Hogwarts.
Chapter 43: Grimmauld Place
Chapter Text
Evelyn snatched the letter off the floor, reading it quickly. Her expression darkened.
“They can’t do this,” she said, her voice sharp. “This is ridiculous! You were defending yourself.”
Harry barely heard her. His head was spinning. Hogwarts—gone. His wand—gone. His entire future—gone.
The idea of never returning to Hogwarts, of losing his place in the wizarding world, made his stomach churn.
“I—” His voice came out hoarse. “I need to—”
Another hoot hoot interrupted him, swooping through the open window. This one was different—familiar. It was Fawkes.
Harry grabbed the letter attached to the phoenix’s leg, his hands still trembling as he unfolded it.
Harry,
Remain where you are. Do not attempt to go anywhere.
As per Ministry procedure, they will attempt to make an example of you, but I will ensure that does not happen. You are not expelled. However, I must know where you are staying in order to come and collect you.
Send a response immediately.
Albus Dumbledore
Evelyn read over his shoulder. “He’s coming.”
Harry swallowed hard. “He wants me to tell him where I am.”
Evelyn hesitated, then squared her shoulders. “Then tell him. You can’t go through this alone.”
Harry nodded numbly and grabbed a piece of parchment. His hand shook slightly as he wrote:
Professor,
I’m staying with Evelyn McCrae at her apartment on the outskirts of Orsett, London.
Harry
He tied the note to Fawkes’ leg, and the phoenix gave a soft trill before vanishing in a burst of flames.
The moment the bird disappeared, Evelyn turned to him. “Are you okay?”
“No,” Harry admitted. His head was still pounding, his heart racing from the shock of the past few minutes. “But I don’t think I have a choice.”
Evelyn reached out, gripping his wrist. “We’ll figure this out. You’re not alone.”
He nodded, still unable to shake the sick feeling in his stomach.
They didn’t have to wait long. Less than twenty minutes later, another crack echoed through the apartment.
Dumbledore had arrived.
___________
The air in the apartment shifted the moment Dumbledore arrived. The soft crack of his Apparition wasn’t loud, but it carried weight, a signal that things were about to change.
Harry and Evelyn turned toward the sudden presence near the fireplace, where Dumbledore now stood, his deep blue robes shimmering faintly in the dim light. His silver beard flowed over his chest, and his half-moon spectacles reflected the flickering glow from the lamps. Despite his usual calm demeanor, his eyes were sharp as they settled on Harry.
“Good evening, Harry,” Dumbledore said quietly, his voice as unreadable as ever. His gaze flickered toward Evelyn for a fraction of a second before returning to Harry. “I am relieved to see you are unharmed.”
Harry swallowed, still trying to push down the lingering panic from the Dementor attack. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I guess I got lucky.”
Dumbledore studied him carefully. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
Harry hesitated, unsure of where to start, but Evelyn nudged him slightly. Taking a deep breath, he recounted everything—how he had gone back to Privet Drive to grab his books, how Dudley had been taunting him outside, and then the sudden, bone-chilling cold that signaled the Dementors’ arrival.
“I didn’t have a choice,” Harry said, his voice gaining strength. “I had to use the Patronus, or Dudley and I would’ve been—” He broke off, shaking his head.
“I understand,” Dumbledore said, his tone grave. “And I am certain that, given the circumstances, any reasonable person would agree.”
Evelyn scoffed. “Then why are they expelling him?”
Dumbledore sighed, his expression turning unreadable. “The Ministry is no longer as… impartial as it once was. Cornelius Fudge sees Harry as a threat. He is using this incident to undermine him, to paint him as reckless and unstable.”
Harry clenched his fists. “That’s not fair.”
“No, it is not,” Dumbledore agreed. “Which is why we must ensure that the disciplinary hearing goes in your favor. I have already arranged for you to have a proper defense, and I will be there to speak on your behalf.”
That should have been reassuring, but something about Dumbledore’s tone made Harry uneasy. It was the same distant, calculated voice he had used at the end of last year, when he had refused to meet Harry’s eyes in the hospital wing.
Before Harry could say anything, Evelyn crossed her arms. “And what happens now?”
Dumbledore finally turned his attention to her. “Now, I must take Harry somewhere safer.”
Evelyn’s expression darkened. “Then I’m coming too.”
Dumbledore arched a brow. “That will not be necessary.”
Evelyn lifted her chin defiantly. “It is to me. I’ve been helping Harry all summer. I’m not just going to let you take him away without knowing what’s going on.”
Harry blinked at her in surprise. He had expected some resistance from Dumbledore, but he hadn’t expected Evelyn to be this firm.
Dumbledore regarded her for a long moment before responding. “Miss McCrae, I understand your concern, but where I am taking Harry is a location that must remain confidential. The fewer people who know of it, the safer he will be.”
Evelyn scoffed. “Oh, please. It’s Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, isn’t it?”
Dumbledore’s expression remained carefully neutral, but Harry saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes.
“I told him,” Evelyn said before Dumbledore could ask. “I know about the Order of the Phoenix, I know about the Fidelius Charm, and I know Sirius is letting you all use his house. So you can drop the secrecy act.”
A long silence stretched between them. Then, Dumbledore sighed.
“You are remarkably well-informed,” he admitted.
Evelyn smirked slightly. “I tend to be.”
Dumbledore studied her carefully, as though weighing his options. Finally, he turned back to Harry. “Are you certain you trust Miss McCrae?”
Harry didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Another pause. Then Dumbledore inclined his head. “Very well. If you both insist, then you will come with us.”
Evelyn’s shoulders relaxed, but Harry wasn’t entirely sure if it was because she was relieved or because she had just won an argument against Dumbledore.
“When do we leave?” Evelyn asked.
Dumbledore pulled out his wand. “Now.”
With a flick of his wand, the room was suddenly bathed in a cool, bluish glow. A moment later, an old, rusted key materialized in his hand.
“This will act as a Portkey,” he said, extending it toward them. “Once activated, it will transport us directly to headquarters.”
Harry and Evelyn exchanged a glance before stepping closer. Harry placed a cautious hand on the key, feeling the rough metal against his fingertips. Evelyn did the same, her expression unreadable.
“On the count of three,” Dumbledore instructed. “One… two… three.”
The familiar, stomach-lurching sensation of Portkey travel overtook them. The world blurred, colors bleeding together in a whirl of motion. Harry barely had time to inhale before his feet slammed against solid ground.
He staggered slightly, Evelyn catching herself beside him.
They had arrived.
The air was thick with dust, and the dimly lit hallway they now stood in felt both grand and suffocating at the same time. Dark wooden floors stretched out beneath their feet, and the walls were adorned with faded tapestries. A musty scent lingered in the air, mingling with something faintly metallic.
Harry didn’t need Evelyn to tell him where they were.
“Welcome,” Dumbledore said, slipping his wand into his robes, “to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.”
Before Harry or Evelyn could respond, hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway ahead.
“Harry!”
Mrs. Weasley appeared from around the corner, already looking relieved to see him. She had visited two weeks ago, bringing food and checking in on everyone, but now, with Harry finally at headquarters, she seemed even more at ease.
She pulled him into a quick, firm hug. “I’m glad you’re here, dear. We were all so worried.”
Harry smiled slightly. “I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley.”
Her eyes flickered toward Evelyn, and this time, she gave her a small nod instead of the guarded look she had worn during their first meeting.
“Evelyn,” she greeted kindly. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You too, Mrs. Weasley,” Evelyn said.
Before anyone could say anything more, a loud voice boomed from the stairwell.
“WELL, WELL, IF IT ISN’T THE BLOOD TRAITOR WEASLEYS AND THEIR FILTHY LITTLE FRIENDS—”
Sirius’ mother’s portrait had woken up.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” a familiar voice groaned from behind them.
Sirius.
The tall, disheveled man strode into the hallway, his expression one of pure irritation as he aimed his wand at the curtains covering the portrait. With a flick, they snapped shut, muffling the enraged screeching.
Sirius turned back to them, running a hand through his shoulder-length hair. His gaze landed on Harry first, and his frustration melted into a grin.
“Harry,” he said, stepping forward.
“Hey, Sirius.”
Sirius pulled him into a quick, firm hug. “Glad you made it.”
When they pulled back, his gaze shifted to Evelyn.
“Evelyn,” he greeted with a nod. “Didn’t expect to see you here so soon.”
Evelyn smirked slightly. “Yeah, well, I don’t take no for an answer.”
Sirius chuckled. “That you don’t.”
Dumbledore cleared his throat. “There will be plenty of time for catching up later. For now, I believe it would be best if Harry got some rest. Tomorrow will be an important day.”
The weight of the upcoming hearing settled over the room.
Harry sighed. “Yeah. I guess I should.”
“Don’t worry,” Evelyn murmured, nudging him slightly. “You’ve got this.”
For the first time that evening, Harry almost believed it.
—
Evelyn trailed behind Harry as they followed Mrs. Weasley through the narrow, dimly lit hallways of Grimmauld Place. The house had an oppressive feel to it, its walls lined with dark wooden panels and ancient, peeling wallpaper. Even though she knew exactly where they were, experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely. It was one thing to read about Grimmauld Place and another to walk through its eerie corridors.
The place reeked of disuse, and a fine layer of dust coated nearly every surface. The faint scent of something metallic lingered in the air, as if the house itself had soaked in centuries of blood and betrayal.
Mrs. Weasley led them toward the kitchen, and as soon as they stepped inside, Evelyn took in the sight of the long wooden table, mismatched chairs, and a flickering lantern overhead. The room was warmer than the rest of the house, filled with the comforting aroma of freshly cooked stew.
The moment they entered, Fred and George looked up from where they were sitting.
“Look who finally decided to show up,” Fred said, grinning.
“Took you long enough, mate,” George added, leaning back in his chair.
Harry rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile on his face. “Nice to see you too.”
Evelyn smirked at the twins. “You two been keeping busy?”
Fred raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you have no idea.”
“We’ll tell you all about it later,” George added, his eyes glinting mischievously.
Before Evelyn could press for details, a loud clatter interrupted them as Ron and Hermione rushed into the kitchen.
“Hey Evelyn,” Hermione said, finally turning to her, smiling. “I didn’t know you’d be coming here, too. I thought you would’ve stayed at your place.”
Evelyn shrugged. “Dumbledore wasn’t exactly keen on it, but I wasn’t going to let Harry go off on his own.”
Ron snorted. “Reckon Dumbledore didn’t stand a chance, then.”
Evelyn smirked. “Nope.”
Before anyone could respond, a deep, familiar voice cut through the room.
“Alright, alright, let the poor boy breathe.”
Just then, the door creaked open, and Remus Lupin stepped into the kitchen, looking just as tired and worn as Evelyn remembered him from the books. His threadbare robes hung loosely on his frame, and there was a faint shadow of stubble on his face.
“Ah, good,” he said, his warm gaze settling on Harry and Evelyn. “You’re here.”
“Professor,” Harry greeted.
“You’re not my student anymore, Harry,” Lupin reminded him with a small smile. “Just Remus is fine.”
Harry nodded, though he still seemed hesitant to call his former professor by his first name.
Lupin, still smiling, gestured toward the table. “We were just about to sit down for dinner. You must be hungry after your trip.”
Evelyn and Harry exchanged glances before nodding.
As they all settled around the long wooden table, the conversation slowly began to flow. The tension from earlier eased slightly, and despite the eerie atmosphere of Grimmauld Place, the warmth of shared company made it bearable.
But even as they laughed and ate, Evelyn knew that this moment of peace wouldn’t last. The real fight was only just beginning.
___________
After dinner, Harry, Evelyn, Ron, and Hermione lingered in the kitchen, but it was clear something was about to happen. The adults began exchanging glances—Sirius, Lupin, and Mrs. Weasley in particular—before Mrs. Weasley finally spoke.
“Alright, you lot. Upstairs. Now.”
Harry frowned. “Why?”
Mrs. Weasley crossed her arms. “Because the Order is having a meeting, and it’s not for children.”
Ron groaned. “Mum, come on!”
“You already know we’re going to find out anyway,” Fred said from his seat.
“Yeah,” George added. “Might as well let us stay and save us the trouble of eavesdropping.”
Mrs. Weasley scowled. “You will not be eavesdropping!”
Sirius, however, was watching the exchange with clear amusement. “Molly, they’re not kids anymore. At least let them know what’s going on.”
“They are still underage!” Mrs. Weasley snapped.
“Yeah?” Fred quipped. “Well, so’s Harry, and he’s the one You-Know-Who actually wants dead. Don’t you think he has a right to know what’s going on?”
Evelyn leaned back in her chair, studying the argument. She already knew the outcome—Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the twins would find a way to listen, no matter what—but experiencing it firsthand was interesting. Mrs. Weasley was fiercely protective, but Sirius, in contrast, wanted Harry to be informed, to know what they were fighting for.
“Enough,” Lupin finally said, cutting through the bickering. “Molly, they will find out one way or another. If we tell them, at least we can control how much information they get.”
Mrs. Weasley looked furious, but after a moment, she sighed in defeat. “Fine. But just the basics.”
Sirius grinned triumphantly and gestured for the teenagers to sit back down.
“The Order of the Phoenix was formed during the last war,” Lupin explained. “Dumbledore started it to fight Voldemort outside of the Ministry’s influence. Now that he’s back, we’re rebuilding it.”
“Who’s in it?” Hermione asked eagerly.
“Many of the original members,” Lupin said. “Myself, Sirius, Molly and Arthur, Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tonks—”
“And Snape,” Sirius said bitterly.
Harry’s head snapped up. “Snape?!”
“Yes,” Lupin said calmly. “Snape is a spy for the Order, just as he was before.”
Harry scowled. “He’s probably feeding information to Voldemort.”
Sirius smirked. “I’d love to believe that, but unfortunately, Dumbledore trusts him.”
Evelyn, who had remained silent so far, finally spoke. “What about the Ministry? Are they involved?”
Lupin shook his head. “No. In fact, the Ministry is doing everything they can to deny Voldemort’s return. That’s the problem. Fudge is terrified of Dumbledore taking power, so he’s actively working against us.”
“They’re calling me a liar,” Harry muttered.
“They are,” Lupin confirmed. “Which means we have to be careful. The Order is working to counter Voldemort, but we can’t do it publicly—not yet.”
Evelyn already knew all this, but hearing it laid out so plainly made the situation feel even heavier. The wizarding world was dangerously blind to the truth, and that ignorance would cost lives.
“Enough,” Mrs. Weasley said. “That’s all you’re getting. Now, off to bed.”
The twins groaned but didn’t argue. Harry, however, looked dissatisfied.
Evelyn nudged him. “You know as much as you’re going to get for now. Let’s go.”
Harry sighed, but he followed her and the others out of the kitchen.
Later that night, Evelyn sat on the bed in the room she was sharing with Hermione, staring up at the ceiling.
“You’re quiet,” Hermione observed from her own bed.
Evelyn turned her head. “Just thinking.”
Hermione hummed. “About what?”
Evelyn hesitated. She could tell Hermione about everything—about how she knew what was coming, how she knew that things were going to get worse before they got better—but she couldn’t. Not yet.
“Just everything with the Order,” Evelyn finally said. “It’s a lot to take in.”
Hermione nodded. “Yeah. It is.”
A comfortable silence settled between them, but Evelyn’s mind was still racing. She knew what the next few months would bring—Umbridge, the DA, the Department of Mysteries. And beyond that… Sirius.
Her chest tightened.
She wouldn’t let it happen.
She wouldn’t lose him.
Not this time.
_________
The next morning, Harry, Evelyn, Ron, and Hermione were unceremoniously put to work helping clean Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Mrs. Weasley had decided that if they were going to stay there, they were going to make themselves useful.
“This place is disgusting,” Ron muttered as he wiped a thick layer of dust off an old cabinet.
“It’s been abandoned for years,” Hermione reminded him, scrubbing at the floor. “Of course, it’s going to be dirty.”
Evelyn, meanwhile, was busy helping Harry remove an infestation of doxies from behind the curtains. “You know,” she said as she shook a heavy can of doxycide, “I think the doxies might be preferable to some of the other things we’ve found in this house.”
Harry snorted. “Yeah. I’d rather deal with these than that cursed music box Fred almost knocked over.”
“Or the entire drawer of flesh-eating silverware,” Ron added from across the room.
“Or the talking mirror that called me ‘common’ this morning,” Hermione muttered, scowling.
The doxy in front of Evelyn lunged at her, but she quickly sprayed it, watching as it twitched and fell limp. She picked it up carefully with a gloved hand and tossed it into the rubbish bin.
As she turned to Harry, she noticed he looked troubled. His movements were tense, his jaw set in frustration. She nudged him lightly. “You okay?”
Harry sighed, setting the can of doxycide down. “Yeah. Just… this place. Sirius hates it here. I can tell.”
Evelyn frowned. She knew Harry wanted more for Sirius—wanted him to be free, to be happy—but Sirius was trapped in his own family’s house, a place filled with memories of a life he’d tried to escape.
“He’s been locked up for so long,” Harry continued. “First in Azkaban, now here. It’s not fair.”
“No, it’s not,” Evelyn agreed. She wished she could tell him the truth—that Sirius’s time here was running out, that he needed to be careful—but she couldn’t. Not yet.
Instead, she placed a hand on his arm. “We’ll figure something out.”
Harry gave her a small, grateful smile.
Before they could say anything else, a loud crash echoed from the hallway.
“GEORGE!” Mrs. Weasley’s voice rang out.
“I didn’t do it!” George called back.
Fred’s laughter suggested otherwise.
Evelyn sighed, brushing dust off her sleeves. “I think we’ve got bigger problems than doxies.”
Later that evening, after a long day of scrubbing and clearing out old, cursed objects, Evelyn found herself wandering into the sitting room, where Sirius was staring into the fire, his expression distant.
She hesitated before stepping inside. “Mind some company?”
Sirius glanced over, then shrugged. “Go ahead.”
She sat down across from him, watching as he swirled the drink in his hand. The firelight cast flickering shadows across his face, highlighting the deep-set exhaustion in his features.
“You hate being here,” Evelyn said softly.
Sirius let out a dry chuckle. “That obvious, huh?”
She tilted her head. “To me, yeah.”
Sirius exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “This house is a prison. I spent my childhood here, hating every second of it, and now I’m back—trapped again.”
Evelyn studied him. She’d read about Sirius’s past, but seeing it firsthand, hearing the bitterness in his voice, made it feel so much heavier.
“You’re not your family,” she said.
He huffed. “Tell that to the portrait of my dear old mum.”
“She’s wrong,” Evelyn said firmly. “About you, about everything. You’re not like them.”
Sirius looked at her, something unreadable in his expression. After a long moment, he sighed. “Maybe.”
Evelyn leaned forward. “Not maybe. Definitely.”
A ghost of a smile flickered across Sirius’s lips, and for a brief moment, the weight on his shoulders seemed just a little lighter.
_________
The next morning, Evelyn was in the hallway with Hermione when they heard loud muttering and the sound of something shuffling behind them. Turning around, she spotted a hunched figure creeping through the shadows.
“Kreacher,” Hermione whispered.
The house-elf was filthy, his skin sagging and grey with age. His tattered tea towel barely covered his thin frame, and his large, bulbous eyes gleamed in the dim lighting as he glared at the two girls.
“Filthy half-bloods,” Kreacher muttered under his breath. “Blood traitors, mudbloods, dishonoring the house of my Mistress.”
Evelyn raised a brow. “You know we can hear you, right?”
Kreacher sneered. “The young master brings shame upon his noble family, bringing unworthy filth into the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.”
Evelyn crossed her arms. “Oh, I like him,” she said dryly. “So polite.”
Hermione, on the other hand, looked deeply troubled. “He’s been living alone in this house for years. He’s clearly not well—”
“I’m right here, blood traitor!” Kreacher snapped.
Hermione huffed. “You shouldn’t be so mean, Evelyn. He’s—”
“A nightmare?” Evelyn offered. “A racist little nightmare?”
Kreacher muttered something unintelligible before disappearing into the shadows again, still grumbling about blood traitors and unworthy guests.
Hermione sighed. “I still think we should be kind to him.”
Evelyn watched Kreacher go. She wasn’t sure about kindness, but one thing was certain—he was dangerous. And they would need to be careful.
__________
That evening, after another long day of cleaning, everyone gathered around the dining table, eating a meal prepared under Mrs. Weasley’s watchful eye. Sirius had been unusually quiet throughout dinner, and Evelyn noticed Harry throwing him concerned glances.
After they finished eating, Sirius stood abruptly. “Come on, there’s something I want to show you all.”
Curious, Evelyn followed as he led them into the drawing room. He stopped before a large, faded tapestry covering the wall. With a flick of his wand, he pulled back the curtain, revealing a sprawling family tree woven in gold thread.
“The Black family tapestry,” Sirius muttered, his voice laced with bitterness. “Centuries of pure-blood tradition, lies, and bigotry all in one.”
Evelyn’s eyes roamed over the names, recognizing many from history—Malfoys, Lestranges, Rosiers, Notts.
“Where’s your name?” Ron asked.
Sirius snorted and pointed at a burnt hole in the fabric. “Right there. My dear mother blasted me off the family tree the moment I ran away.”
Harry frowned. “Where did you go?”
“To James’ house,” Sirius said with a small smile. “His parents took me in. Treated me like their own.”
Evelyn watched the emotions flicker across Sirius’s face—resentment, sadness, nostalgia. It was clear that, despite everything, this place still held power over him.
He suddenly gestured to another burnt spot. “And there’s Andromeda—my cousin, Tonks’ mother. She married a Muggle-born and got blasted off too. The only decent Black family members seem to get burned off the tree.”
“What about Narcissa and Bellatrix?” Hermione asked, pointing at their names.
Sirius’s face darkened. “Bellatrix is in Azkaban, exactly where she belongs. Narcissa married Lucius Malfoy and kept her head down.”
Evelyn shivered slightly at Bellatrix’s name. It was strange, seeing it in a more personal context. She had always been one of the most terrifying figures in the books, but now, standing in front of her actual family history, it felt even more real.
Sirius exhaled heavily. “This is what I was born into. A family obsessed with blood purity, convinced they were better than everyone else.”
Harry glanced at him. “You’re not like them.”
Sirius gave him a wry smile. “No. I suppose I’m not.”
Chapter 44: Harry’s Trial
Chapter Text
The next afternoon, after another long day of unpacking and attempting to make the house a little less suffocating, Evelyn found herself alone in the dimly lit hallway of Grimmauld Place. She had been thinking about Kreacher all morning—his spiteful words, his bitter hatred, and most of all, his deep sorrow.
It was difficult to ignore Kreacher’s pain, even if it manifested in the most unpleasant ways. She’d been listening to his mumbles and grumbles as they went about their chores, and it struck her—he wasn’t just angry. He was grieving. Grieving the loss of his mistress, the family he’d served so loyally, and perhaps even Regulus. She could sense it beneath his venomous remarks.
Evelyn made up her mind. She had to speak to him. Not to make amends for the cruelty he had shown her or the others, but to acknowledge the bigger, hidden truth that he carried.
She found him in the kitchen, hunched over an old pot, muttering to himself about the state of the house. He glanced up at her warily as she entered.
“What do you want, blood traitor?” Kreacher spat, his eyes narrowing.
Evelyn stood still, her posture unyielding but calm. “Kreacher, I’m not here to argue with you. I know things about your family. About Regulus.”
The house-elf froze, his large ears twitching slightly. “You know nothing of Master Regulus,” he snarled, the defensiveness clear in his voice.
“I know that he gave you an order,” Evelyn said quietly, keeping her tone gentle but firm. “To destroy something. Something dangerous. A Horcrux.”
Kreacher’s face went pale at the mention of the word. His eyes widened, and for a moment, Evelyn could see a flicker of deep, haunted regret in them. He gripped the edge of the counter, his fingers trembling. “You—how do you know of that?” he demanded, his voice shaking.
Evelyn stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I know what happened to Regulus, Kreacher. I know what he asked of you. And I’m sorry… I’m sorry for what you had to go through.”
Kreacher’s whole demeanor seemed to shift, his shoulders sagging under the weight of her words. “Master Regulus told me to destroy it,” he whispered, almost too softly for Evelyn to hear. “But I couldn’t. I tried, but the magic was too strong. And then he… he died.” His voice cracked as he spoke Regulus’s name, and for the first time, Evelyn saw the raw sorrow he had been hiding.
“I know you tried, Kreacher,” Evelyn said, her voice soft. “I understand. But if you want, I can help. When I’m able to, I can help you destroy the Horcrux. You won’t have to carry that burden anymore.”
Kreacher’s eyes widened, a mixture of disbelief and hope flickering in them. He looked as if he were about to say something but stopped himself. He gazed at Evelyn for a long moment, then slowly nodded. “If you help me,” he muttered, “I will serve you better. No more insults. I will not speak against you.”
Evelyn smiled softly, genuinely touched. “That’s all I ask. No more insults. I don’t expect you to like me, but I want us to be able to work together. And we’ll figure this out, Kreacher. Together.”
The house-elf straightened, though his posture remained hunched. He gave her a begrudging nod. “I will… do as you ask. I will serve you, Mistress.” The words came out reluctantly but were still spoken with an unmistakable sense of respect.
Evelyn smiled again, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. She hadn’t expected Kreacher to be so… reasonable. But perhaps, deep down, his loyalty to Regulus still outweighed his bitterness.
As she turned to leave, Kreacher spoke again, his voice barely audible.
“You are not like them, Mistress. You are not like the others.”
Evelyn turned back to him, her heart heavy with the unexpected empathy she felt for the old elf. “Thank you, Kreacher. That means more to me than you know.”
She left the kitchen quietly, feeling a strange sense of peace settling over her. She had done something right, something that mattered, and she knew it would make a difference—if not to anyone else, then at least to Kreacher.
—
The next few days passed in a quiet, almost peaceful lull. Evelyn continued to settle into Grimmauld Place, helping with cleaning and spending time with Harry, Sirius, and the others. It was odd, though. She noticed something subtle happening in Kreacher’s behavior.
He wasn’t quite as hostile to her anymore. In fact, she caught him looking at her with something resembling respect several times. The sneers that had once been his default expression were now accompanied by the occasional nod or quiet, almost courteous greeting.
At one point, she even heard him mutter under his breath, “Mistress is kind. Mistress is different. Mistress will help.”
It was as if he was trying to reconcile the deep bitterness he had carried with the possibility of redemption. Evelyn could tell that his walls were slowly beginning to crack. And although the others hadn’t noticed yet, she suspected that, somehow, he was beginning to trust her.
That night, when Kreacher handed her a cup of tea—something he had refused to do before—Evelyn simply smiled and nodded her thanks. The gesture wasn’t grand, but it was enough to show her that they had made progress. He had made progress.
It wasn’t much, but it was something.
The next day, when she walked into the kitchen, Kreacher was already there, polishing silverware with surprising care. She greeted him with a smile, but he only glanced up briefly before muttering, “Good morning, Mistress.”
The others were still oblivious to the change. But to Evelyn, it was a quiet victory.
And one step closer to completing Regulus’s mission.
_______________
Harry had never imagined that his life would lead to a courtroom in the Ministry of Magic, let alone a trial like this. But here he was, standing before the Wizengamot, every eye in the room fixed on him like a hawk. The trial had started off with tension in the air, but now, the oppressive silence was so thick that Harry could almost taste it. It was suffocating, his every breath shallow, as he waited for what came next.
The trial had dragged on for hours. He’d been questioned, challenged, and scrutinized about the events surrounding the use of magic in the presence of Muggles. The entire world seemed to revolve around the one Patronus he had cast in an attempt to protect Dudley from Dementors. He hadn’t expected mercy, and from the looks of it, he wouldn’t get it. But there was still something inside him, some stubborn glimmer of hope that refused to go out completely.
It was difficult, almost impossible, to focus on the proceedings as they were discussed. He could feel the pressure of the room—the weight of the accusations and the knowledge that the very people who had the power to make or break his future were sitting right before him.
But it wasn’t just the Wizengamot that stood against him. The Ministry, with all its ridiculous regulations, wanted him punished for defending himself and his cousin against the very creatures that had been terrorizing the Wizarding World. The irony of it made his head spin.
Dumbledore was standing behind him, unwavering and calm, but Harry could sense his quiet strength. Even when things seemed bleak, Dumbledore’s presence acted as a buffer against the harshness of the Ministry’s system.
Then, it happened—the moment Harry had been dreading but had been expecting.
The head of the Wizengamot, a stern woman with silver hair and a no-nonsense attitude, stood and addressed the court. Her cold gaze fell on Harry as she spoke, her voice crisp and clear.
“Harry James Potter,” she began, her tone colder than anything Harry had encountered in a long time, “you stand accused of breaking the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Magic. You, in clear violation of Ministry guidelines, used a Patronus Charm in the presence of Muggles.”
Harry felt a chill creep through his body, the weight of her words sinking in. He had expected this—after all, there was no question that he had used magic. But the very idea that the Ministry could care more about a single use of magic than the danger to Muggles and wizards alike was maddening.
“The charge,” she continued, “is one that has already been discussed at length. The Ministry’s stance on underage magic is clear. And it is our duty to uphold the law, even in the face of so-called ‘extraordinary circumstances.’”
Harry clenched his jaw. He could hear the mocking undertone in her voice, as if she truly believed that using a Patronus to protect his cousin wasn’t an extraordinary circumstance. In that moment, it felt like the Ministry was determined to find him guilty, no matter the truth.
“I must remind the court,” she added, “that underage magic is strictly prohibited. The use of a Patronus Charm by a wizard of Harry Potter’s age—especially in the presence of Muggles—puts our entire community at risk. His actions,” she emphasized, “are irresponsible, reckless, and a clear violation of the law.”
Harry barely heard her words anymore. He was struggling to stay calm, his fists clenched so tightly his nails were digging into his palms. His mind kept going back to that night—Dudley’s panicked face, the feeling of desperation as the Dementors closed in. He had done what he thought was right. He had saved his cousin, whether the Ministry liked it or not.
“Order! Order!” the head of the Wizengamot called, waving her hand. “We will now hear from the defense.”
Dumbledore stepped forward, calm as ever, his robes rustling slightly as he moved. He looked at Harry with a reassuring glance before addressing the court.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the Wizengamot,” Dumbledore began, his voice clear and strong, “I ask that you consider the facts of this case with the gravity they deserve. Harry Potter did not use the Patronus Charm frivolously. He used it to protect a Muggle, his cousin, from the threat of Dementors—dangerous creatures known to be under the influence of Lord Voldemort.”
A murmur of disbelief rippled through the room. The Ministry officials shifted uncomfortably in their seats, clearly not prepared for Dumbledore’s blunt approach. He paused for a moment, allowing the words to sink in.
“It is true that Harry is underage, and it is true that the use of magic outside school is strictly forbidden,” Dumbledore continued. “But in this case, I implore you to look beyond the rules. Harry was faced with a life-threatening situation, one in which he had no choice but to act.”
Minister Fudge was clearly irritated by this defense. “You are asking this court to make an exception, Albus?” he demanded, her voice cold and accusing. “The law is the law. There are no exceptions.”
Dumbledore gave a soft, almost imperceptible shake of his head. “I am not asking for exceptions. I am simply requesting that you weigh Harry’s actions with the understanding that he acted out of necessity, not recklessness. He has shown more bravery, more wisdom in this situation than many adults would have.”
There was a tense silence as the court absorbed Dumbledore’s words. Some of the members of the Wizengamot looked uncertain now, perhaps considering the situation with more care. Others, however, remained resolute in their opinions.
The head of the Wizengamot finally addressed Harry again. “We will now deliberate and return with a verdict.”
Harry’s heart pounded as he waited, his mind racing. The room seemed to close in on him, the walls pressing in with each passing second. He had no idea what would happen next, but every possibility seemed worse than the last. He had come here hoping for some sort of understanding, but the Ministry had shown only its cold, bureaucratic side. There was no compassion, no sense of what was truly right or wrong.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the head of the Wizengamot stood again. Harry’s breath caught in his throat, and he forced himself to look at her.
“The Wizengamot has deliberated,” she announced, “and we have reached a verdict.”
The room held its breath, every eye trained on the woman who would decide his fate.
“Harry James Potter,” she said, her tone harsh, “you have been found guilty of breaking the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Magic. However, in light of the extraordinary circumstances surrounding the event and the threat to a Muggle life, we have decided that your punishment will be limited to a formal warning. The charges will be dropped.”
A cold shiver ran down Harry’s spine as he processed the verdict. He had been found guilty, but at least the worst wasn’t coming. He wouldn’t be expelled from Hogwarts. The momentary relief was like a breath of fresh air, but he couldn’t let it cloud his judgment.
The head of the Wizengamot gave a curt nod. “You will be placed under probation for the remainder of the year. Any further violations will result in immediate expulsion from Hogwarts.”
Dumbledore stepped forward again, his presence calm and reassuring. “Thank you for your consideration, and for recognizing the extenuating circumstances.”
Harry felt Dumbledore’s hand on his shoulder, a reassuring weight, as the tension in the room slowly began to lift. The verdict was over. He had made it through. But he knew, deep down, that things had only just begun. The Ministry’s judgment might be over for now, but there were darker, more dangerous forces at play in the Wizarding World, and they weren’t going to let him go so easily.
As the proceedings ended, Harry was left standing in the middle of the courtroom, trying to piece together what had just happened. His future—his very freedom—had just been decided. And for the first time, Harry realized that the battle was far from over.
Dumbledore leaned in, his voice low. “You’ve done well, Harry. This is just one chapter. The next one will be harder.”
Harry nodded, the weight of it all pressing down on him. But for now, he was free. For now, the worst was behind him.
Chapter 45: The Last of Summer
Chapter Text
As Harry and Dumbledore stepped out of the courtroom and into the dimly lit corridors of the Ministry of Magic, Harry let out a slow breath. The tension from the trial still clung to his skin, a reminder of just how close he had come to being expelled from Hogwarts. Despite being found guilty, he was still allowed to return, and for now, that was all that mattered.
Dumbledore walked ahead, silent as ever, his deep blue robes swishing with each step. Harry kept pace beside him, his eyes darting around the Ministry as they made their way toward the fireplaces that would take them back to Grimmauld Place. The usual hustle and bustle of the Ministry felt different today, more watchful. People whispered as he passed, some exchanging glances, others avoiding eye contact entirely. It was clear that word of his trial had spread.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her.
A short, squat woman in a garish pink cardigan stood just outside an office door, watching him with small, beady eyes. Her tightly curled hair framed her round face, which wore an expression of sickly sweetness that didn’t quite reach her eyes. As Harry passed, she gave a slow, knowing smile.
Harry felt a chill. He didn’t know who she was, but something about her immediately put him on edge.
Dumbledore didn’t stop walking, and neither did Harry, but he whispered, “Professor, who is that?”
Dumbledore didn’t glance back. “Dolores Umbridge,” he said simply. “Senior Undersecretary to the Minister.”
Harry frowned. “Why is she looking at me like that?”
Dumbledore’s expression remained unreadable. “I suspect you will find out soon enough.”
Harry cast one last glance over his shoulder, meeting Umbridge’s gaze for a split second before she turned away, disappearing into the office. A sense of unease settled in Harry’s stomach. He had the distinct feeling that this wasn’t the last time he would see her.
Two days passed in relative peace. Life at Grimmauld Place had settled into a routine: Molly Weasley bustled around, ensuring everyone was well-fed, while the younger members of the house occupied themselves with various tasks or enjoyed the last few days of summer before returning to Hogwarts.
Evelyn and Harry spent most of their time together, whether it was practicing spells, helping clean the old house, or simply stealing quiet moments away from the others. Their relationship had grown even stronger since Harry’s hearing, and though there were still things to worry about, being together made everything feel more manageable.
That afternoon, however, as they were making their way toward the drawing room, they found Sirius sitting alone, slumped in a worn-out armchair, staring into the unlit fireplace. His usually mischievous expression was absent, replaced by something far more somber.
Evelyn immediately hesitated, sensing that this wasn’t just another of Sirius’ brooding moments—this was something more. She nudged Harry lightly. “I’ll give you two some time,” she murmured, before slipping out of the room.
Harry approached his godfather, frowning. “Sirius?”
Sirius didn’t look up at first, but after a moment, he sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “I hate that you have to go back to Hogwarts,” he admitted. “I know you have to, but… I like having you here. Feels like I finally get to be what I should have been a long time ago.”
Harry sat down across from him. “You are what you should be. You’re my godfather.”
Sirius gave him a small, sad smile. “Yeah, but we lost too much time, didn’t we?”
Harry swallowed hard, feeling the weight of those words. “I don’t want to go back either,” he admitted. “Not really. Not when things are finally… good.”
They sat in silence for a while. There wasn’t really a need for words; the understanding between them was enough.
Finally, Sirius exhaled and smirked slightly. “Just promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Write to me. Tell me everything. And if you ever need to get away… you know where to find me.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. I do.”
For the first time in a while, Sirius’ smile felt real.
___________
The next morning, the arrival of their Hogwarts letters shook Grimmauld Place out of its quiet lull.
Mrs. Weasley nearly dropped her breakfast tray when Errol, the Weasley family owl, came crashing through the window with an undignified squawk. Another owl followed, gracefully delivering the rest of the letters before swooping off again.
Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Evelyn grabbed their letters eagerly.
“Well, go on, then,” Ginny said impatiently.
Ron tore open his envelope, scanning through the usual booklist—until he reached something that made his stomach drop.
Dear Mr. Weasley,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been made a Gryffindor prefect for the upcoming school year.
Ron stared at the letter. Then at Harry. Then back at the letter.
“WHAT?!”
Hermione let out a delighted squeal as she looked at Ron’s letter, clutching her own. “I’m a prefect too!”
Mrs. Weasley clapped her hands together in delight. “Oh, Ron, that’s wonderful!” She rushed forward and pulled him into a tight hug. “A prefect in the family! I knew you’d make me proud!”
Ron looked stunned, as if he wasn’t sure whether to be happy or horrified. “Er… thanks?”
Harry felt an odd mixture of emotions—he was happy for Ron, of course, but he couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t been chosen. He was sure, given everything that had happened in the past few years, that he would have been the obvious choice.
Before he could dwell on it, Fred and George marched into the room, spotting the shiny prefect badge in Ron’s hand.
“NO!” Fred howled dramatically, clutching his chest. “Our little Ronniekins? A prefect?”
George shook his head in mock disappointment. “I knew something was off about him. Always suspected he might turn into Percy one day.”
Ron scowled, but his ears turned red.
Mrs. Weasley beamed. “This calls for a celebration!”
That night, Grimmauld Place was filled with laughter and chatter as Mrs. Weasley prepared a small feast in honor of Ron and Hermione. Even Sirius seemed to be in better spirits, drinking firewhisky with Remus and exchanging stories from their time at Hogwarts.
Harry sat next to Evelyn, watching as everyone celebrated. He wasn’t angry about Ron being a prefect—he was just confused. Dumbledore must have had a reason for choosing Ron instead of him.
Evelyn seemed to notice his thoughts. She nudged him gently. “You okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
“Don’t overthink it,” she said softly. “You don’t need a badge to prove who you are, Harry.”
He looked at her, seeing the sincerity in her gaze, and he let himself smile. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
The celebration had died down, and most of Grimmauld Place had gone quiet. The only sound was the occasional creak of the old house settling and the distant murmur of the adults still chatting downstairs.
Harry lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His mind was still turning over the events of the night—Ron and Hermione becoming prefects, the upcoming school year, and the odd sense of unease that had been lingering since his trial.
A soft knock at his door pulled him from his thoughts.
He sat up as Evelyn slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind her. She was wearing one of his oversized sweaters, her hair slightly tousled from the long day.
“Hey,” she whispered, a small smile on her lips.
“Hey,” he replied, shifting to sit on the edge of his bed.
She walked over, settling beside him. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“Not really. You?”
She shrugged. “Figured you might need some company.”
Harry felt warmth spread through his chest. He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. “Thanks.”
For a moment, they just sat there in silence. Then Evelyn turned to face him, her expression unreadable.
“You know, it’s been weeks since we had a moment like this,” she murmured.
Harry’s heart picked up a little. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed just being close to her without everything else weighing down on them.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Feels like we’ve barely had time to breathe.”
Evelyn smiled softly. “Then let’s just… take a moment.”
She leaned in, and Harry met her halfway. The kiss was slow and warm, a welcome distraction from everything else. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer as she deepened the kiss, fingers tangling in his hair.
Just as things were getting heated, the door creaked open.
Harry and Evelyn sprang apart as Ron stood in the doorway, blinking sleepily.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “I was just coming to bed, not expecting to walk in on—” He waved a hand vaguely. “Whatever that was.”
Evelyn, face flushed, cleared her throat. “Er—goodnight, Ron,” she said quickly, standing up and straightening her sweater.
“Yeah, yeah, goodnight,” Ron grumbled, trudging toward his bed as Evelyn slipped out of the room.
Harry flopped back against his pillows, exhaling. “Brilliant timing, Ron.”
Ron snorted as he pulled the blankets over himself. “I live to annoy you, mate.”
______________
The next three days passed quickly, and before they knew it, the morning of September 1st had arrived.
Mrs. Weasley fussed over everyone at breakfast, ensuring they had all their belongings packed. Harry and Evelyn double-checked their trunks before heading downstairs, where the rest of the group was gathering.
“Everyone ready?” Mr. Weasley asked, glancing at his watch.
They left Grimmauld Place in small groups, using separate taxis to get to King’s Cross Station. When Harry, Evelyn, Ron, and Hermione arrived, they made their way through the crowd toward Platform 9 ¾, slipping through the barrier onto the familiar platform.
The Hogwarts Express gleamed under the morning sun, steam billowing into the air as students hurried about, saying goodbyes to their families.
As they moved through the crowd, Harry felt a familiar presence nearby. His gaze flickered to the edge of the platform, where a large, shaggy black dog stood watching him.
“Sirius,” he murmured.
Evelyn nudged him. “He’s really pushing it, huh?”
Harry couldn’t help but smile. It was risky for Sirius to be here, but the gesture meant everything. He gave a small nod to his godfather before turning back to Ron and Hermione.
“Come on, let’s find a compartment,” Hermione said.
They climbed aboard the train and managed to secure a larger compartment toward the middle. It wasn’t long before their Slytherin friends joined them—Draco, Pansy, Evan, Blaise, and Theo. Daphne was apparently off with the other fifth year girls.
“This might be the first year we’ve all sat together from the start,” Pansy noted, tucking her legs beneath her as she settled in.
“We’re making history,” Evan smirked.
The train ride was surprisingly light-hearted. They played a few rounds of Exploding Snap, traded stories about their summers, and debated what new teachers might be joining Hogwarts this year.
Halfway through the journey, the compartment door slid open, revealing a girl with waist-length blonde hair and large, dreamy eyes. She wore Ravenclaw robes and held The Quibbler upside down in her hands.
“Mind if I sit here?” she asked in a soft, airy voice.
Harry and Evelyn exchanged a glance before Evelyn grinned. “Of course, Luna.”
Luna Loovegood stepped inside, sitting gracefully beside Evelyn.
“You know her?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.
Evelyn shot him a knowing smile. “I have a good feeling about her.”
Luna turned to Evelyn with a small smile of her own, as if she understood more than she let on.
The rest of the train ride was spent in comfortable conversation, and for the first time in weeks, things felt… normal.
But deep down, Harry had a feeling that normal wouldn’t last for long.
Chapter 46: Back at Hogwarts
Chapter Text
The Great Hall of Hogwarts was just as magnificent as ever, its enchanted ceiling mirroring the darkening sky outside, dotted with the first twinkling stars of the evening. The golden plates gleamed under the candlelight, and the Sorting Hat had just finished its song when Professor McGonagall began calling the names of the new first-years to be sorted.
Evelyn sat at the Slytherin table beside Pansy and Blaise, watching as the Sorting Ceremony progressed. Across the hall, Harry was seated between Hermione and Ron at the Gryffindor table, occasionally glancing her way. Their train ride had been enjoyable, and Evelyn was still buzzing from her conversation with Luna. It was strange, meeting someone else who understood the bigger picture—who knew that history was already written but still had the power to change it.
Once the last first-year had been sorted, Dumbledore stood. The chatter in the hall quieted at once, students turning their attention toward the headmaster. He spread his arms in his usual welcoming manner.
“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our delicious feast, I have a few start-of-term notices to share with you.”
Evelyn’s stomach tensed as she glanced toward the staff table. There, seated beside Professor Snape, was the newly appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—Dolores Umbridge. She looked exactly as Evelyn remembered from the books: short, stocky, dressed in a frilly pink cardigan, her squat face stretched into a forced, saccharine smile.
Dumbledore continued, “Firstly, I would like to remind you all that the Forbidden Forest is, as always, strictly out of bounds to students. Mr. Filch has also asked me to tell you that a list of banned items is available for perusal in his office.”
Evelyn could barely focus on the usual announcements, her attention fixed on Umbridge. She knew what was coming.
“And now, I am pleased to welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Dolores Umbridge.”
A polite round of applause spread through the hall, but it was mostly subdued. The teachers clapped briefly, and a few students at the Slytherin table—most notably Draco—were clapping with real enthusiasm.
Then, just as Evelyn expected, Umbridge stood. The sight of her alone made Evelyn grip her fork tightly. The woman cleared her throat with an irritating little hem-hem, and every head in the Great Hall turned toward her.
“Thank you, Headmaster, for your kind introduction.”
Evelyn barely needed to listen—she had practically memorized Umbridge’s speech from the book. Still, she forced herself to pay attention, noting the reactions of those around her.
As Umbridge droned on about “progress for progress’s sake” and “preserving what ought to be preserved,” Hermione’s face twisted into a deep scowl at the Gryffindor table, while Ron barely concealed his distaste. Harry’s jaw was clenched, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
At the Slytherin table, reactions varied. Draco and a few of his cronies seemed pleased—probably because they knew she would be a Ministry puppet. Pansy rolled her eyes, already bored. Evan Rosier Jr., sitting across from Evelyn, had an expression of vague curiosity, as if assessing Umbridge like a chess piece.
“It is my firm belief that the Ministry should be more involved at Hogwarts,” Umbridge continued, her voice sickly sweet. “And with the Minister’s guidance, we will ensure that students receive a proper, disciplined education.”
By the time she sat back down, Evelyn wanted nothing more than to storm out of the Great Hall. But she knew better. She schooled her expression into one of indifference, picking at her food as the feast officially began.
She glanced at Harry again. Their eyes met across the hall, and Evelyn could tell he was barely containing his frustration.
“It’s starting,” she thought grimly.
Harry nodded his head towards her, as if he could hear her thoughts.
____________
After the feast, the Slytherins made their way down to the dungeons. The torches lining the stone walls cast flickering shadows as they descended into their underground home. The common room was just as Evelyn remembered—dark green lamps glowing softly, the black leather sofas arranged around the fireplace, and the high-backed emerald armchairs adding a sense of importance to the space.
As soon as they entered, Draco and Pansy took their places near the fireplace, where a group of younger students had gathered, curious about their new surroundings.
Draco clapped his hands together. “Alright, first-years, listen up. You’re in Slytherin now, which means you have a reputation to uphold.”
Pansy smirked, leaning against the fireplace. “We’re not like the other houses. We look out for each other, and we don’t go running to teachers over every little problem. You’ll learn soon enough that Slytherin has its own way of doing things.”
Evelyn crossed her arms, watching as the younger students listened with wide eyes. Some of them nodded eagerly, while others shifted uncomfortably.
Draco continued, “There’s something of a hierarchy in Slytherin House. The seventh years are at the top—Cassius Warrington is their current leader. Sixth years follow—Adrian Pucey runs that lot. Fifth years come next, and that’s where Evelyn comes in.”
Several first-years turned to look at her. Evelyn raised an eyebrow but didn’t correct Draco. He wasn’t wrong. She had naturally stepped into the role last year, and no one had challenged her since.
“Basically,” Pansy added with a grin, “it’s best to stay on Evelyn’s good side. She can be… persuasive.”
There were a few nervous chuckles, and Evelyn smirked. “As long as you don’t act like idiots, you’ll be fine.”
Draco continued to explain the unwritten rules of Slytherin House—how they stuck together, how they presented a united front to the rest of the school, and most importantly, how they handled conflicts internally rather than involving teachers.
When the informal meeting ended, the first-years scurried off to their dorms, no doubt overwhelmed by their new reality.
Blaise chuckled. “Ah, tradition.”
Pansy grinned. “That was fun.”
Evelyn smirked. “Always is.”
Pansy plopped down beside them. “Merlin, I forgot how clueless first-years can be.”
Draco smirked. “They’ll learn soon enough.”
Evelyn sat in an armchair, her mind elsewhere. Umbridge’s speech replayed in her head. This year was going to be different—difficult.
Evan leaned against the arm of her chair. “She’s going to be a problem,” he muttered quietly so only Evelyn could hear.
Evelyn nodded. “Yeah. But I think it’ll be an entertaining problem.”
Evan smirked. “Can’t argue with that.”
The Slytherin girls’ dormitory was surprisingly cozy despite its stone walls and underground setting. That Saturday night, Evelyn, Pansy, and Daphne lounged in their dorm, enjoying their last bit of freedom before classes started.
Pansy was sprawled on Evelyn’s bed, flipping through a copy of Witch Weekly. “Alright,” she said, “let’s take bets. Who’s going to have the biggest meltdown this year?”
Daphne, sitting cross-legged on her own bed, smirked. “Hermione. She’s going to snap under the pressure of being a prefect and taking like twelve classes.”
Pansy laughed. “True. But I’m putting my money on Ron. He’s already bitter about Harry getting all the attention. I give it a month before he starts whining.”
Evelyn smirked, sitting at the edge of her bed. “You’re both wrong. It’s going to be Umbridge.”
Daphne raised an eyebrow. “Bold choice.”
Pansy sat up. “How do you figure?”
Evelyn leaned back on her elbows. “She thinks she’s in control, but she has no idea what she’s up against. The whole school is going to hate her by the end of the year.”
Pansy grinned. “I like the way you think, Evelyn.”
The night continued with laughter and gossip, and for a little while, Evelyn let herself forget about the storm that was coming.
____________
Monday morning arrived, bringing with it the usual chaos of the first day back. Breakfast in the Great Hall was noisy, students chattering excitedly as timetables were handed out.
Evelyn sat with Pansy and Blaise at the Slytherin table, sipping her tea as she examined her schedule. She and Harry had several classes together, which made things easier.
“Double Potions first,” Blaise said. “Brilliant way to start the year.”
Evelyn smirked. “At least we’re good at it.”
After breakfast, they made their way to the dungeons.
Snape swept into the room with his usual dramatic flair, his robes billowing behind him. He wasted no time in pairing students off, and Evelyn found herself next to Evan.
“You know,” Evan muttered as they set up their cauldrons, “for once, I wouldn’t mind a class where he didn’t just favor the Slytherins outright. It’s getting predictable.”
Evelyn smirked. “You say that now, but wait until Neville messes up his potion.”
Sure enough, fifteen minutes in, Snape was already hovering near Neville’s desk, sneering at his work. Evelyn caught Harry’s glare from across the room and shot him an amused look.
By the end of class, Evelyn and Evan had brewed a near-perfect Draught of Peace, while Neville Longbottom had managed to turn his potion into something resembling melted cheese.
Snape waved his wand, vanishing the contents of Neville’s cauldron. “Zero marks, Longbottom,” he said coolly. “Try not to poison anyone next time.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. Some things never changed.
Professor McGonagall was as strict as ever, wasting no time in assigning them complicated Vanishing Spells. Evelyn sat next to Blaise, while Harry and Ron shared a desk across the aisle.
“Remember,” McGonagall said, “the Vanishing Spell requires absolute concentration. Even the slightest distraction will result in—”
Ron’s toad, which he had been attempting to vanish, suddenly expanded to twice its size and let out a loud croak.
“—unintended consequences,” McGonagall finished, sighing.
Evelyn bit back a laugh. Blaise leaned over. “Five sickles says he does it again.”
“You’re on,” Evelyn whispered back.
By the end of class, Ron had yet to successfully vanish his toad, but at least he hadn’t made it any bigger.
Flitwick’s class was as enjoyable as ever. They spent most of the lesson practicing advanced summoning charms, which Evelyn found ridiculously easy.
At one point, she caught Harry staring at her across the room. When she raised an eyebrow, he just smirked.
After class, he fell into step beside her. “You’re showing off,” he teased.
Evelyn grinned. “It’s not my fault you’re slow, Harry.”
“Oi,” Ron cut in, “I’d like to see you try vanishing a toad.”
Evelyn snorted. “Pass.”
The day passed quickly, and by dinner, everyone was exhausted but satisfied. The only thing left was Defense Against the Dark Arts the next day and Evelyn knew that was when things would really get interesting.
___________
Tuesday morning arrived, and with it, their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson under Professor Umbridge. The moment Evelyn stepped into the classroom, she could tell it was going to be a disaster.
The desks were arranged in perfect rows, the walls spotless, and a large framed decree hung at the front of the room:
“Theory Only – No Practical Magic to Be Performed in This Class Without Express Permission.”
Evelyn exchanged a look with Harry as they took their seats. Pansy and Daphne sat to her left, while Draco lounged in his chair behind them.
Umbridge stood at the front of the classroom, her sickly sweet smile in place as she clapped her hands together. “Good morning, class!”
A few students hesitantly mumbled, “Good morning, Professor Umbridge.”
Her smile widened. “Now, now, let’s try that again, shall we? Good morning, class.”
The class muttered the greeting again, louder this time, and Umbridge nodded in satisfaction.
“Wonderful! Now, welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I trust you all have your copies of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?”
There was a rustling of bags as students pulled out their textbooks. Evelyn already knew this book was useless—it was full of overly cautious, Ministry-approved nonsense about self-defense that wouldn’t help anyone in a real fight.
Umbridge continued, “Our lesson today—and indeed, all our lessons—will focus on the theory behind defensive spells. We will be studying these concepts in great depth so that you may understand the principles of defense without the need for reckless and dangerous practical demonstrations.”
There was a beat of silence before Hermione’s hand shot up.
Umbridge’s smile tightened. “Yes, Miss Granger?”
“Professor,” Hermione said, “how are we supposed to learn defensive magic without practicing it?”
Umbridge let out a high-pitched giggle. “Oh, Miss Granger, there will be no need for practice. You will learn all the necessary theory to pass your O.W.L.s.”
Evelyn narrowed her eyes. This wasn’t just about preparing them for exams—this was about control.
Hermione didn’t back down. “But surely—”
“That is enough questions for now, Miss Granger,” Umbridge interrupted. “We mustn’t disrupt the lesson.”
Harry was sitting rigid in his chair, his jaw clenched. Evelyn shot him a warning look—don’t take the bait.
The rest of the lesson was excruciating. Umbridge made them copy down passages from the textbook, and any student who dared to ask a question was shut down immediately.
By the time the bell rang, Evelyn was practically vibrating with frustration.
“This is a joke,” she muttered as they filed out into the corridor.
“It’s worse than a joke,” Harry said darkly. “It’s dangerous.”
And for once, Evelyn completely agreed with him.
That night, the Slytherin common room was buzzing with conversation. The fifth years had gathered around the fireplace, discussing Umbridge’s ridiculous lesson.
“Well, that was a waste of time,” Blaise said, stretching out on the couch.
“It was infuriating,” Daphne agreed. “She wouldn’t even let us ask about practical spells!”
Draco, who had been quiet for most of the conversation, smirked. “I don’t see the problem. It means we don’t have to do anything in that class. Easiest O.W.L. ever.”
Evelyn turned to look at him. “You think not learning to defend yourself is a good thing?”
Draco shrugged. “I’m just saying, if she wants to hand us a free pass, why not take it?”
Pansy leaned forward. “Evelyn’s right. If the Ministry is stopping us from learning magic that could protect us, there’s a reason. And I don’t like it.”
Draco frowned, clearly thinking it over. “Alright, fine. But what are we supposed to do about it?”
Evelyn glanced around the room. “We’ll figure something out.”
Draco followed her gaze. “If you’re thinking of teaming up with Harry on this, you might want to be careful.”
Evelyn smirked. “Draco, when am I not careful?”
Blaise chuckled. “I don’t know, Evelyn. You and Harry constantly sneaking off together doesn’t exactly scream ‘careful.’”
Evelyn just rolled her eyes. The year was only just beginning, but she already knew one thing—this was going to be a fight.
And she was ready for it.
________________
The days following their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson only reinforced how much of a problem Umbridge was going to be.
In Potions, Snape continued to be his usual strict self, giving them an impossibly difficult potion to brew. Evelyn, paired with Blaise, managed well enough, but she could see that Harry was struggling under Snape’s watchful eye.
Transfiguration was more intense than usual, with McGonagall focusing heavily on the upcoming O.W.L.s. She assigned them several complicated spells to master, warning that anyone who fell behind would regret it.
Charms with Flitwick was at least somewhat enjoyable, as they worked on refining their Summoning Charms. Evelyn noticed Pansy keeping an eye on her, which likely meant she had taken the “unofficial Slytherin hierarchy” joke a little too seriously.
But the real tension remained around Defense Against the Dark Arts.
By the end of the week, students across all houses were beginning to grumble. Even some of the Slytherins, usually content to let things slide, had started questioning whether this “theory-only” approach was going to do them any good.
And then, at dinner on Friday evening, things took an even more unsettling turn.
The Great Hall was packed with students, the usual loud chatter filling the air as food appeared on the golden plates. Evelyn was seated with her usual group—Pansy, Draco, Blaise, Theo, and Daphne—when the doors at the front of the hall swung open.
Professor Umbridge entered, carrying a long piece of parchment. The moment she reached the front of the room, Dumbledore rose from his seat.
“May I?” he asked, gesturing toward the parchment.
Umbridge gave a sweet but firm smile. “Thank you, Headmaster, but I believe I can handle this myself.”
Dumbledore said nothing, simply returning to his seat as Umbridge turned to address the students.
“Ahem,” she cleared her throat, her high-pitched voice carrying across the room. “As some of you may have noticed, the Ministry of Magic has taken an increased interest in the goings-on at Hogwarts this year. To ensure the continued safety and proper education of all students, the Minister has approved a new set of guidelines regarding school policies.”
She unrolled the parchment.
“As such, it is my duty to inform you that, effective immediately, I have been appointed as Hogwarts’ first High Inquisitor.”
A wave of murmurs and whispers swept through the Great Hall. Evelyn’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.
“High Inquisitor?” Theo muttered beside her. “What does that mean?”
Pansy leaned forward. “It means she has authority over the other professors now,” she said, frowning. “This is bad.”
At the Gryffindor table, Evelyn caught sight of Hermione whispering urgently to Harry and Ron.
Umbridge, either ignoring or enjoying the chaos she had just caused, continued, “My new role allows me to conduct evaluations of all teaching staff, ensuring that Hogwarts meets the Ministry’s new, higher standards of education. Any and all concerns regarding classroom instruction may be reported directly to my office.”
Evelyn clenched her jaw.
This wasn’t just about controlling the students anymore. Umbridge was planning to take control of the school itself.
She glanced at the head table. McGonagall looked furious, her lips pressed together in a tight line. Even Snape, who rarely reacted to anything, was eyeing Umbridge with suspicion.
Dumbledore, however, remained perfectly calm. His blue eyes twinkled as he folded his hands in front of him, watching Umbridge as though she were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
“Thank you for your attention,” Umbridge said, rolling up the parchment. “That will be all.”
With that, she turned and left the hall, her pink cardigan swaying as she walked.
As soon as the doors closed behind her, the murmuring exploded into outright discussion.
“This is ridiculous,” Blaise muttered, shaking his head. “What’s next? Is she going to start spying on students too?”
Evelyn didn’t answer.
Because she had read Order of the Phoenix, and she already knew—this was just the beginning.
Chapter 47: Decrees & Rebellion
Chapter Text
It had been a long week, and Evelyn was starting to feel the pressure of balancing her usual Slytherin responsibilities with her growing frustration over Umbridge’s increasing control of the school. So when she and Harry found a quiet moment alone after dinner, hidden away in one of Hogwarts’ many secret alcoves, she gladly let herself get lost in the moment.
Harry’s hands were warm on her waist, pulling her closer as they kissed. Evelyn tangled her fingers in his hair, tilting her head to deepen it. It was easy to forget everything else when it was just the two of them—no politics, no house rivalries, no Umbridge. Just them.
And then the worst possible thing happened.
“Ahem.”
The sound of someone clearing their throat sent a bolt of panic through Evelyn. She and Harry jerked apart, both turning to see none other than Professor Umbridge standing in the dim corridor, her arms crossed and her lips pursed in a smug little smile.
Evelyn felt the blood drain from her face.
“Well, well,” Umbridge said sweetly, clasping her hands together. “What do we have here?”
Harry straightened, quickly putting some distance between them. “We weren’t doing anything wrong,” he said, voice carefully neutral.
Umbridge’s beady eyes gleamed with something close to satisfaction. “That remains to be seen, Mr. Potter,” she said in that sickly-sweet voice. “It is entirely inappropriate for students to engage in… improper behavior within school grounds. I do hope you both understand how unbecoming this is.”
Evelyn forced herself to stay composed. “We weren’t breaking any rules,” she said smoothly. “Unless there’s some kind of law against kissing now?”
Umbridge’s smile widened, and that was when Evelyn knew they were in trouble.
“Oh, but that is the beauty of rules, Miss McCrae,” Umbridge said, her voice dripping with false kindness. “They can always be amended when necessary.”
Harry looked like he was trying very hard not to scowl. “So, what? You’re going to make a rule just to punish us?”
Umbridge let out a delighted little chuckle. “No, no, my dear boy,” she said, adjusting the pink bow at her throat. “Not just you. For the betterment of the entire student body. I do believe it’s time to enforce a stricter sense of propriety at this school.”
Evelyn exchanged a glance with Harry, and they both knew exactly what was coming:
Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four
A week later, it was official.
As soon as students entered the Great Hall for breakfast, a large piece of parchment had been nailed to the board at the front of the room.
By order of the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts:
Students of opposite genders are required to maintain a minimum distance of two feet between themselves at all times.
This applies to all common areas, classrooms, and hallways.
Violators will be subject to disciplinary action.
The response was immediate.
“You’ve got to be joking,” Evelyn heard Blaise mutter as he read the notice.
“This is actually insane,” Theo said flatly. “What’s next, separate tables for boys and girls?”
Pansy looked more amused than anything. “Honestly, I’d love to see how she plans to enforce this with the couples around school. You know people will just sneak around more.”
Evelyn groaned, rubbing her temples. “This is our fault,” she muttered to Harry, who was scowling at the notice.
“No,” Harry said. “This is her fault for being an absolute lunatic.”
The decree quickly disrupted daily life.
By Monday morning, seating arrangements had been forcibly changed in every class. Boys and girls were no longer allowed to sit together, which meant Evelyn was no longer seated next to Harry in their shared lessons.
Instead, she was paired with either Pansy or Daphne, depending on the class.
She had a feeling Umbridge was very pleased with herself.
Evelyn, however, was not.
The only small silver lining was that this ridiculous decree had made the entire school—even most of the Slytherins—start questioning Umbridge’s motives.
And Evelyn knew that once people started questioning authority, things had a way of spiraling out of control.
____________
Monday morning brought with it a palpable sense of irritation throughout the castle. The new seating arrangements had been finalized, and it seemed that no one—not even the professors—was pleased about the change.
In Transfiguration, McGonagall pursed her lips at the sight of the boys and girls sitting in strictly separate rows, but she said nothing about it. Instead, she carried on with the lesson, though there was an undeniable stiffness to her movements. Evelyn had ended up next to Daphne, which wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t Harry. She caught his eye a few times during the class, exchanging silent looks of frustration.
In Potions, Snape didn’t even pretend to hide his distaste for the decree.
“If you lot can’t be trusted to brew a simple Draught of Peace without fainting over proximity,” he drawled, sweeping past the rows of students, “then I expect nothing but incompetence from this year’s coursework.”
Evelyn, now seated with Pansy instead of Evan, simply smirked. Snape wasn’t the type to challenge Umbridge directly, but he had a special way of making it very clear when he thought something was utterly idiotic.
By the time Charms rolled around, the separation was proving to be an actual obstacle.
“Now, pair up with the person sitting next to you,” Flitwick instructed as he introduced a new counter-jinx.
Evelyn turned to Pansy, rolling her eyes. “This is going to be a nightmare.”
Across the room, Harry was stuck with Ron, who looked equally disgruntled.
“Who cares if boys and girls sit next to each other?” Ron muttered as he flicked his wand, sending an imperfect attempt at the spell at Harry.
“Umbridge, apparently,” Harry grumbled.
Evelyn didn’t miss the way Hermione—paired with some random Ravenclaw girl—kept casting murderous glances toward the ceiling, as if mentally composing a very strongly worded letter to the Hogwarts Board of Governors.
As the week dragged on, the absurdity of the rule became more apparent. Students struggled with partner work, complaints filtered through every house, and even some of the younger Slytherins whispered about how stupid it all was.
Despite everything, Evelyn had to admit—this might just be the crack in Umbridge’s control they needed.
Because if there was one thing Hogwarts students didn’t tolerate, it was someone messing with their daily lives.
________
By Thursday evening, the school was on the verge of mutiny. The absurdity of Umbridge’s decree had reached new heights, with students actively struggling in their lessons because of the forced distance. Even the professors were losing patience. McGonagall had snapped at a group of Gryffindors for hesitating to pass materials across the aisle, Flitwick had nearly tripped over a poorly spaced seating arrangement, and Snape’s already short temper had grown dangerous.
It was time to take action.
So, after dinner, Evelyn and Harry led their friends through the dimly lit seventh-floor corridor, stopping in front of a seemingly blank stretch of wall.
“What exactly are we doing here?” Pansy asked, folding her arms.
Evelyn grinned. “Trust me.”
She turned, walking back and forth three times while concentrating on what she needed. We need a place to plan. A place to meet in secret. A place that gives us what we need.
A door appeared.
Daphne sucked in a sharp breath. “What the hell—”
Evelyn pushed the door open, revealing a massive room lined with plush seating, shelves of books, and even a few tables stacked with food and drinks.
Theo let out a low whistle. “Alright, I admit, this is impressive.”
Harry smirked, nudging Evelyn’s shoulder. “Told you she was good at finding things.”
Once everyone piled inside, Evelyn turned to face them, hands on her hips.
“Alright,” she said. “Umbridge wants to enforce ridiculous rules? Let’s give her hell.”
Pansy grinned. “I love where this is going.”
Harry nodded, catching on. “If she wants to control who sits next to who, who can touch who—we should do the exact opposite.”
Ron groaned. “So, what, we just—hold hands in front of her until she explodes?”
Pansy threw an arm around Ron’s shoulders, smirking. “Something like that, My Sweet Weasley.”
Ron turned bright red.
Theo snorted. “I’m in.” He threw a casual arm around Daphne’s waist. “Daph?”
Daphne raised an eyebrow, then smirked. “I suppose we could be convincing.”
Blaise grinned. “This is brilliant.” He suddenly turned on his heel. “Stay here—I’ll be right back.”
Evelyn frowned. “Where are you—”
Blaise was already gone, practically sprinting from the room.
“Who bets he’s fetching the twins?” Theo asked.
Pansy smirked. “Oh, I hope so.”
Moments later, the door slammed open, revealing Blaise with Fred and George Weasley in tow.
“Did someone say rebellion?” Fred asked, grinning.
George threw an arm around Evelyn’s shoulders. “We had to get involved.”
Evelyn laughed. “Of course you did.”
Fred clapped his hands together. “Alright, lovebirds, what’s the plan?”
Evelyn smirked, glancing at Harry before turning to the rest of the group.
“We turn Hogwarts into the most sickeningly affectionate place Umbridge has ever seen.”
And just like that, the rebellion had begun.
_____________
By Friday morning, Hogwarts had transformed into a battlefield of excessive affection.
It started in the Great Hall at breakfast. Everyone had agreed to sit at the Gryffindor table - albeit with some reluctance from a few Slytherin’s.
Evelyn entered the room on Harry’s arm, her head resting dramatically against his shoulder as she sighed wistfully. Across from them, Ron had thrown an arm around Pansy’s waist, pulling her closer as she fed him a piece of toast with exaggerated tenderness. Theo and Daphne were holding hands across the table, whispering in hushed, conspiratorial tones, as though they couldn’t bear to be apart.
Fred and Blaise, however, took it to another level. They sat side by side, leaning into each other, murmuring sweet nothings just loud enough for people to overhear.
“Oh, darling Blaise,” Fred crooned, “I simply can’t go a moment without your presence.”
“Fear not, my beloved,” Blaise sighed, dramatically grasping his hand. “We shall never be parted.”
A few seats down, Ginny looked up from her porridge and muttered, “You’re both so weird.”
From her usual seat at the High Table, Umbridge’s beady eyes swept over the room, nostrils flaring.
Evelyn met her gaze and smiled sweetly before lacing her fingers with Harry’s and tilting her head onto his shoulder.
Umbridge’s grip on her teacup tightened.
Perfect.
The ridiculous displays only got worse throughout the day.
By the time the first lesson started, every hallway and classroom had turned into a romantic drama. Couples—both real and fake—sat impossibly close together, whispering sweet nothings, twirling strands of hair, holding hands at all times.
The Slytherins and Gryffindors led the charge, but the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had joined in before lunch.
Theo leaned back in his seat during Potions, stretching his arm across Daphne’s shoulders.
“Miss Greengrass,” he murmured, “your presence is the only thing that keeps me sane in this cruel, cruel world.”
Daphne scoffed but didn’t shrug him off. “Try harder, Nott.”
Meanwhile, at the front of the room, Snape loomed over the class, looking absolutely murderous as he realized half his students were draped across each other like lazy cats.
“Ten points from each of you morons if you don’t sit properly,” he snapped.
Theo straightened, clearing his throat.
Evelyn caught Harry’s eye and smirked. One teacher down, one to go.
By mid-afternoon, Umbridge was seething.
Everywhere she went, she was met with sickening displays of affection.
In the corridors, students walked in pairs, hands entwined, gazing into each other’s eyes.
In the library, people were curled up too close together, whispering sweet nothings over their open books.
Even in Transfiguration, Fred and Blaise had started calling McGonagall “our dearest matchmaker”, claiming her decision to separate the houses in class was the reason they’d fallen in love.
By dinner, it was clear that Umbridge had had enough.
She stormed up to the High Table, her squat figure rigid with barely contained rage.
“This is unacceptable,” she hissed at Dumbledore, her voice sickly sweet but laced with venom. “Something must be done.”
Dumbledore merely blinked at her over his goblet. “Oh?”
“They’re MOCKING my decree!” she spat, eyes darting wildly across the room.
At that exact moment, Ron pressed a dramatic kiss to Pansy’s hand.
Umbridge’s face turned purple.
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled.
“I see no rule-breaking,” he said mildly, sipping his wine.
Umbridge let out a strangled noise before spinning on her heel and marching out of the Hall.
The moment she was gone, a triumphant cheer erupted across the room.
Evelyn high-fived Harry.
The rebellion had only just begun.
_____________
It took less than twenty-four hours for Umbridge to retaliate.
By Saturday morning, a new decree had been pinned to every noticeboard in Hogwarts.
EDUCATIONAL DECREE NUMBER TWENTY-NINE
Due to recent displays of improper behavior, new restrictions are hereby put into place. Students shall maintain a respectful distance of at least three feet from one another at all times. Any student found violating this rule shall face disciplinary action.
By order of the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts,
Dolores Jane Umbridge
Evelyn and Harry stood side by side, reading the decree over breakfast.
“Well,” Evelyn muttered, “she’s gone and done it. She’s added an extra foot of space to the decree.”
Ron snorted. “Three feet apart? All students? That’s ridiculous.”
Pansy raised an eyebrow. “How are we supposed to play Quidditch, then? Or practice dueling in class?”
“Or exist in a castle full of people?” Theo added dryly.
Evan, flipping through the Daily Prophet, sighed. “Forget that—how is she going to enforce it? Is she measuring everyone with a ruler?”
Evelyn smirked. “That would be hilarious.”
Fred and George sauntered over, grinning.
“Looks like we’ve hit a nerve, lovebirds,” Fred said, plopping down onto the bench beside Evelyn.
“Absolutely tragic,” George added. “If only there were a way to get around this little problem.”
Harry looked at Evelyn. “Do you have any ideas?”
“Oh,” Evelyn said, “I have plenty.”
By the next again Monday, the entire school was in chaos.
Umbridge had somehow roped Filch into patrolling the corridors with a measuring tape, stopping students at random to ensure they were maintaining the required distance.
It was so ridiculous that even some of the teachers had started rolling their eyes.
Professor McGonagall had flat-out ignored Umbridge’s decree, continuing to pair students together as usual. Professor Flitwick had conveniently forgotten to rearrange the desks in Charms. Even Professor Sprout had grumbled something about “not entertaining nonsense” and left her students as they were.
But Defense Against the Dark Arts was a different story.
Evelyn grimaced as she stepped into Umbridge’s classroom. The desks had been spaced out meticulously, ensuring that no two students could sit closer than three feet.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione had no choice but to sit separately.
Evelyn found herself stuck next to Daphne, while Pansy sat beside Theo.
Umbridge, dressed in a sickeningly pink cardigan, beamed at the class.
“Good morning, students.”
Silence.
“I said—good morning.”
A reluctant chorus of “Good morning, Professor Umbridge,” filled the air.
“Much better.” Umbridge clasped her hands together. “Now, today, we will be continuing with our theoretical approach to Defense Against the Dark Arts.”
Evelyn bit back a groan.
Not this again.
“I do hope you have all completed your readings,” Umbridge continued sweetly, “as today, we will be summarizing the first three chapters of Defensive Magical Theory.”
There was a loud, audible groan from the back.
Evelyn didn’t even have to turn around to know it was Ron.
Umbridge’s eyes narrowed.
“Mr. Weasley,” she said, voice tight, “do you have something to say?”
Ron scowled. “Yeah, actually. When are we gonna do real defense? Y’know—actual spells?”
Umbridge’s smile did not waver.
“There is no need for such reckless magic, Mr. Weasley,” she said. “The Ministry is confident that a theoretical approach will be sufficient for your needs.”
Hermione’s hand shot up.
Umbridge ignored her.
“I do not wish to hear any further complaints,” Umbridge continued smoothly. “Now—open your books to Chapter One and begin summarizing.”
A tense silence followed.
Evelyn turned to Daphne, who merely raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
“This is ridiculous,” Daphne whispered.
Evelyn smirked. “Oh, you have no idea.”
The moment the lesson ended, the class erupted into frustrated complaints.
“This is absolute rubbish,” Ron growled. “How are we supposed to pass our O.W.L.s if we never actually practice?”
“We can’t,” Harry muttered. “That’s the point.”
Evelyn exhaled, arms crossed. “We need to do something about this.”
Theo nodded. “We can’t go an entire year without actual practice.”
“I bet she’s doing this on purpose,” Hermione said, her expression dark. “The Ministry doesn’t want us learning real defense because they’re afraid of Dumbledore.”
Ron scowled. “Afraid of Dumbledore?”
Evelyn nodded. “They think he’s training us to fight the Ministry.”
“Well, I bloody well might, if they keep this up,” Ron muttered.
Evelyn tapped her fingers against her book, thinking. “We should talk to Fred and George later. If anyone can help us mess with Umbridge, it’s them.”
Harry, however, was quiet.
Too quiet.
Evelyn nudged him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
Harry hesitated, then muttered, “What if we… taught ourselves?”
The group fell silent.
Hermione tilted her head. “You mean—like a study group?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. If Umbridge won’t teach us real defense, then we’ll do it ourselves.”
Evelyn grinned. “And, if the ministry is so worried about Dumbledore secretly training us, what if we call it ‘Dumbledore’s Army’.”
Harry smirked. Now that was an idea worth pursuing.
Chapter 48: DA & Quidditch
Chapter Text
The Room of Requirement had adjusted to fit their needs perfectly, transforming into an expansive dueling hall lined with shelves of Defense Against the Dark Arts books, practice dummies, and a warm fireplace crackling in the corner. Thick, plush mats covered the floor to cushion any falls, and a massive blackboard stood at the front of the room.
Harry and Evelyn stood at the head of the group, exchanging a glance before turning to the gathered students.
“Alright,” Harry began, crossing his arms. “We all know why we’re here. Umbridge is refusing to teach us anything useful, which means it’s up to us to prepare ourselves.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.
“We’ll start with the basics,” Evelyn continued, stepping forward. “Most of you are decent with spells, but real defense isn’t just about knowing the incantations—it’s about thinking fast and knowing when to attack, block, or dodge.” She smirked slightly. “Harry’s already learned a lot over the past year and a half, so we’ll be running these lessons together.”
Hermione beamed at them, clearly thrilled by the structured approach. Meanwhile, Ron and Pansy exchanged grins, and Theo nudged Daphne, whispering something that made her chuckle.
Blaise returned just then, dragging the Weasley twins behind him. “They were very interested in our little rebellion,” he announced.
Fred clapped a hand on Blaise’s shoulder. “Naturally! Anything that winds up Umbridge is something we want to be a part of.”
George grinned. “So, where do we start?”
Evelyn and Harry shared a knowing look.
“Disarming,” they said in unison.
The group arranged themselves into pairs, wands at the ready as Harry and Evelyn stood at the front to demonstrate.
“The Disarming Charm is one of the most useful spells you can have in your arsenal,” Evelyn explained. “It’s simple, effective, and can turn the tide of a duel in seconds. Plus, in a lot of cases, it’s a better alternative to something more dangerous.”
Harry nodded. “I’ve used it loads of times—worked against Voldemort himself in my fourth year.”
A few people shuddered at the name, but most of them looked impressed.
Evelyn raised her wand at Harry. “Alright, Potter, show them how it’s done.”
Harry smirked, but before he could react, Evelyn flicked her wand and called, “Expelliarmus!”
His wand flew out of his hand before he could even move.
Ron laughed. “Nice one, Eve.”
Harry rolled his eyes and retrieved his wand, stepping forward again. “Now, let’s actually demonstrate it.”
This time, Harry was ready. Evelyn cast the spell again, but Harry countered it with a Shield Charm before firing back his own Expelliarmus. Evelyn twisted to the side and absorbed the spell with a quick Protego.
The watching students murmured excitedly.
“You see?” Evelyn said. “In a duel, you have to anticipate. The moment you disarm your opponent, you have the upper hand. Now, everyone pair up and start practicing.”
The room filled with the sound of spells being cast as wands went flying in all directions. Harry and Evelyn walked through the group, correcting wand movements and adjusting stances.
Theo and Daphne were paired up in a quiet corner, both taking the practice seriously.
Ron and Pansy, however, were getting competitive. Pansy had already disarmed Ron three times, and he was looking thoroughly annoyed.
“Come on, Weasley,” she teased. “Put some effort into it.”
“Oh, I am,” Ron grumbled before launching into another attempt.
Fred and George, meanwhile, had decided to aim for style points, dramatically flinging their wands across the room whenever they got disarmed.
Evan, Blaise, and Draco stood together watching the chaos, with Evan shaking his head in amusement.
“You know,” Blaise said, “I don’t think Umbridge is going to like what we’re doing here.”
Draco smirked. “Good. Let her worry.”
After about an hour, Harry and Evelyn called the group back together.
“You lot actually did really well,” Harry said. “If we keep this up, we’ll be able to handle anything Umbridge or anyone else throws at us.”
Evelyn nodded. “Next lesson, we’re moving on to defensive tactics. Be prepared.”
As everyone started packing up, Harry turned to Evelyn with a grin.
“This is actually working.”
She smiled back. “Of course it is. We’re teaching them the way they should be learning.”
Their hands brushed for a moment before Harry grabbed Evelyn’s.
____________
A couple of weeks later, the Room of Requirement emptied gradually, students filtering out in small groups to avoid suspicion. Harry and Evelyn stayed behind for a few minutes, making sure nothing was left out of place.
“That was brilliant,” Harry said as he stacked a few stray cushions back into place. “I think everyone has actually learned something over the past couple of weeks.”
Evelyn grinned. “I knew they would. They just needed proper teachers.”
Harry shot her a look. “You mean you needed to be a proper teacher?”
“Well, you too,” she admitted, bumping his shoulder playfully. “But let’s be real—without me, this would just be you shouting ‘Expelliarmus’ at people for weeks until they got it.”
Harry rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Alright, alright. You’re the brains, I’m the charm. We make a good team.”
Evelyn snorted. “You’re a charm, all right.”
Before Harry could come up with a response, the door to the Room of Requirement swung open again, and Ron, Hermione, Pansy, and Theo reappeared.
“We’ve got a problem,” Hermione announced, breathless.
Pansy folded her arms. “Filch is onto us.”
Harry tensed. “What?”
Ron grimaced. “We overheard him talking to Umbridge. He knows something is going on—he just doesn’t know where or what yet.”
Evelyn sighed. “That was fast.”
Theo smirked. “Yeah, well, we are a suspicious bunch. Half the Slytherin fifth-years suddenly becoming best friends with Gryffindors? That’s bound to raise eyebrows.”
Harry frowned. “Do you think Malfoy said something?”
Pansy shook her head. “No. He’s keeping up his act with Umbridge as part of the Inquisitorial Squad, but he wouldn’t rat us out. If anything, he’s going to make sure she doesn’t find out.”
Evelyn nodded. “Alright, then we just need to be more careful. We’ll stagger our meetings and switch up the times. If Filch doesn’t have a pattern to track, he’ll lose interest.”
Hermione agreed. “And we should keep an eye on who’s lurking around. The moment Umbridge gets proof of what we’re doing, we’re in trouble.”
Harry exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. We’ll make sure to cover our tracks.”
Theo clapped his hands together. “Brilliant. Now, if we’re done plotting, I’d quite like to go get some food.”
Ron groaned. “Finally! I thought you’d never say anything.”
The group left the Room of Requirement, blending into the flow of students heading to the Great Hall.
Once back in the dungeons, Evelyn, Pansy, Blaise, Theo, and Draco settled into their usual seats by the fireplace. The greenish glow of the common room cast flickering shadows on the stone walls.
“Filch sniffing around already,” Blaise mused, stretching out on the couch. “Didn’t expect that.”
“Of course he’s sniffing around,” Pansy muttered. “Umbridge probably has him on a leash, desperate to catch us doing something.”
Draco leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Well, as long as we don’t get caught, there’s nothing she can do.”
Evelyn glanced at him. “And if she starts asking you questions?”
Draco smirked. “I’ll play my part. She trusts me enough to believe what I tell her.”
Theo scoffed. “That’s disturbing.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome.”
_____________
The tension at Hogwarts grew thicker with every passing day. The whisper of Umbridge’s presence seemed to hang in the air as though it were a tangible thing. Then, on a cold Thursday morning, it finally came.
“Students of Hogwarts,” Professor Umbridge announced at the breakfast table, standing at the head of the staff table. Her voice, high-pitched and sickly sweet, barely masked the authority she wielded as the new Hogwarts High Inquisitor. The Great Hall fell silent, the usual buzz of chatter evaporating. Even the most boisterous of students knew better than to speak when Umbridge was in charge.
“I have been instructed by the Ministry of Magic to issue an Educational Decree. It has come to my attention that some students have been engaging in extracurricular activities that are both unauthorized and, quite frankly, a threat to the safety and stability of this school.” She paused, giving the students a pointed, knowing look, before continuing, “Therefore, by order of the Ministry of Magic, Educational Decree No. 26 states that all student organizations, societies, teams, and clubs are henceforth disbanded until further notice.”
A murmur swept through the hall, followed by an immediate, uneasy silence. The implications were clear. The DA, their carefully constructed haven, their meetings, their plans for a rebellion—it was all under threat. Harry could feel his heart rate increase.
Evelyn, sitting next to him at the Gryffindor table, clenched her hands into fists. Her usually calm demeanor faltered as she glanced around the room, her eyes sharp. She understood the danger as much as he did. But neither of them said anything—at least not yet.
Umbridge’s voice cut through the room again. “From this day forth, no student shall form or participate in any gatherings outside of regular class schedules without the express permission of a teacher. The staff will be monitoring this closely, and any violations will be dealt with swiftly.”
As if on cue, she turned to a group of Slytherins at the back of the room. They froze, caught in her gaze. “This means you, Miss Parkinson and your little beauty club” she said sweetly, though the sarcasm was thick. “I hope I won’t need to remind you of the new rules.”
Pansy shot a glare at her but didn’t respond. The tension was palpable as the students digested the new decree.
_____________
The next day, the DA members—Harry, Evelyn, Hermione, Ron, and the rest of their inner circle—gathered in a quiet space in the RoR to discuss the situation. Hermione, ever the planner, took the lead.
“We can’t keep meeting openly anymore. Umbridge will be watching every move we make,” Hermione said, pacing back and forth, her brows furrowed. “But we need to keep teaching. We can’t let her win.”
Harry glanced at Evelyn, who nodded at him in agreement. She had spent the last year and a half training him, and now, it was time to extend that training to everyone else. The DA couldn’t afford to fail—not with the rising danger they all faced.
“I’ve been thinking,” Hermione continued, “and I’ve come up with a solution. A way we can arrange meetings without anyone knowing. We can use coins. Special coins, ones that will only show the DA symbol when we need it to. That way, only members will know when and where the next meeting is.”
“That’s brilliant, Hermione,” Evelyn said, impressed. “We can make the coins with a bit of charmwork. That’ll keep Umbridge from getting too close.”
“We’ll need to be discreet, though,” Ron added. “We can’t afford for anyone to overhear us. One slip-up and she’ll know.”
The plan was set. Over the next few days, Hermione worked tirelessly, enchanting coins with her usual precision. Each DA member was given one, and with it, they would be able to arrange their next clandestine meeting without fear of detection.
Several days passed, and Umbridge’s watchful eye grew even more intrusive. She began sitting in on classes, inspecting the teachers with her usual scrutiny. Her presence in the classroom was oppressive, and every teacher, from McGonagall to Flitwick, had to adjust their lessons accordingly.
The first of her class observations was in McGonagall’s Transfiguration class. Harry’s stomach churned as he sat in his seat, knowing Umbridge was watching them with a smirk on her face.
McGonagall, as usual, maintained her professionalism. “Today, we’ll be transfiguring a matchstick into a needle,” she instructed the class. “Remember, precise movements are crucial.”
But Umbridge’s gaze was fixed on Harry, and it was clear she had some agenda. She seemed to relish the power she held in her ability to scrutinize every aspect of the lesson. As she walked up and down the aisles, Harry could feel her eyes on him, making him more uncomfortable with each passing second.
“What’s the matter, Mister Potter?” she asked sweetly as she hovered beside his desk. “Can’t seem to get your matchstick to turn into a needle?”
Harry’s mouth was dry. “No, Professor,” he muttered, forcing his attention back to the task at hand.
“Such a shame,” she purred. “A talented student like you. You’d think you would have mastered something so simple by now.”
Harry gritted his teeth but said nothing. He knew better than to argue with her. The classroom felt smaller, stifling under her watchful eye.
The lesson ended, and McGonagall gave them all a sharp look before she dismissed the class, her annoyance with Umbridge evident. But Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that Umbridge was far from finished with her meddling.
Later that day, Harry found himself in Professor Trelawney’s classroom, sitting awkwardly in the back. Evelyn wasn’t there, so it was just him, and his mind kept racing with thoughts of what Umbridge was doing to the school. What was her next move?
It wasn’t long before Umbridge entered the classroom, her footsteps clicking on the floor as she made her way to Trelawney’s desk. Harry shot her a look but didn’t say anything. He had learned long ago that saying anything to Umbridge would only make things worse.
Professor Trelawney, meanwhile, seemed to shrink under Umbridge’s gaze. The tension in the room was thick as the students awkwardly shuffled in their seats. Harry didn’t care for divination, but it was hard to ignore the discomfort that flooded the room.
Umbridge’s eyes were like a hawk’s, scanning the class, and Harry could see that Trelawney was becoming more nervous with every second.
Umbridge’s voice dripped with sweetness as she continued to interrogate Professor Trelawney. Harry could see the professor’s hands trembling slightly, her usually dramatic and whimsical persona replaced with a quiet, palpable fear. Umbridge’s presence was suffocating, like a thick fog that clouded the room.
“You’ve been employed here for many years, haven’t you, Professor?” Umbridge asked, a mocking edge to her voice. “And yet, none of your predictions have come true.” She looked around the room, her eyes gleaming as she scanned the students. “How do you explain that?”
Trelawney opened her mouth to respond, but her voice cracked with nervousness. “I—I’m sure they will,” she stammered. “It’s just a matter of time…”
“Nonsense,” Umbridge interrupted, her voice sharp. “Your predictions are nothing more than a frivolous waste of time. And I think it’s time the Ministry takes a closer look at your qualifications.”
Harry’s stomach twisted. He couldn’t stand to watch this any longer. Trelawney, who had always seemed so ethereal and distant, was now being humiliated in front of the entire class. And there was nothing he could do about it.
Umbridge turned her gaze to the class, her eyes narrowing. “If any of you have questions or concerns about Professor Trelawney’s methods, I expect you to bring them to me directly,” she said, her voice like a command. “The Ministry has no tolerance for incompetence, after all.”
Harry felt a wave of anger rising in him, but he pushed it down, knowing it would do no good to challenge her. Instead, he focused on the clock, willing the class to end. Finally, the bell rang, and the students quickly gathered their things and filed out, eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere in the room.
As Harry stepped into the hallway, he could feel the weight of what had just happened hanging over him. Trelawney had been humiliated, and Umbridge had no intention of stopping until she had the entire school under her thumb.
The rest of the day was no better. Harry felt an increasing sense of dread hanging over him, like they were all walking on thin ice, waiting for it to crack beneath them. But nothing could prepare him for what came next.
Later that afternoon, Harry, along with the rest of the students, witnessed something that no one had expected: Professor Trelawney’s dismissal.
He was sitting in the common room, trying to distract himself with homework when a murmur of voices rose from the entrance. He stood and hurried to the door, glancing outside.
There, standing at the foot of the stairs leading to the Divination tower, was Umbridge. And beside her, to Harry’s surprise, was a very shaken-looking Professor Trelawney, who was clutching her shawl tightly around her shoulders. The students had gathered around, their eyes wide with shock.
“This is a sad day,” Umbridge’s voice rang out, false sympathy dripping from every word. “But unfortunately, Professor Trelawney’s employment at Hogwarts is no longer tenable. The Ministry has reviewed her qualifications, and it has been decided that she will be… removed from her position.”
Trelawney looked as though she might collapse right there. She was pale and shaking, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. “But… but I’ve worked here for years…” she whispered, as though trying to hold on to some semblance of dignity.
Umbridge’s smile was almost cruel as she addressed the students. “I’m sure you all understand. The Ministry values competence above all else, and unfortunately, Professor Trelawney’s predictions simply don’t meet the high standards we expect.”
Harry’s fists clenched at his sides, and he felt a surge of frustration. The Ministry had no business meddling with Hogwarts like this, and Umbridge was a tyrant, pure and simple. He wanted to say something, to stop this injustice, but what could he do? What could any of them do?
As Professor Trelawney stumbled away, a sob escaping her lips, Harry felt a pang of sympathy for her. She may have been eccentric and, at times, difficult to understand, but she didn’t deserve this. She had been cast aside without mercy, just like so many others at the hands of Umbridge and the Ministry.
Later that evening, Harry met up with Evelyn and the others in their common room. The mood was somber, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on them.
“I can’t believe they actually did it,” Harry muttered, shaking his head. “They fired her, just like that.”
Evelyn sat down next to him, her eyes dark with anger. “They don’t care about the truth, Harry. They only care about control. And they’ll stop at nothing to make sure they have it.”
Ron, who had been listening quietly, nodded in agreement. “It’s not right, mate. But what can we do? We can’t fight the whole Ministry.”
Harry clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to be told that there was nothing they could do. But he knew, deep down, that they were right. They couldn’t challenge the Ministry head-on. Not yet.
But something in Harry stirred, something deep inside him that he couldn’t ignore. He couldn’t just sit back and let Umbridge get away with this. They had to fight back—somehow.
And the DA, he realized, was the perfect place to start.
______________
Excitement crackled through the air as students streamed into the Quidditch stands, banners waving and chants echoing across the pitch. The Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match was always the most heated of the season, and this year was no different.
Evelyn sat with the rest of the Slytherins, arms crossed as she observed the two teams take their positions. She wasn’t a Quidditch player, but she understood the game well enough. Her eyes drifted to Harry, who adjusted his grip on his Firebolt, scanning the Slytherin team with sharp focus.
The Slytherins had a strong lineup this year—Adrian Pucey, now Quidditch captain, looked particularly smug as he gave final instructions to his teammates. Malfoy, who had inherited the position of Seeker after Montague graduated, was flexing his fingers dramatically, acting as though he was about to perform a one-man show rather than a game.
On the other side, Gryffindor’s team was just as prepared. Ginny Weasley, playing as a Chaser, cracked her knuckles, while Fred and George spun their Beater bats impatiently.
Madam Hooch strode onto the pitch, whistle in hand. “I want a clean game,” she barked, though everyone knew that wasn’t going to happen. She released the balls, and with a sharp blast of her whistle, the match began.
It was brutal from the start. The Slytherins wasted no time playing dirty—elbows, shoulder-checks, and vicious Bludger attacks came thick and fast.
“Oi! That was a foul!” Ron bellowed from the goalposts after Pucey nearly knocked Ginny off her broom.
Madam Hooch’s whistle blew, but Pucey merely smirked. “Who, me?”
Evelyn rolled her eyes from the stands. Typical.
Despite the rough play, Gryffindor held their own. Ginny, Katie Bell, and Angelina Johnson worked seamlessly as Chasers, dodging Bludgers and slipping past Slytherin’s Beaters with ease.
“McGonagall must be loving this,” Evelyn muttered under her breath, watching Gryffindor edge ahead on the scoreboard.
Then, suddenly, movement in the sky caught her eye.
Harry and Draco had both spotted the Snitch.
Gasps erupted from the crowd as they shot through the air, weaving through players at breakneck speed.
Harry had the faster broom. He was gaining.
Malfoy leaned forward, desperate to reach the Snitch first—
And then a Bludger, sent by Bole, hurtled straight at Harry’s head.
Evelyn’s breath caught as Harry swerved violently, barely avoiding it. Malfoy, thrown off by the sudden change in movement, veered sideways.
Harry refocused, pushing his Firebolt harder—
And closed his fingers around the Snitch.
The stands erupted.
“POTTER CATCHES THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS!”
Cheers and boos filled the air as the teams landed, Gryffindors swarming Harry in celebration. Evelyn smirked at the furious expressions on her housemates’ faces.
But then Pucey stormed toward the Gryffindor team, his face twisted with anger.
“Well, well, well,” Pucey sneered, loud enough for the everyone in the stands to hear. “Look who finally got lucky.”
Fred, still grinning, responded immediately. “Oh, Pucey, you’re just mad because you lost.”
Pucey scoffed. “Hardly. We all saw how bad your Keeper was. Gryffindor barely scraped through.” He turned his smirk on Ron, whose ears were turning red. “Honestly, Weasley, how many goals did you let in? Ten? Eleven? Maybe they should find someone with actual talent.”
Ron stiffened. Harry immediately stepped forward, fists clenched. “Shut up, Pucey.”
“Oh, what’s wrong, Potter? Can’t handle the truth?” Pucey smirked. “Tell me, how does it feel knowing that the only reason you won is because of that broom of yours? A gift from your convict godfather, wasn’t it?”
The moment the words left Pucey’s mouth, Evelyn felt the tension explode.
Harry punched Pucey square in the jaw.
Gasps and shouts erupted. Pucey stumbled back, then lunged at Harry, shoving him hard.
And then, chaos.
Fred and George were on Pucey in an instant, shoving him back as the other Slytherins jumped in to defend him. The Gryffindors retaliated, throwing punches and wrestling players into the muddy pitch.
Evelyn sighed, leaning back in her seat. “Honestly.”
Madam Hooch’s furious whistles rang across the pitch, but no one was listening. The fight escalated—Bole tackled George, while Fred had Pucey in a headlock.
And then—
“Well, well.”
Silence.
The fight stopped instantly.
Every head turned.
Dolores Umbridge stood at the edge of the pitch, her pudgy face twisted in fake amusement. Beside her, Filch looked positively gleeful.
“This,” she said, her voice dangerously high-pitched, “is most inappropriate.”
That evening, Harry, Fred, and George stood in Umbridge’s office, arms crossed as she sat behind her desk, looking positively delighted.
“Fighting is strictly prohibited,” she said, feigning disappointment. “Such a shame that three talented students—Quidditch players, no less—should behave so disgracefully.”
Fred rolled his eyes. “You mean it’s a shame we were fighting. Pucey started it.”
Umbridge’s smile never wavered. “Nevertheless, there must be consequences.”
She reached into her desk and pulled out a roll of parchment.
“You, Mr. Potter, and you, Mr. Weasley,” she said, pointing at Fred and George, “are hereby banned from playing Quidditch.”
Harry’s stomach dropped.
“What?” he blurted. “You can’t do that!”
“I can, actually.” Umbridge smiled sweetly. “And I am.”
She placed three pieces of parchment in front of them, her expression smug.
“These are official Ministry decrees. Your brooms will be confiscated immediately.”
Fred and George looked murderous.
Harry clenched his fists, breathing heavily. He had never hated anyone more in his life.
As he and the twins stormed out of the office, they all knew one thing—
This wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
Chapter 49: Detention with Umbridge
Chapter Text
Harry stormed through the corridors of Hogwarts, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. He could still hear Umbridge’s sickly sweet voice ringing in his ears, could still see the smug expression on her toad-like face as she stripped him of the one thing that had always been his escape.
Banned. From Quidditch.
It was suffocating. The injustice of it, the way she had taken his broom, his Firebolt, like it was hers to steal. And there was nothing he could do. No way to fight back.
His feet carried him without thought, frustration bubbling under his skin like a fire he couldn’t contain. And then, as if the castle itself knew what he needed, the door appeared.
Harry shoved it open and stepped inside.
The Room of Requirement had shaped itself into something simple yet comforting—a warm space with a roaring fireplace, cushioned benches, and an expanse of soft rugs spread across the floor. A few candles floated in the air, casting a dim glow over the room. It felt secluded, private. Safe.
Harry ran a hand through his hair and let out a heavy breath, sinking onto one of the benches. He wanted to punch something, to scream, to do something—but all he could do was sit there, glaring at the fire as if it held the answers.
The door creaked open behind him.
Harry turned sharply, already knowing who it would be.
Evelyn stepped inside, her green and silver robes trailing softly against the floor.
“I figured you’d be here,” she murmured, closing the door behind her. She studied him, eyes sharp, but her expression softened when she saw the tension in his shoulders. “You disappeared right after we left Umbridge’s office.”
Harry scoffed. “Yeah, well, didn’t feel like sticking around.”
Evelyn took a few steps closer. “I’m sorry, Harry. I know how much Quidditch means to you.”
“It’s not just that,” he muttered, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “It’s her. The way she controls everything, like she’s just waiting to crush me completely.” His jaw tightened. “And she’s winning.”
Evelyn didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she crossed the room and sat beside him, close enough that he could feel her warmth.
“She’s not winning,” she said quietly. “Not yet.”
Harry let out a breath. He turned his head to look at her, taking in the soft concern in her expression. For all the frustration still twisting in his chest, just having her here settled some of it.
“I hate feeling like I can’t do anything,” he admitted. “Like no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”
Evelyn hesitated, then reached out and took his hand.
“You are doing something,” she said. “You’re fighting back, even if it doesn’t feel like it. And you’re not alone in this, Harry. We won’t let her win.”
Harry stared at her. Her fingers curled around his, warm and steady, grounding him in a way nothing else had since he’d left that office. His frustration was still there, simmering beneath his skin, but Evelyn was right.
He wasn’t alone.
He squeezed her hand in return.
Evelyn smiled softly, but there was something else in her expression—something unreadable. And then, before he could second-guess it, he reached for her.
Evelyn met him halfway.
Their lips crashed together, heated and desperate.
Harry wasn’t sure if it was the anger still simmering in his veins, the need for a distraction—but he wasn’t thinking anymore.
Evelyn’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and he let her. His hands found her waist, sliding up beneath the fabric of her robes, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips. She shivered against him, and Harry took that as encouragement.
He deepened the kiss, tilting his head to press against her more firmly. Evelyn let out a quiet sigh against his lips, and Harry felt it shoot straight through him, a spark igniting in his chest.
They fell back onto the cushions, Evelyn beneath him, her hands still fisted in his hair as his lips trailed down to her jaw, then to her neck. She gasped softly when he found a spot just below her ear, and the sound made something tighten in his stomach.
For once, he wasn’t thinking about Umbridge, or Quidditch, or the weight of everything pressing down on him.
For once, all that existed was this.
Her.
Evelyn’s hands slipped beneath his shirt, fingertips ghosting over his back, and Harry let out a quiet breath against her skin. He kissed her again, slow and deliberate, his hand sliding down to her thigh, squeezing gently through the fabric of her robes.
Evelyn arched slightly beneath him, and he nearly lost his mind.
They broke apart just enough for Harry to meet her gaze. Evelyn’s lips were parted, her cheeks flushed, and her green eyes were dark in the candlelight.
She exhaled a shaky breath. “Harry—”
A loud thud sounded from the corridor outside.
They both froze.
Harry barely had time to push himself up before the door swung open.
“Oi, mate—”
Ron stopped dead in the doorway.
His eyes flickered between them—Harry, kneeling over Evelyn, her robes slightly askew, her hair tousled. Evelyn, lying beneath him, her face still flushed, lips swollen.
Silence.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Ron groaned, covering his face. “Are you serious? Again?”
Harry scrambled back, heat rushing to his face. Evelyn sat up quickly, tugging at her robes, trying to appear composed even though she was clearly anything but.
Ron muttered something unintelligible, shaking his head. “I knew I’d regret looking for you.”
Harry cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. “Uh—what do you want, Ron?”
Ron peeked at him through his fingers. “What do I want? I wanted to check on you, mate! But clearly, you’re doing just fine.” He made a face. “Maybe even too fine.”
Evelyn smirked, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “You should’ve knocked.”
Ron groaned. “I didn’t think I had to!”
Harry sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Alright, well, now you know. Can you, uh—” He gestured vaguely toward the door.
Ron narrowed his eyes at him, then at Evelyn, then sighed heavily. “Right. Fine. I’m leaving.” He turned on his heel and marched out. “But for the love of Merlin, ask the room for a lock on that door next time!”
The door slammed shut.
A beat of silence passed. Then Evelyn turned to Harry, amusement flickering in her eyes.
“Well,” she mused. “That was fun.”
Harry groaned, dropping his head into his hands.
“I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”
Evelyn smirked, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.
“Not a chance.”
_________________
The atmosphere in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was stifling, thick with the uncomfortable silence that followed Professor Umbridge wherever she went. The pink-clad woman stood at the front of the room, her sickly sweet smile stretched across her toad-like face as she paced slowly, hands clasped in front of her.
Evelyn sat toward the back, arms crossed as she listened to Umbridge drone on about “Ministry-approved defensive theory.” The classroom was filled with a low, scratching sound as students copied from their textbooks, but no wands were raised, no spells practiced. It was infuriating.
At the front of the class, Harry sat rigid in his seat, his jaw clenched so tightly Evelyn was sure he was close to snapping.
Then, finally, he did.
“You can’t seriously think this is an acceptable way to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Harry said, his voice sharp as he dropped his quill onto his parchment.
Umbridge stopped pacing, turning slowly toward him. “Oh?” she said lightly, as if he had simply asked her to repeat herself.
Harry sat up straighter. “We’re supposed to be learning defense—practical defense, not just reading out of a book.”
The silence that followed was thick and heavy. A few students glanced at each other, eyes wide. Evelyn felt her heart speed up. Careful, Harry.
Umbridge smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “There is no need to practice spells in this class,” she said in that saccharine tone of hers. “The Ministry believes that theoretical knowledge will be sufficient.”
“Sufficient for what?” Harry shot back. “We’re supposed to be learning how to defend ourselves. How is reading a book going to help us against the Dark Arts?”
Umbridge’s smile widened. “Oh, but you won’t be needing to defend yourselves against the Dark Arts.”
Evelyn narrowed her eyes. She knew where this was going.
“Really?” Harry said, voice rising. “So we just—what? Ignore that Voldemort is back and pretend he’s not a threat?”
The room collectively flinched at the name. Evelyn held back a groan. Come on, Harry. Subtlety.
But subtlety had never been Harry’s strong suit.
Umbridge’s expression darkened slightly. “Mr. Potter,” she said, voice clipped, “I suggest you do not spread lies.”
“They’re not lies,” Harry snapped. “Voldemort is back—”
“Detention, Mr. Potter,” Umbridge interrupted, her voice silky smooth but filled with quiet menace.
Harry’s mouth fell open slightly, but before he could respond, she continued.
“Tomorrow. Five o’clock. My office.” She smiled, tilting her head slightly. “And I do hope you will use this time to reflect on spreading such dangerous misinformation.”
Harry was seething. His fists clenched atop his desk, his knuckles white. But he didn’t argue further. He simply glared at her as she turned back to the class and resumed her pacing, as if nothing had happened.
Evelyn exhaled slowly, biting her tongue to keep from jumping in.
We’ll talk later, she thought, stealing a glance at Harry. When there aren’t Ministry spies listening in.
Harry skipped dinner. Evelyn followed.
They met at the seventh-floor corridor without a word, and the door to the Room of Requirement appeared as soon as Harry strode past three times, his frustration evident in every step.
Inside, the room had shaped itself into something cozy but spacious—a soft couch, a few floating candles, a large window overlooking a peaceful landscape that didn’t really exist. Harry paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, hands running through his already-messy hair.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered. “She gave me detention for telling the truth.”
Evelyn watched him for a moment before sighing. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I figured she would.”
Harry stopped pacing. “You figured?” he repeated, narrowing his eyes at her.
Evelyn hesitated, then gestured toward the couch. “Sit down, Harry. There’s something I need to tell you.”
He frowned, but after a moment, he dropped onto the couch beside her. His knee bounced restlessly, a sign of how wound up he still was.
Evelyn took a deep breath.
“Umbridge,” she said, voice careful, “isn’t just going to make you write lines or polish trophies.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She exhaled through her nose, meeting his gaze. “She uses a Blood Quill.”
Harry frowned. “A what?”
“A Blood Quill,” Evelyn repeated, watching him closely. “It’s a quill that uses your own blood as ink. Whatever you write gets carved into your skin before it fades. But the more you write, the deeper it gets.”
Harry’s expression darkened.
“She—” He stopped, shaking his head. “That can’t be legal.”
“It’s not,” Evelyn admitted. “But she’s the Ministry’s pet. No one’s going to stop her.”
Harry leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His hands clenched into fists. “She’s done this before?”
Evelyn nodded.
“To other students?”
Another nod. “And in the book, she gives you detention almost every night for a week. By the end of it, your hand was scarred.”
Harry went very still.
“A week?” he repeated slowly.
She nodded again. “You never told anyone. You just—took it.”
Silence.
Harry sat there, processing, his expression unreadable. The firelight flickered against his face, casting shadows across his sharp features.
Evelyn hesitated. “There’s…something else.”
Harry dragged his gaze to hers. “What?”
Evelyn bit her lip. “At the end of the year, you and Hermione took Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Evelyn smirked slightly. “To get rid of her.”
Harry blinked. “Get rid of—”
“You took her to Hagrid’s Giant half-brother,” Evelyn clarified. “Grawp.”
Harry stared at her, and for a second, she thought he was going to laugh. But then he shook his head in disbelief.
“You’re telling me,” he said slowly, “that at the end of the year, I voluntarily walked Umbridge into the forest and handed her over to a Giant.”
“Yes.”
Harry let out a short, incredulous laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. “Bloody hell.”
Evelyn shrugged. “She deserved it.”
A beat of silence passed.
Then Harry’s expression turned serious again. “What am I supposed to do now?”
Evelyn tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
He exhaled sharply. “Do I go? Do I skip it?” He ran a hand through his hair. “If I don’t show up, she’ll just find a worse way to punish me. But if I do go—”
Evelyn bit her lip. She knew the answer.
“You have to go,” she said quietly.
Harry tensed. “What?”
“She’ll only make things worse if you don’t,” Evelyn said. “And as much as I hate saying this, we can’t openly fight back. Not yet.”
Harry’s hands clenched. He didn’t argue, but she could see the anger burning in his eyes.
Evelyn reached out, hesitating before taking his hand. His grip was tense, but he didn’t pull away.
“You won’t have to do this alone,” she promised. “We’ll find a way to fight back.”
Harry exhaled through his nose. “I hate this.”
“I know.”
Silence stretched between them. Then, reluctantly, Harry nodded.
“Alright,” he muttered. “I’ll go.”
Evelyn squeezed his hand.
They would fight back. But first, they had to survive.
And survival meant playing along.
For now.
_______________
The next evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast long shadows across the castle, Harry made his way toward Professor Umbridge’s office. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, but he kept his face carefully blank.
Evelyn had been right—skipping detention would only make things worse. Still, the idea of sitting in a room alone with Umbridge, knowing what she was about to do, made his skin crawl.
He reached the office door and knocked.
“Come in,” came the sugary sweet voice from within.
Harry pushed open the door and stepped inside. The room was just as nauseatingly pink as before, decorated with lace doilies, a collection of ornamental plates featuring kittens, and the overwhelming scent of flowery perfume.
Umbridge sat at her desk, her beady eyes glinting as she smiled at him. “Ah, Mr. Potter,” she said. “Do sit down.”
Harry sat in the chair across from her, his back straight. He kept his expression neutral.
Umbridge folded her hands neatly on the desk. “I do hope you have taken some time to reflect on your behavior in class yesterday,” she said.
Harry didn’t respond.
Her smile didn’t falter. “Lies, Mr. Potter, are dangerous things,” she continued. “Especially when they spread and cause panic.”
Harry clenched his jaw.
Umbridge pulled open a drawer and took out a long, black quill, placing it delicately in front of him. “You will be writing lines,” she said pleasantly.
Harry took the quill, rolling it between his fingers. It was oddly heavy.
“What am I writing?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“I must not tell lies,” Umbridge said, still smiling. “Over and over, until the message truly sinks in.”
Harry exhaled slowly, placing the quill against the parchment. He pressed down and wrote:
I must not tell lies.
Pain shot through his right hand, sharp and searing. He inhaled sharply but didn’t flinch, watching in morbid fascination as the words appeared, not on the parchment, but on the back of his own hand, carved into his skin as if an invisible knife had sliced through it. Blood welled up before fading into the pale lines of a scar.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears.
He glanced up at Umbridge. She was watching him with that same smug smile, waiting.
Harry set his jaw and wrote again.
And again.
And again.
The pain worsened with each stroke of the quill. The lines on his skin deepened, the blood taking longer to disappear. His hand throbbed, but he refused to show any sign of weakness. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
Umbridge watched for a while before finally speaking. “How are you finding the quill, Mr. Potter?” she asked, feigning concern.
Harry met her gaze, his expression blank. “It’s…fine,” he said flatly.
Her smile widened. “Good. You will continue until I say you may stop.”
So he did.
Minutes stretched into an hour. The pain became a dull, persistent ache, each new line reopening the cuts. But Harry forced himself to keep going.
When Umbridge finally stood and moved toward the fireplace, her back turned, Harry flexed his fingers carefully. His skin burned.
Evelyn had been right.
This wasn’t about punishment—it was about control. About breaking him down, little by little.
But she had underestimated him.
When Umbridge finally walked back to her desk and glanced at his hand, she looked mildly surprised that he hadn’t cried out, hadn’t begged her to stop.
“Alright, Mr. Potter,” she said smoothly. “That will be all for tonight.”
Harry set the quill down, rising to his feet. His hand ached, but he curled his fingers into a fist to hide the damage.
“Same time tomorrow,” Umbridge added, her smile unwavering.
Harry said nothing. He turned and left the office, his pulse still hammering in his ears.
Evelyn was waiting for him in the Room of Requirement.
Harry entered quietly, letting the door shut behind him. The room was dimly lit, warm and safe, with a couch and a few flickering candles.
Evelyn stood near the fireplace, her arms crossed. When she turned to face him, her eyes went immediately to his hand.
Harry exhaled, flexing his fingers. “You were right,” he said.
Evelyn frowned, stepping closer. “Let me see.”
Harry hesitated, but then slowly held out his hand.
Evelyn’s expression darkened as she took in the words carved into his skin. She reached out and ran a gentle finger over the fresh wounds.
Harry winced slightly. “It’s fine.”
Evelyn shot him a look. “It’s not fine, Harry.”
He sighed. “I knew what I was getting into.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
Evelyn took out her wand and muttered a quiet spell. A cooling sensation washed over his hand, soothing the raw pain.
Harry let out a slow breath. “Thanks.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. “How long?”
Harry sighed. “I’m supposed to go back tomorrow.”
Evelyn clenched her jaw. “For how many nights?”
He shook his head. “Didn’t say.”
Evelyn exhaled sharply and ran a hand through her hair. “This is exactly why we have to fight back,” she muttered.
Harry looked up at her. “And we will.”
Evelyn met his gaze. Her eyes were dark, filled with something he couldn’t quite place—anger, frustration, something deeper.
Harry reached out, lacing his fingers with hers.
“We’ll make her pay for this,” Evelyn said quietly.
Harry gave her hand a small squeeze.
They had to be careful. They had to play it smart. But Umbridge had just made herself an enemy.
And Harry and Evelyn were done playing by the rules.
Chapter 50: Plans
Chapter Text
The Room of Requirement had emptied slowly, students filtering out in pairs or small groups, buzzing with excitement from another successful meeting. Evelyn stood near the fireplace, watching as the last of their friends disappeared through the door, leaving only her and Harry behind. He was wiping sweat from his forehead, his wand still in his hand, looking deep in thought.
Evelyn knew that look. He had something on his mind.
“You alright?” she asked, stepping closer.
Harry exhaled sharply through his nose. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
“Dangerous pastime,” she teased lightly, hoping to get a small smile out of him. He huffed a breath but didn’t take the bait. Instead, he pocketed his wand and turned fully to face her.
“I want you to tell me,” he said abruptly. “Everything.”
Evelyn hesitated. “Everything?”
“What happens next,” Harry clarified, crossing his arms. “I need to know what’s coming, Evelyn. I know you’ve been trying to help me prepare, and I appreciate it, but I need the full picture now.”
She bit her lip, scanning his face. He was serious. Determined.
“You sure?” she asked. “Because once I tell you, you won’t be able to stop thinking about it.”
Harry gave her a look. “Evelyn. I already can’t stop thinking about it.”
That was fair. She sighed, crossing her arms as well, mirroring his posture.
“Alright,” she said. “You saw something in your last dream, right? A snake?”
Harry tensed slightly. “Yeah.”
“Well… that’s going to happen again,” she admitted. “Only this time, it’s not just some random vision. You’ll see something real. Something happening in real time.”
Harry’s frown deepened. “What do you mean?”
She took a deep breath. “You see Arthur Weasley being attacked by a snake in the Department of Mysteries.”
Harry stiffened.
Evelyn pushed forward. “It happens right before Christmas. You’re asleep, and in your dream—or vision, really—you are the snake. You see yourself attacking him, biting him. You wake up and realize it was real. And because of that, because you tell McGonagall and Dumbledore right away, Mr. Weasley is saved.”
Harry swallowed hard, looking pale. “I—what? I see it? Like, as if I’m the snake?”
“Yes.” Evelyn hesitated, then added, “It’s Voldemort’s doing.”
Harry’s breathing was a little heavier now, his jaw clenching. “So he’s putting stuff in my head? Making me see things?”
“Yes.” She softened her voice. “But it helps. You being connected to him is what saves Mr. Weasley’s life.”
Harry exhaled slowly, staring past her at the flickering fireplace. “So… he doesn’t die?”
“No.”
Harry nodded once, his fists unclenching. He still looked deeply unsettled, but there was relief in his expression. Evelyn gave him a moment before she continued.
“But there’s something else,” she said, cautiously stepping closer. “That attack happens in the Department of Mysteries.”
Harry’s eyes flicked up to hers, sharp with interest.
“That’s where the prophecy is.”
His brow furrowed. “The prophecy?”
Evelyn nodded. “The one Voldemort’s been after since the start.”
Harry looked confused now. “What prophecy?”
She took another deep breath. “The prophecy about you and Voldemort. The one that’s the entire reason he came after you as a baby in the first place.”
Harry’s eyes widened, and she could see him connecting the dots in real time. “That’s what he’s after?”
“Yes.”
He swallowed. “What does it say?”
Evelyn hesitated. “Do you really want to know?”
Harry’s expression hardened. “Of course I do.”
She inhaled slowly before reciting the words she knew by heart.
“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives.”
Harry just stared at her. His face was unreadable.
She gave him a moment to process before softly adding, “That’s why Voldemort came after you when you were a baby. He thought you were the one the prophecy was talking about.”
Harry was still staring, but his expression had darkened, a storm brewing in his eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but sharp.
“So… I have to kill him.”
Evelyn swallowed. “Or he kills you.”
A long silence stretched between them.
Harry turned away, staring at the floor, his hands clenched into fists. Evelyn let him have his space. She knew how much this was to take in.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Harry let out a breath. “Well.” His voice was steady, but there was something raw beneath it. “That’s… good to know.”
Evelyn stepped closer. “Harry…”
He shook his head, lifting a hand. “Just—give me a second.”
She nodded, staying quiet.
When he finally turned back to her, his green eyes burned with something fierce.
“What happens next?” he asked.
Evelyn took a deep breath.
“The Ministry,” she said. “The battle in the Department of Mysteries.”
Harry’s expression flickered with something like recognition. “Because of the prophecy?”
She nodded. “Voldemort lures you there.”
Harry frowned. “How?”
Evelyn hesitated. “He makes you think Sirius is in trouble.”
That made Harry freeze. His entire posture went rigid. “What?”
She swallowed hard. “He sends you a vision of Sirius being tortured in the Department of Mysteries. You think it’s real, and you go to save him.”
Harry’s hands balled into fists again, his breathing sharp. “And it’s not real?”
“No.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “So I just… fall for it?”
“You didn’t know, Harry. He’s in your head all year. You couldn’t have known it was a trap.”
Harry wasn’t listening. His hands had gone to his hair, gripping it tightly. He was pacing now, shaking his head.
“And Sirius?” he asked, voice rough. “What happens to him?”
Evelyn’s stomach twisted painfully. This was the part she’d been dreading most.
She stepped closer, reaching for his wrist gently. “Harry…”
He stopped, looking at her with desperate eyes. “Tell me.”
Evelyn squeezed his wrist.
“He dies.”
Harry’s breath caught. His entire body locked up.
She saw the moment it hit him. His face drained of all color, his lips parted slightly in shock. “No.”
Evelyn’s grip tightened. “The order all comes to fight at the Ministry. Bellatrix kills him.”
Harry stumbled back a step, like she had physically hit him. His breath was shallow now, panic setting in.
“No,” he repeated. “No, that—no, I—I would have stopped it.”
She shook her head, eyes burning. “You couldn’t, Harry. I’m so sorry.”
Harry’s hands covered his face. “No,” he said again, voice breaking this time. “I can’t—I can’t lose him.”
Evelyn stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him tightly. He tensed for a moment, then clung to her. His breathing was uneven, his shoulders shaking.
“We’ll change it,” she whispered fiercely. “We’ll stop it from happening. We’ll get that prophecy over Christmas. We’ll make sure you never have to go to the Ministry.”
Harry pulled back, looking at her with red-rimmed eyes. “We have to.”
“We will,” Evelyn swore. “I promise you, Harry. We’re changing everything.”
He nodded, gripping her arms. “No more deaths.”
“No more deaths,” she agreed.
The Room of Requirement was eerily silent, save for the crackling of the fireplace. Harry was still gripping Evelyn’s arms tightly, his breathing uneven. His mind was racing, his heart pounding in his chest. Sirius. His godfather. Dead. Killed by Bellatrix.
It couldn’t happen.
He wouldn’t let it happen.
“We have to figure out exactly when and how we can get to the prophecy,” Harry said, his voice hoarse but filled with determination. He pulled away from Evelyn slightly, running a shaky hand through his hair. “You said I saw the vision just before Christmas?”
Evelyn nodded. “Yes. You were in the dorms. That’s when it happened.”
“Then that’s when we get it,” Harry said firmly. “Before anything else can go wrong. If we have it, Voldemort doesn’t need to lure me to the Ministry. There’s no battle, and—” He broke off, swallowing hard. “And Sirius stays alive.”
Evelyn exhaled slowly. “It won’t be easy. We’d have to break into the Department of Mysteries, get past security, find the right door—”
“I don’t care,” Harry interrupted. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Evelyn looked at him, her own determination burning in her eyes. “Then we plan. We don’t tell anyone else for now, not until we know exactly what we’re doing.”
Harry nodded. “Agreed.” He exhaled sharply and scrubbed a hand over his face. His emotions were still raw, but the solid resolve in his chest kept him steady. “No one dies this time, Evelyn.”
“No one,” she echoed.
Silence stretched between them for a moment before Evelyn gently took his hand and squeezed it. “We’ll figure it out. But… maybe we should take a minute?”
Harry hesitated, still caught in the rush of adrenaline, but the concern in Evelyn’s eyes made him relent. He let out a breath and nodded, allowing her to pull him toward the couch in front of the fire.
They sat close, Evelyn’s hand still gripping his. The firelight cast long shadows across the stone walls, flickering softly. Harry stared at the flames, his mind still racing through every possibility, every mistake he had made—or was supposed to make.
“I should’ve figured it out,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I should’ve known it was a trap.”
Evelyn frowned. “You can’t think like that, Harry. You didn’t know. Voldemort was manipulating you.”
“But I walked straight into it,” he said bitterly. “I got everyone hurt. I got Sirius—” His voice broke, and he clenched his fists.
Evelyn reached up and cupped his face, turning him to look at her. “That’s not happening this time.” Her eyes were fierce. “We’re going to change it.”
Harry searched her gaze, clinging to the certainty in her voice. After a moment, he nodded, some of the tension in his shoulders easing.
Evelyn gave him a small, reassuring smile. “Besides, we already changed one thing, didn’t we?”
Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”
She smirked. “We have the entire Slytherin gang in the DA.”
Harry blinked, then let out a surprised laugh. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
Evelyn grinned. “You’re basically leading a rebellion with Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott backing you up. That’s definitely not in the original timeline.”
Harry shook his head, still smiling despite himself. “Merlin, that’s true.”
Evelyn nudged him playfully. “See? We’re already making a difference.”
Harry exhaled, feeling the weight on his chest lighten just a little. “You’re right.”
She smirked. “I usually am.”
Harry rolled his eyes but squeezed her hand in thanks. “We’ll figure this out.”
“We will,” Evelyn agreed.
And for the first time that night, Harry believed it.
___________
The fire crackled softly, casting flickering golden light across the Room of Requirement. Harry and Evelyn remained on the couch, hands loosely clasped between them, both deep in thought.
“We need to be careful,” Evelyn said after a long pause. “Breaking into the Department of Mysteries isn’t exactly easy.”
Harry nodded. “I know. But if Voldemort’s going to lure me there by planting that vision in my head, then that means he can get in. We just have to figure out how he does it.”
Evelyn frowned. “In the book, he used the Imperius Curse on a Ministry employee. He forced him to try to steal the prophecy, but the protections wouldn’t let him take it since the prophecy was about you. That’s why Voldemort needed you there in person.”
Harry’s grip tightened. “Right. So I have to be the one to take it.”
“Which means we need to figure out a way inside,” Evelyn said, thinking. “In the book, Arthur Weasley was guarding something at the Department of Mysteries before he got attacked. We could use that.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “The entrance. He was guarding a door.”
Evelyn nodded. “The same door that leads to the Hall of Prophecy.”
“Then that’s our way in,” Harry said. “We just need to get close enough to slip through.”
Evelyn sighed, rubbing her temples. “Easier said than done. The Ministry isn’t exactly lacking in security, especially with You-Know-Who back—even if Fudge won’t admit it yet.”
Harry’s jaw clenched. “Fudge won’t be able to deny it forever. Once Voldemort makes his move, he won’t have a choice.”
Evelyn glanced at him, biting her lip. “Which brings us to another problem…”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“The visions,” Evelyn said quietly. “In the book, they started getting worse around Christmas. That’s when you saw Arthur Weasley being attacked. And it was after that Dumbledore started making Occlumency lessons mandatory.”
Harry winced. “With Snape.”
Evelyn nodded. “Yeah. And those lessons… well, they didn’t exactly go well.”
Harry sighed, rubbing his face. He remembered how Evelyn had described how Snape had barged into his mind over and over again, how his memories had been laid bare.
He wasn’t looking forward to that.
“But we might be able to use it,” Evelyn continued. “If you can learn to control those visions instead of blocking them out completely, you might be able to see what Voldemort is planning before he tries to use them against you.”
Harry frowned. “Isn’t that risky? Wouldn’t that make it easier for him to manipulate me?”
Evelyn hesitated. “Yes… but only if you let him. If you can learn how to navigate those visions instead of reacting emotionally—” she paused, then sighed, “—which, let’s be honest, was kind of a problem last time—”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Thanks for that.”
She smirked. “Just saying. You have to learn to be aware of what’s happening instead of just believing whatever he shows you.”
Harry exhaled slowly, nodding. “Alright. So we break into the Department of Mysteries before Christmas and take the prophecy before Voldemort even thinks about luring me there. But first, I need to learn how to control my connection to him so I don’t fall into any traps.”
“Exactly,” Evelyn said. “And we can’t tell anyone.”
Harry hesitated. “Not even Ron and Hermione?”
Evelyn bit her lip. “Not yet. They’d never agree to it.”
Harry sighed, knowing she was right. Hermione would say it was too reckless. Ron would be furious at the idea of sneaking into the Ministry. And Sirius—
Harry’s stomach twisted. If Sirius knew about this, he’d want to help.
And that was exactly what had gotten him killed in the original timeline.
“Alright,” Harry said quietly. “We keep this between us.”
Evelyn nodded, squeezing his hand. “We’ll do this the right way, Harry. And we’ll save him.”
Harry looked at her, determination burning in his chest.
“No matter what it takes.”
The next day passed in a blur. Harry went through the motions of classes, but his mind was elsewhere.
Evelyn, too, seemed lost in thought, though she kept up her usual sharp presence in lessons.
They had a plan now. But keeping it secret wasn’t going to be easy—especially from their friends.
That evening, after another successful DA session, Harry found himself in the Gryffindor common room with Ron and Hermione.
“You alright, mate?” Ron asked, frowning. “You’ve been quiet all day.”
Harry forced a smile. “Yeah. Just… thinking about everything with Umbridge.”
Ron scowled. “Don’t remind me. I swear, if she makes one more rule—”
“She will,” Hermione muttered, flipping through her copy of Hogwarts, A History. “That’s what she does. It’s only a matter of time before she tries to interfere with everything.”
Harry nodded along, but his mind was still elsewhere. He needed to talk to Evelyn.
Luckily, she was already watching him from across the room, having entered only moments ago. When their eyes met, she tilted her head slightly, signaling for him to follow her.
“Er—gonna go for a walk before bed,” Harry told Ron and Hermione quickly.
Ron yawned. “Yeah, alright.”
Hermione eyed him suspiciously but said nothing.
Harry made his way out of the common room and down the corridor. Evelyn was waiting in a hidden alcove, arms crossed.
“Did you think of something?” she asked in a hushed voice.
Harry nodded. “Yeah. We might be fine sneaking into the Ministry, but we need to make sure no one else tries to follow us.”
Evelyn frowned. “Meaning?”
“Meaning we need a cover story,” Harry said. “Something to explain why we’ll be gone over Christmas.”
Evelyn thought for a moment, then smirked. “Good thing you and I are already in trouble for sneaking off together all the time.”
Harry blinked. “Wait—”
She grinned mischievously. “Think about it. If we make it look like we’re sneaking away for some… alone time, no one will question it.”
Harry’s face went red. “You mean—”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “It’s the perfect excuse. You know Ron will try to avoid the topic entirely. And Hermione? She might disapprove, but she wouldn’t suspect anything beyond that.”
Harry hesitated. “…Alright. It’s not a bad plan.”
“Obviously,” Evelyn teased.
Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “We just have to be convincing.”
Evelyn smirked. “Oh, I think we’ll manage.”
Harry sighed. This was going to be interesting.
___________
As the days passed, Harry and Evelyn continued their secret preparations.
The DA was still growing stronger. Everyone was making progress—especially the Slytherins, who were surprisingly enthusiastic about rebelling against Umbridge.
But beneath it all, Harry and Evelyn were playing a much bigger game.
The real fight wasn’t just against Umbridge.
It was against fate itself.
And they were going to win.
No matter what it took.
Chapter 51: The Weight of the Future
Chapter Text
Evelyn lay in the quiet darkness of her dormitory, staring up at the canopy of her four-poster bed. The emerald-green hangings swayed slightly with the draft from the dungeon corridors, and the soft breathing of her dormmates filled the silence.
But sleep wouldn’t come.
Her mind was too full. Too loud.
She turned onto her side, tucking her hands under her pillow, but it didn’t help.
How do I change the future?
She had spent the past year and a half making small, careful changes. Steering things slightly, keeping Harry on the right path, nudging events just enough so they wouldn’t spiral out of control.
But was it enough?
No.
Not yet.
Because no matter how hard she tried, some things were inevitable.
Voldemort was back. Umbridge was here. Sirius was still stuck in this suffocating house, waiting for something to happen.
And at the end of this year, Harry was supposed to walk straight into a trap.
Evelyn clenched her fists under her pillow. She couldn’t let that happen. But how?
How did she change something so monumental without making things worse?
She had tried giving Harry knowledge, but that only took them so far. If they tried to get the prophecy before Christmas, would that prevent the battle at the Ministry? Or would it make things worse?
Would Voldemort realize they were interfering?
Would he come for them sooner?
Evelyn rolled onto her back again, exhaling sharply.
It felt like no matter what she did, there was always another disaster waiting.
She had known from the moment she arrived in this world that the burden of knowledge would be heavy—but she hadn’t realized how crushing it would be.
Because what if she failed?
What if, despite everything, things still went wrong?
The war would come either way. People would still die.
She had spent the last year thinking she could control this, that if she was careful enough, smart enough, she could change the course of events in a way that kept everyone safe.
But she was starting to doubt that was possible.
I can’t save everyone.
The thought made her feel sick.
What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to keep Harry safe, keep everyone safe, when the odds were stacked against them?
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push down the creeping sense of dread in her chest.
And then she heard it.
A soft rustling from across the room.
Pansy shifted in her own bed, letting out a small sigh before rolling over. The other girls were still sound asleep. The dorm was warm and familiar, and for a brief moment, Evelyn let herself take comfort in it.
She wasn’t alone.
She had friends. She had people who would stand by her, who would fight alongside her.
She wasn’t meant to do this alone.
Maybe that was the answer.
Maybe the way to change the future wasn’t to shoulder the burden by herself, but to trust the people around her.
Trust Harry.
Trust the DA.
Trust the Slytherins who had chosen to stand by her instead of Umbridge.
Maybe the future wasn’t just hers to change.
Evelyn took a slow breath, staring at the ceiling.
She didn’t have all the answers yet. But she would find them.
And when the time came—when everything was on the line—she would be ready.
__________
Evelyn had spent the last week agonizing over this decision.
Every moment she wasn’t in class or training with the DA, she was turning it over in her mind, questioning whether this was the right thing to do.
But after her sleepless night, after realizing she couldn’t do this alone, she knew.
She had to tell them.
Not everyone. Not the entire DA. But her people. The ones she trusted the most. The ones she knew would stand by her, no matter what.
So a message had been passed along in whispers and scribbled notes, a time and place set.
And now she was here, pacing in the Room of Requirement as she waited for them to arrive.
Harry stood near the fireplace, watching her.
“They’ll believe you,” he said quietly.
Evelyn let out a shaky breath. “I hope so.”
One by one, the door opened, and the people she had chosen stepped inside.
Hermione came first, a curious frown on her face. Ron was beside her, stuffing half a chocolate frog into his mouth.
Pansy arrived with Theo, both of them already deep in conversation, but they fell silent when they saw the look on Evelyn’s face.
Draco and Blaise followed, looking slightly wary, and then came Evan and Daphne.
Fred and George entered last, glancing around with identical grins.
“All right, what’s the big mystery?” Fred asked, folding his arms. “Harry made it sound serious.”
“It is serious,” Evelyn said.
Everyone turned to her, their expressions ranging from confusion to mild concern.
She took a deep breath.
“I’m about to tell you something that no one else knows,” she said. “Something that will change everything.”
A pause.
“I need you all to listen. And I need you to trust me.”
Silence.
Then Theo leaned against the nearest chair, crossing his arms. “You’ve got our attention.”
Evelyn glanced at Harry. He nodded, encouraging her.
The tension was thick, an unspoken anticipation hanging over them as they waited for Evelyn to explain why she had gathered them all here.
She took a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you all,” she began, her voice steady despite the storm of nerves raging inside her. “Something only Harry knows, but something you all deserve to know if we’re going to make a difference this year.”
The room fell silent.
Hermione was the first to react, leaning forward, her sharp mind already at work. “You’re talking about the future, aren’t you?”
Evelyn nodded. “Yes. I know what’s supposed to happen. I know how this war is meant to unfold—what’s coming, who’s in danger, and how it all ends.”
A heavy pause followed. Ron’s brows furrowed as he looked between her and Harry. “So, what? You’re a Seer or something?”
“Not exactly,” Evelyn said carefully. “I—I’m not from here. Not from this timeline. I come from a world where everything that’s happened in our lives — your lives… was a story. A series of books written about Harry’s life.”
Silence.
Fred let out a low whistle. “Well, that’s new.”
George nodded. “Certainly a step up from our usual secret meetings.”
Pansy narrowed her eyes, assessing Evelyn in the way only she could. “You’re serious?”
“As serious as it gets,” Evelyn said. “And before you all freak out, I didn’t come here with bad intentions. I’ve spent the past few years trying to make things better—helping Harry, preparing him for what’s ahead.” She met their gazes, one by one. “But I can’t do it alone anymore.”
Theo, usually composed, tilted his head. “And what exactly is ‘ahead’?”
Evelyn exhaled, steadying herself. “This year, the war begins in full. Voldemort is back—he’s been back since last year, but the Ministry refuses to believe it. The Order of the Phoenix is fighting him in secret. By the end of the year, there will be a battle at the Department of Mysteries, and people will die. And it all starts with something called the Prophecy.”
She glanced at Harry, who gave her a nod of encouragement.
“The Prophecy was made before Harry was born. It says that he is the one with the power to defeat Voldemort—but it also says that neither can live while the other survives. Voldemort thinks the prophecy holds the key to his downfall, and he’s going to do everything he can to get it.”
The weight of her words settled over the group like a thick fog.
Daphne, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke. “ You’re sure you know all this?”
Evelyn hesitated, then admitted, “Yes, I’ve read it all before. In my world, this was a book series. I know what happens next.”
Draco scoffed, crossing his arms. “You expect us to believe that our entire lives were written in some stupid book?”
“You don’t have to believe it,” Evelyn said simply. “But you’ve all seen how things are playing out. Everything Dumbledore’s doing, everything Umbridge is doing—it’s following a pattern. And if we don’t change things, people we love will die.”
That made them pause.
Ron cleared his throat. “Who?”
Evelyn’s stomach twisted. “Sirius,” she said quietly. “Sirius dies at the Ministry at the end of the year. And so many people in the coming years.”
The words hit hard. Harry flinched, looking away.
Blaise, usually the most laid-back of the group, had lost his easy demeanor. “And you’re telling us this now because…?”
“Because I need your help,” Evelyn admitted. “I don’t know how to fix everything on my own, and I refuse to let things play out like they did before. We have time—we can stop this if we work together.”
Hermione was the first to break the silence. She sat back, chewing on her lip before exhaling deeply. “Okay.”
Evelyn blinked. “Okay?”
Hermione nodded, determination setting in her expression. “Okay, I believe you. It sounds insane, but honestly, after everything we’ve been through, it’s not the craziest thing I’ve heard.” She glanced at Harry. “You believe her?”
Harry, who had been quiet, finally spoke. “I do. She’s been helping me for years—training me, preparing me. And everything she’s said has been right so far.”
Ron exhaled sharply. “Bloody hell. This is mental.”
Fred grinned. “Mental, but also kind of brilliant.”
George nodded. “I mean, knowing the future? That’s a wicked advantage.”
Draco, however, still looked skeptical. “Let’s say I believe you. What do you expect us to do with this information?”
“Help me change things,” Evelyn said. “When the time comes, we need to stop Voldemort from getting the prophecy. We need to make sure Sirius stays safe. And we need to start preparing for the war that’s coming.”
Pansy gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “So you want us all to join in this fight?”
“Not just join it,” Evelyn said. “Lead it.”
Theo smirked. “Well, that does sound fun.”
Evan, who had been listening intently, leaned back. “I can’t say I understand all of this, but if you’re saying we can change things… then I’m in.”
Daphne sighed, rubbing her temples. “This is ridiculous.” But after a beat, she added, “I suppose that’s never stopped me before.”
Ron groaned. “Well, guess I’m in too.”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t sound so excited, Weasley.”
Blaise gave a lazy grin. “Rewriting the future sounds like a hell of a challenge. Why not?”
Draco let out a long breath, meeting Evelyn’s gaze. “Fine,” he muttered. “But I swear, if I find out this is all some elaborate joke, you’re dead, McCrae.”
Evelyn smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Malfoy.”
With that, the room seemed lighter. A sense of unity settled over them, a shared purpose.
They had a plan.
And together, they were going to change the future.
____________
The Room of Requirement had transformed into something resembling a war room. A large wooden table dominated the center, surrounded by mismatched chairs. Sheets of parchment, stacks of books, and quills were scattered across the surface, ready to be filled with notes on everything Evelyn knew about the future. The atmosphere was tense with anticipation, a shared understanding that what they were about to do would change everything.
Evelyn stood at the head of the table, her hands braced against the wood, looking at the faces of the people who had put their trust in her. Harry sat to her right, offering a silent show of support. Hermione had already pulled out a fresh roll of parchment, her quill poised and ready. Ron sat next to her, arms crossed, his expression serious. Pansy and Theo leaned back in their chairs, waiting, while Draco and Blaise were uncharacteristically quiet. Evan and Daphne sat side by side, listening intently, while the Weasley twins—who had taken this all in stride—looked ready to cause trouble if necessary.
“Alright,” Evelyn began, exhaling slowly. “Let’s start with what’s left of this year. You already know about the Department of Mysteries, the prophecy, and how Voldemort lures Harry there.”
The group nodded. That revelation had been a lot to take in just a few days ago, but they had accepted it. Now, they needed to focus on preventing it.
Evelyn continued. “Before that happens, something else major takes place—Arthur Weasley is attacked by Voldemort’s snake, Nagini.”
Ron visibly stiffened. “Dad?” His voice was tight.
Hermione reached for his hand under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Yes,” Evelyn said gently. “But Harry sees it happen in his dream, which means he warns Dumbledore in time. Your dad survives, Ron. He gets injured, but he’s okay.”
Ron swallowed hard and nodded, his grip on Hermione’s hand tightening. “Alright. So we just have to make sure Harry keeps an eye out for any weird visions, yeah?”
“Exactly,” Evelyn confirmed. “Now, let’s talk about that prophecy. It’s the reason Voldemort is after you, Harry.”
Harry, who had been mostly silent up until now, tensed. “Right. The thing that I was stupid enough to run into a trap for.”
“You weren’t stupid,” Evelyn corrected firmly. “You were manipulated. He used Sirius to lure you in.”
Harry exhaled sharply and glanced away.
“The prophecy says,” Evelyn went on, “‘The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…’” She recited the entire thing from memory, her voice steady.
When she finished, the room was silent.
“So, basically,” Theo drawled, “it means only Potter can take him down, or he’ll be killed trying.”
Harry grimaced. “Great.”
Draco, who had been quiet until now, looked between Evelyn and Harry. “Wait. If Voldemort only marked you as his equal because of this prophecy… what if he had picked someone else?”
Evelyn hesitated. “He could have.”
The room collectively leaned forward.
“There was another boy born at the end of July, a boy whose parents also defied Voldemort three times,” she admitted. “Neville Longbottom.”
Blaise let out a low whistle. “Bloody hell.”
“Neville?” Ron said, looking absolutely floored.
“But he didn’t pick Neville,” Hermione murmured, glancing at Harry. “He picked you.”
“Yeah,” Harry muttered. “Lucky me.”
“Why?” Pansy asked, frowning. “What made him choose you?”
Evelyn sighed. “Because your mum was Muggle-born.”
Harry blinked. “What?”
“He—Voldemort—was obsessed with blood purity, but he was also half-blood himself. He saw himself in you.” Evelyn’s voice softened. “That’s why.”
A long silence followed.
Fred, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke. “Alright. So we know the prophecy, and we know we have to stop this whole mess at the Department of Mysteries. What’s next?”
Evelyn took a deep breath. “We get through this year. Then we deal with next year—because that’s when things start changing fast.”
“Let’s talk about Half-Blood Prince—sixth year.”
The group leaned in closer. Hermione’s quill scratched against the parchment as she prepared to take more notes.
“Voldemort isn’t really present that year,” Evelyn continued, “but his influence is. His followers—especially Draco’s family—start taking on bigger roles.”
Draco’s face hardened, his jaw tightening. He already had an idea of what she was about to say.
“Draco,” Evelyn said gently. “Voldemort gives you a mission.”
His fingers curled into fists against the table. “I figured.”
Evelyn hesitated before speaking. “He orders you to kill Dumbledore.”
The room went completely silent.
Draco barely reacted, but his skin had gone pale. Pansy turned toward him, her expression one of horror. “Draco, no—”
“I don’t do it,” Draco interrupted, his voice tight. He was staring at Evelyn now, his eyes sharp and expectant. “I don’t, do I?”
Evelyn shook her head. “No. You try, but… you can’t do it. You’re not a killer.”
Draco exhaled sharply and looked away. Pansy grabbed his hand under the table, squeezing it tight.
“If I don’t do it, who does?” he asked, his voice lower now.
Evelyn hesitated. “Snape.”
Draco’s head snapped back toward her. “Snape?”
“Yes.” Evelyn’s voice was steady. “Dumbledore tells him to do it, Draco. He plans it. He knows you won’t be able to go through with it, and he knows that if Voldemort thinks you failed, your whole family will be in danger. So Snape does it.”
Draco swallowed hard, looking as if he might be sick. “Why?”
“Because Dumbledore is already dying,” Evelyn admitted. “He gets cursed by something—a ring, actually, a Horcrux. He only has a year left, and he wants to go on his terms, not Voldemort’s.”
“Holy shit. A horcrux?” Theo asked.
“A piece of Voldemort’s soul. By splitting your soul like that it makes you immortal. He created seven,” Evelyn explained.
“I—” Draco exhaled and pressed his fingers to his temples. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Evelyn assured him. “But at least now, you know what’s coming.”
Draco didn’t respond. He was clearly deep in thought, his expression grim.
“What else happens that year?” Blaise asked, redirecting the conversation.
“A lot,” Evelyn sighed. “Harry gets a book—Snape’s old Potions book, actually—that makes him amazing at Potions because Snape altered all the recipes, and Slughorn, the new professor, takes a liking to him. But the biggest thing?” She looked at Harry. “That’s the year you and Dumbledore start looking for Horcruxes.”
Harry’s entire posture straightened. “Horcruxes.”
“Right. We still don’t know where all of them are,” Evelyn admitted. “But we do know some of them. The ring—the one that cursed Dumbledore—is one. The locket, the one Regulus tried to destroy, is another.”
“The diary from second year,” Hermione added, connecting the dots.
“Exactly.” Evelyn nodded. “And then there’s Nagini.”
“The snake?” Ron blurted. “You mean, You-Know-Who’s bloody snake is one of them?”
“Yes,” Evelyn confirmed. “And Harry—” She hesitated before meeting his gaze. “So are you.”
The entire room froze.
Harry’s stomach twisted. “What?”
“You’re a Horcrux, Harry.” Evelyn’s voice was quiet but firm. “That’s why you can feel what he feels. Why you see what he sees. A piece of him is inside you.”
Harry sat completely still, staring at her as if he hadn’t fully processed what she was saying.
He let out a small, shaky breath. “And how do I—how do we—” He stopped, struggling to finish the sentence.
Evelyn’s expression darkened. “You have to die.”
The words felt like a death sentence.
“No,” Pansy said immediately, her voice sharp. “No, absolutely not—”
“Wait,” Hermione cut in, eyes darting between Evelyn and Harry. “Harry does die, doesn’t he? In the books.”
Evelyn bit her lip. “Yes. But not… really.”
Ron, who had been gripping the edge of the table, let out a loud exhale. “Explain.”
Evelyn swallowed. “When Voldemort kills Harry, he’s actually just destroying the piece of himself inside him. Harry comes back. He doesn’t really die.”
Harry still looked pale, but his shoulders relaxed slightly. “So… I have to let him kill me.”
“Yes,” Evelyn admitted. “But not until the very end. And when you do, you get to choose whether you come back or not.”
“Well, that’s something,” Fred muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
“What else happens?” Blaise asked, glancing around. “After Harry—after that?”
“The final battle,” Evelyn said. “And then Voldemort dies for real.”
Silence settled over the room as the weight of everything Evelyn had told them sank in.
Finally, Theo spoke up. “So, let me get this straight. We have to: stop Potter from getting tricked into the Department of Mysteries, make sure Draco doesn’t go through with killing Dumbledore, get ahead on finding Horcruxes before Voldemort does, and make sure Potter dies but doesn’t actually die?”
“Basically,” Evelyn said.
Theo groaned and leaned back in his chair. “Bloody hell.”
Hermione looked up, her eyes alight with determination. “I think we should start by mapping out all these events on a timeline,” she suggested. “Let’s list every significant moment—every decision, every trigger—so we can see where the alterations need to be made.”
Draco, who had been silent for a while, spoke quietly. “And what if altering these events causes unforeseen consequences? Changing one moment might lead to something else entirely.”
Evelyn met his gaze steadily. “That risk is inevitable. But doing nothing means accepting a future where Sirius dies, where Voldemort’s power remains unchecked, and where everything falls apart. We have to try.”
Theo nodded. “I’m with you, Evelyn. We might be meddling with fate, but if it saves someone… if it prevents the worst from happening, then it’s worth it.”
Blaise added in a measured tone, “I’m in. We just have to be meticulous about this—every detail counts.”
Evan and Daphne exchanged glances, and then Evan spoke softly, “We trust you, Evelyn. We all do. We know you wouldn’t lead us astray.”
Pansy’s eyes, though guarded, held a spark of determination. “As long as it means a future where I’m not forced to follow every silly rule, I’m willing to help.”
Ron gave a half-grin, albeit still looking a little grim. “Yeah. If it means keeping our families safe—and not being chased by Umbridge all the time—I’m in.”
Fred and George, their usual lighthearted banter subdued by the gravity of the conversation, simply nodded in unison. “Let’s do this,” Fred said. “Let’s rewrite the future.”
Harry’s voice, quiet but firm, broke the silence that had descended. “I can’t lose Sirius. I won’t let that happen again.”
The room fell silent once more as every member of the group absorbed his words. The determination in his eyes, the quiet resolve in his tone—it was enough to set hearts ablaze with hope.
Evelyn reached out and placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “We’ll change it,” she promised. “We’ll prevent the events that lead to that horrible day. Together, we’ll find a way to stop the prophecy from sealing our fate.”
Hermione’s quill scratched on parchment as she recorded every detail of their discussion. “I’m making a timeline right now,” she murmured, her tone resolute. “We need to mark every key event—the battle at the Ministry, the moment of the vision, the exact circumstances of Sirius’s death. That’s our starting point.”
Draco, leaning against the table with a thoughtful frown, added, “We must also consider the role of each player. the Dark Lord’s machinations are precise. If we are to change anything, we need to know who acts when and how.”
Theo flipped his notebook open. “I’m noting down every detail,” he said, his voice steady. “Even the smallest moments might be the tipping point.”
Blaise leaned forward. “The Horcruxes—don’t forget them. They’re the anchors of his immortality. If we can identify their locations and the exact times when they were created or activated, that might give us an opening.”
Evan and Daphne nodded in agreement, their pens moving quickly over parchment. Even Fred and George, known for their irreverence, were writing in silence, their expressions serious.
Evelyn looked around the table at these determined faces. “This isn’t just about me telling you what happens. This is about us taking control of our destiny. I know it sounds impossible, but if we can figure out exactly when the chain reaction begins—the exact moment Voldemort’s manipulation sets in—then we can intervene. We can stop the sequence of events that leads to the final battle at Hogwarts.”
A low murmur of assent ran through the group. Hermione looked up, her eyes bright. “We have one thing to agree on,” she said. “We will work together to change the timeline. We’ll mark the critical junctures and plan exactly what we can do differently.”
Ron, who had been scribbling furiously, finally looked up. “And if we fail?” he asked, his tone raw with worry. “What if we make things worse?”
Evelyn’s gaze softened as she met his worried eyes. “Then we try again,” she replied firmly. “I know it sounds daunting, but I believe we have the strength—and the knowledge—to do this. We can learn from our mistakes, and if necessary, we can even go back and try to fix them.”
Harry’s voice, quiet yet filled with determination, echoed around the room. “I won’t let it happen again. I won’t lose anyone else I care about.”
For a moment, the silence that followed was thick with both hope and sorrow. Each of them understood the enormity of what lay ahead—tinkering with fate was not without its perils. But they also knew that if they did nothing, the future would play out as it always had: a future marked by loss, despair, and an endless war.
Evelyn reached into a nearby stack of parchment and spread it out before the group. “This is our blueprint,” she said. “Every single event we’ve discussed will be noted here. I’ve written down the details from Order of the Phoenix, from Half-Blood Prince, and from Deathly Hallows as I remember them. We will go through them, line by line, and see where the divergence points are—the moments where we can, perhaps, change the course of history.”
Hermione’s eyes shone with determination as she scanned the text. “This is… extraordinary,” she whispered. “Every word of it, the sequence of events—they all make sense.”
Draco, who had been leaning against the wall, finally spoke in a quiet tone. “I never imagined that our fates were written out so precisely. And now… we have a chance to change it all.” His eyes darted to Evelyn.
Ron looked around the room, his expression a mix of apprehension and resolve. “So, what’s the plan then?” he asked, leaning forward. “Where do we start?”
Evelyn ran a hand through her hair, considering. “We need to pinpoint the exact moment when Voldemort’s influence shifts from potential to reality. I believe that moment is when he sends that false vision of Sirius being in danger. If we can stop that from happening—or at least weaken its impact—Harry might not be lured to the Ministry. And if he isn’t lured there, maybe the battle that costs Sirius his life can be avoided.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the group. Fred whispered to George, “That’s our golden ticket—if we can stop that vision, we might stop the whole chain reaction.”
Hermione scribbled furiously, “I’ll mark the exact moment on our timeline. We need to know the precise trigger—whether it’s a spell, an object, or something else entirely.”
Theo added, “I suggest we also look into the nature of these visions. If they’re a projection from Voldemort’s mind, maybe there’s a way to shield Harry from them.”
Blaise nodded. “That might require some… experimental magic. But if anyone can figure it out, it’s us.”
Draco’s voice was low, almost regretful. “I once believed fate was inevitable. But now… I see a chance, however small, to alter it. I’ll do whatever I can.”
Evan and Daphne exchanged a determined look, both nodding in silent agreement.
Fred grinned. “Alright, mates. We’ve got our work cut out for us, but it’s time to show Umbridge, Voldemort—and fate itself—that we’re in charge of our own future.”
George clapped his hands together. “Let’s get to work then.”
For a long while, the room was filled with the scratch of quills on parchment, the rustle of paper as notes were taken, and the low hum of voices discussing strategies. The atmosphere was charged with both the weight of impending danger and the spark of rebellious hope.
Evelyn paused and looked up from her notes. “I know this is a lot to process,” she said softly, “but I want each of you to remember: we’re not just trying to rewrite a timeline. We’re trying to save lives. I won’t let the prophecy, or Voldemort, determine our destiny without a fight.”
Harry’s voice, steady and determined, cut through the quiet. “We have to believe that we can change what’s coming. I refuse to accept that Sirius has to die. I refuse to let our future be dictated by someone else’s vision.”
Hermione closed her notebook and looked around the room, her eyes shining with conviction. “We’re not just a group of students anymore,” she declared. “We’re a team. We’re going to work together—every bit of knowledge, every idea—until we find a way to stop this prophecy from becoming our reality.”
Ron, his face set in a determined grimace, added, “We all have our roles. Some of us will gather the details, others will look for ways to counter the visions. I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of just letting things happen.”
Draco’s expression softened, and even he, who had long been reluctant to admit his doubts about fate, said quietly, “Change is dangerous, but sometimes it’s the only way to survive.”
Evelyn smiled, grateful for the unity around her. “I knew I could count on you all,” she said. “Together, we’re going to map out every key moment. We’ll mark the turning points: the exact moment when Voldemort sends that vision, the point where the battle in the Department of Mysteries is set in motion, and every subsequent event that leads to our darkest hour.”
Fred and George exchanged a mischievous glance. “Maybe we can even find a way to cause Umbridge to trip over her own decrees,” Fred whispered. “I’m all for that.”
George added, “It’s time we take control, not just for ourselves, but for everyone who suffers under this oppressive future.”
Evelyn’s gaze shifted to Harry. “I know this is frightening,” she said, her voice low and earnest, “but every moment we can change counts. I’m going to do everything in my power to help you—help all of us—rewrite the future.”
Harry squeezed her hand, his eyes burning with determination. “I’m with you, Evelyn. No matter how hard it gets, I won’t let them win. We’ll fight fate if we have to.”
A murmur of agreement ran through the gathered friends. In that moment, the Room of Requirement was transformed into a sanctuary of hope and rebellion—a place where the future was not set in stone but was something they could mold with their own hands.
They spent the rest of the night working methodically. Hermione compiled a detailed timeline on a large scroll that unfurled across the table, marking critical events from the battle at the Ministry to the final showdown in the Department of Mysteries. Ron, with his characteristic bluntness, jotted down practical notes on how each event affected him and his family, while Pansy and Theo debated the finer points of timing and strategy. Draco contributed quietly, noting the subtle shifts in events that he’d observed over the years, and Blaise, Evan, and Daphne provided insights on the interplay between events and the potential leverage points.
Snape, who had been silently listening for a long time, finally cleared his throat. “While I remain skeptical about meddling with fate,” he said in a low, measured tone, “the evidence you present here suggests that the chain of events is not as unalterable as some might believe. If we are to change the outcome—if we are to prevent Black’s death and disrupt the Dark Lord’s plan—then every detail, every minute fluctuation matters.”
His words, coming from someone who had long been seen as an enigma, lent an air of gravitas to the meeting. The group fell silent as Snape’s words sank in. Even Draco, who had initially been resistant to the idea, nodded slightly in acknowledgement.
Hermione’s eyes shone as she looked at Snape. “Thank you, Professor,” she said quietly, “for your input. We need all the insight we can get.”
Snape’s expression remained inscrutable, but he continued, “I suggest that you all pay close attention to the moment when the false vision is first triggered. That is when Voldemort exerts his control over your mind, Harry, and it is the moment we must alter. Once that is done, the subsequent events should, in theory, follow a different trajectory.”
Harry leaned forward, his eyes meeting Snape’s. “What do you mean by ‘alter’?” he asked.
Snape allowed himself a thin smile. “It may not be a matter of altering your mind directly, but rather intercepting the chain of events that leads to that moment. If you can shield yourself from the influence of the vision—even momentarily—you might prevent Voldemort from luring you to the Ministry. And that, in turn, could prevent the catastrophic battle from taking place.”
A murmur ran through the room. Fred, who had been scribbling notes, looked up. “So we need to find a way to block that vision? Like an anti-Imperius, but for dreams?”
George grinned. “Or maybe a charm that lets you see the truth rather than the lies Voldemort is feeding you?”
Hermione tapped her quill thoughtfully against the scroll. “We might be able to research ancient occlumency spells—perhaps combine them with some protective enchantments. There’s bound to be something in the restricted section of the library.”
Evelyn’s eyes met Harry’s once more. “I promise you this,” she said softly, “we’ll do whatever it takes. If I can help you learn to control those visions, if I can help us all understand the precise moments when the future changes course, then maybe… just maybe, we can prevent the worst from happening.”
Harry swallowed hard, his gaze steady on hers. “I believe you,” he said, his voice low and resolute. “We have to try, Evelyn. I can’t… I can’t lose Sirius. And if there’s even a chance that we can stop this, then I’m all in.”
The room erupted in a determined chorus of agreement. Each person—no matter how scared or skeptical they were—understood the stakes. Their collective future, their lives, and the fate of those they loved hung in the balance.
Chapter 52: Plotting & Planning
Chapter Text
The Room of Requirement had transformed into a cozy, dimly lit sanctuary for the five of them. Flickering torches lined the stone walls, and plush armchairs surrounded a low wooden table stacked with books, snacks, and a few Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes products that Fred and George had smuggled in.
Evelyn sat cross-legged on the floor, flipping through a Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook, her brows furrowed. Across from her, Harry was sprawled in an armchair, absentmindedly tossing a small golden ball—one of the joke shop’s new prototypes—between his hands. Blaise sat beside her, sharp-eyed and relaxed, while Fred and George were currently engaged in a whispered, animated debate about which of their newest inventions they should test on Filch’s cat.
It had been a week since their last proper gathering here, all of them too busy with classes, homework, and avoiding Umbridge’s increasingly oppressive rules. Hogwarts had grown more suffocating than ever, and the Room of Requirement had become their one refuge.
“So,” Fred said abruptly, leaning back against the armchair with an exaggerated sigh. “What’s the grand plan tonight, then? Dueling practice? General chaos? Or shall we finally convince Evelyn to spill her most embarrassing childhood story?”
“She doesn’t have one,” Blaise deadpanned. “She emerged into the world fully composed and terrifying.”
George smirked. “I dunno, mate. I think if we dig deep enough, we’ll find something. Everyone’s got something embarrassing in their past.”
Evelyn smirked but didn’t respond. Instead, she shot a glance at Harry, who seemed distant. “You alright, Harry?” she asked.
Harry blinked and focused on her. “Yeah, just thinking.” He hesitated. “About the war.”
The mood in the room shifted. The easygoing atmosphere tightened, as if a chill had passed through.
Fred and George exchanged glances. Blaise exhaled through his nose.
It wasn’t an unfamiliar topic between them, but there were nights—like this one—where the reality of it pressed down heavier than usual.
“You’re thinking about him,” Evelyn said quietly.
Harry nodded. “Yeah.”
The name didn’t need to be spoken.
Lord Voldemort.
The wizard who had haunted Harry’s life. The war that loomed closer with every passing day.
Before anyone could respond, the door to the Room of Requirement swung open.
And Professor Snape stepped inside.
Silence fell across the room.
Fred and George tensed immediately, their easygoing expressions vanishing as they sat up straighter in their chairs. Blaise, who was usually unreadable, let his gaze flicker toward Evelyn as if awaiting her reaction. Harry’s grip tightened around the golden ball in his hands, his green eyes narrowing.
Evelyn, however, remained calm. She didn’t look remotely surprised to see Snape here.
The door shut behind him with a soft click, and his dark eyes swept over the group, lingering momentarily on each of them before returning to Evelyn. “Miss McCrae,” he said, his voice smooth and unreadable. “A word.”
The twins shot Evelyn wary looks, but she simply gestured for them to stay seated before getting to her feet. “Whatever you need to say, you can say it here,” she told him evenly.
Snape arched a brow. “I doubt you want me to say it in front of them.”
“I do. You agreed to help us change the future. There’s no secrets now.”
The group exchanged glances.
Snape stared at her for a long moment before he exhaled through his nose, his lips curling into something almost amused. He crossed the room in long strides, his black robes billowing behind him, and came to stand in front of the low wooden table between them.
“I have been patient, Miss McCrae,” he said, folding his arms. “But I believe it is time for you to tell me the truth.”
Evelyn tilted her head. “The truth about what?”
“You know precisely what.” His voice lowered, and the weight of his words pressed down on the room. “The part I played in the war. My role in this… future you know.”
The tension in the air became nearly unbearable.
Harry sat up straighter, his jaw clenched.
Fred and George exchanged glances.
Blaise remained perfectly still, watching everything unfold with sharp, calculating eyes.
Evelyn considered Snape for a long moment. He was asking for the truth—but the truth was something that had the power to shatter everything.
“Alright,” she said finally, gesturing to one of the empty chairs. “Sit down.”
Snape hesitated for a fraction of a second before moving around the table and lowering himself into the chair across from her. He laced his fingers together, his dark eyes unreadable.
The rest of the group remained silent, waiting.
Evelyn took a deep breath and began, her voice steady despite the weight of what she was about to say.
“Alright, Snape,” she started, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. “You need to understand something before I tell you anything else.”
Snape’s gaze narrowed slightly, but he said nothing, waiting for her to continue.
“I’m not telling you all of this because I want to change your fate. I’m not going to lie and say that I know absolutely everything. The future is complicated, but I can give you the pieces that I have.” She paused, her fingers curling around the edge of the table. “But I need you to trust me.”
Snape’s lips thinned, and his brow furrowed as he leaned forward slightly, clearly skeptical, but still intent on hearing what she had to say.
Evelyn glanced at the others briefly—Blaise, Fred, and George were still quietly observing, though the twins were exchanging brief, curious glances. Harry, however, was staring at her as though every word she spoke mattered more than anything else.
She took another steadying breath. “In the future I know, you were—”
She stopped herself, the words on the tip of her tongue. She glanced at Harry, silently asking for his permission to speak.
Harry gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod. His expression was serious, but supportive.
With that, Evelyn looked back at Snape. “You were always on the side of the Order, Snape. You were a double agent, and you did everything in your power to help stop Voldemort. But the way it ended… you had to make some very difficult choices. I know about your loyalty to Dumbledore, but I also know about your… involvement with the Dark Lord.”
Snape’s expression darkened, but he remained silent. Evelyn pushed on, her voice gaining strength.
“I know that you were the one who had to carry out the order to kill Dumbledore. That it was your choice to do it, and you did it for reasons no one truly understood at the time. You were working to protect Draco Malfoy, to protect the Hogwarts students and the entire wizarding world from Voldemort’s wrath. It wasn’t about you, Sir. It was about saving as many people as you could.”
She could feel the tension in the room thickening. Snape’s gaze flickered briefly to Harry, and Evelyn knew he was trying to gauge Harry’s reaction. But she didn’t look at him. This was not about Harry anymore—it was about telling Snape what he needed to hear.
“You were torn, Severus,” Evelyn continued softly, her eyes locked on his. “You did things that would haunt you for the rest of your life. But in the end, you were a hero. You protected the ones you loved, and you did it even when you were vilified for it.”
There was a long silence. Snape’s face was still as stone, but there was something flickering in his eyes now—a shift, a subtle change. His jaw was clenched, and his breath seemed a little more shallow than usual.
Fred, leaning back in his chair, finally broke the silence. “Blimey, that’s heavy,” he muttered, glancing at George.
Evelyn didn’t break eye contact with Snape. “I know it’s not easy to hear. But you can still change the way things happen. You’re not bound to the path that’s already been set. I don’t know how yet, but I know you can help us.”
There was a pause, and then Snape looked away, his hand moving slightly to his chest, as if to guard something that had been exposed.
Blaise finally spoke, his voice calm and composed as always. “And what about Voldemort? Will this change affect him, too?”
Evelyn turned her gaze toward him. “I don’t know. I can’t know everything. But what I do know is that we can stop things from spiraling out of control if we move carefully.” She glanced at Snape. “You’ve already helped us in the future, Snape. You can help us now, too.”
Snape looked back at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, as if weighing his options, he sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I’ve never been one for open rebellion.”
“But you’re willing to work with us,” Evelyn replied quietly.
He met her eyes. There was a flash of something—perhaps regret or exhaustion—and for a brief moment, Evelyn saw the man beneath the mask.
“Fine,” he said curtly, turning to look at the others. “I’ll help officially. But make no mistake, Miss McCrae, I’m doing this because I’m curious about your claims and your intentions, not because I intend to play your little game.”
Evelyn nodded, unphased. “Fair enough. But we’re in this together now.”
There was a brief silence before she added, “The first step is learning everything we can, together. Not just about Voldemort, but about the inner workings of this world—the people we’ll need on our side and the ones we’ll have to avoid. The future is full of surprises, but we’re prepared for them.”
Fred leaned forward, a grin spreading across his face. “Well, this’ll be fun, won’t it?”
George chuckled, “If there’s one thing we’re good at, it’s causing trouble.”
Evelyn smiled slightly, though it was a fleeting expression. “Yes. But we can’t be reckless. This is about more than just us, or even Hogwarts. It’s about everyone.”
Blaise raised a brow. “So what’s the next move, then?”
Evelyn hesitated, glancing at Harry. The conversation had gone on longer than she had planned, and yet the questions she had been dreading were still hanging in the air. They had a plan—she knew they did—but there was still a mountain of uncertainty ahead.
Harry finally spoke, his voice steady but thoughtful. “What we need to do first is make sure we have the support of the people who matter. The ones who will help us when the time comes.”
Evelyn nodded, her thoughts turning to the next phase of their plan. There were still many more steps to take, but for the first time, she felt like they might have a chance. Together, they would fight for a better future—even if it meant confronting the darkest parts of their world.
______________
A week later, the Room of Requirement was dimly lit, the warm glow of floating lanterns casting long shadows on the stone walls. Evelyn leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, as she watched the rest of their inner circle process what Harry had just said. The air in the room felt charged, thick with tension and unspoken thoughts.
Sirius Black. Free.
Snape’s scoff cut through the silence like a knife. He stood near the fireplace, arms crossed over his chest, eyes dark and unreadable. “Absolutely not,” he said, his voice laced with cold finality. “Black deserves to be locked away.”
Harry bristled instantly. “Why? Because of some grudge from school?” he shot back. “You’re really going to sit here and tell me that Sirius deserves to be imprisoned in his own house when the real traitor is still out there?”
“Perhaps if Black had exercised better judgment in his youth, he wouldn’t be in this position,” Snape countered smoothly, his tone sharp.
Evelyn exhaled through her nose. She had known this conversation would get heated, but she wasn’t about to let Snape shut it down completely. “Snape,” she said, meeting his gaze, “I know you hate Sirius. But you also know the truth. Peter Pettigrew is alive. And if we find him, we can prove Sirius’ innocence.”
Draco, who had been leaning back in his chair, sat up straighter at that. “Wait—what?”
Across the room, Pansy, Theo, Blaise, Evan, Daphne, Ron, Hermione, and the twins all looked equally confused.
Evelyn glanced at Harry. He nodded at her.
She took a steadying breath before explaining, “At the end of third year, Harry, Ron, and Hermione found out that Peter Pettigrew—the one everyone thought was dead—was actually alive. He was an Animagus. He had been living as a rat this whole time—Scabbers, Ron’s rat.”
A collective murmur of disbelief spread across the group.
“That’s impossible,” Theo said, narrowing his eyes.
“No, it’s not,” Harry said. “We saw it happen with our own eyes. Sirius and Remus transformed him back into a human. He admitted everything—the whole reason my parents were killed, how he framed Sirius. And then he escaped before we could take him to the Ministry.”
Evan let out a low whistle. “So all this time, the real traitor has been out there, and they let Black rot.”
Fred shook his head. “Bloody hell. That’s mad.”
“That’s the Ministry for you,” George muttered.
Evelyn leaned forward. “If we can find Pettigrew, we can clear Sirius’ name. And if we do that, then it changes everything.”
Snape still looked unconvinced, but he didn’t immediately argue back. His fingers tapped against his arm, his expression unreadable.
Blaise, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke. “Alright. Let’s say we do this. Let’s say we actually manage to track Pettigrew down. What’s stopping Dumbledore from keeping Sirius locked away anyway? You think he’s going to just let him run free?”
Evelyn’s jaw clenched. “That’s why this is the perfect opportunity to start undermining Dumbledore.”
A beat of silence passed.
Then Pansy grinned, tilting her head toward Evelyn. “Now I like where this is going.”
“I don’t see how this undermines Dumbledore,” Theo said, arms crossed, his sharp eyes flicking between Evelyn and Harry. “Wouldn’t he want Pettigrew caught?”
Evelyn exhaled slowly. “Not necessarily. If Sirius is free, Harry has someone else to turn to—someone outside of Dumbledore’s control.”
Blaise hummed in thought. “And Dumbledore likes to control everything, doesn’t he?”
“Exactly,” Evelyn said. “If we free Sirius, then Harry doesn’t have to keep going back to the Dursleys every summer. Even though Harry’s been staying with me, that alone disrupts Dumbledore’s plans. It puts Harry’s safety in Sirius’ hands as his guardian—not Dumbledore’s.”
“Yeah, and I’d rather be with Sirius than them,” Harry muttered.
“That makes sense,” Daphne said, frowning slightly. “But how exactly do we even find Pettigrew?”
“That’s the problem,” Evelyn admitted. “But we have an advantage—we know he’s alive. And he’s still hiding. That means he’s in his rat form, probably sticking close to someone who wouldn’t notice him.”
Ron, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly looked uneasy. “You don’t think—he’s still with my family, do you?”
Hermione turned to him, startled. “Oh, Ron, do you think—?”
Ron hesitated. “I—I dunno. Scabbers was missing for ages before he showed up again in third year. What if—what if he just found another wizarding family to latch onto?”
“That’s a good place to start,” Evelyn said. “We figure out where Pettigrew could be hiding. If he’s with a wizarding family, then he’ll be wherever the action is.”
Fred and George exchanged a look before George said, “We can check back at home over Christmas. If we see any suspicious rats hanging around, we’ll make sure to give them a proper welcome.”
Fred cracked his knuckles. “Oh yeah. Very warm welcome.”
Ron shuddered. “If that rat’s been in my house again—”
“Focus,” Snape cut in, his voice sharp. “This is all speculation. You don’t even know where to begin looking.”
Harry frowned at him. “So what, you think we should just do nothing?”
Snape gave him a cold look. “I think you should be realistic.”
Evelyn narrowed her eyes. “And I think we should start looking as soon as possible.”
Snape held her gaze for a long moment before exhaling. “Fine,” he said at last. “Do what you will. But don’t expect me to waste my time chasing after a rat.”
With that, he turned and swept toward the door, his robes billowing behind him.
The moment the door shut behind him, Fred leaned over to George and muttered, “That went better than expected, actually.”
Evelyn ignored them, refocusing on the group. “We start keeping an eye out immediately. If we hear anything, we regroup and plan.”
Everyone nodded, though the air was still thick with tension.
Harry met Evelyn’s eyes. He looked determined.
They had their first real goal.
_____________
It was the morning after their meeting in the Room of Requirement when the latest educational decree appeared on the common room notice boards.
Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four:
“All students must maintain proper dress and decorum at all times. Hogwarts uniforms must be worn during school hours, and all attire must be appropriate and in line with the standards set by the High Inquisitor. Failure to comply will result in disciplinary action.”
The Slytherin common room was unusually quiet as the students read the notice, many exchanging glances of irritation or amusement.
“This is getting ridiculous,” Daphne muttered as she adjusted her robe. “Proper decorum? What does that even mean?”
Pansy, reading over her shoulder, smirked. “It means Umbridge is finally going to lose it.”
Evelyn leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “She’s trying to control every little thing now. It’s only a matter of time before she completely snaps.”
“Well,” Pansy said, “we should help her along, don’t you think?”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”
Pansy grinned and turned toward the others. “I say we ignore this decree entirely. No one follows the dress code. No one. No robes, no ties, no uniforms. We wear whatever we want, whenever we want.”
Blaise let out a low whistle. “Bold move, Parkinson.”
“But effective,” Theo said, smirking. “If enough people do it, Umbridge won’t be able to punish everyone.”
“We’ll need the DA on board,” Evelyn said. “If we’re doing this, we do it properly.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Pansy said sweetly. “I think they’ll be delighted to join in.”
It started small.
The next day, half the students in the DA arrived at breakfast without ties. By lunch, Gryffindors were wearing mismatched socks over their robes. By dinner, the Weasley twins had started wearing bright orange jackets over their Hogwarts uniforms.
By the second day, robes had practically disappeared. Students were strolling through the halls in casual clothes, some in Quidditch jerseys, others in muggle jeans and t-shirts.
By the third day, even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had joined in, taking pleasure in watching Umbridge slowly unravel.
On the fourth day, Draco—despite pretending to be part of the Inquisitorial Squad—had the audacity to show up to breakfast in a full emerald-green suit with a silver pocket watch.
By the fifth day, Umbridge was shrieking at students in the corridors, demanding they put their robes back on.
By the sixth, Peeves had gotten involved. He floated around the castle, vanishing robes off unsuspecting students and replacing them with the most garish, mismatched outfits he could conjure.
And by the seventh day, Hogwarts was in complete anarchy.
By Friday evening, Umbridge had reached her limit.
Evelyn and the others were seated in the Great Hall, watching as she stormed up the aisle between the long house tables, her face an unnatural shade of purple.
“This is unacceptable!” she screeched. “You will all follow the dress code, or you will be punished accordingly!”
A few students quickly adjusted their scarves and ties, but the majority—including everyone in the DA—stayed completely still, dressed in everything but their uniforms.
Evelyn sat comfortably in a black jumper and jeans, legs crossed as she met Umbridge’s furious gaze with a calm, amused expression.
Harry, beside her in a red and gold Quidditch jersey, barely suppressed a grin.
“Oh dear,” Fred muttered from down the table. “Looks like someone’s going to explode.”
“I will get to the bottom of this!” Umbridge screeched. “I know who’s behind it! You think you can make a mockery of my rules? You think you can undermine my authority?”
A beat of silence. Then:
“Yes.”
The response came from somewhere down the Gryffindor table. The entire hall erupted into laughter.
Evelyn leaned over to Harry, lowering her voice so only he could hear. “I give it another two days before she loses her mind completely.”
Harry smirked. “I give it one.”
Umbridge, trembling with rage, stormed out of the Great Hall.
Pansy leaned back in her seat, completely unbothered, and took a sip of her pumpkin juice.
“Well,” she said casually, “that was fun.”
_______________
The Room of Requirement was warm and dimly lit that evening, the enchanted ceiling casting flickering light over the gathered students. Evelyn sat cross-legged on one of the oversized couches, Harry beside her, while Blaise, Fred, and George lounged nearby.
The rebellion against Umbridge had been the most fun they’d had in weeks, but now it was time to focus. They were here for one reason—Sirius.
Harry had set up a small, enchanted fire in the center of the room, just as he had back in fourth year when he spoke to Sirius during the Triwizard Tournament. Now, he knelt beside it, tossing in the last bit of floo powder before saying clearly, “Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!”
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a burst of green flames, Sirius’ face appeared in the fire. His expression was amused, but there was something sharp in his gaze, something watchful.
“Well, well,” he drawled. “My two favorite troublemakers.” His eyes flicked to the others. “And I see you’ve brought an audience.”
“Hi, Sirius,” Evelyn said, smiling.
Fred and George grinned. “Evening, Sirius,” Fred said.
“Good to see you looking as rebellious as ever,” George added.
Sirius huffed a laugh. “And here I thought I was bad at your age. I assume this firecall isn’t just for a friendly chat?”
Harry shook his head. “We have a plan. We’re going to free you.”
Sirius blinked. “Come again?”
Evelyn leaned forward. “We’ve been going through everything we know about the war, everything that’s coming. And we’ve realized that you being locked up in Grimmauld Place isn’t helping anyone.”
Sirius scoffed. “Tell me about it.”
“So we’re going to clear your name,” Harry said.
For the first time, Sirius looked taken aback. “Harry, that’s—” He stopped, his jaw tightening. “That’s not possible.”
“Yes, it is,” Evelyn cut in. “Because Peter Pettigrew is still out there.”
Sirius’ expression darkened instantly.
“That rat,” Fred muttered.
“Literally,” George added.
Evelyn ignored them and kept going. “We find him, we expose him, we prove you’re innocent.”
Sirius was quiet for a moment. Then, his voice low, he asked, “And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”
Harry exhaled sharply. “That’s what we’re figuring out.”
Sirius studied them all carefully. “You’re serious about this,” he murmured, almost to himself.
“Dead serious,” Harry said firmly.
Sirius gave a bark of laughter. “That’s my line, kid.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “We’ve been thinking about this for a while,” she said. “There are a few ways we can track Pettigrew. We just need to narrow it down.”
Fred and George exchanged a glance.
“If you need tracking methods, we might have something,” Fred said.
George nodded. “We’ve been working on a project—something that could help you find anyone within a certain radius.”
Harry’s head snapped toward them. “Like the Marauder’s Map?”
“Sort of,” Fred admitted. “But more advanced.”
“We’ll need to tweak it to search for Animagi,” George added.
Sirius tilted his head. “You two have been busy.”
Evelyn grinned. “They’re geniuses, really.”
Fred and George both gave exaggerated bows.
“But even if we find him, we have to be careful,” Sirius said, his voice turning serious. “Peter will run the second he realizes he’s being hunted. And if he gets desperate enough, he’ll go straight to Voldemort.”
A brief silence followed.
Evelyn exhaled. “Which is why we have to be subtle. We can’t let him know we’re onto him until we have enough proof.”
Sirius studied her for a moment. “You’re a strategist, aren’t you?”
“I try.”
Harry nodded. “We’ve all been working on figuring out what to change, what to keep the same. Evelyn’s been leading the charge.”
Sirius’ gaze flicked between them. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Alright,” he said. “I’m in.”
A grin spread across Harry’s face.
Evelyn felt a wave of relief. “Good. Because we’re going to need you at full strength when the time comes.”
“I’ll be ready,” Sirius promised.
Then his expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly. “But before I go… what else have you two been up to?”
Harry hesitated, but Evelyn spoke up. “We have a group. A small inner circle.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow.
“They’re the ones helping us figure everything out,” Harry explained. “And… they know my secret,” Evelyn added.
Sirius’ expression darkened with intrigue. “Your secret?”
Evelyn nodded. “Harry, tell him.”
Harry took a deep breath. “Evelyn knows the future.”
Silence.
Sirius blinked. Then, very slowly, he said, “What?”
“She knows everything that happens,” Harry said. “She’s been guiding me since third year.”
For the first time since the conversation started, Sirius looked truly shaken. His mouth opened slightly, then closed again.
Evelyn let him process.
Fred and George, ever the opportunists, exchanged an amused glance. “We had the same reaction,” Fred said.
George nodded. “Took a minute to sink in.”
Sirius snapped out of it. “You’re telling me that all this time, Evelyn has known—”
“Everything,” Evelyn confirmed.
Sirius let out a low whistle. “Bloody hell.”
“You’re taking this better than most,” Harry said.
Sirius huffed a laugh. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified.”
Evelyn smirked. “A little of both is fair.”
Sirius shook his head. “And Dumbledore doesn’t know about this?”
Evelyn’s expression hardened. “No. And he won’t.”
Sirius looked intrigued by that but didn’t push. Instead, he exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is a lot.”
“We’ll explain everything when we come home for Christmas,” Harry said.
Sirius looked at him sharply. “And until then?”
“You can’t tell anyone,” Evelyn said.
Sirius looked at her, then at Harry, then back at her.
Finally, he sighed. “Fine. I won’t tell a soul.”
Evelyn’s shoulders relaxed.
“But I expect full details when you get here.”
Harry nodded. “Deal.”
Sirius gave them a long, searching look. Then, a slow smile spread across his face. “You two really are something else.”
Evelyn smirked. “We try.”
With that, Sirius’ face flickered in the flames. “Stay safe, both of you.”
And then, he was gone.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, Fred let out a breath. “Well, that went well.”
Evelyn smiled. “Yeah. It did.”
Harry turned to her. “Step one: get Pettigrew.”
Evelyn nodded. “Step two: change everything.”
Their eyes met, determination settling between them.
They had work to do.
Chapter 53: Defiance & Dreams
Summary:
a short lil filler for you all <3
Chapter Text
The morning air in Hogwarts carried the usual late-autumn chill, the castle’s enchanted torches flickering along the corridors as students moved sluggishly to their classes. The mood in the school was an odd mix of tension and defiance—Umbridge’s oppressive rules had begun to weigh down on everyone, but in response, the DA had doubled down on their resistance.
It had been a week since they’d all started refusing to wear their uniforms, and despite Umbridge’s many threats, not a single student in the DA had relented. The Great Hall was now a mix of casual clothes—Weasley jumpers, sleek black turtlenecks, and brightly patterned scarves. Even some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who weren’t part of the DA had begun to take part, treating it as a general rebellion against the miserable state of Hogwarts.
Evelyn adjusted the strap of her satchel as she and Theo made their way to Ancient Runes.
“I swear, if Umbridge tries to call me out again today, I might actually hex her,” Theo muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Evelyn smirked. “I think you should. It’d make class a lot more entertaining.”
“I can already hear Hermione’s voice in my head saying, ‘That’s not helping, Theo!’”
Evelyn laughed. “She’s not wrong.”
They reached the Ancient Runes classroom, where Professor Babbling was already setting up. The air smelled of parchment and ink, and the windows were fogged up from the cold outside.
Evelyn slid into her usual seat, pulling out her textbook. She enjoyed Ancient Runes—it was challenging but methodical, a puzzle of language and symbols waiting to be unlocked. Today’s lesson was focused on Galdrastafir, Icelandic stave magic, and its connection to protective enchantments.
Professor Babbling tapped the board, and a series of intricate symbols appeared.
“These runes,” she began, “are designed to be inscribed on objects for protection. The Helm of Awe, for instance, was used by Norse warriors to inspire fear in their enemies.”
Evelyn leaned forward, intrigued.
“The challenge today,” Babbling continued, “is to correctly identify which runes belong to which set of stave magic and translate them.”
She handed out scrolls with various staves drawn on them, each one a complex series of interwoven lines. Evelyn and Theo bent over their parchment, deciphering them.
“This one,” Theo murmured, tapping his quill against one of the symbols, “means protection against evil. I think it’s part of the Vegvísir set.”
Evelyn nodded. “Right, and this one here is meant to ensure safe travel. It’s fascinating, really, how these were meant to be carved onto shields and amulets.”
The class continued in comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional murmured question or the scratching of quills.
By the end of the lesson, Evelyn had filled almost two whole pages of notes, her mind buzzing with the possibilities of rune-based enchantments.
Charms was next, and it was one of Evelyn’s favorite subjects. Professor Flitwick had assigned them a practical lesson today—conjuring protective charms, particularly the Shield Charm. A lot of the teachers had moved on to teaching the pupils defensive charms and spells that still aligned with their subject.
Harry caught her eye as she entered the classroom, offering a small smirk. He was wearing his usual casual clothes, just like the rest of them, and despite the small pink blotches on Umbridge’s face every time she saw him, she hadn’t yet managed to enforce her dress code.
“Alright, class,” Flitwick squeaked, climbing onto his usual stack of books. “Today we’ll be working on refining our Protego charms!”
Pairs were quickly assigned, and Evelyn found herself paired with Pansy.
Pansy cracked her knuckles. “I’m not holding back, McCrae.”
Evelyn smirked. “Wouldn’t expect you to, Parkinson.”
They took their positions, wands raised. Pansy flicked her wrist, sending a harmless stunning spell toward Evelyn.
“Protego!”
A shimmering barrier flared up in front of her, absorbing the spell effortlessly.
“Again,” Pansy said, already preparing another spell.
They practiced back and forth, testing the limits of the shield. Evelyn felt a thrill of satisfaction every time her barrier held strong, and by the time class ended, both she and Pansy were slightly breathless.
“Not bad,” Pansy admitted as they packed up.
Evelyn grinned. “Same to you.”
The moment Evelyn, Harry, and the rest of their friends walked into Umbridge’s classroom, they could feel the tension.
Umbridge sat at her desk, her lips pursed so tightly that they almost disappeared into her face.
Her beady eyes swept over the class, landing on the sea of students dressed completely out of uniform. Evelyn caught the way her fingers twitched slightly—like she was restraining herself from hexing them all on the spot.
“Please, take your seats,” she said in her sugary-sweet voice, though there was an undeniable edge to it.
Evelyn exchanged a look with Harry as they sat down.
The lesson began, and as expected, it was another useless lecture on the ‘proper’ way to approach defensive magic—which, according to Umbridge, meant not actually using it.
Her voice remained calm, but the pink in her cheeks deepened as she continued. Evelyn could tell she was furious that no one had obeyed her dress code decree.
Finally, as the lesson dragged on, Blaise stretched dramatically and slouched back in his chair, looking completely bored. “I don’t know about you lot,” he said lazily, “but I feel so much safer learning about defensive spells through reading about them instead of actually casting them.”
A few Gryffindors snickered.
Umbridge’s nostrils flared.
Evelyn bit back a smirk.
By the time class ended, Umbridge was visibly seething.
And not a single student had taken her class seriously.
____________
That night, after a long day of rebellion, Evelyn found herself in the Room of Requirement with Harry.
He sat on one of the conjured sofas, arms draped over the back, watching her with an unreadable expression.
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Harry smirked. “Just thinking.”
She sat down beside him. “About?”
“Everything,” he admitted. “This year, you, the future, how insane all of this is.”
She hummed in agreement. “It is insane.”
Harry exhaled, turning to her. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
Evelyn blinked, caught off guard by the quiet sincerity in his voice.
“I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without you,” he continued. “You know that, right?”
A warmth spread through her chest.
Instead of answering, she leaned in and kissed him.
Harry responded immediately, pulling her closer, his hands tangling in her hair. The kiss deepened, slow and intoxicating, neither of them in any rush to pull away.
The Room of Requirement felt warm and safe, a place just for them, away from the war they were planning and the battles yet to come.
For now, they let themselves forget.
Chapter 54: The Dream
Summary:
Harry’s knowledge and preparation of the dream come to absolutely nothing as he sees Arthur getting attacked.
Chapter Text
The fire in the boy’s dorm had burned low, crackling softly as dying embers cast a dim, flickering glow across the room. Outside, the howling wind rattled against the castle windows, carrying with it the promise of an early snowfall.
It was the final week before the Christmas holidays, and Hogwarts had begun to embrace the festive spirit—garlands of holly and ivy draped the banisters, enchanted snowflakes drifted lazily from the ceiling in the Great Hall, and the scent of warm, spiced cider lingered in the air.
But none of that mattered to Harry right now.
He lay awake in bed, staring at the canopy of his four-poster, his mind sluggish with exhaustion. His muscles ached from hours of training in the Room of Requirement, and the weight of everything—Umbridge, Dumbledore’s distance, their plans to change the future—pressed heavily on his chest.
The room was silent except for the slow, steady breathing of his dorm mates. He should have been able to sleep. He needed to sleep.
And yet, as his eyelids drooped, as exhaustion finally started to pull him under, the world around him shifted.
Suddenly, he was no longer lying in his warm bed.
He was somewhere else.
A vast, dark hall stretched before him, its towering shelves lined with small, glowing orbs. The floor beneath him was smooth and polished, reflecting the dim, bluish light from the high ceiling.
Harry felt—wrong.
He wasn’t standing upright. He was low to the ground, his body moving in smooth, fluid motions. He could feel the cold press of the stone beneath his belly, the powerful coil of muscles shifting beneath his skin as he slithered forward—
Slithered.
A shudder of recognition rippled through his consciousness, but it was faint, like a whisper lost in the wind.
His focus was sharp. Instinctive.
A figure stood ahead of him—Arthur Weasley, dressed in dark robes, his wand clutched tightly in one hand. His stance was alert, his breathing measured but cautious.
The hunger inside Harry twisted violently.
Kill.
Kill.
His body lunged forward, fangs bared—
Searing pain exploded in his scar.
A scream—his own or Arthur’s, he couldn’t tell—ripped through the silence.
Harry woke with a jolt.
His entire body was drenched in sweat, his heart hammering so violently he thought it might burst from his chest. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his forehead throbbed like it had been split open with a knife.
For a moment, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The echoes of the vision clung to him, the taste of blood thick in his mouth, the phantom sensation of fangs sinking into flesh.
He shoved his blankets aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his hands shaking as he pressed them into his knees.
It wasn’t a dream.
It was real.
Arthur Weasley was being attacked.
Right now.
The thought spurred him into action. He bolted from his bed, barely registering the startled grumbles from the other boys in the dormitory as he grabbed his wand and tore down the spiral staircase.
The common room was empty, its fire nothing more than glowing embers in the hearth. The castle beyond was silent, cold.
He didn’t know how, but his feet carried him forward, through the portrait hole and down the dimly lit corridors. He didn’t think. He barely even breathed.
There was only one place he could go.
Dumbledore.
The moment Harry burst into the circular office, Dumbledore’s piercing blue eyes met his from across the room.
The Headmaster sat behind his desk, his expression unreadable, but the twinkle that usually hid behind his gaze was absent.
As if he knew.
Harry was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with each labored gasp. He gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles white.
“Professor—Mr. Weasley—he’s—” His throat was dry, his words choked. “He’s being attacked. Right now. By a snake.”
Dumbledore’s expression didn’t change.
Instead, he lifted his hand and, with a mere flick of his fingers, several silver instruments on his desk sprang to life. One let out a faint humming sound, another spun rapidly, emitting a soft, golden glow.
Harry swallowed thickly, still trembling.
Dumbledore turned his gaze toward one of the portraits hanging on the wall.
“Phineas,” he said calmly, “wake Sirius at Grimmauld Place. Now.”
The painted wizard in the frame gave a grumble of protest but disappeared from his portrait at once.
Dumbledore then turned to Professor McGonagall, who had just arrived in her tartan dressing gown, her sharp eyes darting between Harry and the Headmaster.
“Minerva,” Dumbledore instructed, “fetch the Weasley’s and their belongings. They will be leaving for headquarters immediately.”
Harry barely registered the conversation. The image of Arthur Weasley writhing in pain, blood pooling beneath him, was burned into his mind. He clenched his fists, trying to shake it off.
But something still wasn’t right.
Evelyn.
She needed to be here.
“Professor,” he said, his voice stronger this time, “get Snape. Tell him to wake Evelyn.”
Dumbledore didn’t immediately respond. He merely watched Harry, his expression carefully neutral.
“That is unnecessary—”
“It is necessary,” Harry snapped, his frustration flaring. “She needs to know. You need to let her know.”
Silence stretched between them.
McGonagall glanced between them both, her brows furrowed, but said nothing.
After a long moment, Dumbledore inclined his head slightly. “Minerva, if you would.”
McGonagall gave a short nod before sweeping out of the room.
Harry let out a sharp breath, his pulse still hammering, but he didn’t waver.
It took only a few minutes before the door opened again.
Snape entered, his black robes swirling around him, his expression unreadable. He swept his dark gaze over the room before arching a single brow.
“You called for me?” His tone was neutral, but his eyes lingered on Harry for a fraction longer than necessary.
Dumbledore gestured toward him. “It appears young Mr. Potter has insisted that Miss McCrae be informed of tonight’s events.”
A flicker of something—curiosity? Annoyance?—flashed across Snape’s face. He studied Harry for a moment, then exhaled sharply.
“Fine.”
Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode from the office.
Harry forced himself to breathe evenly, his fingers still curled into fists at his sides.
Minutes later, the door swung open again.
Evelyn stood there, her hair tousled from sleep, the emerald green of her dressing gown wrapped tightly around her frame. Her eyes were sharp despite the grogginess clinging to her features, darting from Harry to Dumbledore before settling on Snape.
“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.
Harry met her gaze, his throat tightening.
“Arthur Weasley,” he said. “He’s been attacked.”
The moment they arrived at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, the tension in the air was suffocating.
Harry landed on unsteady feet in the darkened hallway, the sharp tug of the Portkey fading from his limbs. Evelyn stumbled slightly beside him, her fingers still curled around the sleeve of her dressing gown. Fred, George, Ginny, and Ron appeared an instant later, all looking equally disoriented.
The house was eerily silent. The usual creaks of shifting wood and the distant rustling of Kreacher’s unseen movements were absent, leaving only the ragged breathing of those who had just arrived.
“Sirius!” Ginny’s voice rang out first as she spotted him.
Sirius Black stood at the base of the staircase, his long black hair falling untamed around his shoulders, his wand clutched tightly in one hand. His gray eyes darted over each of them, scanning for injuries, for some sign of what had happened. Beside him, Remus Lupin stood tense, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion.
The moment his gaze landed on Harry, something unreadable flickered across his features.
“What happened?” Sirius demanded.
Fred and George exchanged a glance. Ginny swallowed hard, her eyes glistening. Ron simply stood frozen, his ears red, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides.
Harry stepped forward. His heart pounded against his ribs.
“It was Arthur,” he said, voice hoarse. “Arthur’s been attacked.”
Sirius paled. His grip on his wand tightened.
“What?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy silence. “How—?”
“I saw it,” Harry said, forcing the words out. “I saw it happen.”
Remus and Sirius exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable.
“Arthur was guarding the Department of Mysteries,” Harry continued, his pulse hammering. “I—I don’t know exactly how, but Voldemort’s snake—Nagini—she attacked him.” He swallowed, the phantom sensation of fangs and blood rising in his throat. “I saw it. I was the snake.”
The words hung in the air, thick with implication.
Sirius didn’t speak right away. His jaw was clenched tight, his knuckles white where they gripped the banister. Remus, however, exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Dumbledore believes you saw this through Voldemort’s connection to you,” Remus said quietly.
Harry nodded stiffly. “Yeah.”
It felt surreal to say it aloud, as if it made the entire nightmare more real. He felt Evelyn’s presence beside him, solid and unwavering. She hadn’t said much since they arrived, but he could feel her eyes on him.
A sudden, sharp pop echoed through the room.
Everyone flinched—until a small, parchment-colored envelope materialized in midair and dropped onto the worn wooden floor at their feet.
A letter.
Remus bent down swiftly and scooped it up, his eyes scanning the neat, flowing handwriting on the front. He turned it over, breaking the wax seal, and unfolded the parchment.
The room was so silent that the crackling of the hearth in the parlor could be heard from where they stood.
Remus’ eyes moved quickly across the letter. Then he exhaled, relief evident in his posture.
“It’s from Molly. He’s alive,” he said.
The tension in the room broke all at once.
Ginny let out a sharp breath, her hands flying to her face. Fred and George slumped against the wall, their shoulders shaking slightly. Ron closed his eyes, letting out a shaky exhale.
“He’s in St. Mungo’s,” Remus continued, reading. “Molly says he’s stable. He’ll need time to recover, but he’s alive.”
Harry felt a rush of relief so strong it nearly knocked him off balance. His legs suddenly felt weak, his head light. He hadn’t realized how much he had been holding in his breath until now.
But before the relief could fully settle, a dark thought slithered into his mind.
He had seen it happen. He had been the snake.
His stomach churned.
“I need to sit down,” he muttered.
Sirius stepped forward at once, his hand resting on Harry’s shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “You’re staying here for Christmas anyway, so we’ll figure all of this out in the morning.”
Remus nodded. “You’ve had a long night. Get some rest.”
Harry wasn’t sure he would be able to sleep. His mind was still racing, still replaying the attack over and over in his head.
But exhaustion was starting to seep into his bones, pulling him under like a heavy weight.
He felt Evelyn brush against his side, her hand grazing his wrist. He looked over at her, and for the first time that night, he let out a breath that felt somewhat steady.
And with that, Sirius led them upstairs.
The room Sirius gave them was small but comfortable, with a large four-poster bed and an old wooden dresser tucked into the corner. Moonlight filtered through the heavy curtains, casting long shadows across the floor.
Harry sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands over his face. His entire body felt drained, his limbs heavy.
Evelyn sat beside him, pulling her knees up to her chest. Neither of them spoke for a long moment.
“Did it feel the same?” she asked softly.
Harry turned to her, confused. “What?”
“The vision,” she clarified. “You knew it would happen, but did it feel the same?”
Harry hesitated.
“…Yeah,” he admitted. “It was still terrifying.” He exhaled sharply, leaning back against the pillows. “I know I can’t change the fact that I have these dreams, but…” His voice trailed off.
Evelyn shifted beside him. “But now we can use them.”
Harry looked at her.
“To change things,” she said. “Arthur’s still alive because you saw what happened. That is what matters.”
He knew she was right. But the lingering fear—the what ifs—still clung to him like a shadow.
“I just—” He shook his head. “What if next time I’m not fast enough?”
Evelyn’s fingers curled around his wrist, grounding him.
“You will be,” she said.
Harry stared at her. She sounded so sure. So certain. And somehow, that certainty made the weight on his chest just a little lighter.
He exhaled.
“Alright,” he muttered, letting himself relax slightly. “Fine. But if you tell me ‘I told you so’ tomorrow, I’m hexing you.”
Evelyn smirked, resting her head against the pillow. “Duly noted.”
For the first time that night, the fear didn’t feel quite as overwhelming.
Harry closed his eyes.
And, for the first time since he’d woken up from his vision, he allowed himself to sleep.
____________
When Harry woke, the world felt softer than it had the night before. The air was cool, the heavy drapes still blocking out most of the morning light. He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep, but when he opened his eyes, he found himself lying on his side, facing Evelyn.
She was already awake.
She lay beside him, her head propped on one hand, studying him with a quiet intensity. Her expression was unreadable, her green eyes sharp in the dim light.
“How long have you been staring at me?” Harry mumbled, voice rough from sleep.
Evelyn smirked. “Not long. You make weird faces when you dream.”
Harry groaned, rolling onto his back. “Brilliant. I’ll add that to the list of things wrong with me.”
The smirk faded.
“That’s not what I meant,” she said quietly.
Harry turned his head to look at her again.
Evelyn exhaled through her nose, shifting so that she was sitting up against the headboard. “You were frowning a lot. Mumbling.”
Harry swallowed. He vaguely remembered flashes of his dreams—images of the Department of Mysteries, of glowing orbs, of something slithering in the darkness.
Nagini.
He clenched his jaw, pushing the thought away.
“I’m fine,” he said, even though he wasn’t entirely sure that was true.
Evelyn didn’t argue. She simply studied him for a long moment, then shifted off the bed, stretching.
“Come on,” she said, tugging on her sweater from the night before. “Sirius is probably losing his mind waiting for us to wake up.”
Harry sighed, dragging himself upright. He could already hear the distant murmur of voices downstairs.
“Right,” he muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”
The moment Harry and Evelyn stepped into the kitchen, a heavy silence fell over the room. All eyes turned to them.
Sirius was at the head of the long wooden table, arms folded over his chest, his face unreadable. Remus sat beside him, looking more tired than ever. Fred, George, Ginny, and Ron were scattered around the room, each of them tense.
Harry glanced at the empty seat beside Sirius—the one that should have been Arthur’s.
His stomach twisted.
“Well,” Sirius said, breaking the silence. “Look who finally decided to join us.”
Harry rolled his eyes, sliding into the seat beside Ron. “We had a long night.”
Sirius snorted, but there was no real humor behind it.
Remus cleared his throat. “Molly sent another letter this morning,” he said, tapping a piece of parchment in front of him. “Arthur’s awake. He’s still weak, but he’s stable.”
A collective exhale swept through the room.
Harry nodded, tension loosening in his chest. “That’s good,” he murmured.
Remus set the letter aside. “Molly will be staying with him for a while,” he continued. “She doesn’t want any visitors yet, but she’ll send word when she thinks it’s alright.”
Nobody argued.
The table lapsed into silence again.
And then Sirius leaned forward, leveling Harry with a sharp look.
“Now,” he said, “about your dream.”
Harry stiffened.
Remus shot Sirius a warning look, but Sirius ignored him. His expression was serious, his gaze piercing.
“You said you were the snake,” he said. “Not just watching. You were inside Nagini.”
Harry swallowed. He didn’t know how to explain it.
“I—I don’t know how,” he admitted. “It wasn’t like the other visions. I wasn’t just seeing through its eyes. I was it.”
A heavy silence followed his words.
Sirius exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.
“That’s not good,” he muttered.
“No,” Remus agreed grimly. “It isn’t.”
Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Dumbledore already knows,” he said. “He’s probably already figuring out what to do.”
Sirius didn’t look convinced. “Yeah? And did he actually tell you anything? Or did he just send you off like he always does?”
Harry hesitated.
Because Sirius was right.
Dumbledore hadn’t explained anything. He had sent them away, just like he always did, just like he had done for the past four years.
A muscle in Sirius’ jaw twitched. “We need to keep an eye on this, Harry. If Voldemort can get into your head—”
“I know,” Harry interrupted. “I know.”
His fists clenched beneath the table. He hated this. He hated feeling like a pawn in a game he didn’t understand. Sirius watched him carefully. Then, slowly, he leaned back in his chair.
“Alright,” he said. “We’ll keep an eye on it. But if you see anything else—”
“I’ll tell you,” Harry finished. It was the best compromise he could offer. Sirius didn’t look entirely satisfied, but he nodded.
“Good.”
The conversation didn’t last much longer after that.
Remus made them all eat something before shooing them off for the rest of the day. Harry wasn’t sure he had an appetite, but he forced down some toast anyway. Evelyn was quiet beside him, her fingers tracing absentminded patterns on the table.
When they finally left the kitchen, she fell into step beside him.
They walked in silence for a while, heading toward the living room.
Later that night, after an easy dinner, Harry and Evelyn lay in bed together, the weight of the night settled over them. The flickering candle on the bedside table cast long shadows across the room, illuminating the exhaustion in Harry’s face. Evelyn traced absentminded patterns on the back of his hand, her touch grounding him.
“I knew this was going to happen,” Harry murmured, staring at the ceiling. “We talked about it, prepared for it, but it was still—Merlin, Eve, it felt real. Like I was the snake. Like I was the one attacking him.”
Evelyn turned on her side, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him properly. “You did exactly what you were meant to do, Harry. You saved him.”
Harry let out a breath, his free hand coming up to rub his eyes. “What if I hadn’t? What if I was too late?”
“But you weren’t.” She squeezed his hand. “You saw it, you acted, and Mr. Weasley is alive because of you. That’s what matters.”
Harry turned his head to face her, green eyes stormy with lingering distress. “It still doesn’t explain why I felt like I was the snake. Like I was—Voldemort.”
Evelyn reached out and brushed a hand through his messy hair, letting her fingers tangle in the strands. “You’re not him,” she whispered. “You’ll never be him. Even with the horcrux. You’re always going to be you, Harry.”
Harry exhaled deeply, turning toward her. They had been together for five months now, and somehow, Evelyn always knew exactly what to say to pull him back from the edge. His hand came up to rest on her waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of her shirt.
“You know,” he said softly, a small, tired smile playing at his lips, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Evelyn’s heart clenched at the raw honesty in his voice. “Luckily, you don’t have to find out.”
She leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his lips. Harry pulled her closer, his arms tightening around her as the world outside their little sanctuary faded away. The stress of the night melted into something else entirely—something warm and familiar, something that had become second nature to them over the past five months.
Evelyn shifted, her body pressing against his as his hands roamed her back, holding her as though she might disappear. The intensity between them grew, lips moving with more urgency, fingers exploring familiar territory with renewed desperation. It wasn’t about forgetting what had happened tonight—it was about finding comfort in each other, about reaffirming that they were both here, alive, together.
Harry rolled them over, pressing Evelyn into the mattress, his forehead resting against hers as their breaths mingled. “Stay with me,” he murmured.
“Always.”
And for the rest of the night, they clung to each other, wrapped in warmth, in the unspoken promise that no matter what the future held, they would face it together.
____________
Morning came far too quickly. Evelyn stirred, slowly becoming aware of the warmth pressed against her back and the steady rise and fall of Harry’s breathing. His arm was draped over her waist, his fingers loosely curled around the fabric of her shirt.
For a few blissful moments, she allowed herself to exist in that peaceful bubble. But reality crashed back as soon as she opened her eyes. They were at Grimmauld Place because Arthur Weasley had been attacked. Because Voldemort was moving. Because the war was looming closer with every passing day.
A sigh left her lips, and the movement must have woken Harry, because his grip on her waist tightened slightly. “Five more minutes,” he mumbled into her shoulder.
Evelyn smiled faintly but shook her head. “We should get up. Everyone will be waiting.”
Harry groaned but reluctantly rolled onto his back, rubbing a hand over his face. “Right. Reality. Forgot about that for a second.”
Evelyn sat up, stretching. “You should go talk to Sirius and Remus. They’ll be worried.”
Harry sighed but nodded, watching as she climbed out of bed and reached for a sweater. As much as he wanted to stay wrapped up in the comfort of the moment, he knew she was right.
Downstairs, the tension in the kitchen was suffocating. Molly Weasley had sent another letter confirming Arthur’s condition—stable, but needing extended care at St. Mungo’s. Bill and Charlie had arrived at Grimmauld Place early that morning, both looking exhausted but relieved their father was alive.
As soon as Harry and Evelyn entered the room, all eyes turned to them.
“How is he?” Harry asked, cutting straight to the point.
Bill, who was nursing a cup of tea, nodded. “He’s doing better. Mum and the twins are with him now.”
Charlie sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They said he was lucky. If you hadn’t—” He stopped himself and shook his head. “Just… thank you, Harry.”
Harry shifted uncomfortably. “I just saw what happened. Anyone would have done the same.”
“You saved Dad’s life,” Ginny said firmly, looking at him with something between gratitude and determination. “You did that.”
Murmurs of agreement filled the room.
Molly’s letter had also mentioned that Arthur wanted to see the rest of them, but it wouldn’t be possible until the next day. For now, there was nothing to do but wait.
Sirius, perhaps sensing the heaviness in the air, clapped his hands together. “Well, if we’re stuck here, I say we make the best of it. No use moping around.” He turned to Harry and Evelyn. “You two up for some dueling practice? I’d like to see if all this training Evelyn’s been giving you is actually paying off.”
Harry smirked slightly. “Oh, it is.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes but smiled. “You’re going to regret this, Black.”
And just like that, the tension in the room lessened, replaced by the anticipation of distraction—of something they could control, if only for a little while.
Chapter 55: Step Into Christmas
Summary:
We can watch the snow fall forever and ever!
Chapter Text
The attic of Grimmauld Place was dimly lit, the only sources of illumination being a few flickering candles and the occasional flash of spellfire. Dust floated lazily in the air, disturbed by the movements of the three duelists in the middle of the room.
Evelyn stood across from Harry and Sirius, her wand raised, her stance steady. The atmosphere was tense but electric, the kind of excitement that came with a friendly competition laced with underlying challenges.
“Three. Two. One,” Sirius counted down, his grey eyes glittering with anticipation. “Go!”
The duel erupted into motion instantly.
Sirius was fast—faster than Evelyn had expected for someone who had spent so long locked away in Azkaban. He dodged spells with practiced ease, his movements smooth and calculated. He had been a Marauder, a fighter in the first war, and now, despite everything, he was still a force to be reckoned with.
Harry wasn’t one to be left behind, either. He threw himself into the duel, matching Evelyn spell for spell, his reflexes sharp. She had spent the past year and a half training him, and it showed. His confidence in combat had grown immensely, and she was proud of how far he had come.
But Sirius had experience.
With a flick of his wand, he sent a stunning spell at Harry, forcing him to dive out of the way. Evelyn barely had time to react before she was dodging another spell, retaliating with a silent Expelliarmus that Sirius deflected effortlessly.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” he taunted, grinning.
Evelyn narrowed her eyes, raising her wand again.
They danced around the attic, exchanging spells with increasing speed. Sparks crackled in the air, and the scent of burnt wood filled the room when a stray spell hit an old piece of furniture.
Harry rejoined the fight, sending a well-aimed hex at Sirius, but the older wizard dodged at the last second and retaliated with a Stupefy. It hit Harry square in the chest, sending him sprawling onto the floor.
“One down,” Sirius said smugly.
Evelyn clenched her jaw and turned up the intensity of her attacks. She moved with precision, her spells sharp and unrelenting. Sirius held his ground well, but he was starting to slow ever so slightly.
“Come on, old man,” Evelyn teased. “Is that all you’ve got?”
Sirius barked out a laugh. “Old man? I’ll have you know—”
But he never finished his sentence. Evelyn hit him with a Protego Totalum at the last second, reflecting one of his own spells back at him. He stumbled, and in that split second, she struck.
Expelliarmus!
Sirius’s wand flew from his hand and clattered to the floor.
Evelyn smirked, lowering her own wand. “I win.”
Sirius put his hands on his hips, shaking his head. “You little—” He broke off into laughter. “Alright, fine. I admit it, you’ve got skill. But if I hadn’t spent twelve years in Azkaban, I would’ve wiped the floor with you both.”
Harry sat up with a groan. “Sure, Sirius. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Evelyn grinned and offered Harry a hand to help him up. “We’ll have to have a rematch soon.”
Sirius picked up his wand and twirled it between his fingers. “Oh, we will. And next time, I won’t hold back.”
They all left the attic in high spirits, Sirius still pretending to be bitter about losing, though the grin never left his face.
__________
The library of Grimmauld Place was quiet except for the rustling of parchment and the occasional whisper as Evelyn, Harry, Ron, Hermione and the twins sat gathered around a large wooden table. Candles flickered in the dimly lit room, casting long shadows across the walls lined with ancient books. The air smelled of parchment and old magic, a scent Evelyn was growing increasingly familiar with.
“We need a solid plan,” Harry said, leaning forward, his hands resting on the table. “We can’t just rush into the Department of Mysteries without knowing exactly what we’re doing.”
Ron frowned. “I still don’t get why we need the prophecy in the first place.”
Evelyn exhaled. “Because it’s what Voldemort wants. It’s the reason he lured you there in the first place, Harry. The prophecy holds the truth about why he’s after you. It explains why he didn’t just kill you as a baby and move on.”
Hermione nodded, her quill poised over a fresh piece of parchment. “So, if we get it first…”
“We take away his reason to attack the Ministry,” Evelyn finished.
Fred and George exchanged a glance. “That’s a pretty big ‘if,’” George pointed out.
Fred nodded. “The Department of Mysteries isn’t exactly an open house. We can’t just walk in and grab it.”
“Which is why we need to start gathering information,” Evelyn said. “We need to find a way in before Voldemort does.”
The group fell into thoughtful silence. Then, after a few moments, Ron hesitantly asked, “And how exactly do we do that?”
Evelyn opened her mouth to answer when the door creaked open, and Sirius walked in.
“There you lot are,” he said, grinning. “I was wondering where you disappeared to.”
The group stiffened slightly. Evelyn glanced at Harry, who gave her a small nod. It was time.
“Sirius,” Evelyn said carefully, “there’s something we need to tell you.”
Sirius’s grin faded slightly. He pulled out a chair and sat down, looking at each of them in turn. “Alright. What’s going on?”
Evelyn took a deep breath. “I’m not who you think I am.”
His brow furrowed. “What?”
She hesitated for only a second before launching into the explanation. She told him everything—the truth about how she had been a Muggle in another world, how she had read about all of this in books, how she knew the future and had been working with Harry to change it. She left nothing out, watching Sirius carefully for his reaction.
By the time she finished, Sirius was staring at her with an unreadable expression.
“So,” he finally said, his voice slow, “you’re telling me that you knew about everything—my escape, Peter still being alive, the war, my death—before any of it happened?”
Evelyn swallowed hard. “Yes.”
Silence stretched between them. The others shifted uncomfortably, waiting for Sirius’s response.
Then, to everyone’s shock, he started laughing.
“Bloody hell,” he said, shaking his head. “That explains so much.”
Harry let out a relieved breath. “You believe her?”
“Of course I believe her,” Sirius said, still chuckling. “Merlin’s beard, I thought something was off with her from the moment I met her. Now it all makes sense.”
Evelyn let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
Sirius’s amusement faded slightly, and he turned serious again. “So, what exactly is the plan?”
“We’re going to change things,” Evelyn said firmly. “We’re going to stop Voldemort before the war can even start. And we’re going to free you.”
Sirius blinked. “What?”
“We’re going to find Peter Pettigrew,” Harry said. “And we’re going to prove your innocence.”
Sirius sat back in his chair, looking utterly stunned. “You lot are insane.”
Fred grinned. “We prefer ‘brilliantly ambitious.’”
Sirius laughed again, shaking his head. “Alright, I’m in. But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly.”
Evelyn nodded. “There’s one more thing. Snape is helping us.”
Sirius’s grin disappeared. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Evelyn folded her arms. “He’s been working with us for months. And if you want to be part of this, you’re going to have to get over whatever history you two have and work together.”
Sirius’s jaw clenched. “That’s asking a lot.”
“I know,” Evelyn said simply. “But we don’t have time for old grudges.”
The room was silent for a long moment before Sirius finally exhaled sharply. “Fine. I’ll tolerate him. But only because I want to see how this all plays out.”
Evelyn smiled. “Good.”
With that, the meeting continued, their plans becoming more solid with each passing moment. The war had changed before it even began.
___________
The next morning, Evelyn, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny bundled up in warm cloaks and prepared to visit Arthur Weasley at St. Mungo’s. The house was quiet as they gathered in the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place, the lingering tension from the previous night still heavy in the air. Sirius stood near the fireplace, watching them with a slightly wistful expression.
“I still think I should come with you,” he muttered.
Harry shook his head. “You know you can’t. It’s too risky.”
Sirius scowled but didn’t argue further. Instead, he reached out and clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Look after everyone, alright?”
Harry nodded. “We will.”
Remus, who was also staying behind, gave them all a small smile. “Try not to cause too much trouble.”
Fred grinned. “No promises.”
With that, they stepped into the fireplace one by one, using the Floo Network to travel directly to the hospital.
The group stumbled out of the fireplace in the St. Mungo’s reception area, brushing soot from their cloaks. The hospital was bustling with Healers in lime-green robes rushing between patients, the scent of antiseptic potions lingering in the air. Large signs directed visitors to different wards, and behind the reception desk, a frazzled-looking witch was scribbling something onto a clipboard.
“We’re looking for Arthur Weasley,” Hermione told the receptionist politely.
The witch barely glanced up. “Creature Induced Injuries, fourth floor.”
Ron took the lead, and they made their way through the hospital, weaving between wizards in floating stretchers and whispering patients waiting for treatment. As they rode the creaky lift up to the fourth floor, Evelyn felt a pang of unease. No matter how many times she reminded herself that Mr. Weasley would be okay, seeing him injured was still a sobering thought.
When they reached the ward, they found Mrs. Weasley sitting by Arthur’s bedside. She looked tired but relieved, her eyes brightening when she saw her children.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re here!” she exclaimed, standing up and pulling Ron and Ginny into a hug.
Arthur was propped up against a mountain of pillows, his face slightly paler than usual but otherwise looking well. He beamed at them as they entered.
“Well, don’t all look so glum,” he said cheerfully. “I’m perfectly alright.”
Ron stared at him. “You were bitten by a giant snake, Dad.”
Arthur waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. Just a bit of a scratch, really.”
Mrs. Weasley huffed. “A scratch? Arthur, you were bleeding out on the floor of the Ministry!”
Arthur gave a sheepish smile. “Well, yes, but thanks to Harry, I wasn’t bleeding for long, was I?” He turned his attention to Harry. “I hear I have you to thank for all this, son.”
Harry shifted uncomfortably. “I just—”
“—saved my life,” Arthur finished, his expression serious. “That’s not something I take lightly. Thank you.”
Harry nodded, clearly unsure how to respond. Evelyn reached over and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.
Fred and George, who had been silent up until now, suddenly spoke in unison. “Well, this calls for a celebration.”
Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes. “Absolutely not. Your father is in recovery.”
“Which is why he needs a bit of fun,” George said.
“We brought you something,” Fred added, pulling a small wrapped package from his pocket. “A new prototype from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.”
Mrs. Weasley sighed. “Fred…”
Arthur, however, looked intrigued. “Oh, what is it?”
Fred and George grinned. “You’ll love it.”
Mrs. Weasley groaned, but Arthur eagerly unwrapped the package, revealing what looked like a small, shimmering blue cube. Fred tapped it with his wand, and suddenly, the cube expanded into a floating, miniature fireworks display, tiny golden sparks bursting into shapes of dragons and broomsticks.
Arthur laughed. “Brilliant!”
Mrs. Weasley pressed a hand to her temple. “Honestly, you two.”
The room relaxed after that, the heavy atmosphere lifting as they spent the next hour talking and joking. Arthur reassured them all repeatedly that he was fine, though Mrs. Weasley still fretted over him.
Eventually, a Healer arrived and informed them that visiting hours were almost over. Mrs. Weasley insisted on staying at the hospital a little longer, so the rest of the group said their goodbyes and headed back to Grimmauld Place.
As they tumbled out of the fireplace back at headquarters, Evelyn stretched, rolling her shoulders. “That went well.”
“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “Dad looked a lot better than I expected.”
Sirius and Remus were waiting for them in the kitchen, mugs of tea in hand. Sirius raised an eyebrow. “How’s Arthur?”
“Recovering,” Hermione said, sitting down at the table.
Sirius nodded. “Good.”
Fred and George plopped down in the chairs across from them, looking far too pleased with themselves.
“Gave Dad a new prototype,” Fred said.
George smirked. “Mum nearly had a heart attack.”
Sirius grinned. “Now that I would’ve liked to see.”
Evelyn leaned against the counter, watching the group. Despite the chaos, despite everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, they were all still here. Together.
______________
The tension in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place was thick enough to be sliced with a Severing Charm. Members of the Order of the Phoenix gathered around the long wooden table, murmuring in hushed tones as they waited for the meeting to begin. Dumbledore sat at the head, his expression unreadable, while the rest of the Order—Molly and Arthur Weasley, Moody, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Remus Lupin, and Snape—settled into their usual seats.
Harry and Evelyn stood just outside the doorway, listening to the conversation inside.
“We should be in there,” Harry muttered.
Evelyn crossed her arms. “I know. We’re the ones who actually know what we’re doing. But Dumbledore—”
“Won’t let us,” Harry finished with a sigh.
Before they could argue further, Sirius appeared behind them with a smirk. “Well, if you two want in, now’s your chance.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Sirius grinned and stepped into the kitchen. “Dumbledore,” he called. “I think Harry and Evelyn should be allowed to stay.”
Every head in the room turned to face them. Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkled with something unreadable. “That is not a decision to be made lightly.”
Molly Weasley frowned. “Sirius, they’re just children.”
“We are not children,” Harry snapped. “I saw what happened to Mr. Weasley. I saw it because of Voldemort.” A few people flinched at the name, but Harry pressed on. “How can you expect us to sit back and do nothing?”
Evelyn took a step forward, standing beside him. “We want to be involved.”
The room fell silent. Dumbledore studied them both carefully before nodding. “Very well. You may stay. But you will listen.”
Harry and Evelyn exchanged triumphant looks before taking seats at the table.
Discussions about the attack on Arthur Weasley took center stage. Moody insisted it was a sign that the Ministry was failing to contain Voldemort’s influence. Kingsley shared intelligence about suspicious movements within the Department of Mysteries.
Evelyn listened intently, her mind already racing ahead. They needed to act fast. If they were going to get the prophecy before Voldemort did, they had to move soon.
Snape, who had been silent throughout most of the meeting, finally spoke. “If the Dark Lord believes Potter has the prophecy, he will stop at nothing to retrieve it.” His gaze flickered toward Harry. “Even invading his mind.”
Dumbledore sighed. “That is why Harry will begin Occlumency lessons after Christmas with you, Severus.”
Harry stiffened. “With Snape?”
Snape’s lip curled. “I assure you, Potter, I am less thrilled than you are.”
Evelyn glanced at Harry, seeing the frustration in his expression. They would need to talk about that later.
Eventually, the meeting wrapped up, and the Order members filtered out. But Snape remained behind, gathering some documents before slipping out of the kitchen.
Evelyn nudged Harry. “Follow him.”
Snape walked swiftly through the darkened halls of Grimmauld Place, making his way to the library. Harry, Evelyn, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George followed behind at a safe distance.
Sirius yawned loudly. “I’m going to bed,” he announced, making a grand show of stretching.
Evelyn rolled her eyes and mumbled. “No, you’re not.”
Sirius winked and then trailed after them.
Inside the library, Snape lit a few candles and began flipping through a large book. Evelyn stepped forward. “Planning something?”
Snape glanced up, unimpressed. “Something more productive than whatever nonsense you lot are up to.”
Harry crossed his arms. “That’s funny, because we were actually thinking of something very productive.”
Sirius leaned against the doorframe. “Let me guess. The prophecy?”
Evelyn smirked. “Of course.”
Snape exhaled through his nose. “You are all fools if you believe you can retrieve it without consequence.”
“Well, that’s why we’re here,” Hermione said, pulling out a notebook. “To figure out how to do it without getting caught.”
For the next hour, the group exchanged ideas, sketching out possible routes into the Department of Mysteries, discussing the risks of breaking into the Ministry, and brainstorming ways to avoid detection. Sirius, despite his usual recklessness, offered practical advice from his time as an Auror trainee.
Snape, though clearly annoyed, didn’t leave. Evelyn suspected that, deep down, he knew they would go through with this plan regardless—so he might as well be there to minimize the damage.
Finally, as the night grew late, they had the beginnings of a solid plan. Evelyn closed her notebook. “We’ll work on this more after Christmas. But we’re doing this. Together.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
Sirius smirked. “This is going to be fun.”
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. “Merlin help us all.”
____________
A few days later, Evelyn found herself bundled up in a warm cloak, standing outside Gringotts with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Remus.
“Alright,” Remus said with a smile. “Go have fun, but try not to blow anything up.”
Fred grinned. “No promises.”
They split up, exploring the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. Snow covered the cobblestones, and shop windows were decorated with twinkling lights and enchanted snowflakes. The air smelled of roasted chestnuts and butterbeer.
Evelyn and Harry walked together, hands brushing as they admired the holiday decorations.
“Any ideas on what to get Sirius?” Harry asked.
Evelyn smirked. “Something illegal.”
Harry chuckled. “Sounds about right.”
They stopped at Quality Quidditch Supplies, where Ron immediately dragged Harry inside to look at the newest broom models. Evelyn wandered over to a nearby bookshop with Hermione.
“I think I’ll get Theo a book,” Evelyn mused. “Any recommendations?”
Hermione grinned. “I have plenty.”
As the day went on, they reunited with the others, stopping at the Leaky Cauldron for a warm meal. The twins snuck something into Ron’s drink that turned his hair bright green for an hour. Harry and Evelyn bought matching scarves. Hermione found the perfect present for her parents.
By the time they returned to Grimmauld Place, arms full of shopping bags, they were exhausted but happy.
Sirius greeted them at the door. “About time! Did you lot leave anything in the shops?”
Fred grinned. “Barely.”
Evelyn laughed as they made their way inside. It had been a perfect day—a small moment of normalcy before the storm ahead.
But even as they settled into the warmth of Grimmauld Place, Evelyn knew their real work was only just beginning.
Chapter 56: A Black Family Christmas
Summary:
Christmasssssss!! Pretty lights on the tree, Christmas 🎄
Chapter Text
The morning of Christmas Eve dawned cold and crisp, a light snowfall dusting the rooftops outside Grimmauld Place. Inside, however, warmth crackled through the house—not just from the fire, but from the uncharacteristic buzz of excitement that had overtaken its usual gloom.
Evelyn woke up to the sound of loud voices echoing through the halls.
“Get that thing away from me, Tonks!”
“It’s just a bit of tinsel, Snape, don’t be so dramatic.”
“I do not do festive decorations.”
Evelyn smirked and nudged Harry awake. “Sounds like Christmas has officially begun.”
Harry groaned sleepily, his arm tightening around her. “Five more minutes.”
She laughed, pressing a kiss to his forehead before slipping out of bed. “If we don’t get down there, Fred and George will have turned this place into a winter wonderland before we even see it.”
That got him moving.
By the time they reached the kitchen, the decorating was well underway. The Weasleys (minus Molly and Arthur, who were still at St. Mungo’s with Arthur’s healer) were hard at work transforming the dreary house into something vaguely festive.
Fred and George had enchanted some mistletoe to float around unsuspecting victims, much to Hermione’s irritation. Tonks was attempting to untangle a string of fairy lights, which kept zipping away from her fingers. Even Remus was helping, levitating a large evergreen wreath onto the wall.
The only person not participating? Severus Snape, who stood stiffly in the doorway, watching everything with a look of mild horror.
Sirius noticed Evelyn and grinned. “There you are! I was about to send Buckbeak to drag you two out of bed.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Very funny.”
Evelyn turned to Snape. “You could help, you know.”
Snape’s expression darkened. “Absolutely not.”
Tonks grinned mischievously. “Oh, I think you should.” With a flick of her wand, she sent a string of gold tinsel flying at Snape. It wrapped around his shoulders like a festive scarf.
Snape’s entire face twitched.
“Get. This. Off. Now.”
Evelyn barely stifled a laugh as Sirius and Tonks high-fived.
The rest of the morning was spent decorating, with much laughter and only one minor explosion (courtesy of Fred and George’s “firework baubles”). By the time they were done, Grimmauld Place looked—if not exactly cheerful—at least less like the headquarters of a secret resistance group.
That evening, the dining table was practically groaning under the weight of the Christmas feast. Kreacher had begrudgingly helped prepare the food (muttering curses under his breath the entire time), and with Molly still at St. Mungo’s, it had been mostly Remus and Sirius who had ensured everything was edible.
Somehow, they had managed.
Sirius stood at the head of the table, raising his glass of firewhisky. “To Christmas together.”
Everyone lifted their drinks—firewhisky for the adults, butterbeer for the younger ones—and toasted.
Sirius grinned, “It’s Black Family tradition to celebrate on Christmas Eve so we can open presents after dinner!”
The meal was filled with warmth and laughter. Ron nearly choked on his turkey when Fred transfigured his fork into a spoon mid-bite. Hermione launched into a passionate debate with Remus about the ethical treatment of house-elves. Evelyn and Harry stole bites from each other’s plates.
And Snape? He sat at the far end of the table, nursing a goblet of wine, ignoring most of the conversation. But Evelyn caught him watching the group with something that almost looked like… tolerance.
After dinner, they all gathered in the sitting room for presents.
“Alright,” Sirius declared. “Who’s first?”
Fred and George were the first to dive in, handing out joke products to everyone—Ginny received a set of Chameleon Chews that changed her hair color every time she spoke, while Snape received a box of “Cheer-Up Chocolates” (which he immediately Vanished).
Evelyn laughed when she unwrapped her gift from Evan—a beautiful quill set with enchanted ink that never ran out. “It’s perfect.”
Harry got a new set of dragonhide gloves from Hermione, a book about Quidditch strategy from Ron, and a handmade Weasley sweater from Molly.
Sirius gifted Evelyn a dagger with an ornate silver handle. “For protection,” he said with a wink. “Or for when Harry gets annoying.”
Harry rolled his eyes.
Finally, Evelyn handed her gift to Harry. It was wrapped in deep green paper with silver ribbon—Slytherin colors, just to tease him.
He opened it carefully and found a worn, leather-bound book inside. The title was faded, but when he flipped it open, his eyes widened.
“This is… my mum’s handwriting.”
Evelyn nodded, suddenly nervous. “I found it in the attic. It’s a collection of her notes from Hogwarts—charms, potions, spells she was working on.”
Harry ran his fingers over the pages, his throat tight. “Evelyn, this is…” He looked up at her, gratitude shining in his green eyes. “Thank you.”
She smiled softly. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”
He leaned forward and kissed her, the rest of the room fading into the background for just a moment.
Later that night, after the excitement had settled and everyone had gone to bed, Evelyn and Harry found themselves curled up together on the sofa by the fire.
“Best Christmas yet?” Evelyn asked, tracing small patterns on his hand.
Harry nodded. “Definitely.” He glanced down at the book she had given him. “I can’t believe you found this.”
She smiled. “You deserve to know her, Harry. In every way possible.”
He squeezed her hand. “I love you, you know.”
Evelyn’s heart skipped a beat. “I know. I love you too.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the fire crackling softly. For all the chaos and darkness surrounding them, this moment—just the two of them, warm and safe—was something worth holding on to.
Because war was coming. But tonight, it was Christmas Eve.
And for now, that was enough.
______________
Evelyn woke up to the feeling of warmth surrounding her. Harry’s arm was draped over her waist, his breath soft against the back of her neck. The fire in the bedroom’s small fireplace had burned down to glowing embers, and outside the window, the world was blanketed in snow.
For a long moment, she didn’t move. The house was quiet—likely the first time Grimmauld Place had been so peaceful in years. It was a rare moment of calm, and she wanted to savor it.
Then, a loud bang echoed from downstairs, followed by the unmistakable cackle of Fred and George.
Harry groaned into his pillow. “It’s too early for that.”
Evelyn laughed, turning to face him. “Come on, it’s Christmas.”
Harry blinked at her sleepily, his hair even messier than usual. “Five more minutes.”
She pressed a kiss to his nose. “Fine. Five minutes.”
They managed ten before another loud noise—this time what sounded like an explosion—made them both sit up.
“Alright, alright,” Harry grumbled. “We’re up.”
Evelyn grinned. “Merry Christmas, Potter.”
He kissed her, slow and sweet. “Merry Christmas, McCrae.”
By the time they made it downstairs, the house was alive with activity. The scent of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate filled the air, and the sitting room was packed with people.
Ron was sprawled across an armchair, still in his pajamas, eagerly unwrapping a package from Molly. Hermione sat cross-legged by the fire, sorting through her own pile of gifts. Fred and George were already testing out their newest batch of joke products, while Sirius and Remus sat together on the sofa, cups of tea in hand. More presents had piled up in front of the fireplace overnight, which meant more to open this morning.
Sirius spotted Harry and Evelyn first and grinned. “Well, well, look who finally decided to wake up.”
Harry rolled his eyes as he dropped onto the floor beside Ron. “Blame the twins. Sounded like you two were setting off fireworks in the kitchen.”
Fred looked innocent. “Who, us?”
“Never,” George added, nudging a box under the sofa with his foot.
Evelyn sat beside Harry, reaching for her own pile of presents. There was one from Theo, another from Blaise, and even one from Snape (a rare and unexpected gift—a beautifully bound potions journal with a note inside: “Use it well.”).
Then she noticed a small package wrapped in simple brown paper, tied with twine. No name, no note.
She picked it up curiously, feeling the weight of it.
Harry nudged her. “Who’s it from?”
“I don’t know.”
She unwrapped it carefully, and when she pulled the paper away, she gasped.
Inside was a delicate silver locket, the design intricate and unfamiliar, but undeniably old. She turned it over in her hands, feeling the weight of it.
“Whoa,” Ron said, peering over. “That’s fancy. Who sent it?”
Evelyn shook her head, glancing around the room. No one seemed to be watching her expectantly, no one waiting for a reaction.
Then she noticed Sirius staring at the locket, his expression unreadable.
“Sirius?” she asked hesitantly.
He blinked and gave a short laugh. “That belonged to my mother.”
Evelyn nearly dropped it. “What?”
Sirius took the locket from her hands, turning it over. “I found it while clearing out some of the old Black family heirlooms. Gave it to Kreacher and told him he could do what he wanted with it.”
Evelyn stared at him. “Kreacher… gave me something from your family?”
Sirius shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but there was something softer in his expression. “Well, I’m not angry about it. You’re family now, aren’t you?”
Her throat tightened.
Sirius clapped a hand on her shoulder before standing. “Alright, enough of this sentimental nonsense. Who’s up for breakfast?”
The room burst into motion again, but Evelyn sat there for a moment longer, clutching the locket in her hands.
Family.
She had never really had one here, in this world, before.
But here, in this house filled with misfits and rebels—maybe she did now.
After breakfast, the chaos continued.
Tonks tripped over the Christmas tree (twice). The twins set off a new batch of enchanted fireworks that turned the entire dining room gold for an hour. Kreacher, despite his usual grumbling, begrudgingly delivered tea and biscuits to everyone.
Then, at some point, someone (probably Fred and George) had the brilliant idea to go outside.
Sirius, looking positively gleeful, led the charge. “Come on, Harry, Eve—let’s see if you’re any good in a real duel.”
“What’s the wager?” Harry asked, smirking.
“If I win, I get your Firebolt for a week.”
Harry snorted. “Not a chance.”
They bundled up and headed outside, the cold air biting but refreshing. The backyard was covered in a thick layer of fresh snow, untouched except for the footprints they left behind.
Predictably, the snowball fight escalated immediately.
Fred and George teamed up against Ron and Hermione. Remus wisely stayed out of it, leaning against the wall with a cup of tea, watching the chaos unfold. Evelyn and Harry quickly joined forces, dodging flying snowballs from Sirius and Tonks.
Sirius, of course, took things a step further by charming the snowballs to chase their targets. Evelyn shrieked as one narrowly missed her, and in retaliation, she summoned a massive pile of snow to drop right on top of Sirius’s head.
He sputtered, emerging from the snowdrift with a wicked grin. “Alright, McCrae, now it’s war.”
By the time they stumbled back inside, shivering and breathless with laughter, they were all thoroughly soaked.
As the day wound down, the house grew quieter. After dinner, people began drifting off—Ron and Hermione retreated upstairs, Fred and George disappeared (probably planning something ridiculous), and Sirius stretched out on the couch, looking uncharacteristically content.
Harry and Evelyn ended up back in the library, curled up on the sofa together.
Harry traced patterns on the back of her hand, his voice quiet. “This was… the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”
Evelyn rested her head against his shoulder. “Me too.”
He turned to her, eyes soft. “I still can’t believe you found my mum’s notes.”
She smiled. “I knew you’d want them.”
Harry kissed her then, slow and lingering, the fire crackling softly beside them.
For now, the war, the prophecy, and all the danger waiting for them outside this house didn’t matter.
_________
Evelyn had been wandering the house in search of a quiet moment when she stumbled upon Sirius standing alone in front of the Black family tapestry. The large, ancient piece of fabric dominated the wall, its golden embroidery shimmering faintly in the dim light of the hallway.
Sirius’s posture was tense, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the interwoven lines of ancestry—generations of pure-blood legacy, most of whom he had long since disowned in his heart.
Evelyn hesitated before stepping forward. “You alright?”
Sirius turned slightly, offering her a small, tired smile. “Yeah. Just… reminiscing, I suppose.” He gestured toward the tapestry. “Every time I look at this thing, I think of how many names have been burned away. People who didn’t fit the Black ideal. People like me.”
Evelyn followed his gaze across the tapestry, trailing over names she recognized from history books and whispered conversations in Slytherin. It was strange, standing beside Sirius Black, a man whose family name carried so much weight, and yet feeling that same weight settle in her own chest.
She exhaled. “I found out something recently. Well, a couple of years ago. About the Blacks.”
Sirius turned to her fully now, intrigued. “Oh?”
She nodded, crossing her arms. “When I went to Gringotts to sort some things out when I first arrived here, I had them run an inheritance test. I wasn’t expecting anything—just thought it might be good to know if I had any wizarding lineage at all.” She met his eyes. “Turns out, I’m a Black heir.”
Sirius blinked. “What?”
“Third in line for the lordship,” Evelyn continued, watching as the weight of her words sank in. “Behind Harry and Draco.”
Sirius let out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair. “Well, that’s a surprise.”
“Yeah.” Evelyn sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I guess that’s why I ended up in Slytherin. Why I took to magic so fast. It was already in my blood.”
Sirius studied her, his expression unreadable. Then, as if shaking himself out of his thoughts, he turned back to the tapestry. “Let’s find you, then.”
Evelyn frowned. “What?”
“Your name,” Sirius said, scanning the embroidery. “If you’re a Black heir, you should be here somewhere.”
He moved his finger along the golden lines, following connections, searching. But after a few minutes, his brow furrowed. His search slowed. And then he stopped altogether.
“You’re not here.”
Evelyn wasn’t sure what she had expected, but a strange ache settled in her chest at those words.
“That makes sense,” she said after a beat. “I wasn’t born into this world. I was a Muggle. Maybe… maybe the tapestry doesn’t recognize me because I came from somewhere else entirely.”
Sirius was quiet for a long moment before he turned to face her again. “You know what I think?”
“What?”
He placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm but warm. “Screw the tapestry.”
Evelyn blinked.
Sirius smirked. “That thing has dictated what it means to be a Black for centuries. Who’s worthy. Who isn’t. But it’s nothing more than stitched-up nonsense built on an outdated ideology. It doesn’t decide who belongs.” His smirk softened. “And if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that you do belong. You’re more of a Black than half the people on that damn thing.”
Something inside Evelyn loosened, a knot of uncertainty she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying.
She swallowed. “So, you’re not… weirded out by this?”
Sirius let out a short laugh. “Weirded out? Evelyn, I think it’s hilarious. The idea that some old pure-blood fanatics would lose their minds if they knew one of their heirs was not only raised a Muggle but actively working against everything they stood for?” He clapped her on the back. “That’s brilliant.”
A slow smile spread across Evelyn’s face.
Sirius’s expression turned a little more serious. “Besides, family isn’t just about blood. It’s about choice. And if I had to pick who I’d want carrying on the Black name? It’d be you and Harry over half those gits in there.” He jabbed a finger at the tapestry.
Something warm and unfamiliar spread through Evelyn’s chest at his words.
“Thanks, Sirius.”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “Anytime, kid.”
Chapter 57: The Prophecy Heist
Chapter Text
Two days after Christmas, Grimmauld Place was buzzing with an odd mix of tension and excitement. The snow outside had turned to slush, and the holiday cheer had begun to fade, leaving behind the weight of unfinished business.
Evelyn sat at the long dining table, twirling a spoon between her fingers, her gaze flicking between Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the twins. Sirius was upstairs, and Remus had left earlier that morning. This was the perfect time.
She met Harry’s gaze. Ready?
He gave a small nod.
Ron cleared his throat dramatically. “So. You two are, uh… sneaking off for some ‘alone time,’ yeah?”
Fred smirked. “For shame, Harry. Right under Sirius’s nose?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Just don’t make it too obvious.”
Evelyn snorted. “Oh, I think we should be very obvious.”
George grinned. “That’s the spirit.”
Hermione sighed. “Just… be careful. And hurry.”
“Don’t worry,” Harry assured them. “We’ll be back before anyone notices.”
They all exchanged one last glance before slipping away from the table.
Evelyn grabbed Harry’s hand as they headed up the stairs, making sure their footsteps were loud enough to be noticed. She even giggled a little too loudly for good measure.
Once they reached Harry’s room, she shut the door behind them and cast a quick Muffliato charm.
“Alright,” she breathed, “no time to waste.”
Harry held out his hand. She grabbed it, and with a sharp crack—
They Apparated.
They landed in a dimly lit corridor inside the Ministry of Magic, hidden in a small alcove near a side entrance.
The air smelled of parchment, ink, and the faint metallic tang of magic. The floor gleamed under the enchanted lights, and witches and wizards bustled about, too wrapped up in their own business to notice two newcomers.
Evelyn adjusted her cloak. “Alright. The lifts are just down the hall.”
Harry nodded, keeping close as they moved swiftly through the crowd. They kept their heads down, blending in as best they could.
They reached the lifts without issue and stepped inside just as the golden grilles closed. The lift rattled as it descended, and Evelyn’s pulse quickened.
“Level Nine,” the cool, feminine voice announced.
The doors slid open.
Harry and Evelyn stepped into the quiet, eerie corridor of the Department of Mysteries.
They moved quickly, their footsteps barely making a sound against the polished floor. The air was unnaturally still, the silence pressing in on them.
A lone wizard stood guard at the far end of the hall, reading a small book, oblivious to their presence.
Evelyn tapped Harry’s arm and pointed to a small alcove along the wall. They slipped behind a row of shelves, inching forward carefully.
Once they passed the guard unnoticed, the hallway opened into a vast chamber filled with towering shelves. The Hall of Prophecies.
Rows upon rows of glowing orbs lined the shelves, each one labeled with names and dates. The magical hum in the air sent a chill down Evelyn’s spine.
“There,” Harry whispered, pointing to a shelf in the distance.
They navigated through the rows until they found it—A small orb, glowing faintly. Inscribed on the label:
S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.
H.P & T.M.R
Harry hesitated, then reached out and grasped it.
Nothing happened.
Evelyn let out a breath. “Let’s go.”
They turned and retraced their steps, moving quickly but cautiously. As they neared the exit, the guard shifted slightly, but he didn’t look up.
Then, as soon as they were out of the room, they ran. They sprinted through the corridors, reaching the Floo Network in record time.
Evelyn grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and tossed it into the fireplace. “Grimmauld Place!”
In a rush of green flames, they disappeared.
__________
The moment they stumbled out of the fireplace, Sirius was there, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
Harry held up the prophecy. “We got it.”
Sirius’s expression shifted from suspicion to shock. “You what?”
Evelyn dusted off her cloak. “No time to explain here. Upstairs.”
Sirius led the way to the attic, where Ron, Hermione, and the twins were already waiting.
As soon as they were inside, Hermione let out a relieved breath. “You’re alright!”
Ron gaped at the orb. “You actually got it?”
Fred let out a low whistle. “Damn.”
Evelyn handed it to Harry.
Harry took a steadying breath, then threw the prophecy to the ground.
It shattered.
A soft mist rose, swirling into the shape of a woman—Sybil Trelawney. Her voice was distant, echoing through the room:
“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives…”
The voice faded, and the mist dissipated. Silence. Harry clenched his fists.
Ron swallowed hard. “Bloody hell.”
Sirius ran a hand through his hair, looking shaken. “So that’s it.”
Evelyn met Harry’s gaze. He nodded. Now they knew the truth.
The room was deathly silent in the wake of the prophecy’s fading echoes. The weight of its meaning settled over them like a thick fog, heavy and suffocating.
Harry stood in the center, shoulders tense, hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had known the prophecy for months, but hearing it again in Trelawney’s own eerie voice made it all feel more final.
Sirius raked a hand through his dark hair, pacing in tight, agitated circles. “That’s it? That’s the whole damn prophecy?” His voice was sharp, almost accusing, as if he were demanding more from the universe.
“That’s it,” Evelyn confirmed, watching him carefully.
He let out a short, humorless laugh. “So, it really is all on you, then.” He turned to Harry, his eyes dark with something unreadable. Anger? Fear? Grief?
Harry exhaled sharply. “Yeah. It’s on me.”
Ron was still staring at the shattered remains of the prophecy on the floor, his face pale. “That’s mental. That’s absolutely mental.”
Hermione had gone rigid beside him, biting her lip so hard it had turned white. “It’s so much clearer hearing it like this,” she whispered.
Sirius stopped pacing. His face was unreadable for a moment, and then he let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright,” he muttered. “Alright. So, now we know the full truth. What do we do with it?”
Evelyn exchanged a glance with Harry.
“We don’t tell Dumbledore we have it,” she said firmly. “That’s the first step.”
Fred raised an eyebrow. “Going behind the old man’s back now, are we?”
George gave a dramatic sigh. “I love a good rebellion.”
Ron, however, was frowning. “Are we sure that’s a good idea?” He looked at Harry, hesitant. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, mate, I don’t trust Dumbledore as much as I used to. But isn’t this something he should know about?”
Harry shook his head. “No. If we tell him, he’ll try to control how we use this information. He’ll tell us to stay put, to do nothing.” His green eyes burned with determination. “I’m not sitting back and waiting for Voldemort to make the first move.”
Hermione, still looking troubled, slowly nodded. “So, what’s next, then?”
Sirius dropped onto an old wooden crate, exhaling hard. “We use this.” He gestured vaguely at the shattered prophecy. “We plan. We train. We prepare for what’s coming before it’s too late.”
Evelyn smirked. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
The attic of Grimmauld Place had never been so quiet. For the next hour, the group huddled together, discussing what came next.
Hermione conjured parchment and ink, quickly scribbling down notes as everyone debated their next steps.
“We still need to undermine Dumbledore,” Evelyn pointed out, tapping her quill against her knee. “The more power we take from him, the less he can control Harry’s movements.”
Fred grinned. “And the more fun we get to have.”
Sirius leaned forward. “So, you’re saying you want to start making moves now?”
Harry met his gaze. “Yeah.”
Sirius studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Alright. I’m in.”
Evelyn smirked. “I knew you would be.”
Sirius shot her a look. “Snape’s in on this too, isn’t he?”
Evelyn nodded. “You two are going to have to work together.”
Sirius groaned, rubbing his hands down his face. “Bloody hell.”
“You’ll live,” Evelyn said dryly.
Ron, looking deeply uncomfortable at the idea of Sirius and Snape in the same room, quickly changed the subject. “So, what about the war?” He hesitated, then added, “And the Horcruxes?”
Everyone fell silent.
Harry swallowed hard. “We destroy them.”
Hermione hesitated. “Do we… do we know how?”
Evelyn let out a slow breath. “Yeah. And it’s not going to be easy.”
George stretched out his legs, his expression unusually serious. “Nothing ever is, mate.”
Fred nodded. “But we’ll do it anyway.”
Harry clenched his fists. “Yeah. We will.”
And just like that, the real war began.
The air in the attic was thick with tension as Evelyn spread out a large piece of parchment, transfigured to resemble a map of Britain. It was charmed so only the people in the room could see its contents.
“Alright,” she said, tapping her wand against the parchment. “We have two major priorities: clearing Sirius’ name and getting a head start on the Horcruxes.”
Ron exhaled heavily. “Feels like a bit much for a group of teenagers.”
Fred grinned. “Speak for yourself, mate.”
George winked. “We thrive under pressure.”
Evelyn smirked but didn’t let them distract her. “We know Pettigrew is with Voldemort, which means getting to him isn’t going to be easy. But if we lure him out—”
“—we can force the truth out of him,” Harry finished, eyes dark with determination.
Sirius folded his arms. “And how exactly do you plan to do that? It’s not like we can just ask him to meet up for a chat.”
Evelyn tapped the parchment again, and a small dot appeared, labeled Wormtail. It was a calculated guess, based on what she knew from the books and Voldemort’s movements, but she was confident that Pettigrew was never far from his master.
“We can make him come to us,” she said. “All we need is bait.”
Sirius arched a brow. “And what exactly would Pettigrew come running for?”
Harry and Evelyn exchanged a look. Then, almost simultaneously, they said, “Me.”
Sirius’ face darkened. “Absolutely not.”
Ron gaped. “You want to use yourself as bait? Have you both lost it?”
Hermione let out a strangled noise of protest. “That’s insane!”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. Voldemort wants Harry, right? If we let slip that Harry is somewhere alone, Pettigrew will tell him. Voldemort won’t go himself, but he’ll send someone.”
Harry nodded. “And we’ll be waiting.”
Sirius ran a hand through his hair, looking deeply unimpressed. “You do realize this plan involves putting you in direct danger, right?”
“I’m in danger every day,” Harry shot back.
Sirius clenched his jaw. His gaze flickered between Harry and Evelyn, frustration warring with reluctant acceptance. “You better have a solid plan for this.”
Evelyn smiled. “We do.”
For the next few hours, they refined their strategy.
Step 1: Get word to Pettigrew that Harry would be ‘alone’ at a specific location.
Step 2: Set up an ambush with the entire group hidden and waiting.
Step 3: Capture Pettigrew and force him to confess.
Step 4: Take that confession straight to the Ministry.
“That’s assuming Pettigrew doesn’t try to kill us first,” Hermione muttered.
Evelyn smirked. “We’ll be ready.”
Sirius exhaled sharply. “I still don’t like this, but… if this is what it takes to clear my name, I’m in.”
Fred clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Now, where are we springing the trap?”
Harry glanced at Evelyn. “Somewhere familiar. Somewhere we can control.”
Evelyn thought for a moment, then smirked. “I have just the place.”
She tapped the map, and a single word appeared: Hogsmeade.
___________
As the plan for Pettigrew’s capture took shape, Evelyn also began laying the groundwork for the Horcrux hunt.
She had started a separate parchment, listing each Horcrux, its location, and how to destroy it.
Tom Riddle’s Diary – Destroyed by Harry with the Basilisk fang in Second Year.
Marvolo Gaunt’s Ring – Hidden in the ruins of the Gaunt family home. Destroyed with the Sword of Gryffindor.
Salazar Slytherin’s Locket – Currently in the possession of Kreacher - unless Mundungus has already stolen it.
Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup – Hidden in Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault at Gringotts.
Rowena Ravenclaw’s Diadem – Hidden in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts.
Nagini – Voldemort’s snake. Must be killed in the final battle.
Harry Potter – A Horcrux. Must be destroyed by Voldemort himself.
She frowned as she stared at the list. They needed to be smart about this. Rushing in without a plan would only get them killed.
Sirius leaned over her shoulder. “That’s a hell of a to-do list.”
She smirked. “Tell me about it.”
Harry peered over as well, his expression darkening when he saw the locket. “Umbridge,” he muttered.
Evelyn grinned. “Oh, we’ll be taking that from her.”
George leaned in. “Can we blow something up in the process?”
Fred gasped dramatically. “Brother, I thought you’d never ask.”
Evelyn laughed. “One step at a time, boys.”
But deep down, she knew—they had just declared war on Voldemort. And this time, they were going to win.
______________
Hogsmeade was the perfect place for their ambush. It was familiar, had plenty of places to hide, and, most importantly, was far enough from Hogwarts that they wouldn’t have to worry about immediate intervention. The group arrived under the cover of Disillusionment Charms, moving silently through the village’s back alleys until they reached the agreed-upon meeting spot behind The Three Broomsticks.
Waiting for them were Pansy, Blaise, Theo, and Evan.
“Well, well,” Pansy drawled as the group emerged from their hiding places. She was wrapped in a thick emerald cloak, her dark hair pinned up neatly. “It’s about time.”
Blaise smirked. “We were starting to think you lot got lost.”
Evan raised an eyebrow at Evelyn. “Is this really necessary? Luring a Death Eater out in the middle of Hogsmeade? Sounds like an easy way to get caught.”
Evelyn shot him a grin. “That’s why we’re making sure we control the situation.”
Theo, standing slightly apart from the others, crossed his arms. “Just tell us what we need to do.”
Harry glanced at Evelyn before addressing the Slytherins. “Pettigrew will come if he thinks I’m vulnerable. The plan is to let word spread that I’m sneaking out alone. We’ll give it a few hours, and once he takes the bait, we ambush him.”
Blaise snorted. “Sounds simple enough.”
Fred clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Trust me, it won’t be.”
Evelyn gestured to the map she had enchanted earlier, now spread across a crate they were using as a makeshift table. “We’ll position ourselves here,” she pointed at an alleyway between Honeydukes and Zonko’s. “It’s secluded enough for a fight but still close enough to the main street that we can make a run for it if needed.”
Pansy studied the layout. “And what happens when Pettigrew shows up?”
“We corner him,” Hermione said. “He transforms into a rat? We trap him. He tries to run? We hex him before he gets the chance.”
Sirius, who had accompanied them under a heavy hooded cloak, nodded in approval. “We get his confession, then get the hell out before anyone realizes what’s happening.”
Evan leaned on the crate, eyeing Evelyn. “And you’re sure he’ll come?”
She smirked. “I know he will.”
Pansy sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if I get caught, I’m blaming you.”
Evelyn chuckled. “Deal.”
With the plan set, all they had to do now was wait.
Chapter 58: Muggle London
Chapter Text
After the trap was sprung and Pettigrew caught, the group didn’t waste any time. There was no point in waiting around, not when the truth needed to come out.
Pettigrew, still trembling from the encounter, had been frozen in place by Theo’s spell. The moment they saw his weak and fearful expression, they knew they couldn’t let him off easy. Not this time.
“Where are we taking him?” Ron asked, glancing at Harry, who was watching the traitor closely.
“To the Ministry,” Harry said, his voice steady. “We’re going to see Madam Bones. It’s time this mess gets fixed.”
Evelyn nodded in agreement. “He’s not leaving until the truth comes out. Let’s go.”
Without wasting another moment, the group swiftly made their way out of the alley and to the nearest Apparition point, taking Pettigrew with them. They arrived at the Ministry in no time at all, and the towering structure felt more oppressive than ever. The cool marble walls of the atrium seemed to judge them as they made their way to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
The tension was thick in the air as they entered the department, and the employees at their desks stopped to watch, some of them whispering amongst themselves. The sight of Pettigrew being held in place by several wands was enough to draw attention, and whispers quickly turned into murmurs of shock.
“Madam Bones!” Harry said, stepping forward confidently. “We need to speak with you.”
The stern witch was known for her no-nonsense attitude, and she was already walking toward them, her expression one of curiosity mixed with suspicion. “What is this all about?” she asked, eyes narrowing as she looked at the group. Her gaze landed on Pettigrew, and her eyebrows raised in recognition. “I thought I’d heard rumors of him being back. You’ve caught him, then?”
“Not just caught,” Evelyn said, her voice cold with a hint of fury. “We’ve got the whole story. The truth about Sirius Black and what really happened all those years ago.”
Madam Bones’ eyes flicked between the group. “I see. You’d better come with me. We’ll need to get this sorted immediately.”
Without further hesitation, she led them through the bustling offices, eventually bringing them into her own private office. The door shut with a resounding click, and Madam Bones turned toward the group with a hard stare.
“You can start explaining,” she said, folding her arms.
Harry and Evelyn shared a brief look before Harry stepped forward. “Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper for Lily and James Potter. Not Sirius,” he said, his voice unwavering. “It was a trick, a betrayal. Peter Pettigrew framed Sirius for the deaths of the Potters and for betraying their trust.”
Madam Bones’ expression didn’t change, but Evelyn could see the shift in her eyes. “Is that so?” she said quietly, as if mulling the implications of the claim. “And how do you know this?”
“We were there,” Harry continued. “We learned the truth in third year. We spoke with Sirius, and the whole story came out.” He paused. “And we can prove it. With Veritaserum.”
Madam Bones looked at Pettigrew, still trembling under their watch. “He won’t deny it when given the serum. I’m sure of it,” she said. “But we’ll need to be sure. I’ll have him dosed immediately. If your story holds up, then the Ministry will need to take action.”
Pettigrew’s eyes darted around the room, panic setting in as he realized what was about to happen. “You can’t! You can’t do this! I’m not going to Azkaban!” His voice was frantic, but he knew there was no escaping the inevitable now.
“I think you’ll find it’s not your decision anymore,” Madam Bones said coldly.
With that, she summoned a vial of Veritaserum and, without hesitation, poured it into Pettigrew’s mouth. Within moments, he slumped, his body weak under the influence of the truth serum.
“What is your name?” Madam Bones asked.
“Peter John Pettigrew” Came the reply in a monotone voice.
“Is your date of birth April 17th, 1960?”
“Yes.”
“What happened on the night of October 31st 1981, Peter?” Madam Bones asked, her voice cutting through the silence.
Pettigrew’s response was immediate, his voice broken and defeated, even through the monotone voice that he was speaking with. “I was the Secret Keeper for the Potters. I told Voldemort where they were hiding.” His eyes filled with fear, and his voice shook as he continued. “Sirius didn’t betray them. He didn’t do anything.”
The room fell silent as Pettigrew confirmed what they had all known in their hearts for years. Madam Bones met Harry’s gaze.
“Do you have anything else to say, Pettigrew?” she asked coldly.
The rat-like man whimpered, but all that came out were more apologies and pleas for mercy, none of which carried any weight now.
Madam Bones turned to the group, her expression solemn. “It’s clear you were right,” she said, her voice tinged with regret. “Sirius Black should have never been imprisoned. I’ll make sure the Ministry compensates him for the time he lost.”
Sirius, who had remained silent during the proceedings, stood up straighter. There was an edge of emotion in his eyes as Madam Bones turned toward him. “I’m sorry, Sirius,” she said. “I should have known. The Ministry should have looked deeper into your case. I’ll make sure you’re properly compensated. You’ll receive a full apology from the Ministry, and your record will be cleared. We’ll have Pettigrew transported to Azkaban immediately.”
Sirius nodded, though his usual bravado seemed dimmed by the weight of everything that had happened. “I appreciate that, Madam Bones,” he said quietly. “But it doesn’t change the years I lost.”
“Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do to give you those back,” she replied, her voice filled with sympathy. “But the truth will be made known, and I’ll personally oversee the charges against Pettigrew.”
“Thank you,” Harry said, relief flooding his chest at the thought of his godfather finally receiving justice.
Madam Bones dismissed them, and with one final look at Pettigrew, they left the room. The Ministry’s steps had been taken, and Pettigrew would face his punishment, no trial needed. His confession, under Veritaserum, had been the final nail in his coffin.
As the group made their way back to Grimmauld Place, they couldn’t help but feel a sense of vindication. The truth had finally been revealed, and it had cost Pettigrew everything. They had set things in motion, and now the game had truly begun.
That evening, back at Grimmauld Place, Sirius was met with a flurry of apologies from those who had wronged him, but it was the sight of the new Ministry letter, which officially cleared his name - smack bang in the middle of the front page of the Daily Prophet, that seemed to hit him the hardest. He wasn’t just a free man now—he was free from the past that had haunted him for so long.
As they sat down together that night, with the weight of their victory settling in, Evelyn leaned into Harry, her voice soft. “We’ve done it. He’s free.”
Harry nodded, squeezing her hand. “One step closer.”
And as the night stretched on, their minds turned toward the future—toward the next move in their fight against Voldemort. With Sirius’s name cleared and Pettigrew out of the picture, they now had more allies than ever. But they knew the battle was far from over. The real work was just beginning.
______________
The day before returning to Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays was filled with both excitement and a touch of sadness. It had been a much-needed break from the usual chaos, but as February loomed, reality was beginning to creep back in. Despite the imminent return to school, there was still a bit of time left to make the most of the day.
The morning had been quiet at Grimmauld Place. The house was peaceful, and the group was scattered around, some reading, others simply enjoying the rare moments of calm before things inevitably picked up again. Harry was sitting by the window, staring out at the cold, overcast sky, when Evelyn wandered in, looking thoughtful.
“Something on your mind?” Harry asked, glancing up at her with a small smile.
Evelyn raised an eyebrow as she approached, sitting down on the couch next to him. “Is it bad that I’m already thinking about all the things I’d rather be doing than going back to school tomorrow?”
Harry chuckled softly. “I think everyone’s thinking that, but unfortunately, it’s inevitable.”
She sighed dramatically, letting her head fall back against the cushions. “I guess. But I’m not ready to go back to all of that. The classes, the tension… everything.”
“I get it,” Harry replied, his voice soft. “But we’ve still got today. Let’s make the most of it.”
Evelyn glanced at him, a small grin forming on her face. “You’ve got something up your sleeve, haven’t you?”
Harry’s grin widened. “How about we head out? To Muggle London? Just the little group of us, and we can take a break from everything. No planning, no prophecies, no battles… just a normal day.”
“Really?” Evelyn’s eyes lit up. “I’m in. We deserve it.”
Harry stood up, holding his hand out to her. “We do.”
The two of them quickly made their way downstairs to find the others. The house was bustling with activity, but when Harry and Evelyn suggested their impromptu trip, everyone seemed to be in agreement.
Ron and Hermione were immediately on board, though Ron looked a bit hesitant at the thought of venturing into Muggle London. “You sure it’s safe?” he asked, his eyes darting toward the door as though something might jump out at him.
“We’ll be fine,” Harry assured him, grinning. “We just want to go have some fun. No dark wizards or dangerous creatures. Just… normal stuff.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Normal, like what?”
“Shopping. Eating. Exploring,” Evelyn chimed in, leaning casually against the doorframe.
Fred and George, who had been eavesdropping from the hallway, exchanged glances before both of them grinned widely. “Muggle sweets,” Fred said with an exaggerated expression of longing. “Now that sounds like something worth the trip.”
“Count us in,” George added, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “We’ll get some proper sugar before going back to that hellhole of a school.”
Evelyn laughed. “Great. So it’s settled then.”
Once everyone had gathered, the group made their way to the front door. No adults were joining them—this was a trip for them to enjoy without supervision. As they stepped out into the snowy streets of London, the cold air hit them, but the excitement kept them warm. They didn’t have a set plan. It was just about enjoying a few hours of freedom.
They arrived in Muggle London, and it didn’t take long for the group to get swept up in the hustle and bustle of the city. The streets were busy with people, their footsteps quick and purposeful, but the group of teenagers felt like they were in another world altogether.
“This place is… hectic,” Ron said as they walked down the sidewalk, looking around with wide eyes. “It’s nothing like Diagon Alley.”
“Just wait until we hit the shops,” Harry grinned, nudging Ron. “You’ll get used to it.”
They wandered around the busy streets, laughing and chatting as they made their way to the first shop on their impromptu list. After a while, Evelyn nudged Harry and nodded toward the nearby café. “How about we grab something warm? I’m freezing.”
Harry nodded in agreement, and the group made their way inside. The cozy café was a welcome escape from the chilly air outside. As they settled into a large booth, they ordered a variety of pastries and hot drinks.
“This is so different from the usual stuff we do,” Hermione said as she sipped her tea. “It’s nice, though. No worries. Just… fun.”
Evelyn smiled at her. “Exactly. We all deserve it.”
After their snacks, the group made their way toward a few more shops, exploring the chaos of the Muggle world. It was a mix of excitement and novelty as they browsed through stores that sold items completely unfamiliar to them. The twins were particularly keen on testing out some weird Muggle gadgets, much to the confusion of the shopkeepers.
As they walked further down the street, they found themselves passing through a quieter part of the city. They were just about to head into a small bookshop when Harry stopped abruptly.
“Wait,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I thought I saw someone…”
Before he could finish his sentence, a group of figures emerged from around the corner. The Slytherins. Pansy, Blaise, Theo, and Evan.
“What are you lot doing here?” Ron asked, his voice wary but not entirely unfriendly. He had, after all, spent some time around them since they had begun to work together more closely on various plans.
Pansy smirked, raising an eyebrow. “What do you think we’re doing? We’re here for the same reason you lot are. To get out of that place for a bit. Enjoy the Muggle world before the madness starts again.”
“I didn’t think Slytherins were into Muggle stuff,” Hermione remarked, her voice tinged with surprise.
“We’re not, usually,” Blaise replied, “but it’s hard to deny that there are some things in the Muggle world that are… fun.”
Evelyn chuckled. “I’m surprised you’ve joined us, honestly. I didn’t think the Slytherins would ever be seen outside the magical world.”
Pansy gave a dramatic shrug. “We know when to indulge ourselves. Besides, it’s a welcome break from all the drama that comes with Hogwarts. You are the only ones around who know how to make it bearable.”
“Look at us, all getting along,” Theo said, smirking at the others. “This might be a one-time thing.”
Evelyn grinned. “It’s only one day. Let’s make it count.”
The group spent the next few hours wandering around, stopping to buy a few trinkets and sweets, enjoying their time together despite their differences. It was strange, how the boundaries between them seemed to blur for a few hours. Harry and Evelyn stuck close, sharing smiles and quiet conversations, while the others bickered playfully or chatted with each other.
At the end of the afternoon, the group made their way back to Grimmauld Place, the weight of the coming school year already settling in their minds. But for now, they had made the most of the last day of their break, and that was enough.
As they returned through the Floo, Harry caught Evelyn’s eye. She smiled at him, and for a moment, it felt like everything would be alright, no matter what happened next. Tomorrow was another day, and they would face it together.
Chapter 59: The Price of Rebellion
Chapter Text
The cold winds of January had a way of settling deep into your bones, and it was no different for the students of Hogwarts as they shuffled back into their classrooms after the Christmas break. The peacefulness of the holidays had already begun to feel like a distant memory, replaced by the heavy, ever-present tension in the air. Classes resumed, and with them, the daily grind of trying to survive the oppressive atmosphere created by Umbridge’s watchful eye.
Evelyn was sitting at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, her eyes scanning the newspaper in front of her. Harry sat beside her, absently pushing his eggs around on his plate, lost in thought. The same feeling seemed to be shared by everyone in the hall. The break was over, and the reality of the looming danger was back in full force.
“Anything interesting?” Harry asked, glancing over at the paper.
Evelyn frowned. She was used to scanning the news by now, looking for any clue that might give them an edge, but today, her eyes were drawn to a specific headline. She pushed the paper toward him.
“Look at this,” she said, pointing to an article about ten Death Eaters who had escaped from Azkaban. The headline blared: “BREAKOUT AT AZKABAN: TEN DEATH EATERS ESCAPE”. Beneath it, there was a description of the breakout, and an unsettling note about the timing. The article implied that the breakout was part of a larger strategy orchestrated by Voldemort, and while it didn’t directly mention anything about Sirius, Evelyn knew what people were thinking. There was enough in the air for people to begin gossiping.
“The timing is suspicious,” Harry muttered, glancing down at the article. “Right when we’re in the middle of all this. It’s like people are making connections between the breakout and—” he stopped himself.
“Between the breakout and Sirius,” Evelyn finished for him, her voice low. “That’s exactly what they’re doing.”
“Do they think it has something to do with him?” Harry asked, though he already knew the answer.
Evelyn hesitated. “It’s hard to say. But given that people aren’t quite accepting his pardon yet, it’s bound to raise some eyebrows. People will start to wonder.”
“And there are those who’ll still blame him for everything,” Harry said, his voice dark. He could feel the familiar frustration building up inside him, but he shoved it down for the moment. “Let’s focus on something else. We need to get through this year.”
The rest of breakfast passed in a quiet, almost oppressive silence. The students scattered to their respective classes, and Evelyn and Harry made their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, their footsteps slow and reluctant. As they walked down the hallway, they passed a group of students whispering to each other, glancing at them as they went. A few of them eyed Harry with suspicion, as if they still weren’t sure whether or not they could trust him. It was something he was getting used to, but it still stung.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was exactly as it had been before the break—stale, cold, and devoid of the energy that the students usually brought. Professor Umbridge was seated at her desk, her beady eyes scanning the room, her smile thin and unsettling. As usual, she had no intention of actually teaching them any practical defense. Instead, she continued to drone on about theoretical aspects of defense, insisting that they memorize things instead of learning how to perform them.
Evelyn exchanged a look with Harry as they sat down. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t tried to make things better. They’d approached her last year, asking about the possibility of practical lessons. Of course, Umbridge had refused. “A theoretical approach is far superior to mere physical action,” she had said, in that sickly-sweet voice of hers.
Ron, who had clearly had enough, leaned over and whispered to Harry, “This is torture. I swear, I’m about to set the parchment on fire just to have something interesting happen.”
“Don’t even joke about it,” Harry muttered back, though he was tempted. He tried to focus on the lecture, but it was nearly impossible. Umbridge’s voice was a constant drone, filling the room with the same hollow lectures they had heard last year. She wasn’t teaching them how to defend themselves; she was trying to make them complacent, to believe that words were enough.
“…and therefore, to understand a Dark Wizard’s motivations,” Umbridge was saying, “you must first understand the workings of their mind, their tendencies, and their…” she paused and glanced at the class, her eyes lingering on Harry for a beat too long. “Attitudes toward society.”
It was clear to Harry that she was referring to him, and possibly Evelyn as well, though she was careful not to say anything outright. She had made it very clear that she didn’t approve of any of them learning actual defense.
The class was endless. The hands-on magic they had done with Harry and Evelyn in charge seemed a world away as Umbridge droned on. Harry couldn’t help but let his gaze wander around the room. Neville’s eyes were glazed over, as if he had long since given up hope. Hermione was furiously scribbling notes in her parchment, trying to make sense of whatever Umbridge was saying. Even Ron, who was always ready to speak up, looked defeated.
Finally, the bell rang, and the students were more than happy to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the class. As they filed out of the classroom, Harry and Evelyn exchanged a look. They had bigger things to worry about, but Umbridge was still a problem. A dangerous one, in her own way.
_____________
That evening, as the students gathered for another DA meeting, the mood was more serious than usual. The topic of the day was the Patronus Charm, a skill that Harry and Evelyn had been working on for a while now. They were ready to pass on their knowledge to the rest of the group, hoping that they could get everyone to a place where they could defend themselves against the darker creatures out there.
The Room of Requirement was more crowded than usual as the DA members gathered, taking their places in the spacious room. It had been a while since they had met, and everyone seemed a little rusty, but the excitement was palpable. The members knew they needed to be ready, and tonight, they would push themselves harder than ever.
Harry stood at the front of the room, looking over the group. Most of the DA members were present—Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and even the Slytherins who had become a part of their makeshift army. Pansy was there, standing near Theo and Blaise, a mix of suspicion and curiosity in her eyes. It was clear that she was still getting used to the idea of working alongside them, but she was here, and that was what mattered.
“Alright, everyone,” Harry began, his voice steady. “We’ve been working on this for a while now, so let’s get started. I know it’s hard to produce a Patronus, but the more you practice, the better it will get.”
Evelyn nodded in agreement. “And if it’s not perfect right away, don’t be discouraged. It’s all about focusing on your happiest memory and really holding onto it.”
Ron looked nervous, but he stepped forward, wand raised. He took a deep breath and muttered the incantation. “Expecto Patronum!”
Nothing happened.
“Don’t worry, Ron,” Hermione said, her voice encouraging. “You’ll get it. Just keep trying.”
Harry stepped back and watched as the students took turns trying the spell. It was clear that some were struggling. Neville’s first attempt produced only a small puff of smoke, and Pansy’s effort was less than stellar, with only a wisp of silver light.
But then, a spark of success: Evelyn’s Patronus burst forth in a brilliant flash of light. It took the shape of a graceful doe, shimmering in the air before vanishing in a trail of silver mist.
Everyone stopped to look at her, surprised by the beauty of it.
“That’s… that’s incredible, Evelyn,” Harry said, his eyes wide. “I knew you could do it.”
Evelyn smiled faintly. “It’s a doe. Not exactly the most powerful Patronus, but it works.”
“I think it’s perfect,” Harry said, beaming at her.
He raised his wand and focused on the memory that had gotten him through so many hard times. He whispered, “Expecto Patronum!”
A brilliant stag, large and powerful, erupted from the tip of his wand, its form solid and majestic. The students around him gasped in awe as it bounded around the room, its hooves leaving silver footprints in the air before it vanished in a shower of light.
“Brilliant, Harry!” Neville exclaimed, clapping him on the back. “That was amazing.”
Ron gave him a thumbs-up. “Alright, well, I guess I’ll try again now.”
As the rest of the DA practiced, Harry and Evelyn offered guidance where needed. Ron eventually managed to conjure a small, glowing otter, which made him grin from ear to ear. Hermione’s otter, too, came into being shortly after.
“Not bad for first-timers,” Pansy commented dryly, though her expression was impressed. She raised her wand and muttered the incantation.
A dove emerged from her wand, flying gracefully around the room. “It’s a dove,” she said, almost to herself, as if surprised by it.
Theo’s attempt was next. The snake-like Patronus that emerged from his wand slithered through the air with precision, before it slinked away with a soft hiss. “A snake,” Theo said quietly, eyes scanning the room. There was a brief moment of silence before he added, “Not exactly the most… cheerful of Patronuses, but it’ll do.”
Blaise raised an eyebrow. “It’s a sign of strength,” he said, as though the serpent’s form was just another badge of honor.
The rest of the DA members continued their attempts, and despite some failures and frustrations, the atmosphere was undeniably positive. Every time someone managed to produce even a flicker of their Patronus, the group cheered them on, eager to see it take shape. It was small victories for everyone involved, but it was progress.
Finally, Neville, with a triumphant expression on his face, managed to produce a small but distinctly lion-shaped Patronus. “I did it!” he shouted, grinning widely.
“Nice job, Neville!” Harry clapped him on the back. “You’re really coming into your own.”
As the session wound down, the room was filled with a sense of accomplishment. Everyone was feeling a little more confident in their abilities, ready to face whatever might be thrown at them. But just as Harry was about to dismiss the group, there was a sudden loud crash from the far side of the room.
Everyone froze, looking toward the noise. A piece of stone had fallen from the ceiling, but the cause was unclear. Pansy’s face turned pale, her gaze flickering nervously toward the door.
“It’s nothing,” Harry said quickly, though his voice had a hint of uncertainty. He didn’t know what had caused the crash, but he wasn’t about to let the group get spooked. “Let’s call it a night. Good work today, everyone. We’re making progress.”
Evelyn nodded in agreement. “Next time, we’ll work on some other forms of defense. But for now, go get some rest. You’ve earned it.”
As the DA members trickled out of the room, chatting amongst themselves, Harry and Evelyn lingered behind, a mix of relief and exhaustion settling over them. It had been a good meeting, but with the ever-present shadow of danger looming over them, they knew they couldn’t let their guard down.
“Well,” Harry said, glancing over at Evelyn, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Evelyn chuckled softly. “It was good. I think we made real progress.”
“I hope so,” Harry replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. But we’re ready. I think we’re all ready.”
Evelyn’s smile softened. “We will be. We just have to keep working together.”
As the last few members of the DA filed out, Harry and Evelyn exchanged a look of mutual understanding. There was a lot they had to face in the coming months, but they weren’t alone. Not anymore.
They left the Room of Requirement together, their thoughts already turning to the next steps in their fight. The battle was far from over, but they had more than just the Patronus charm in their arsenal now. They had each other. And they had their friends. Together, they would face whatever came next.
_______________
The Room of Requirement had never seemed more alive than in the moments just before a training session for Dumbledore’s Army. The students were ready, their faces a mix of excitement and tension as they prepared to practice defensive spells—skills they’d need, now more than ever. The DA had been meeting in secret for months, growing in numbers and strength with each session. Harry and Evelyn had both noticed how quickly their fellow students were improving. The Room of Requirement always provided everything they needed—more than just a space to train, it felt like a sanctuary, a safe haven for those who defied Umbridge’s suffocating rule.
The group was just finishing their final drills when they heard the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps echoing down the hall, a sound that immediately silenced every student in the room. Their heads snapped toward the door, and the blood drained from Harry’s face. Evelyn, standing next to him, could see the look of panic creeping into his eyes.
“Everyone, hide,” she hissed under her breath, her voice carrying a sense of urgency that had become all too familiar in recent months. “Do not move until I say.”
The door to the Room of Requirement swung open with a creak, and there, standing in the doorway, was Dolores Umbridge. The sight of her pale, toad-like face and sickly smile made the room feel smaller, colder. Her pink cardigan looked even more out of place against the stone walls of the Room of Requirement. Behind her stood a few other members of the Inquisitorial Squad, their eyes scanning the room for any sign of resistance.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” Umbridge cooed, her voice dripping with malicious sweetness. Her eyes flicked across the room, locking onto Harry and Evelyn, who stood frozen in place.
The DA members, seeing that there was no chance of escape, exchanged nervous glances but remained still, trying their best to blend in with the surroundings. It was clear that Umbridge had caught them.
“You two,” she said, her eyes narrowing as she pointed a wrinkled finger at Harry and Evelyn. “Step forward.”
Harry hesitated but Evelyn squeezed his hand briefly, an unspoken reassurance. They had to face this together.
With heads held high, they stepped forward, their hearts racing in their chests.
“Professor Umbridge,” Evelyn said, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions within her. “We weren’t doing anything wrong. We were simply practicing—”
“Practicing?” Umbridge cut her off sharply, her lips curling in disdain. “I know exactly what you were doing, Miss McCrae. And you, Potter, I’ve had my eye on you. This isn’t some innocent little extracurricular activity you’ve been running here, is it?”
Harry swallowed hard, but Evelyn was quick to respond, cutting off any chance for him to speak. “What we do here is no different than what happens in your classroom,” she said firmly, meeting Umbridge’s gaze. “We are simply learning how to defend ourselves. Something that should’ve been taught from the start.”
At that, Umbridge’s face turned pinker, her nostrils flaring with barely restrained anger. “Defend yourselves?” she asked in a sickly sweet voice, her hand raising as if to calm herself. “You and your friends are breaking the rules of this school, plotting in secret, and I will not allow it.”
Harry and Evelyn stood their ground, neither of them flinching as she advanced on them.
“How did you find us?” Harry asked, his voice quiet but tinged with suspicion.
“Ah,” Umbridge said, a thin smile stretching across her face. “You’ve been much too careless, Potter. It was your little friend, Cho Chang, who told me all about it. I used Veritaserum on her to confirm what I already suspected, and now I have proof. You’ve been meeting in secret, training students behind my back, plotting to defy the Ministry.”
Evelyn’s blood ran cold at the mention of Cho’s name. She had known something was off when Cho had started acting strangely in the last few days. But she hadn’t thought it would come to this.
“You poisoned her mind,” Evelyn snapped. “You used a potion to make her confess. How is that even remotely fair?”
Umbridge didn’t answer. Instead, she raised her wand and pointed it directly at Harry and Evelyn.
“Professor Dumbledore will want to hear about this,” Umbridge said, her smile turning triumphant. “Perhaps he’ll finally realize that his precious little army isn’t so precious after all.”
Umbridge dragged Harry and Evelyn away from the RoR and towards Dumbledore’s office. The winding staircase felt suffocating as the entered the office. Dumbledore’s eyes flicked between Harry, Evelyn, and Umbridge, and his face remained calm, despite the tension in the room.
“Professor Umbridge,” Dumbledore began, his voice smooth and measured, “What seems to be the trouble?”
Evelyn and Harry exchanged a glance. They had both been expecting this—Umbridge had clearly gone straight to Dumbledore, but they hadn’t anticipated how quickly it would all spiral out of control.
“I’ve caught these two, Headmaster,” Umbridge said, her voice full of false sweetness. “They’ve been running a secret training group, breaking every rule of this school and directly defying my authority. I think it’s time we had a discussion about the consequences of their actions.”
Dumbledore’s gaze shifted to Harry and Evelyn, his eyes soft with understanding. “I see,” he said slowly. “And what is it that you’ve been training for, Harry? Evelyn? Is it really so dangerous?”
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Evelyn cut in, taking a deep breath. “Yes, it’s dangerous. But we’re preparing ourselves for something far worse than detention, Professor. We’re learning to fight back.”
A flicker of surprise passed over Dumbledore’s face, but he quickly masked it with a calm nod. “And you’ve been teaching them to defend themselves against dark magic?”
“Yes,” Evelyn replied firmly. “Against whatever’s coming. Whatever’s already here.”
“Then I believe I should admit my responsibility for this,” Dumbledore said suddenly, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “The Dumbledore’s Army was my idea. I was the one who encouraged them to continue their training.”
Harry and Evelyn’s jaws dropped in unison. This was unexpected, but Dumbledore had always known when to step in, when to shoulder responsibility.
“Headmaster,” Umbridge spat, clearly enraged. “You’re trying to cover for them. You’re responsible for this insubordination.”
Dumbledore merely gave her a long, quiet look. “I believe you are mistaken, Professor,” he said calmly. “I am fully aware of the consequences of my actions. And as Headmaster, I’ll take responsibility for whatever happens next.”
At that moment, the door to the office opened again, and Minister Fudge himself stepped into the room, flanked by two other Ministry officials. His eyes swept over the scene, his face twisting into a scowl.
“Ah, Dumbledore,” Fudge said coldly. “I believe this has gone on long enough.”
“Minister Fudge,” Dumbledore said, his voice still calm, though there was a sharpness to it now. “I’m afraid I must disagree. I believe my actions here have been in the best interest of the students, and I would ask you to reconsider your approach to this matter.”
Fudge ignored him, his gaze turning to Harry and Evelyn. “You’re both in serious trouble,” he said, pointing a finger at them. “You’ve been causing nothing but trouble with your little army, and I will see to it that justice is served.”
“I’m afraid the only justice that’s needed here is for you to see the truth,” Dumbledore said. “Minister, I’d ask that you reconsider your position and leave this matter in my hands.”
Fudge sneered. “You’ve been causing trouble for far too long, Dumbledore,” he spat. “And now it’s time for you to leave. I’m firing you as Headmaster. Effective immediately.”
Harry felt his heart drop. He knew that Dumbledore’s time at Hogwarts had been precarious, but this was more than he’d ever expected.
“You can’t do this,” Harry protested, stepping forward. “You can’t just take him out of here!”
“Oh, but I can,” Fudge said. “And I will.”
Before anyone could react, Fudge snapped his fingers, and the Ministry officials moved quickly toward Dumbledore. However, in the blink of an eye, Dumbledore raised his wand and spoke a single word. “Fawkes.”
In an instant, Fawkes appeared, his wings blazing with fiery light. The bird let out a trill, and Dumbledore’s robes fluttered in the rush of air as he ascended into the air, vanishing with Fawkes in a burst of flame.
The moment Dumbledore disappeared in a burst of golden fire, a stunned silence filled the office. The tension was so thick it was suffocating. Evelyn could hear Harry’s breathing beside her, shallow and tense, his hands curled into fists at his sides.
Fudge was the first to recover. He turned on his heel, his face red with anger, eyes blazing as he glared at Umbridge. “Well?” he snapped. “What are you waiting for? We have to take control of the situation!”
Umbridge’s lips stretched into a smug little smile as she smoothed down her cardigan. “Of course, Minister.” She turned to Harry and Evelyn, clasping her hands in front of her in a mockingly sweet gesture. “And as for you two, I believe it’s time you understood the consequences of your little… rebellion.”
Evelyn’s mind was already working, calculating, trying to find a way out of this. The fact that they were still standing here meant Fudge wasn’t willing to expel them outright—not yet, anyway. He was still trying to keep some kind of grip on Hogwarts, but that grip was slipping fast.
“We didn’t do anything wrong,” Harry said, voice low but firm. “We were only learning to defend ourselves because you refuse to teach us how.”
Umbridge let out a high, simpering laugh, shaking her head as if scolding a child. “Oh, Mr. Potter, you really do love to paint yourself as the victim, don’t you?” Her eyes flicked between him and Evelyn, sharp with amusement. “I must say, it’s quite touching how you two always find yourselves at the center of the trouble here.”
Evelyn held her gaze. “Maybe it’s because you people keep giving us reasons to fight back.”
Fudge let out an exasperated sigh and turned to one of his aides. “I want a statement written up for the Prophet. Make it clear that Dumbledore has fled the school after being caught plotting against the Ministry, and that Hogwarts is now under the control of a more… respectable authority.” He glanced at Umbridge and gave her an approving nod.
Harry’s stomach dropped. He knew what was coming before Fudge even said it.
“Dolores, as of this moment, you are officially appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts.”
Umbridge’s entire face lit up with joy, and she let out a delighted little squeak before quickly composing herself. “Thank you, Minister,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “I will not fail you.”
Evelyn swore she saw Fudge roll his eyes at her dramatic display. “See that you don’t.” He turned back to the two of them, his expression darkening. “As for these two… I assume you have a suitable punishment in mind, Headmistress?”
Umbridge smiled at them, her eyes practically glowing with cruelty. “Oh, don’t you worry, Minister,” she said softly. “I have just the thing.”
Harry and Evelyn were escorted straight from Dumbledore’s office to Umbridge’s own, with no chance to warn anyone or even discuss what had just happened. The pink monstrosity of a room looked even more suffocating than usual as Umbridge settled herself behind her desk, beaming at them like a cat with two trapped mice.
“You’ve both been terribly, terribly naughty,” she sighed, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “Dumbledore might have taken the fall for you, but that doesn’t mean you won’t pay the price for what you’ve done.”
Harry glared at her. “You can’t expel us,” he said flatly. “Fudge wouldn’t let you. If he wanted us gone, he’d have done it himself.”
Umbridge’s smile didn’t falter. “You’re quite right, dear boy. But there are so many other ways to make students understand the error of their ways.” She turned to Evelyn, her eyes gleaming with particular delight. “Miss McCrae, you’ve been quite the… disruptive influence since you arrived at Hogwarts, haven’t you?”
Evelyn held her gaze, refusing to give Umbridge the satisfaction of a reaction. “Only because you make it so easy.”
Umbridge let out a little laugh, clearly amused. “Oh, I do love that fire in you,” she said, tapping a manicured nail against her desk. “But you’ll find, my dear, that fire can be… extinguished.”
She pulled open a drawer and placed a familiar black quill on the desk between them. Evelyn and Harry both recognized it immediately.
“No ink,” Evelyn said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “How shocking.”
Umbridge smiled. “You both know how this works,” she said sweetly. “And since you’ve been such particularly difficult students, I think you should have the privilege of a rather… lengthy detention.”
Harry could feel his temper boiling over. “This is torture,” he snapped. “You can’t just—”
“Oh, but I can,” Umbridge interrupted, her voice filled with sickening delight. “You’ll come here every evening for the next week. And you will write, over and over again, ‘I must not tell lies.’”
Evelyn clenched her fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted nothing more than to grab that quill and snap it in half.
But she wouldn’t give Umbridge the satisfaction of seeing her break.
Instead, she grabbed the quill, met Umbridge’s gaze, and smirked. “Let’s get started, then.”
Harry shot her a worried look, but Evelyn just shook her head slightly. They would get through this, just like they got through everything else.
But one thing was clear—Umbridge was going to make the rest of their year hell.
___________
The next morning, Hogwarts felt different. Not just in the way students whispered in corridors or how the staff carried themselves with barely concealed distaste, but in something deeper, something unsettling.
Umbridge had made her move.
By breakfast, a new Educational Decree was pinned to every wall:
Educational Decree Number Twenty-Six
The position of Headmistress is now held by Professor Dolores Umbridge. All decisions made by the former Headmaster are subject to review and amendment by the Ministry of Magic.
The Hogwarts crest at the top had been altered. Dumbledore’s name was nowhere to be seen.
“She’s really done it,” Ron muttered darkly as they sat at the Gryffindor table. He stabbed his eggs with unnecessary force. “She’s properly taken over.”
“She won’t hold it for long,” Hermione whispered, glancing around. “She doesn’t have the respect of the staff. Even the portraits are ignoring her.”
Harry, sitting beside Evelyn, tightened his grip on his pumpkin juice. He could feel the eyes on him—students whispering, some looking smug, others nervous. Dumbledore was gone, and now the Ministry had Hogwarts fully under its control.
At the Slytherin table, Evan caught Evelyn’s eye and raised a brow, as if to say this is getting out of hand.
Evelyn wasn’t sure whether to nod or look away.
Evelyn exhaled slowly, her mind already working. It’s time.
That night, she and Harry would start taking matters into their own hands.
It was past midnight when Evelyn and Harry slipped out of Gryffindor Tower, their footsteps silent against the stone floor.
“Are you sure we’re doing this tonight?” Harry whispered as they reached the second floor. “Umbridge has patrols everywhere.”
“All the more reason,” Evelyn murmured. “If we wait too long, she’ll tighten security even more. We need the basilisk fang.”
They moved swiftly through the castle, ducking into shadows whenever they heard footsteps. When they reached Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, Evelyn glanced around one last time before pushing the door open.
The torches flickered weakly as they stepped inside. The sinks gleamed under the dim light, and a familiar voice echoed through the room.
“Well, well, well,” Moaning Myrtle cooed as she emerged from a stall. “Back again, Potter? And with a girl this time?” She giggled, floating closer. “I suppose she’s much prettier than the last one.”
Harry sighed. “Myrtle, we don’t have time—”
“Oh, you never have time for me,” she huffed. Then she turned to Evelyn, squinting. “Wait… I remember you. You’ve been here before.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Have I?”
Myrtle nodded. “You were just watching. You didn’t do anything, but you were here when Harry killed the basilisk.”
Harry shot Evelyn a sharp look, but she ignored it.
“Can you give us a moment, Myrtle?” she asked.
Myrtle pouted but floated away sulkily.
Evelyn turned to the sink, then met Harry’s eyes. “Ready?”
He nodded. “Open.”
The sink shifted, revealing the entrance. Without another word, they slid down into the dark tunnel below.
The descent was just as Harry remembered—cold, damp, and reeking of decay. When they reached the bottom, they lit their wands and stepped cautiously into the tunnel leading to the Chamber.
Bones crunched beneath their feet as they walked. The basilisk’s remains were still there, its massive skeletal structure sprawled across the chamber floor.
“There it is,” Evelyn breathed.
They approached the skull, and Evelyn knelt beside one of the long fangs still embedded in the jaw. She gripped it tightly and yanked. It resisted at first but then broke free with a sickening snap.
She held it up, the venomous tip gleaming in the light.
“One piece down,” she murmured.
After climbing back to the surface, Evelyn and Harry made their way to the seventh floor. They paced in front of the empty wall three times, focusing on what they needed.
We need a place to hide something.
The door materialized, and they stepped inside.
The Room of Hidden Things was vast—stacks of forgotten books, broken furniture, and lost treasures filled every corner. Dust swirled in the dim light.
Evelyn moved with purpose, scanning the room. “It should be…” She trailed off, eyes locking onto a high shelf. “There.”
Harry followed her gaze. Perched on an old wooden cabinet was a tarnished, ornate diadem. The words Wit Beyond Measure Is Man’s Greatest Treasure were engraved along the rim.
Harry felt a chill. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
Evelyn nodded, stepping forward. She reached out, hesitated, then carefully lifted it. The air seemed to hum around them.
“This is a Horcrux,” she whispered.
Harry pulled out the basilisk fang. “Let’s end it.”
Evelyn placed the diadem on the ground, stepping back. Harry raised the fang high and drove it down.
The moment the fang punctured the metal, a high-pitched scream filled the air. Black smoke poured from the diadem, writhing like a living thing. The voice of Tom Riddle echoed through the chamber, full of rage and desperation.
Then, with a final, earsplitting crack, the diadem split apart.
Silence fell.
Evelyn let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “One down.”
Harry nodded, gripping her hand. “And more to go.”
They exchanged a determined look.
What they failed to notice, however, was the figure of a young lady dressed all in grey, watching from behind them.
Chapter 60: Exam Season
Chapter Text
The Room of Requirement had definitely become their official headquarters. It had taken the form of a vast, candlelit war room tonight, complete with a long wooden table, chairs, and a roaring fireplace. The gang was gathered, seated in a loose circle, waiting for the last attendee.
The flames flickered green in the fireplace, and Sirius Black stepped out, brushing soot from his long coat.
“Hope I’m not late to the rebellion,” he said with a grin, shaking his hair out.
Evelyn smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Perfect timing, actually.”
Snape, who had been sitting rigidly in a darkened corner of the room, rolled his eyes. “Black.”
“Snivellus,” Sirius shot back smoothly.
“Alright, let’s not start that,” Harry said, exasperated. “We have more important things to discuss.”
Sirius sighed, pulling out a chair on the opposite side of the table, while Snape simply folded his arms. Evelyn took the lead.
“So,” she began, looking around the table, “Harry and I took care of one of the horcruxes already—the diadem of Ravenclaw. And, as we all know, the diary was destroyed in second year.”
There were murmurs of approval from the group, though Draco and Theo looked mildly disturbed at the reminder of a basilisk-infested Hogwarts.
“That means,” Hermione said, eyes glinting as she tapped her quill against a piece of parchment, “we have five left. The locket, the goblet, the ring, Nagini… and—” she hesitated, glancing at Harry.
“My scar,” Harry finished, voice steady. “Yeah. We’re working on that one last.”
Sirius exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe that bastard put part of his soul inside you, kid.”
“He didn’t mean to,” Evelyn corrected. “It was an accident—because of what happened that night at Godric’s Hollow.”
Snape, who had remained silent, finally spoke, his voice soft but firm. “We must focus on the horcruxes we can destroy first. You said the diadem is gone. That leaves the ring, the cup, the locket, and the snake.”
Theo leaned forward, frowning. “Do we even know where they are?”
“The ring is hidden at the Gaunt shack,” Evelyn answered. “Dumbledore was going to find it this year—he’s probably still going to do it. But the locket…” She trailed off.
“We think it’s at Grimmauld Place,” Harry finished.
Sirius sat up straighter. “Wait. Why my house?”
“The locket was stolen by Regulus Black and given to Kreacher. Regulus died that day and made Kreacher promise to destroy it but he hasn’t yet. That’s why he’s so angry all the time, he can’t complete his Master’s wish. The locket at some point ended up with Mundungus Fletcher,” Evelyn explained. “But I don’t know when exactly. He might notice stolen it from Grimmauld Place yet. That means we have to check Grimmauld Place soon, before it disappears again.”
Sirius’ face darkened at the mention of Kreacher, but he nodded. “I’ll handle it.”
Evelyn sighed, “Just be nice about it. I know you and Kreacher never got on well but Regulus was his favourite. You need to go about it the right way, Sirius.”
Sirius nodded, flashes of pain and understanding crossing his face.
“And the goblet?” Pansy asked, looking at Evelyn expectantly.
“Still at Gringotts,” Evelyn admitted. “In Bellatrix’s vault.”
Draco scoffed. “Oh, that’s just great.”
“I know,” Evelyn said. “It’ll be difficult, but not impossible.”
Blaise, who had been listening quietly, smirked. “And what about Nagini? I doubt she’s just slithering around waiting for us to kill her.”
“That’s the biggest problem,” Hermione admitted. “Nagini is always with Voldemort.”
Silence fell over the group. Evelyn felt the weight of the task before them pressing down. They had made progress, but they still had so far to go.
“Well,” Sirius finally said, breaking the quiet, “at least we know what we’re up against.”
“We do,” Evelyn agreed. “And that means we can start putting real plans in motion.”
The meeting continued for another hour, with strategies being drafted and tasks being divided. By the end of it, they had a clearer path forward, even if some parts of the plan still seemed impossible.
As the room began to empty, Evelyn caught Snape and Sirius exchanging a look—not of hatred, but of reluctant understanding.
They were in this together. All of them.
______________
The next morning, Harry barely had time to process that he was awake before Hagrid cornered him in the Entrance Hall, his massive form nearly blocking out the morning light filtering in through the open doors.
“Yeh got a moment?” he asked, his voice lowered but still rumbling like thunder.
Harry glanced toward the Great Hall, where breakfast was still in full swing. Evelyn, Ron, and Hermione were seated together, mid-conversation.
“What’s going on?” he asked warily.
Hagrid tugged at his thick beard, his beetle-black eyes darting around to make sure no one was listening. “Jus’ come with me, alright? I got summat ter show yeh.”
Harry narrowed his eyes but nodded. “Let me get Evelyn and the others first.”
A few minutes later, Evelyn, Harry, Ron, and Hermione trudged through the Forbidden Forest, following Hagrid’s massive strides.
“You could tell us where we’re going,” Ron grumbled, stepping over a fallen branch.
“Yer about ter find out,” Hagrid said, leading them deeper into the trees.
Evelyn shot Harry a look. He shrugged—clearly, he wasn’t picking up on Evelyn’s thoughts.
They finally stopped in a clearing. A few feet away, a giant figure was crouched down, tugging at the trees like they were mere twigs.
Hermione gasped. “Hagrid, what is that?”
Hagrid beamed. “This,” he announced, “is my brother, Grawp.”
Grawp turned at the sound of Hagrid’s voice, his large, lumpy face squinting in their direction. “Hagger,” he grunted.
Grawp was massive—at least sixteen feet tall—and though he was hunched over, he still loomed over all of them. He had wild, matted hair, and his large hands flexed restlessly at his sides.
“He’s, uh… friendly?” Harry asked, warily eyeing the giant.
“Oh, he’s still learnin’,” Hagrid admitted. “But he’s gettin’ better at listenin’.”
Grawp took a sudden step forward, and the ground trembled beneath them. Hermione grabbed Evelyn’s arm.
“I dunno if this is safe—” Ron started.
“Grawpy, say hello,” Hagrid encouraged.
Grawp squinted at them again. His massive lips formed a confused, “Hullo?”
Evelyn exhaled, slowly letting go of Hermione’s grip.
Hagrid grinned. “See? He’s learnin’! I been teachin’ him English.”
“Right,” Harry said, exchanging an uncertain glance with Evelyn. “That’s, uh… great, Hagrid.”
Hagrid beamed, clearly not noticing their hesitation. “I need yeh lot ter help keep an eye on ‘im. He’s lonely, see. Needs some friends. Grawp this is ‘Arry, Evelyn, Ron and ‘Ermione.
Ron paled. “Oh. Oh no.”
“We can try,” Evelyn said, and Harry sighed, nodding in agreement.
Hermione looked like she wanted to protest, but one look at Hagrid’s hopeful face, and she relented.
Grawp, meanwhile, was staring at Hermione with curiosity. “Her-my?” he grunted.
“Oh, Merlin,” Hermione whispered.
Evelyn smirked. This is going to be interesting.
_________________
The days at Hogwarts became increasingly tense. With Umbridge in control and the castle filled with the constant paranoia of her spies, students were on edge.
The atmosphere in the Great Hall was no better. Students whispered about the escaped Death Eaters, and many glanced suspiciously at Sirius’ name in the Daily Prophet. The rumors that he was involved in the breakout refused to die down and he had to go see Madam Bones.
By the time exams rolled around, Evelyn was juggling too many things at once—horcrux planning, keeping up appearances in Slytherin, and making sure Umbridge didn’t suspect anything.
Exams, in comparison, were almost a relief.
“Did you see the look on Snape’s face when I melted my cauldron?” Ron groaned, slumping onto a bench in the courtyard.
“You melted your cauldron?” Theo snorted, sitting beside Blaise.
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Honestly, babe, how do you function?”
“I panicked!” Ron defended.
“It was one question, Ron,” Hermione said, exasperated.
“Well, some of us don’t memorize the textbook, Hermione.”
Evelyn laughed, leaning against Harry. “I think we’re all just glad it’s almost over.”
Harry hummed in agreement, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Yeah, just a few more exams to go.”
Daphne, who had been flipping through her notes, sighed. “As much as I hate to say it, I’m actually going to miss the library when this is over.”
The group groaned at the thought.
“Speak for yourself,” Blaise said. “I plan to never look at another book again.”
Evelyn smirked. If only that were true.
Exams were one thing. But they had bigger things to worry about.
They still had horcruxes to destroy. And time was running out.
__________
The atmosphere inside Harry’s dorm room was a stark contrast to the chaos of Hogwarts beyond the walls. The deep red curtains of his four-poster bed were drawn, cocooning them in soft candlelight. It was one of the rare moments they could steal away, just the two of them.
Evelyn sat cross-legged on the bed, flipping absently through one of Harry’s old Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks while he lay beside her, his fingers trailing lazily along the back of her leg.
“You’re too calm for someone who has an exam in a few days,” Harry mused.
Evelyn smirked, setting the book aside. “It’s just History of Magic. Half the school sleeps through it anyway.”
Harry chuckled. “Fair point.”
She hesitated, then glanced at him, her expression turning serious. “You know, the vision of Sirius being tortured—when Voldemort tries to lure you to the Department of Mysteries—it happened during your History of Magic exam in the books.”
Harry blinked, sitting up. “What?”
Evelyn nodded. “That means we have four days before it happens.”
Harry let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “That’s not a lot of time.”
“No, it’s not.” She reached for his hand, squeezing it. “But this time, we know what’s coming. We can control the outcome.”
He looked at her, blue eyes meeting green. “Yeah,” he said, and for once, there wasn’t uncertainty in his voice—just determination. “We can.”
The Charms classroom was alive with tension as students fidgeted in their seats, waiting for their turn to be called up to do the exam.
Professor Flitwick, standing at the front with a clipboard, called out, “Miss McCrae.”
Evelyn took a steadying breath and walked to the front.
“Begin with a Summoning Charm,” Flitwick instructed, gesturing to a small wooden box on his desk.
Evelyn lifted her wand. “Accio box.”
The box zoomed into her waiting hand, and Flitwick nodded approvingly. “Very good! Now, let’s try a Banishing Charm.”
The exam continued smoothly—she performed a Levitation Charm, conjured a small flock of birds with Avis, and executed a flawless Shield Charm.
By the time she was dismissed, she felt confident. As she walked out of the classroom, she spotted Theo leaning against the wall, smirking.
“Well?” he asked.
Evelyn grinned. “Easy.”
Theo chuckled. “Good. Because I’d hate for you to ruin our reputation.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up, Nott.”
They walked back toward the Great Hall, the stress of exams momentarily forgotten.
Later that evening, the Room of Requirement was once again their secret sanctuary. Sirius’ head appeared first in the flames before he stepped out, brushing soot off his robes. Snape arrived shortly after, his expression as sour as ever.
The gang gathered in a circle, parchment spread out on the floor as they went over the plan.
“We have five horcruxes left,” Evelyn began, looking around at them. “And we don’t have time to waste. We need to divide and conquer.”
She turned to Snape, Pansy, Theo, and Evan. “You’ll go after the ring in the Gaunt shack. Snape, you know the location. The three of you,” she nodded at Pansy, Theo, and Evan, “will handle breaking through whatever defenses Riddle left behind and grabbing the stone.”
Pansy smirked. “Sounds like fun.”
Evelyn turned to Ron, Hermione, and Sirius next. “You three will be at Grimmauld Place at the start of summer. That means you’re in the best position to get the locket from Kreacher.”
Sirius sighed, rubbing his temples. “That’s going to be… something.”
“Good luck with that,” Fred muttered.
Next, Evelyn met Draco’s gaze. “Draco, Harry, and I will handle the goblet in Bellatrix’s vault at Gringotts.”
Draco raised a brow. “We’re breaking into a high-security vault? At Gringotts?”
“If we need to,” Evelyn confirmed. “You and Harry are related to Bellatrix, and if that’s not enough to get us in, I have a backup plan with King Ragnok.”
Harry nodded. “We’ll make it work.”
Finally, Evelyn turned to Fred, George, Daphne, and Blaise. “You four will focus on Nagini. Do research, track her movements, and figure out how to trap her.”
Fred and George exchanged a look.
“Luring a giant snake into a trap?” George mused.
Fred grinned. “Now that sounds like an interesting challenge.”
Sirius clapped his hands together. “Well, it’s certainly ambitious.”
Snape, as expected, sneered. “Ambitious is one word for it. Insane is another.”
Evelyn smirked. “You’re still going along with it, though.”
Snape scowled. “Only because I must.”
Sirius crossed his arms. “You love it, don’t lie.”
Snape turned away. “Let’s just move on.”
Evelyn exhaled. “Alright. We all have our assignments. We move as soon as the summer holidays begin. Especially with the ring, we need to get to it before Dumbledore does.”
The room buzzed with anticipation. This was it. They weren’t waiting for things to happen anymore.
The night before the History of Magic exam, Evelyn sat with Harry in the common room, quizzing him on Goblin Rebellions.
“I’m not going to remember any of this,” Harry groaned, flopping back against the couch.
Evelyn smirked, flipping through the textbook. “Oh, come on. It’s just a bunch of dates and battles.”
Harry shot her a look. “Says the person who memorizes entire books for fun.”
She laughed. “Okay, fair point.”
Ron and Hermione were across from them, also going through notes. Hermione, naturally, was the only one still fully engaged. Ron had given up fifteen minutes ago and was now using his textbook as a pillow.
“This is a lost cause,” Ron muttered into the book.
“You’re hopeless,” Hermione huffed.
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “You’ll be fine, Ron. Just—”
She stopped, noticing the way Harry suddenly stiffened beside her. His hand twitched, his fingers pressing against his scar.
Hermione looked up. “Harry?”
Evelyn immediately recognized the change in his expression—the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes seemed distant.
It was happening.
“Harry,” Evelyn said softly, placing a hand on his arm. “Talk to me.”
Harry squeezed his eyes shut. “He’s angry. He’s—he’s furious about something.”
Evelyn’s heart pounded.
This was it.
The vision was coming.
They had a few hours left to prepare.
And they couldn’t afford to fail.
Chapter 61: Things Get Nasty
Chapter Text
The warm June air was thick with the scent of summer, the windows of the Great Hall thrown open to let in the occasional breeze. The only sound was the scratch of quills on parchment as rows of students bent over their History of Magic exams. Professor Tofty, one of the examiners from the Wizarding Examinations Authority, paced slowly between the desks, occasionally peering over a student’s shoulder.
Harry’s fingers were smudged with ink as he filled out an essay on the International Warlock Convention of 1289. He could feel the heat from the afternoon sun streaming in through the windows, making his already tired body feel heavier. His mind wandered briefly to the coming summer—the missions they had planned, the horcruxes they still had to find—but he forced himself to focus on the paper in front of him.
And then, suddenly, the room was gone.
A searing pain shot through his scar, so sharp and sudden that he let out a soft gasp, his quill slipping from his fingers. His vision blurred, then reformed into something else entirely.
Cold stone. Dim light. Shadows flickering on the walls of a long, dark corridor. A room full of glass spheres, stretching on and on into the distance.
He was moving swiftly now, gliding forward without effort, as if floating. His breathing was slow and deliberate, but not his own. He could feel his fingers tightening around the handle of a wand that did not belong to him. The air smelled damp and musty, the silence thick and expectant.
And then, ahead of him—there. A man with dark hair, slumped against the wall, breathing heavily.
Sirius.
A voice, smooth and cold as ice, whispered in his mind: Curse him. Do it.
Harry felt the creature’s muscles tense. His mouth opened—
“NO!”
He lurched forward, knocking his chair over as he slammed back into reality. His breathing was ragged, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Students all around him turned to stare. The examiners looked startled, some rising from their seats. Professor Tofty hurried toward him, but Harry didn’t wait to explain. He needed to find Evelyn.
Ignoring the examiner’s calls, he bolted from the Great Hall.
Evelyn was sitting in the courtyard with Theo and Pansy, enjoying the rare break between exams. The stone bench was cool beneath her despite the afternoon heat, and she had been halfway through a conversation with Theo about the difficulty of the Transfiguration exam when she heard hurried footsteps approaching.
She turned just in time to see Harry burst into the courtyard, his face pale, his movements frantic.
“Harry?” she asked, immediately standing.
He reached her in seconds, grabbing her hand as he tried to catch his breath. “Sirius. We need to check—now.”
There was something about the way he said it—something urgent and desperate—that sent alarm bells ringing in her head. Without hesitation, she nodded. “Room of Requirement,” she said, pulling him along.
“What’s going on?” Theo called after them, but neither of them answered.
By the time they reached the hidden entrance on the seventh floor, Harry was nearly shaking. He strode back and forth in front of the blank wall, muttering under his breath, and within moments, the door appeared.
They rushed inside.
Harry went straight to the fireplace. He snatched a handful of Floo Powder from the mantle and tossed it into the flames. “Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!” he called, kneeling down so that his face appeared in the green fire.
The drawing room of Grimmauld Place came into view. Evelyn held her breath as she waited.
And then, after a few seconds, Sirius appeared.
“Harry?” Sirius frowned, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”
Harry exhaled in relief, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You’re okay.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Of course I’m okay. What’s going on?”
Harry glanced at Evelyn, then turned back to the fire. “It’s Voldemort,” he admitted. “He tried to make me think you were being tortured.”
Evelyn stepped forward. “You weren’t. But he wanted Harry to believe it. It happened during his History of Magic exam—it happened now .”
Sirius’s expression darkened. “So he’s trying to lure you out,” he said, understanding at once.
Harry nodded.
“Alright,” Sirius said. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
____________
Evelyn pulled the door open to the Room of Requirement once again, stepping back to let the others through. Ron, Hermione, Daphne, Blaise, Theo, Evan, Pansy, Draco, and the twins filed in, their faces ranging from concerned to utterly confused.
“What’s going on?” Fred asked, glancing between Harry and Evelyn.
Harry took a deep breath, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Voldemort sent me a fake vision.”
That got everyone’s attention.
“What kind of vision?” Theo asked, crossing his arms.
“He tried to make me think Sirius was being tortured,” Harry explained. “It happened during my History of Magic exam, just like it did in the books.”
“And you’re sure it was fake?” Hermione pressed.
“We checked,” Evelyn said, nodding toward the fireplace. “We called Sirius right away. He’s perfectly fine.”
“But that means You-Know-Who is waiting for you to show up,” Pansy said, her expression grim. “Which means… he thinks you’ll come.”
Silence stretched through the room.
“We should go,” Ron said suddenly, straightening. “We should go to the Department of Mysteries and fight.”
“No.” Evelyn’s voice was firm.
Ron turned to her, surprised. “Why not?”
“Because that’s exactly what he wants us to do,” she pointed out. “This isn’t like the book anymore. Sirius isn’t actually in danger. If we go, we’re walking straight into a trap—one that Voldemort and his Death Eaters are fully prepared for. We could get hurt or worse, and for what? A fight we don’t have to take?”
Ron opened his mouth to argue but hesitated.
“She’s right,” Hermione said quietly. “We want to fight, but we don’t have to—not right now. We have too much work to do with the horcruxes. That’s what’s really going to defeat him.”
Ron exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “It just feels wrong to do nothing .”
“We’re not doing nothing,” Evelyn reminded him. “We’re doing what he doesn’t expect. We’re making sure he loses .”
The weight of her words settled over the group. Slowly, one by one, they nodded in agreement.
“Alright,” Fred said, clapping his hands together. “So no reckless running off to the Ministry to fight Dark Lords today. Guess that means we actually get to relax after exams?”
“Sounds like it,” Blaise smirked.
“Good,” said George, throwing an arm over Fred’s shoulder. “Because I was really hoping for some swimming and sunshine after all this stress.”
The mood in the room lifted a little.
“Fine,” Ron sighed, though his face was still tight with frustration. “But if anything does happen—”
“We’ll be ready,” Harry promised.
___________
The air inside the Department of Mysteries was cold and still, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows across the marble floor. Lord Voldemort stood at the entrance to the Hall of Prophecies, his tall figure rigid with impatience.
The Death Eaters stood in a semicircle behind him, their masked faces unreadable, though a few shifted uncomfortably under his silent fury.
They had been waiting for nearly an hour.
No Harry Potter.
No students.
Nothing.
Voldemort’s grip on his wand tightened. He could feel the anger rising within him, cold and controlled but dangerous nonetheless.
Lucius Malfoy, standing closest to him, finally dared to speak. “My Lord, perhaps—”
CRACK.
A bolt of green light shot from Voldemort’s wand, striking the nearest glass prophecy orb. It shattered instantly, shards flying in all directions. A thin, whispery voice filled the air for a brief moment before fading into nothingness.
The Death Eaters flinched but said nothing.
Voldemort turned slowly, his red eyes gleaming in the dim light. He floated towards the shelf of the prophecy.
“The prophecy,” he said, his voice a deadly whisper, “is gone.”
The realization settled over the group like a suffocating fog.
Gone.
The one thing he needed. The one thing that could have given him the answer to his downfall.
And it was gone.
“How?” Bellatrix Lestrange asked, her voice barely above a breath.
Voldemort’s expression darkened further. “Potter,” he seethed. “He has already taken it.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then, in one swift motion, Voldemort flicked his wand toward Macnair. The Death Eater barely had time to react before he was blasted off his feet, slamming into a row of glass shelves with a sickening crash.
“ You incompetent fools! ” Voldemort’s voice echoed through the chamber. “You let them take it while we waited here like idiots!”
Macnair groaned from where he had landed, blood trickling from a cut on his forehead. None of the other Death Eaters moved to help him.
Lucius lowered his head. “My Lord, we—”
“Silence,” Voldemort hissed.
He took a deep, slow breath, regaining control of his fury. He would not waste time on incompetence. No—he had something more important to do now.
In a swirl of black smoke, he Disapparated.
When he reappeared moments later, he was standing in the grand entrance hall of Malfoy Manor.
The candles flickered at his sudden arrival. The air was still and quiet, but it wouldn’t be for long. He raised his wand to his throat, his voice amplified as he spoke:
“Come.”
From various rooms of the manor, his Death Eaters emerged. Some hurried, others slow and reluctant, but they all came. They formed a loose circle before him, awaiting his words.
Voldemort’s gaze swept over them, lingering briefly on the ones who had disappointed him the most. His voice was eerily calm when he finally spoke.
“The prophecy is gone.”
There was a ripple of unease. No one dared to respond.
“Potter has taken it,” he continued. “And we no longer have the element of surprise.”
The tension in the room thickened.
“We must act differently now,” Voldemort mused, mostly to himself. His eyes flickered toward the end of the hall, where Nagini lay coiled in the shadows. “We will not lure him. We will force him.”
The Death Eaters shifted slightly.
“And to do that,” Voldemort murmured, a cruel smile curling his lips, “we must change the game.”
His fingers ghosted over the smooth surface of his wand.
It was time for a new plan.
______________
The days following the vision were strangely quiet. The tension that had been mounting throughout the year seemed to ease, if only slightly, as exams came to an end. With no immediate crisis looming over them, the gang took full advantage of the warm summer-like weather.
They spent most of their free time outdoors, enjoying the rare opportunity to relax. The lake was their favorite spot—cool and inviting under the hot June sun.
Fred and George had managed to charm a few rocks to float like platforms, turning them into makeshift diving boards. Harry and Draco got competitive over who could do the best dive, which quickly devolved into them shoving each other into the water. Evelyn sat on the shore with Hermione and Daphne, laughing as Ron and Theo tried (and failed) to tip Blaise off his floating rock.
“Who knew you lot were this terrible at balance?” Daphne teased, watching as Ron flailed before plunging into the water.
“Oi!” Ron sputtered, emerging with soaked hair clinging to his face. “I’d like to see you do better.”
Daphne smirked. Without hesitation, she stepped onto one of the floating rocks, balancing with ease as she struck a dramatic pose.
Theo snorted. “Alright, alright, we get it—you’re graceful.”
Pansy, meanwhile, was lounging on the grass with a book, pretending she wasn’t interested in joining but clearly listening to every word.
“You coming in, Pans?” Evelyn called.
Pansy glanced up from her book, raising an eyebrow. “And ruin my hair? I think not.”
“You sure?” Fred grinned mischievously. “Because—”
Before he could finish, George suddenly appeared behind Pansy and scooped her up.
“Don’t you dare! ” she shrieked, struggling as George carried her toward the water.
“Oh, we dare,” Fred cackled.
With a dramatic swing, George tossed her into the lake. Pansy resurfaced seconds later, spitting water and cursing them both.
The twins high-fived. “Totally worth it.”
The afternoon passed in easy laughter and friendly competition. For the first time in months, it almost felt like they were just normal students enjoying the last stretch of the school year.
But they all knew it wouldn’t last.
_______________
Two days later, the peace was shattered.
Harry had just finished breakfast when he received a summons from Umbridge. A note, written in her neat, sickly-sweet handwriting, was waiting on the Gryffindor table.
Mr. Potter, please report to my office immediately.
Harry didn’t even need to guess what it was about.
“She’s up to something,” Evelyn muttered as they read the note together. “We should be careful.”
“I’ll go with you,” Ron offered.
Harry shook his head. “No. If she’s planning something, I don’t want you caught up in it.”
Ron frowned but didn’t argue.
Evelyn narrowed her eyes. “Then at least let me gather some of the others. Just in case.”
Harry hesitated, then nodded. “Alright. Be quick.”
Evelyn disappeared from the hall, and Harry made his way to Umbridge’s office alone.
He knocked once before pushing the door open.
The office was as nauseatingly pink as ever, with plates of decorative kittens lining the walls. Umbridge sat behind her desk, her beady eyes gleaming with poorly concealed glee.
“Ah, Mr. Potter,” she said, her voice falsely sweet. “Do come in.”
Harry stepped inside cautiously.
“Have a seat,” Umbridge instructed.
Harry remained standing. “What do you want?”
Umbridge’s smile widened. “Oh, nothing too terrible, dear boy. I simply need some… information.”
Harry’s jaw clenched.
She stood slowly, walking around the desk. “You see, I have been very patient with you and your friends. I have tolerated the little acts of rebellion. The whispers of a secret organization. The disobedience.”
Her wand twitched in her fingers.
“But my patience has run out,” she said, her tone darkening.
Harry stayed silent.
“Tell me, Potter,” she continued, stepping closer. “Where is Albus Dumbledore?”
Harry blinked. “I have no idea.”
Umbridge’s expression twisted. “Liar.”
She flicked her wand. Before Harry could react, he felt his arms snap behind him, as if invisible ropes had tied them in place.
“You will tell me,” she whispered.
Harry clenched his teeth. “You’re making a mistake.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Umbridge mused. “You see, the Minister has given me full authority over Hogwarts. I no longer have to ask for cooperation. I can demand it.”
A chill ran down Harry’s spine.
“Crucio.”
Pain exploded through him.
It was sudden and all-consuming, burning through his nerves like fire. His knees buckled, but he refused to scream.
“ Expelliarmus! ”
The curse vanished.
Harry barely had time to process what happened when the door burst open. Evelyn stood at the entrance, wand drawn, with Ron, Hermione, Pansy, Theo, Draco, and the twins right behind her.
Umbridge staggered back, her face contorted with rage. “ How dare you— ”
“You’re finished,” Evelyn cut in coldly.
Umbridge turned her wand on her, but Fred and George were faster. Twin jets of red light struck her square in the chest, sending her flying backward into her desk.
She hit the ground, dazed.
Ron rushed forward and untied Harry’s arms. “You alright, mate?”
Harry nodded, shaking off the lingering pain. His green eyes burned with fury. “We’re taking her to the forest.”
Evelyn smirked. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Umbridge stumbled over the roots, her breath coming in short gasps. “You… you can’t do this!”
“We can,” Hermione said simply, her wand pointed at the woman’s back as they led her deeper into the Forbidden Forest.
“I am the Headmistress of this school!” Umbridge shrieked.
“Not for much longer,” Ron muttered.
They reached the clearing.
Grawp stood there, his enormous form looming over them.
“Grawp,” Hermione called. “We’ve brought you a present.”
Grawp blinked down at them, his large mouth curling into a grin. “Hermy.”
Umbridge stared up at the giant, her face turning ghostly pale. “Oh… oh no…”
“Good luck,” Harry said cheerfully, before he and Evelyn turned and walked away.
The others followed, leaving Umbridge behind as Grawp let out a pleased grunt.
The last thing they heard was her terrified scream.
The gang stood in the Entrance Hall, still breathing heavily after their excursion into the Forbidden Forest. There was a moment of silence before Fred turned to George.
“How long do you reckon she’ll last?”
George smirked. “Depends on Grawp’s mood, I suppose.”
Pansy snorted, shaking her head. “Honestly, I’d almost feel bad for her if she hadn’t just used an Unforgivable Curse on Harry.”
Harry, still feeling the lingering ache from the Cruciatus Curse, exhaled sharply. “She had it coming.”
Evelyn shot him a look. “You should’ve waited for us before going in there alone.”
“I knew you lot would have my back,” he said simply, offering her a small smile.
Draco huffed. “Still reckless.”
Theo smirked. “Are we even surprised at this point?”
Ron stretched his arms behind his head. “Well, what now? We just let Grawp keep her?”
Hermione shook her head. “We should tell McGonagall when she gets back. I doubt Umbridge will last more than a few hours out there before she’s running for her life. If the centaurs don’t get her, Grawp’s curiosity will.”
“That’s assuming she does make it back,” Blaise pointed out.
“Hopefully not in one piece,” Evan muttered.
Daphne sighed. “As much as I’d love to leave her there permanently, we need to be careful. If she does come back, she’ll be more dangerous than before.”
“Agreed,” Evelyn said. “We should lay low for the next couple of days. Exams are over, and we still have work to do before the summer.”
The group murmured in agreement, though their expressions remained tense. No matter how much satisfaction they felt about Umbridge’s downfall, they knew the battle wasn’t over.
By morning, the entire school knew that Dolores Umbridge had vanished.
Rumors spread like wildfire, ranging from her being eaten by a dragon to her being abducted by centaurs. The most dramatic theory came from Seamus Finnigan, who insisted she’d been kidnapped by an underground society of disgruntled house-elves.
Regardless of the wild speculation, one thing was clear—Hogwarts was celebrating.
The Inquisitorial Squad had lost their power overnight. Without Umbridge to back them up, the few Slytherins who had sided with her (mostly younger students desperate for favor) quickly faded into the background. The common consensus was that they’d rather pretend they’d never been involved at all.
Fred and George set off a spectacular display of fireworks in the Great Hall during breakfast, including a magnificent Catherine Wheel that spelled out “Ding Dong, the Witch is Gone!” in the air. Even Professor McGonagall—who had returned to the castle with an air of quiet triumph after informing Dumbledore that Umbridge was gone—hadn’t bothered to reprimand them.
Harry and Evelyn watched the celebrations from their usual spot at the Gryffindor table, their plates half-full as they listened to the latest rumors.
“Apparently, Filch tried to barricade himself in her office last night,” Neville said, shaking his head. “He wouldn’t let anyone inside.”
“Poor bloke,” Ron muttered. “He was probably in love with her.”
Hermione made a face. “Ugh, don’t say things like that, Ron.”
Across the hall, at the Slytherin table, Pansy and Theo were equally entertained.
“She’s gone for one night, and this place turns into a festival,” Pansy mused, sipping her pumpkin juice.
“Not complaining,” Theo said lazily. “But we should still be careful. She might not be gone gone.”
Evan leaned in slightly. “What’s the plan for today?”
Evelyn, sitting between him and Blaise, glanced over at the Gryffindor table where Harry was finishing his breakfast. “We regroup later. I want to check on something in the Room of Requirement first.”
Theo raised an eyebrow. “Something, or someone ?”
Evelyn ignored the knowing look he shot her.
Later that afternoon, Evelyn, Harry, and Draco made their way to the Room of Requirement, leaving the rest of the gang to enjoy their break.
As they stepped inside, the room shifted into something warm and familiar—a cozy lounge space with old, comfortable furniture and a large fireplace. A place of quiet reprieve, away from the castle’s chaos.
Draco leaned against the arm of a sofa. “So, what exactly are we checking on?”
Evelyn sat down, crossing her legs. “I wanted to make sure our things are still hidden properly.”
Harry gave her a small smile. “You mean the basilisk fang?”
“Among other things.”
The Room had already given them the perfect place to store anything valuable, but Evelyn had been careful to check it regularly. There was too much at stake.
Draco rolled his eyes. “You two are paranoid. ”
“Maybe,” Evelyn said, “but it’s paranoia that’s kept us ahead of the game.”
Harry nodded in agreement, then turned his gaze toward the fireplace, where golden embers crackled. “Two more weeks.”
Evelyn followed his line of thought. The school year was almost over.
Draco exhaled. “This summer is going to be a nightmare, isn’t it?”
Evelyn smirked. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Harry glanced between them, his expression darkening slightly. “We still have work to do.”
They all knew what he meant. The Horcrux hunt. The war that was brewing just beneath the surface of their world.
But for now, just for this moment, they allowed themselves the luxury of pretending they were still just students.
That everything was normal.
Even if they knew better.
Chapter 62: The Start of Summer 1996
Chapter Text
Two weeks had passed since Umbridge had been left in the Forbidden Forest, and Hogwarts had begun to feel like itself again. Without her looming presence, the castle was brighter, the hallways less tense, and the students freer.
Now, with the end of term upon them, the entire school was abuzz with the usual mix of excitement and nostalgia.
Evelyn stood in her dormitory, folding the last of her robes into her trunk. Around her, the other Slytherin girls were in various stages of packing. Pansy sat on her bed, tossing items haphazardly into her trunk, while Daphne neatly arranged her things with a flick of her wand.
“I swear, this year felt like it lasted a decade,” Pansy said, groaning.
“Probably because we were dealing with actual war preparations instead of just school,” Daphne pointed out.
Evelyn smirked. “At least it wasn’t boring.”
Daphne rolled her eyes. “That’s one way to put it.”
From across the room, Millicent Bulstrode muttered, “I, for one, am glad to be going home.”
Pansy raised an eyebrow. “You like being at home?”
Millicent huffed. “More than I liked Umbridge.”
There was a collective murmur of agreement. Even those who weren’t directly involved in the rebellion had despised the woman.
Evelyn shut her trunk with a snap and turned to her friends. “Come on, we’re going to be late for the feast.”
The Great Hall was already bustling with students when they arrived, the enchanted ceiling reflecting the golden hues of the setting sun. House banners hung proudly along the walls, and the long tables were filled with a grand spread of food.
Evelyn found her usual spot between Theo and Blaise, while Harry—after exchanging a glance with her—settled in at the Gryffindor table with Ron and Hermione.
As Dumbledore rose to make his speech, the hall fell into a hush.
“Another year has come to an end,” he began, his voice warm. “We have faced challenges, and we have persevered. To those of you returning next year, I look forward to seeing you again. And to those who are leaving us, I bid you the best of luck on your journeys beyond these walls.”
He paused, his twinkling blue eyes surveying the students.
“This has been a year of trials, but also one of great unity. And so, let us celebrate the friendships we have forged and the lessons we have learned. Now—let the feast begin!”
Applause rang through the hall as platters filled with roast meats, golden potatoes, and decadent desserts.
As they ate, the Slytherins engaged in their own quiet discussions.
“Are we still sticking to the plan?” Blaise asked, lowering his voice.
Evelyn nodded. “Harry, Draco, and I will go to the bank in a few days. The rest of you should go in separate groups, staggered over the next couple of weeks.”
Theo exhaled. “No pressure, right?”
Pansy smirked. “Oh, none at all.”
As the evening wore on, the reality of their impending departure settled over them. Tomorrow, they would be on the train back to London.
_____________
The next morning, the Hogwarts Express stood gleaming on the platform, steam billowing from its engine as students boarded.
Evelyn and Harry found an empty compartment and were soon joined by Pansy, Theo, Draco, Blaise, Daphne, Ron, and Hermione. Fred and George popped in for a few minutes before disappearing off to cause trouble elsewhere.
As the train lurched forward, beginning its long journey back to London, the conversation turned serious.
“So,” Ron said, leaning back, “when are you lot going?”
Evelyn crossed her legs. “Draco, Harry, and I leave in a few days for Gringotts. We’ll go as discreetly as possible, but we have to be careful.”
Theo tapped his fingers against the window. “Pansy, Evan, and I will go for the ring the following week.”
“And Sirius, Hermione, and I will handle the locket at Grimmauld Place,” Ron added.
Daphne exhaled. “Blaise, Fred, George, and I will start on research for Nagini. Hopefully, we can figure out how to deal with her before we even get close. We’re planning on meeting at the Leaky Cauldron.”
There was a pause. They all knew how dangerous this was.
Draco broke the silence. “We’re all coming back from this. No matter what.”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Obviously. It’s not an option otherwise.”
The tension lightened slightly, but there was an unspoken weight in the air.
For now, though, they let themselves relax.
The rest of the ride was filled with casual chatter, games of Exploding Snap, and stolen moments of laughter. The future was uncertain, but at least they had each other.
As the train pulled into King’s Cross, Evelyn and Harry grabbed their trunks and slipped away from the crowd, making their way toward the station exit.
Outside, the warm air of London greeted them, a stark contrast to the cool halls of Hogwarts.
Evelyn sighed, adjusting the strap of her bag. “Finally.”
Harry smiled. “Feels good to be back.”
They apparated to Evelyn’s apartment, the familiar space welcoming them instantly. It smelled like home—like safety.
Harry dropped his trunk near the couch, stretching. “You have no idea how nice it is to be here instead of the Dursleys.”
Evelyn smirked. “I can imagine.”
She walked over to him, resting a hand on his chest. “We made it through another year.”
He glanced down at her, warmth in his gaze. “Yeah. We did.”
For the first time in what felt like forever, they weren’t strategizing or fighting or running. They were just them.
Harry pulled her close, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Let’s just stay here tonight. No plans, no worrying—just us.”
Evelyn smiled, threading her fingers through his. “I’d like that.”
They spent the evening wrapped up in each other, enjoying the rare peace. And as they finally drifted off to sleep, tangled together beneath the covers, the world outside didn’t matter.
_____________
The heat of mid July settled over London like a thick blanket, but neither Harry nor Evelyn minded. For the first time in months, there was no immediate danger, no looming exams, and no Umbridge to worry about. Just the two of them, alone in Evelyn’s apartment, finally free to do whatever they wanted.
Their first few days of summer were spent indulging in small luxuries: sleeping in without worrying about classes, cooking together, and exploring the city. They went out for breakfast at a small café tucked away in a quiet alleyway, far from the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, where they could enjoy their food without fear of running into anyone they knew.
“You’re going to love this,” Evelyn said as she handed Harry a forkful of her cinnamon-dusted pancakes.
Harry leaned in, took a bite, and let out a satisfied hum. “Alright, you win. This is better than treacle tart.”
Evelyn smirked. “Told you.”
After breakfast, they strolled through Muggle London, wandering through bookshops, stopping to listen to street musicians, and even visiting a park where they sprawled out on the grass, simply enjoying the rare peace.
____________
One afternoon, Evelyn dragged Harry to a hidden part of the Thames, where the water shimmered under the warm sun.
“You trust me, right?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.
Harry raised an eyebrow. “That question usually means you’re about to do something reckless.”
She grinned. “Jump in with me.”
Harry hesitated. “Evelyn, the water’s filthy—”
Before he could protest any further, she grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward, both of them tumbling into the river with a splash. The cold was a shock at first, but then laughter bubbled out of Harry as he surfaced, flicking water at her.
“You’re insane,” he said, grinning.
“You’re boring,” she shot back, splashing him again.
They spent the next hour swimming, chasing each other through the water, and soaking in the sun before finally dragging themselves back to Evelyn’s flat, where they dried off and warmed up with mugs of hot cocoa—despite it being summer.
Each day was a new adventure, but even in these moments of normalcy, the looming reality of their mission remained at the back of their minds. They had made progress with the Horcruxes, but the hardest tasks were still ahead.
And soon enough, it was time to take the next step.
___________
A few days later, Harry and Evelyn made their way to Diagon Alley, where they had arranged to meet Draco. The sun was high in the sky, casting golden light over the cobbled streets. As they approached Gringotts, Evelyn spotted Draco leaning casually against the white stone wall near the entrance, arms crossed and a carefully neutral expression on his face.
“You’re late,” Draco drawled as they approached.
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Two minutes doesn’t count as late, Malfoy.”
Harry smirked. “If that’s your biggest complaint, I think we’ll survive the day.”
Draco scoffed but didn’t argue. Instead, he straightened his posture and glanced at the grand doors of the wizarding bank. “I still think this is insane,” he muttered.
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Well, if you have a better way to break into Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault, I’d love to hear it.”
Draco had no response to that.
They made their way inside, stepping up to one of the goblin tellers. The goblin peered at them with sharp, calculating eyes.
“We request access to Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault,” Evelyn said smoothly.
The goblin’s expression remained unreadable. “Vault 711 is restricted. Only the account holder may enter.”
“We are relatives of Mrs. Lestrange.”
“Vault 711 is restricted. Only the account holder may enter.”
Evelyn sighed. “Then I would like to speak with King Ragnok.”
At that, the goblin’s eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. He scrutinized Evelyn for a long moment before nodding once. “Wait here.”
They only had to wait a few minutes before another goblin arrived to lead them deeper into the bank. Harry could feel Draco shifting beside him, likely just as nervous as he was.
Evelyn, however, walked with absolute confidence.
They were led into a private office, where King Ragnok sat behind an ornate desk, watching them with sharp golden eyes.
Evelyn didn’t waste time. She explained why they needed access to the vault, speaking with an authority that even impressed Harry. She detailed the truth about the Horcruxes, Voldemort’s return, and the danger that lurked within the Lestrange vault.
Ragnok listened in silence, his expression unreadable. When Evelyn finished, the goblin king leaned back in his chair, steepling his long fingers together.
“You do not ask for small favors, Miss McCrae,” he finally said.
Evelyn met his gaze steadily. “No, I don’t. But I am asking for the sake of magic itself.”
A long silence stretched between them. Then, slowly, Ragnok nodded. “Very well. You will have access to the vault. But be warned—if you are discovered, we will disavow any knowledge of this meeting.”
“Understood,” Evelyn said, inclining her head respectfully.
Ragnok turned to one of the goblin guards. “Escort them to Vault 711.”
The ride down was just as jarring as Harry remembered from his first time in Gringotts, the cart twisting and turning at impossible speeds. By the time they reached the vault, Draco looked slightly pale.
The goblin guard unlocked the massive door, and they stepped inside.
The Lestrange vault was overflowing with treasures—piles of gold, jeweled goblets, cursed artifacts.
And sitting atop a small pedestal in the center was Helga Hufflepuff’s Goblet.
“There it is,” Harry murmured.
Evelyn took a cautious step forward. “Careful. If this vault has the same protections as in the book—”
The moment she touched the goblet, the treasure around them multiplied. The floor filled with endless copies of goblets, gold coins, and other priceless artifacts, the growing piles threatening to bury them.
“Brilliant,” Draco muttered. “Absolutely brilliant.”
Evelyn gritted her teeth, tightening her grip on the real goblet. “Hold on to me!”
Harry grabbed her arm, Draco did the same, and with a sharp twist of magic, Evelyn Apparated them out of there.
They landed safely back in her flat, breathless but victorious.
“We actually did it,” Harry said, running a hand through his hair.
Draco exhaled sharply. “Well, that was horrific.”
Evelyn grinned. “But effective.”
Before they could celebrate, however, something shifted in the air. A soft golden light filled the room, and before their eyes, a figure materialized.
A woman, cloaked in flowing robes, with eyes that held galaxies within them.
Harry and Draco both instinctively reached for their wands, but Evelyn immediately dropped to her knees.
“Lady Magic,” she whispered.
The boys stared in shock.
Lady Magic turned her gaze on Evelyn, a small smile on her lips. “You have done well, child. The destruction of the Horcruxes weakens the dark one’s hold on this world.”
Draco looked petrified, but Harry simply watched, listening.
“But beware,” Lady Magic continued. “He knows his Horcruxes are being destroyed. And he will not take it lightly.”
The room was silent.
And then, just as suddenly as she had appeared, Lady Magic vanished.
Draco turned to Evelyn, eyes wide. “What the hell was that?”
Evelyn simply smirked. “You’ll get used to it.”
Harry let out a breath. “Well. No pressure, then.”
And with that, the real work began.
Chapter 63: No Battles, No War (HA!)
Notes:
first off - if anyone could tell me if i’ve mentioned evelyn’s hair colour yet (is it blonde?? i cannot remember)
secondly - yes, evelyn’s apartment seems massive and has a back garden. i’ve never stated it but in my head the way her apartment works is that she can access it from within her trunk but she can also take it out of her trunk? kind of? so that it’s like an actual building.
Chapter Text
A week passed in relative peace, but the weight of their mission remained. They had the goblet, but it still needed to be destroyed. And the locket—Sirius, Ron, and Hermione had secured it from Grimmauld Place, thanks to Kreacher’s grudging cooperation.
Now, it was time to finish the job.
Harry and Evelyn stood outside 12 Grimmauld Place, glancing up at the crooked old house that had become a war headquarters.
“You ready?” Evelyn asked, gripping his hand.
Harry took a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be.”
They stepped inside and made their way upstairs, where Sirius, Ron, and Hermione were already waiting in the attic.
Sirius had his arms crossed, leaning against the wall with a smirk. “Took you long enough.”
“Traffic,” Evelyn deadpanned.
Ron snorted, while Hermione rolled her eyes.
On a small wooden table, two objects sat side by side:
Helga Hufflepuff’s Goblet
Salazar Slytherin’s Locket
Harry felt something dark twist in his chest just looking at them. These weren’t just artifacts—they were pieces of Voldemort’s very soul.
Evelyn pulled the basilisk fang from her bag, its deadly tip glinting in the dim light. “Let’s get this over with.”
She picked up the goblet first, gripping it tightly in one hand and the fang in the other. The moment the sharp tip pierced the metal, a horrific, high-pitched scream filled the attic.
The goblet shook violently in her grasp, black smoke curling from the wound. Shadows burst forth from within, forming twisted, grotesque shapes—clawing hands, screaming faces. The air grew thick with darkness, and Harry could feel the presence of Voldemort’s magic fighting for survival.
With a final, agonized wail, the goblet shattered, its magic extinguished.
Silence followed.
Evelyn exhaled, dropping the fang onto the table. “One down.”
Harry swallowed hard. He reached for the locket next, feeling its weight in his palm. As he pried it open, the air around them seemed to pulse with malevolence.
A shadowy figure rose from the locket, shifting into a twisted version of Harry himself, eyes glowing red.
“You are nothing without me,” it hissed. “You will fail. You will die. And she—”
Its gaze snapped to Evelyn.
”—will betray you.”
Harry didn’t hesitate. He raised the basilisk fang and stabbed the locket straight through the center.
The Horcrux let out an earsplitting shriek, thrashing violently as the dark magic inside it died. Smoke poured from the broken locket, swirling in the air before vanishing into nothingness.
And then, just like that, it was over.
The goblet and locket lay destroyed before them.
Ron let out a breath. “Bloody hell.”
Hermione sat back, pressing a hand to her chest. “Two more gone.”
Sirius grinned, slinging an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “You two are making a habit of this.”
Harry exhaled, tension bleeding from his shoulders. “Only three left.”
Evelyn’s gaze met his, determined. “And we’re going to finish this.”
And for the first time in a long time, Harry truly believed it.
_____________
The world outside was quiet. The late evening light cast a soft glow through the window, turning everything a muted shade of gold. Harry sat at the kitchen table in Evelyn’s apartment, a half-empty cup of tea in front of him, though he barely noticed it. His mind was elsewhere.
It had been four years since Evelyn had arrived at Hogwarts. Four years since she had entered his life and changed it completely.
Four years ago, he had been just Harry—“The Boy Who Lived,” an orphan, a student, someone barely scraping by while facing the ever-growing shadow of Voldemort. He had been alone in ways he didn’t fully understand until Evelyn came along.
Now, everything was different.
They had destroyed four Horcruxes. Four pieces of Voldemort’s soul were gone, and that meant he was getting weaker. They were making progress in a way Harry never would have imagined back in his third or fourth year.
But it also meant the war was real. More real than ever.
Dumbledore was back. The Ministry was compromised. Umbridge had been thrown into the forest, but Voldemort was still out there, more dangerous than ever. And Harry could feel the tension in the air—like something was coming.
He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling slowly.
His thoughts drifted to Sirius. To Remus. To everyone who had already suffered because of this fight. He thought of Cedric, of the graveyard, of how it had all started the night Voldemort came back.
And yet, amidst all of that, Evelyn had been there.
She had always been there.
Harry didn’t know how he would have survived these past few years without her. She was his best friend, his partner, his anchor. She was the one who could keep up with him in a duel, who could strategize with him, who understood him in ways no one else ever had.
And beyond that—he loved her.
It wasn’t just the way she fought beside him. It was the way she made everything feel a little less heavy. The way she could make him laugh even when things felt impossible. The way she looked at him like he was just Harry, not a symbol, not a prophecy, just him.
But love wasn’t enough to stop what was coming.
Harry sighed, leaning back in his chair. He could feel the weight of everything pressing down on him—the prophecy, the war, the knowledge that he was getting closer and closer to a final confrontation with Voldemort.
And for the first time, he wondered—would he even survive it?
He didn’t know. But he knew one thing for certain.
If he was going to die, he would die fighting. And he would die knowing he had done everything he could to give Evelyn—and the rest of his friends—a world worth living in.
___________
The air outside of Little Hangleton was thick with humidity, the sky overhead a swirling mix of dark clouds and fading daylight. It had rained earlier, and the ground was still damp beneath their feet as Pansy, Theo, and Evan stood at the edge of the trees, cloaked in Disillusionment Charms.
Snape was already there, waiting for them.
“You’re late,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.
Theo rolled his eyes. “Only by a minute.”
Snape gave him a pointed look before turning his attention to the path ahead. “The wards around the shack are layered with old magic—curses, traps, enchantments designed to keep out anyone who doesn’t belong. You are not to step foot inside until I dismantle them. Is that understood?”
The three of them nodded.
Pansy kept her arms crossed, scanning the area with narrowed eyes. The Gaunt Shack was a wreck—a crumbling ruin of rotting wood and collapsed beams, long since abandoned. And yet, there was a sense of deep wrongness about it. An unease that settled deep into her bones.
“It reeks of dark magic,” Evan muttered.
Theo nodded. “No wonder Voldemort left a Horcrux here. This place is practically a monument to his family’s obsession with blood purity.”
Snape moved forward, wand raised. He muttered something under his breath, and suddenly the air shimmered—a faint, golden lattice of magic surrounding the shack. Wards. Strong ones.
Pansy held her breath as Snape got to work.
It took almost ten minutes, each layer of magic unraveling with precise wand movements and muttered incantations. With every ward Snape broke, the air around them seemed to grow heavier, the sense of wrongness intensifying.
Finally, the last ward cracked and vanished.
The shack groaned. The wood of the door splintered, like whatever had been holding the structure together was barely keeping it upright.
Snape didn’t hesitate. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, motioning for them to follow.
Inside, it was dark. Dust and mildew clung to the air, and the floor creaked under their weight. The shack was small, barely a few rooms, and completely abandoned—except for the ring.
It was sitting on a rotting wooden table, untouched, as if it had been waiting for them.
Pansy’s breath caught. It was beautiful in a terrible way—a thick gold band, a dark stone set in the center, humming with something ancient and wrong.
“Do not touch it,” Snape warned. “Even without the Horcrux, that ring carries a curse.”
Evan frowned. “Then how do we take it?”
Snape pulled a small black box from his cloak, flicking it open. “With this.”
Theo raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? No dramatic spells or anything?”
Snape shot him a glare before carefully levitating the ring with his wand and lowering it into the box. The moment it clicked shut, the oppressive wrongness in the air lessened.
It was still there—but it wasn’t as suffocating as before.
“Is that it?” Pansy asked.
Snape gave her a sharp look. “Would you prefer something explode?”
Pansy huffed. “I just thought there’d be more of a challenge.”
Evan let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly? I’m fine with less of a challenge. Let’s get out of here before something decides to kill us.”
Snape didn’t need to be told twice. He stepped forward and placed a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “Take my arm. All of you.”
The three of them barely had time to react before the air twisted—a sharp pull, a moment of darkness, and then—
They were gone.
___________
The second they reappeared, they were in Evelyn’s living room.
Snape pulled back immediately, brushing off his cloak like the act of assisting them had physically offended him. “The ring is here. Destroy it immediately.”
Evelyn, who had been waiting with Harry, Draco, and Sirius, nodded. “Give it to me.”
Snape handed her the black box and took a step back. His job was done. He had gotten them in and out of the Gaunt Shack without anyone dying—which was more than he could say for most missions.
Evelyn wasted no time. She opened the box, pulled out a basilisk fang from a small case on the coffee table, and—
CRACK.
The moment the fang pierced the stone, black smoke burst from the ring—a horrible screeching sound filling the room. Shadows whipped through the air, as if something was fighting—desperate, furious—before finally,
Silence.
The ring sat, split in half, the dark energy it once held now gone.
Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “That’s five down.”
“Only two left,” Evelyn murmured, staring down at the broken ring.
Snape, for his part, simply nodded. “I’ll be leaving now.”
Before anyone could respond, he disapparated with a sharp crack.
A heavy silence settled over the room. They had done it. Another Horcrux gone.
And with every piece of Voldemort they destroyed, they weakened him.
Theo flopped onto the couch. “Well, that was stressful.”
Pansy smirked. “Really? I thought it was easy.”
Evan snorted. “You were disappointed when nothing exploded.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes but smiled. “Alright. Enough trauma for the day. Let’s put up some better wards and then actually enjoy our summer for a change.”
Over the next few hours, they reinforced the wards around Evelyn’s apartment. Stronger protection spells, new enchantments, layers upon layers of magic designed to keep everyone safe.
By the time they were done, it was late afternoon—and hot.
Which was exactly why Draco and Theo were currently lounging in the newly extended garden, feet dipped into the pool as they sipped on cold drinks.
Pansy sat nearby in a shaded chair, oversized sunglasses on, flipping through a book.
Harry and Evelyn stood near the edge of the water, talking quietly, while Evan was actually swimming—splashing Theo just to be annoying.
“You’re a menace,” Theo muttered, shaking water out of his hair.
Evan grinned. “You love me.”
Pansy smirked from behind her book. “Debatable.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes but smiled. For the first time in a long time, things actually felt… normal.
No war. No battles. Just friends, summer, and a well-earned moment of peace.
Of course, they all knew it wouldn’t last forever.
But for right now—it was enough.
____________
The darkness of the room seemed to embrace him as Voldemort stood before Lucius Malfoy. The shadows clung to the cold stone walls, the dim torchlight flickering like the last vestiges of a dying flame.
Lucius had fallen to his knees, head bowed in reverence, awaiting Voldemort’s instructions. His loyalty was unquestionable—though tainted by his failure, the Dark Lord could always count on Malfoy to carry out his orders, no matter the cost. But Voldemort was no fool; he knew Lucius’ true strength lay in his family ties. And in his son.
Draco Malfoy.
“Lucius,” Voldemort’s voice was a low hiss, cold and measured. “It has come time for your son to join us.”
Lucius’s breath caught in his throat, but he did not hesitate. “Yes, my lord. I will see to it that he is ready.”
Voldemort’s red eyes glowed eerily in the dim light. “You misunderstand. He must be marked—within the week.”
The air in the room grew tense as Lucius slowly lifted his head. His expression was difficult to read, but Voldemort could sense the conflict in him. Lucius Malfoy had always been cautious, careful, and to some extent, protective of Draco. He had tried to shield him from the dangers of the Dark Lord’s world, but Voldemort would not allow that.
“Mark him, Lucius,” Voldemort ordered, his tone brooking no argument. “He is mine, as you once were. He will fulfill his duty, as all of us must.”
A sharp, cold breath escaped Lucius’ lips. He rose to his feet, though his body seemed to tremble under the weight of the command. He was not the same man who had first pledged allegiance to Voldemort, not the same man who had eagerly sought to prove his worth. But the Dark Lord was persuasive—and ruthless. Lucius had long since realized there was no escaping his fate.
He turned away from the Dark Lord, moving toward the other side of the chamber, where Draco would be waiting. Voldemort’s eyes flickered over the room, his mind already moving toward the next steps. The boy would be marked, bound to him forever. And there would be no turning back.
The days following Draco’s initiation were quiet, but the tension was palpable. It had been two weeks since the last meeting, and the looming threat of Voldemort’s influence hung heavily over the group. Harry and Evelyn had been able to carve out moments of peace for themselves, but the weight of what was to come still lingered, a constant undercurrent to their every action.
But none of that could prepare them for the day Draco would arrive at Evelyn’s apartment, his face pale and eyes red-rimmed from crying.
“Draco?” Evelyn asked softly as she opened the door, instantly recognizing the haunted look in his eyes. Harry, who had been standing nearby, stiffened, his eyes narrowing with concern.
“I—” Draco’s voice cracked, and he seemed to falter, unable to find the right words. “I didn’t—there was nothing I could do.”
Evelyn immediately stepped forward, pulling him inside and closing the door behind him. Harry moved toward them, his brow furrowing in worry. Draco’s usually sharp demeanor was gone, replaced by a shell of the confident, sometimes arrogant boy who had once held himself so high above the rest of them.
“What happened?” Evelyn’s voice was gentle, but there was an edge to it—something that told Draco she wouldn’t tolerate him hiding anything from them.
Draco shook his head. “I—I couldn’t refuse him. Voldemort—he… he made me do it. He marked me.”
Evelyn’s heart sank. She hadn’t expected Draco to be marked so soon, but it made sense in a way. The Dark Lord would want Draco in his ranks, and no one would be able to stop him.
Harry stepped forward then, his hand resting on Draco’s shoulder. “You don’t have to go through this alone,” Harry said quietly. His voice was steady, reassuring, as if he were trying to provide some small measure of comfort in the midst of Draco’s world collapsing around him.
Draco’s eyes flicked to Harry, and for a brief moment, the old animosity between them surfaced—then quickly faded, swallowed by the overwhelming pain of the situation. He couldn’t fight this anymore, not without losing everything. His pride, his family—everything.
“I—I don’t know what to do anymore,” Draco whispered, his voice raw. “I thought I could handle it. I thought I could do what he asked and still keep my family safe—but I—I’ve done it. I’m marked. There’s no turning back now.”
Evelyn reached out, pulling him into an embrace, her arms tight around him as if she could somehow shield him from the devastation he was feeling. “You don’t have to do it alone, Draco,” she said, her voice firm, unwavering. “We’re all here for you. Whatever happens next, we’ll face it together. You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself.”
Harry joined in, his own hand resting on Draco’s back. The bond between them had shifted—no longer rivals, no longer enemies. They were bound by the same cause now, and there was no room for division between them. Draco had never been truly alone, even if he had felt that way before. They had always been there for him, even when he didn’t want them to be.
Draco nodded, his hands trembling. “Thanks,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. “I—I don’t know what I would do without you both.”
They spent the next few hours together, talking softly, comforting him in whatever way they could. It wasn’t until later that night, when Draco had finally calmed down enough, that Evelyn made a decision.
“Harry, Draco—there’s something I need to tell you both.” Evelyn’s voice was serious as she looked between the two boys. They both nodded, giving her their full attention.
She took a deep breath before speaking. “In the books, Narcissa Malfoy—Draco’s mother—goes to Snape after Draco is marked. She makes an unbreakable vow with him, promising that he will protect Draco, keep him safe, and help him with his task for Voldemort.”
Draco’s face paled further as the weight of the truth sunk in. “I—I didn’t know about that,” he murmured, staring at the floor. “She… she didn’t tell me.”
Evelyn nodded, her gaze steady. “You may not have known, but it’s what happened. You’re not alone in this, Draco. Snape will be there for you, just like your mother promised. You’ll get through this. We all will.”
The next day, Evelyn, Harry, and Draco gathered the rest of their friends—Pansy, Theo, Evan, Blaise, Daphne, and the Weasley twins—to spend a day together, trying to forget the weight of the world that had been pressing down on them. They swam in the pool, laughed, and joked, trying to recapture some semblance of normalcy in the chaos of their lives.
It was a rare moment of respite, and they all needed it. But even in the midst of the fun, Evelyn’s mind kept wandering to the task at hand—destroying the horcruxes, stopping Voldemort. There was still so much left to do.
_____________
The sun had long since set, casting the sky in deep shades of navy and black, with only the faint glow of stars visible through the large window of Evelyn’s bedroom. The night was quiet, save for the occasional chirp of crickets outside or the distant rustling of leaves in the summer breeze. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and soft, lit only by the flickering golden glow of a few floating candles Evelyn had conjured.
Harry lay on his back on the bed, one arm behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. His mind was still processing everything that had happened over the past few weeks—Draco’s initiation, the destruction of another Horcrux, and the constant looming threat of Voldemort. But for the first time in what felt like ages, they had a rare moment of peace.
Evelyn sat cross-legged beside him, her fingers tracing absentminded patterns on his chest. She had changed into one of his oversized t-shirts, and her hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, still slightly damp from the pool earlier.
“You’re quiet,” she murmured, tilting her head slightly as she studied his face.
Harry let out a small breath, his hand coming up to rest over hers. “Just thinking,” he admitted.
“About?”
“Everything,” he said with a tired chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “It’s just—crazy, isn’t it? How much has happened since you showed up?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, just thoughtful. “I mean, it’s not bad, obviously. I wouldn’t change it for anything, but sometimes it feels like my whole life flipped upside down the moment you walked into it.”
Evelyn smiled softly, her fingers lacing through his. “That’s because it did.”
Harry turned his head to look at her, and for a moment, they simply held each other’s gaze. There was no need for words—he knew she understood what he meant. He had spent the first eleven years of his life believing he was just some ordinary boy, unwanted and overlooked. Then Hogwarts had changed everything. And then Evelyn had changed it even more.
“I think about it a lot,” Harry admitted after a while. “What would’ve happened if you hadn’t come to Hogwarts. If I’d gone through all of this alone, the way I was supposed to.”
Evelyn shifted closer, resting her head against his shoulder. “But you didn’t,” she whispered. “I’m here. And I always will be.”
Harry tightened his grip on her hand, grounding himself in her presence. He knew that no matter what happened in the future—no matter how dark things got—he would always have Evelyn.
They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. Then, slowly, Evelyn lifted her head, her gaze locking onto his once more. There was something different in the way she was looking at him now—something softer, something deeper.
“Come here,” she murmured, leaning in slightly.
Harry didn’t hesitate. He turned toward her, one hand reaching up to cup her face as he met her in a slow, tender kiss. Her lips were warm against his, and the feeling sent a familiar warmth spreading through his chest. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was steady, reassuring, a silent promise between them.
Evelyn shifted, pressing herself closer to him, her hands moving to rest against his shoulders. Harry’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her onto his lap as their kiss deepened. He could feel her heart beating against his, their breaths mingling as they lost themselves in each other.
It wasn’t about escaping the war or pretending their problems didn’t exist. It was about them—about the love they had built, the connection that had only grown stronger with time.
Evelyn’s hands slid up to tangle in his hair, and a quiet sigh escaped her as he pressed a soft kiss to her jaw, then down to her neck. She tilted her head slightly, giving him better access, and Harry took his time, savoring the way she shivered under his touch.
“I love you,” she whispered, barely audible.
Harry paused, pulling back just enough to look at her properly. He could see the sincerity in her eyes, the quiet vulnerability beneath her usually confident exterior. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to hearing those words from her, no matter how many times she said them.
“I love you too,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over her cheek before kissing her again.
The rest of the night was theirs—no worries, no expectations. Just them. Together.
Chapter 64: Summer - yet again - Comes to an End
Chapter Text
The days of summer had passed in a strangely peaceful haze for Harry. Ever since they had destroyed another Horcrux, there had been a sense of temporary calm—one he knew wouldn’t last. But for now, he had been grateful for the time spent with Evelyn, for quiet mornings and shared meals without the looming threat of Voldemort pressing down on them.
It was late afternoon when the unexpected knock came at the door. Harry, who had been lying on the couch with The Quidditch Through the Ages book balanced on his stomach, glanced up in surprise. Evelyn, sitting at the dining table and scribbling notes in a leather-bound journal, looked toward the door as well.
“Are you expecting someone?” Harry asked, closing his book.
“No,” Evelyn answered, frowning slightly. She pushed back from the table and crossed the room, peering through the peephole before letting out a sigh. “It’s Dumbledore.”
Harry sat up immediately. “Dumbledore?”
She stepped back and allowed the door to swing open. Sure enough, Albus Dumbledore stood on the threshold, dressed in deep blue robes embroidered with silver, his usual half-moon spectacles perched on his nose. His expression was as serene as ever, though there was a certain sharpness in his eyes that hadn’t been there the last time Harry had seen him.
“Good evening, Evelyn, Harry,” Dumbledore greeted smoothly. His gaze flickered over the two of them, as if he were taking in every detail of their summer so far. “I trust you are both well?”
Evelyn crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “We were,” she said coolly.
Harry stood, feeling the weight of Dumbledore’s presence in the room. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
Dumbledore smiled faintly. “I have come to fetch you, Harry. We have a matter to attend to, one that I believe will be quite important for the upcoming school year.”
Harry’s brows furrowed. “What kind of matter?”
“I shall explain on the way,” Dumbledore said. His gaze shifted to Evelyn. “I trust you will be all right in his absence?”
Evelyn didn’t react outwardly, but Harry could sense her distaste at being addressed in such a way. “I’ll survive,” she replied flatly.
Dumbledore merely inclined his head before turning back to Harry. “Come, my boy. There is much to discuss.”
Harry hesitated only briefly before stepping forward. He shot Evelyn a quick look—one that she returned with a reassuring nod—before following Dumbledore out into the cool evening air.
As they walked, Dumbledore glanced at Harry with an almost casual air. “I must say, it is quite fortunate that you have had the chance to live outside of your aunt and uncle’s home this summer,” he mused.
Harry resisted the urge to scoff. “Yeah, real fortunate,” he said. “I take it you don’t actually care where I’ve been staying, so long as I still have protection?”
Dumbledore’s smile didn’t waver. “Ah, but that is where you are mistaken. Your safety is of great concern to me.”
Harry remained silent. He didn’t believe Dumbledore, not really. He knew now that his entire childhood had been a carefully crafted game, with him as the pawn and Dumbledore the player. He wasn’t about to be lulled into thinking otherwise.
After a few more minutes of walking, Dumbledore stopped in front of a small, unimposing house. The windows were dark, the curtains drawn tight. It looked abandoned, but Harry knew better than to assume anything in the wizarding world was as it seemed.
Dumbledore raised a hand and knocked firmly on the door.
For a long moment, there was silence. Then, suddenly, the house shifted. The walls pulsed as if breathing, the windows flickered, and the entire building seemed to rearrange itself from the inside.
Harry took a step back on instinct, but Dumbledore merely stood there, unbothered.
Finally, the door creaked open.
A stout man with a large, silvery mustache and a slightly disheveled appearance peered out at them. His expression was suspicious at first, but when his gaze landed on Dumbledore, his mustache twitched.
“Albus,” the man greeted with feigned enthusiasm. “What an unexpected pleasure.”
“Horace,” Dumbledore replied pleasantly. “May we come in?”
Slughorn hesitated. His eyes darted around the street before he sighed and stepped aside. “Very well, very well. But make it quick.”
Dumbledore gestured for Harry to enter first, and he did so cautiously. The inside of the house was a mess—furniture overturned, a half-empty bottle of firewhisky on the table, and a faint smell of burnt fabric lingering in the air.
Slughorn noticed Harry’s gaze and huffed. “Had to make it look like I wasn’t home,” he muttered, waving a hand at the mess. “You never know who might come knocking these days.”
Dumbledore chuckled. “Indeed. But fear not, we are not here to cause you any trouble.”
Slughorn gave him a dry look. “Aren’t you?”
Harry watched as Dumbledore and Slughorn exchanged words. Dumbledore’s subtle manipulation, the way he expertly guided Slughorn into reminiscing about his time at Hogwarts, the clever mentions of Lily Potter and how she had been one of Slughorn’s favorite students—it was all designed to reel him back in.
Slughorn, after much hemming and hawing, finally agreed to return to Hogwarts. Harry saw the exact moment Dumbledore knew he had won—the small twinkle in his eye, the way his expression never quite shifted but carried an undeniable satisfaction.
Once their business was concluded, Dumbledore and Harry left the house, stepping back into the night.
“Well, that went rather well, don’t you think?” Dumbledore mused as they walked.
Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Guess so,” he muttered.
Dumbledore glanced at him. “You do not seem pleased.”
Harry shrugged. “It’s not that,” he said. “I just—” He exhaled, shaking his head. “Never mind.”
Dumbledore didn’t press him, and the rest of the walk was silent. When they finally reached Evelyn’s apartment, Dumbledore bid him farewell and disappeared into the night.
Harry stood outside for a moment, staring after him. Then, with a sigh, he turned and headed inside, eager to tell Evelyn everything that had happened.
_____________
While Harry was out with Dumbledore, Evelyn decided to take the opportunity to meet up with Draco. He had sent her an owl the night before, asking if she was free to grab lunch, and she agreed, sensing that he wanted to talk.
The café Draco had chosen was a quiet little spot in Diagon Alley, tucked between an apothecary and a bookstore. It wasn’t overly crowded, which was perfect for a private conversation. Evelyn arrived first, choosing a table in the back corner where they wouldn’t be overheard.
A few minutes later, Draco slipped inside, his hood up, his expression tense. When he spotted Evelyn, he immediately walked over, dropping into the seat across from her.
“You’re late,” Evelyn noted, raising an eyebrow.
Draco huffed, pulling his hood down. “Yeah, well, I had to make sure no one was following me.” He glanced around, lowering his voice. “The Manor’s been tense lately. My father’s been meeting with Voldemort more often, and the Death Eaters have been coming and going. I barely get a moment to myself.”
Evelyn leaned forward slightly. “And your mother?”
“She’s keeping her head down, but I know she’s scared,” Draco admitted. He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “I hate this, Evelyn. I hate all of it.”
Evelyn studied him carefully. “Have they given you any orders yet?”
Draco shook his head. “No. Not yet. But it’s only a matter of time before Voldemort starts expecting things from me.” His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists on the table. “I’m not going to do anything for him.”
Evelyn had already suspected as much, but hearing him say it aloud was still significant. “Good,” she said simply.
Draco looked up at her, surprised. “That’s it? No lecture? No ‘but Draco, you’re in danger’ speech?”
Evelyn shrugged. “You already know you’re in danger. And you already made your choice. I’m not going to waste time telling you what you already know.”
Draco let out a quiet chuckle. “Merlin, you’re different from everyone else.”
She smirked. “That’s why you like me so much.”
His smile faded slightly. “What about you? How are you handling all of this?”
Evelyn’s expression darkened. “I’ve been trying to keep things from happening the way they did in the original timeline,” she admitted. “But it’s harder than I thought. I can change small things, but the bigger events? The ones that are supposed to happen? They have a way of forcing themselves back into place.”
Draco frowned. “Like what?”
Evelyn exhaled slowly. “Like Dumbledore’s death.”
Draco stiffened. “You know how he dies?”
“Yes.” Evelyn met his gaze evenly. “And I know that after his death, he becomes even more powerful as a symbol. People worship him. They think of him as the wise, all-knowing leader who guided Harry and saved the world. But I know the truth. He raised Harry like a pig for slaughter, keeping secrets from him, controlling his life. And once he’s dead, it’ll be harder to expose him.”
Draco listened intently, his expression unreadable.
“That’s why we have to start dismantling his reputation now,” Evelyn continued. “Before he dies a martyr.”
Draco was silent for a long moment, then he sighed. “You’re right. But people love Dumbledore. How do you even begin to take him down?”
Evelyn smirked. “Leave that to me.”
Draco chuckled. “You’re scary sometimes, McCrae.”
She tilted her head. “Only sometimes?”
Draco shook his head in amusement, but the tension hadn’t completely left his face. He drummed his fingers on the table, deep in thought. “You really think this year is going to change everything?”
“Yes,” Evelyn said firmly. “And that’s exactly what we need.”
Draco nodded slowly, as if coming to terms with something. “Then I’m with you.”
Evelyn smiled. “Good.”
___________
When Evelyn returned to the apartment later that evening, she found Harry already inside, setting the table. The scent of something warm and rich filled the air, and she raised an eyebrow as she stepped inside.
“You cooked?” she asked, setting her bag down.
Harry turned, giving her a sheepish smile. “Sort of. Don’t get too excited—I had some help from a cookbook.”
Evelyn smirked, walking over to peek at the food. It looked surprisingly good—roast chicken with vegetables, mashed potatoes, and gravy. “Not bad, Potter. Even for someone who hasn’t cooked in a couple years.”
Harry rolled his eyes but looked pleased. “Yeah, yeah. Sit down before it gets cold.”
They sat across from each other, the apartment feeling unusually peaceful after the chaos of the past few weeks. For a while, they simply ate in silence, enjoying the quiet.
Finally, Evelyn set her fork down and leaned back in her chair. “So. How was your little adventure with Dumbledore?”
Harry wiped his mouth with a napkin before answering. “Exactly like you said it happened in the book. He took me to some random Muggle house, turned the place upside down, and convinced Slughorn to come back to Hogwarts.”
Evelyn smirked. “Let me guess—Slughorn only agreed because he wants to collect you like some kind of prized artifact.”
Harry groaned. “Exactly. He kept going on about my mum and how ‘exceptional’ she was.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly, I don’t know what to think of him. He doesn’t seem bad, but I don’t trust him either.”
Evelyn nodded. “He’s not bad, just… self-serving. He only does things that benefit himself.”
Harry sighed. “Great. Another professor I can’t fully trust.”
Evelyn studied him for a moment. “Dumbledore didn’t mention the Horcruxes, did he?”
Harry shook his head. “No. But I know he’s going to. Probably once we’re back at school.”
Evelyn frowned. “We need to stay ahead of him.”
Harry nodded. “I know.” He hesitated, then looked at her seriously. “Are we really doing this, Evie? Dismantling Dumbledore’s reputation?”
“Yes,” Evelyn said without hesitation. “He’s been controlling things from the shadows for too long. If we wait until after he dies, it’ll be too late. People will turn him into a legend.”
Harry looked down at his plate, thoughtful. “People already do see him as a legend.”
“Then we give them a reason to doubt,” Evelyn said. “We make them see that he wasn’t perfect.”
Harry exhaled, then nodded. “Okay. I’m with you.”
A comfortable silence settled between them. Evelyn reached across the table, taking his hand in hers. “You’re not in this alone, Harry. I’m with you all the way.”
Harry squeezed her hand. “I know.”
For a moment, there was nothing but warmth between them, a shared understanding that they were stepping into something bigger than themselves.
Then Evelyn smirked. “Now, should I be concerned that you’re getting too good at cooking? Are you trying to put me out of a job?”
Harry laughed. “No chance. I’d burn this place down if I had to cook every night.”
Evelyn chuckled, shaking her head as they cleared the table together, the conversation lingering in the air between them.
____________
Two days later, Evelyn’s apartment was filled with voices, laughter, and the occasional clatter of plates as their group gathered around her enlarged dining table. She had expanded the space earlier that morning, knowing they would need the room.
Everyone was here—Harry, Hermione, Ron, Pansy, Daphne, Theo, Blaise, Evan, Draco, Fred, and George. They had all arrived in different ways, some by Floo, others by Apparition. The atmosphere was relaxed at first, but everyone knew the real reason they were meeting.
Evelyn sat at the head of the table, Harry beside her. “Alright,” she began, glancing at Draco, “let’s start with the obvious. Draco’s been Marked.”
There was an immediate shift in the room. Hermione looked horrified, Ron muttered a curse, and even Pansy—who usually kept her expressions neutral—tensed.
“What?” Fred and George said at the same time.
Draco sighed, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt and showing them the fresh Dark Mark burned into his forearm. “Voldemort didn’t really give me a choice.”
There was a heavy silence.
“What’s he making you do this time?” Theo asked.
Draco’s jaw clenched. “He still wants me to kill Dumbledore.”
More silence.
Then Evan snorted. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
Draco shook his head. “No, it’s not. I told Evelyn the other day—I’m not doing this. I don’t care what he threatens me with.”
Evelyn nodded. “Draco’s going to pretend to go along with Voldemort’s orders, but we’re going to make sure that Dumbledore’s death happens on our terms.”
Pansy crossed her arms. “And what exactly are our terms?”
Evelyn’s gaze darkened. “We need to start turning people against him now. If he dies while still looking like the greatest wizard who ever lived, it makes our job harder. But if we plant enough doubt beforehand—if we expose his manipulations—it’ll change everything.”
Blaise, who had been quiet up until now, spoke up. “How do we do that?”
Harry leaned forward. “We start small. We bring more people into our circle—people from other houses. We tell them part of the truth, enough to make them question things.”
“That means Neville, Ginny, Luna, and a few others,” Evelyn added. “We get their support first. We let them start talking.”
Theo frowned. “And you think that’s enough to tarnish Dumbledore’s reputation?”
Evelyn smirked. “Oh, that’s just the beginning.”
Fred and George exchanged a look. “We could always use a little public humiliation,” George suggested.
“Something subtle but effective,” Fred agreed.
Hermione, despite her usual hesitation with chaos, looked thoughtful. “We could start using his own words against him. Take the times he’s contradicted himself over the years and bring them to light.”
Ron nodded. “I bet we could even find a way to spread the word through the Prophet.”
Evelyn sat back, satisfied. “See? We have options.”
There was a murmur of agreement around the table.
Then Harry spoke again. “And there’s one more thing.”
All eyes turned to him.
“If we’re really doing this,” he said slowly, “if we’re taking control of this war… we need to destroy Voldemort before he has the chance to rebuild his strength.”
A heavy silence fell over the group.
“We’ve already destroyed five Horcruxes,” Evelyn reminded them. “That leaves Nagini and the one in Harry.”
Draco exhaled sharply. “So… how do we deal with that?”
Harry met Evelyn’s gaze. They had discussed this privately before, but now it was time to say it aloud.
“We kill Nagini first,” he said. “And then we figure out how to destroy the last piece of Voldemort’s soul.”
No one spoke for a moment.
Finally, Fred broke the silence. “Well,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “if we’re taking down Dumbledore and Voldemort, we might as well do it in style.”
A few people chuckled, but the weight of what they were planning hung in the air.
Evelyn took a deep breath. “We have a year to do this right. Let’s make it count.”
The atmosphere in Evelyn’s apartment was calmer after the meeting, but the weight of what they had discussed still lingered. Everyone had gone home except for Harry and Draco, who stayed behind to finalize their plans before returning to Hogwarts the next day.
Draco sat in one of the armchairs by the fireplace, swirling a glass of firewhisky in his hand. He wasn’t drinking it—just watching the liquid move, his thoughts elsewhere.
Harry leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Evelyn move about as she prepared a late-night tea for the three of them. He was grateful for the quiet. The meeting had been intense, but necessary. They had a plan now. A real plan.
Draco broke the silence. “So, tomorrow.”
Evelyn hummed in acknowledgment, setting the teapot on the table and conjuring three cups.
“We’re all meeting on the train?” he asked.
Harry nodded. “Same as usual. We’ll start reaching out to Neville, Ginny, and Luna once we’re settled.”
Draco exhaled through his nose. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”
Evelyn sat down across from him, pouring tea into the cups. “You’re not backing out now, are you?”
Draco scoffed. “Of course not. But… it’s just insane, isn’t it? Bringing down both Dumbledore and Voldemort?”
Evelyn smirked. “Well, we never did aim small.”
Draco chuckled, but there was tension in his expression. Harry knew why. The Dark Mark. The fact that Draco was now officially branded by Voldemort, even if he had no intention of following through with his orders.
Evelyn seemed to sense it too. “You’re doing the right thing, Draco.”
Draco’s jaw tightened. “Doesn’t make it easier.”
Harry sat down beside Evelyn. “No. But at least you’re not alone in it.”
Draco met his gaze, and something unspoken passed between them.
Finally, Draco sighed. “Alright. One last stressful year at Hogwarts.”
Evelyn raised her teacup in a mock toast. “One last year.”
They all clinked their cups together.
_____________
King’s Cross Station was as busy as ever, filled with students and families preparing to board the Hogwarts Express. Evelyn, Harry, and Draco arrived together, blending seamlessly into the crowd despite the weight of their mission.
They spotted the others quickly. Ron and Hermione were standing near the entrance, talking animatedly with Pansy and Theo. Daphne and Blaise stood nearby, the latter leaning against a pillar with an air of boredom.
Fred and George had already climbed onto the train, no doubt planning some prank for the ride.
As soon as they reached the group, Hermione turned to them. “Everything packed?”
Evelyn nodded. “All set.”
Pansy crossed her arms. “So, do we start talking to the others right away?”
Harry glanced toward the train. “Let’s wait until we’re moving. We’ll get a compartment and call them in one at a time.”
Ron smirked. “So we’re, what? Interviewing them?”
Evelyn grinned. “Think of it more like… an initiation.”
They boarded the train together, claiming a compartment near the back. The plan was simple: once they were underway, they would find Neville, Ginny, and Luna and bring them in—slowly and carefully.
As the Hogwarts Express lurched forward, leaving London behind, Evelyn couldn’t help but feel a sense of finality.
This was it.
Their last stressful year at Hogwarts.
And the beginning of something far bigger than any of them had imagined.
Chapter 65: Hogwarts, Meetings, More to be Marked.
Summary:
a lot goes on when the gang return to hogwarts.
Chapter Text
The rhythmic clatter of the Hogwarts Express filled their compartment as the gang settled in. Outside the window, the English countryside blurred past, green fields stretching endlessly beneath a cloud-streaked sky.
Harry sat beside Evelyn, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on her palm as they leaned against each other. Across from them, Draco was stretched out, boots propped up on the seat next to Blaise, who was flipping through a book, looking completely uninterested in their plans.
“So, how do we want to do this?” Pansy asked, legs crossed as she surveyed the compartment.
“We need to bring them in one at a time,” Hermione said, adjusting her robes. “We don’t want to overwhelm them.”
“Neville should be first,” Ron suggested. “He’s already been part of the DA, and he trusts us.”
Evelyn nodded. “Agreed. I’ll go find him.”
She stood, but Harry caught her wrist. “I’ll come with you.”
Evelyn smirked. “Afraid I’ll scare him off?”
“No, I just think he’d feel better if both of us were there.”
Evelyn conceded, and the two of them slipped out of the compartment, weaving through the narrow train corridor. Students bustled past, chattering excitedly about the year ahead. Some shot curious glances at Harry, but he ignored them, focusing on the task at hand.
They found Neville a few compartments down, sitting with Ginny and Luna.
The three looked up as they slid the door open.
“Mind if we talk to you for a second?” Harry asked, eyes flicking toward Neville.
Neville hesitated, glancing at his friends. Ginny raised an eyebrow, and Luna, ever unreadable, merely tilted her head.
“Is this about something important?” Neville asked cautiously.
Evelyn nodded. “Yeah. Really important.”
Ginny frowned. “If this is something serious, we deserve to know too.”
Harry hesitated. He and Evelyn exchanged a glance. They had planned to bring them in separately, but maybe this was the best way—straightforward, all at once.
Evelyn sighed. “Fine. Come with us.”
They led the three back to their compartment, sliding the door open to reveal the rest of the gang waiting inside.
Neville, Ginny, and Luna all looked wary as they stepped in, but none of them hesitated.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Evelyn leaned against the wall.
“Alright,” she started. “We’ve been preparing for this moment for months. We’re not just fighting back this year. We’re taking action.”
Ginny folded her arms. “What kind of action?”
Harry took over. “We’ve already started dismantling Voldemort’s hold on the wizarding world. This year, we’re expanding.”
Neville’s expression hardened. “What do you mean by ‘dismantling’?”
Draco spoke up from his seat. “They mean we’ve been working behind the scenes, getting rid of his power. He’s not as invincible as everyone thinks.”
Luna’s dreamy gaze sharpened. “You’re talking about the Horcruxes, aren’t you?”
A heavy silence fell over the room.
Evelyn blinked. “How do you know about Horcruxes?”
Luna shrugged. “I read about them once. And it makes sense, doesn’t it? Voldemort’s done things no one else has. Dark things.”
Hermione looked impressed. “You read about Horcruxes?”
“My mum had a lot of interesting books.”
Ginny frowned. “Wait, what are Horcruxes?”
Harry exhaled. “Pieces of Voldemort’s soul. He hid them in objects. As long as they exist, he can’t be killed.”
Ginny’s face paled. “You mean… he split his soul?”
Evelyn nodded. “And we’ve already destroyed most of them.” The room tensed.
Neville looked between them. “What do you want from us?”
Harry met his gaze. “We need more people we can trust. We need you three.”
There was a moment of silence before Neville squared his shoulders. “I’m in.”
Ginny was next. “Me too.”
Luna smiled faintly. “I’d be honored.”
Evelyn smirked. “Welcome to the fight.”
____________
The familiar scent of the Hogwarts Express filled the air as the train continuously rumbled toward its destination. Students leaned out of compartments, laughing and talking over one another, excitement thick in the air.
Evelyn leaned against the window in their compartment, watching the scenery blur past as she absentmindedly tapped her fingers against her knee. The conversation inside the compartment was light—talk of summer, of plans, of the inevitable changes this year would bring.
Draco sat across from her, flipping through a book he clearly wasn’t reading. His jaw was tense, and every now and then, he glanced up as if expecting something to go wrong.
Pansy, sitting next to him, nudged his knee with hers. “Quit brooding, Malfoy. We’re back at Hogwarts. You’re safe here.”
Draco exhaled through his nose but said nothing.
Blaise, stretched out lazily across one of the seats, smirked. “For now.”
Evan shot Blaise a look. “Don’t be an ass.”
Theo, who had been quiet for most of the ride, finally spoke. “It’ll be fine.” He didn’t elaborate, but his words carried enough weight to settle some of the tension in the room.
Evelyn glanced at Harry, who sat beside her, his fingers laced through hers. His thumb traced slow circles against her skin—a small comfort in the midst of everything.
The Hogwarts Express gave a final lurch as it began slowing down, signaling their arrival. Students immediately jumped to their feet, grabbing trunks and pulling on their robes.
“Here we go,” Evelyn murmured, squeezing Harry’s hand once before standing.
As they stepped off the train, the cool September air hit them, carrying the distant scent of pine and rain-soaked earth.
Hogwarts loomed ahead, its towers bathed in the last light of day.
And just like that, they were home.
___________
The Great Hall was as grand as ever, its enchanted ceiling mirroring the darkening sky above. Hundreds of floating candles cast a warm glow over the four long tables, their flames flickering gently. Students chattered excitedly, exchanging stories about their summers, while the golden plates in front of them gleamed, waiting to be filled with the first feast of the school year.
Evelyn took her usual seat at the Slytherin table, sliding in beside Draco and Pansy. Across from her, Theo and Blaise were engaged in a debate about Quidditch tactics, while Evan was already eyeing the staff table with an unreadable expression.
She followed his gaze. Dumbledore sat in his usual ornate chair, his expression calm as he surveyed the students before him. Beside him, Professor McGonagall sat rigidly, her lips pursed in their usual severe line. Further down the table, Professor Slughorn, newly reinstated, looked rather pleased with himself, adjusting the buttons on his emerald-green waistcoat as he exchanged a few words with Snape.
Snape, for his part, sat taller than usual, his expression carefully neutral. The rumors had already spread—he was no longer just the Potions Master. He was now the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, finally achieving the position he had long coveted. The Slytherin table had already been buzzing with speculation. Some saw it as a sign that Snape’s influence in Hogwarts was growing. Others simply found it amusing that Slughorn had taken his old job.
The conversations died down as Dumbledore rose to his feet.
“Welcome, everyone, to another year at Hogwarts,” he said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the Great Hall. “I trust you are all well-rested and ready for the challenges this new school year will bring.”
Murmurs rippled through the students—some excited, others resigned.
Dumbledore continued, “Before we begin our feast, I have a few announcements to make. First, I would like to welcome back an old colleague of mine, Professor Horace Slughorn, who will be resuming his position as Potions Master.”
A polite round of applause followed. Slughorn beamed and gave a small wave, clearly reveling in the attention.
“And, as some of you may have heard, Professor Severus Snape will now be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.”
The reaction to this announcement was mixed. The Slytherin table, of course, erupted into enthusiastic applause, with some students even whistling. The Gryffindors, on the other hand, looked far less pleased—Ron Weasley, in particular, was staring at Snape as if Christmas had just been canceled.
Evelyn glanced at Harry, who was clapping politely, though his expression remained unreadable.
“With that,” Dumbledore concluded, “let the feast begin.”
Instantly, the golden plates filled with steaming dishes, and the Great Hall was once again filled with the sounds of clinking silverware and excited chatter.
As Evelyn reached for a serving of roasted chicken, Pansy nudged her. “Did you hear what the seventh years were saying? Apparently, some people think you should take over for Adrian Pucey and run all the older years.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Blaise smirked. “You’ve been leading our year for ages. It only makes sense that you’d take over completely once Pucey leaves.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes and focused on her food, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that this year was going to be very different.
After the feast, the Slytherins made their way down to the dungeons, the cool stone corridors a sharp contrast to the warmth of the Great Hall. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and flickering torches cast long shadows against the walls.
Evelyn walked beside Draco, Pansy, and Blaise, listening to the mix of conversations around her. Most students were still buzzing about Snape’s new position, though others were already discussing which electives they regretted taking.
“Five Galleons says Finn Harper drops Ancient Runes by the end of the month,” Blaise mused.
Draco smirked. “Oh, he won’t even last two weeks.”
Evelyn just shook her head as they stepped into the common room. The emerald-green glow from the underwater windows cast eerie rippling patterns across the stone walls. The large, high-backed chairs near the fireplace were already occupied by upper-year students who were lounging comfortably, discussing their summers.
Near the fireplace, a pair of new fifth-year prefects stood stiffly, looking as though they had rehearsed their lines before arriving. Evelyn recognized them—Tobias Avery and Annalise Rosier, both from prominent Slytherin families. Evan had mentioned that Annalise was his second cousin or something like that.
As the first-years filed into the common room, the prefects cleared their throats and called for attention.
“First-years, welcome to Slytherin House,” Tobias began. “This is your home for the next seven years, and we expect you to act accordingly.”
Annalise nodded. “Slytherins take care of their own. We value ambition, cunning, and intelligence above all else. Do not expect anyone to hand you anything—you must earn your place here.”
Evelyn exchanged a glance with Draco. The speech was the same one that had been given to them when they arrived, almost word for word.
Across the room, Adrian Pucey leaned against one of the leather couches, watching the scene unfold with mild interest. As the unofficial leader of the seventh years and therefore King of Slytherin, he held a position of high authority among the students, though Evelyn had noticed more and more people glancing in her direction when discussions of leadership arose.
As the prefects finished their speech, Adrian pushed off the couch and made his way toward her.
“You know, people are talking about you,” he said casually, folding his arms. “Some think you should take my place when I’m gone. A few think you should take it now.”
Evelyn huffed a quiet laugh. “Blaise mentioned that earlier. It’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Adrian raised an eyebrow. “You’ve basically been leading our year for ages, as well as your own. People follow you. You might as well make it official and become Queen.”
Evelyn wasn’t sure how to respond. She had always been respected among her peers, but stepping into a position of leadership over all the older students wasn’t something she had ever actively considered.
Before she could reply, Pansy appeared at her side. “You’re not seriously considering it, are you?”
Evelyn shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Adrian smirked. “You should. Think about it, McCrae. Come find me if you want to talk about it.”
With that, he walked off, leaving Evelyn standing there, suddenly feeling as though the weight of Slytherin House was pressing down on her shoulders.
_____________
The next morning, Evelyn woke to the soft glow of enchanted lanterns illuminating the Slytherin dormitories. The cool air in the dungeon was a sharp contrast to the warmth beneath her thick emerald-green blankets, but she reluctantly pulled herself from the comfort of her bed.
By the time she made it to the common room, most of the other sixth years were already awake and preparing for their first day of classes. Pansy was sitting on one of the leather couches, carefully adjusting the hem of her robes, while Theo and Blaise stood by the fireplace, discussing something in hushed tones.
Evelyn grabbed an apple from the bowl on the nearby table and walked over to them. “What’s so important this early in the morning?” she asked, taking a bite.
“Just wondering how much Snape will actually let us get away with in Defense,” Theo said with a smirk. “Not that he ever stopped us before.”
Blaise chuckled. “Well, he finally got the job he’s always wanted. Maybe he’ll actually enjoy teaching now.”
Pansy scoffed as she stood. “Doubtful.”
The four of them made their way to the Great Hall together, where the rest of their friends were already gathered at the Slytherin table. Draco was sitting across from Harry and Ron, who looked as though they were still half-asleep. Hermione, of course, was already wide awake and reading through what appeared to be her Transfiguration textbook.
As Evelyn sat down, a stack of timetables appeared in front of them, delivered by Professor Snape himself.
“Your sixth-year schedules,” he said curtly, handing them out one by one.
Evelyn unfolded hers and scanned the neatly printed subjects:
Evelyn McCrae – Sixth Year Timetable
Monday:
• Advanced Potions
• Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts
• Advanced Charms
• Ancient Runes
Tuesday:
• Transfiguration
• Herbology
• Free Period
• Study Group (Optional)
Wednesday:
• Advanced Potions
• Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts
• Astronomy (Night Class)
Thursday:
• Charms
• History of Magic
• Ancient Runes
Friday:
• Free Period
• Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts
• Transfiguration
“Advanced Potions first thing in the morning,” Evelyn muttered, setting the parchment down. “Brilliant.”
Draco glanced over. “At least we get it over with early.”
Harry grimaced at his own schedule. “I don’t know what I was thinking taking N.E.W.T. Potions.”
Evelyn smirked. “You weren’t.”
Ron groaned and shoved his timetable aside. “I regret everything.”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even gone to a single class yet.”
Hermione, who had been reading over Evelyn’s shoulder, looked thoughtful. “Your schedule isn’t too bad. At least you only have History of Magic once a week.”
Evelyn gave her a pointed look. “And that’s already too much.”
The conversation was interrupted by Slughorn’s arrival at the staff table. He looked positively delighted to be back at Hogwarts, greeting students enthusiastically as he took his seat next to McGonagall.
Evelyn nudged Harry. “How long before he invites you to one of his little club meetings?”
Harry groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
Across the table, Blaise grinned. “Oh, Potter, you’re definitely his next prized collector’s item.”
Evelyn laughed and took another bite of her apple, knowing this year was already shaping up to be interesting.
______________
The Great Hall was abuzz with chatter as breakfast wound down and students gathered their bags for the first lessons of the year. Evelyn, Draco, and Blaise made their way to the dungeons for their first Advanced Potions lesson under Professor Slughorn.
The familiar classroom smelled less like cold stone and more like an odd blend of herbs, honey, and something floral. Slughorn had already set up several potion stations, showcasing various rare and powerful brews. Evelyn immediately spotted the faint shimmering effect of Amortentia in the air and suppressed a smirk.
Slughorn beamed as the class settled. “Ah, my brilliant N.E.W.T. students! A fine group, indeed! Now, as sixth years, we will be working with potions that require both technical skill and an understanding of the magic within them.”
With a flick of his wand, four potion names appeared on the board:
• Felix Felicis
• Veritaserum
• Amortentia
• Draught of Living Death
“These,” Slughorn continued, “are among the most complex potions you will encounter this year. Today, we will attempt the first phase of the Draught of Living Death. Whoever brews the best attempt will receive a small vial of Felix Felicis—Liquid Luck. ”
Evelyn glanced at Harry, who already looked apprehensive. He had never been terrible at Potions, but it certainly wasn’t his strength.
“I, uh, didn’t get my textbook yet,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
Evelyn leaned over, lowering her voice. “Cupboard behind Slughorn’s desk. Fourth shelf from the bottom. Should be a few spares there.”
Harry blinked at her in surprise. “You just know that?”
She smirked. “I pay attention.”
Muttering a quick thanks, Harry made his way over while Slughorn busied himself with ingredient demonstrations. Evelyn, meanwhile, focused on carefully preparing her potion. She crushed her sopophorous beans with precision, watching as their juices seeped into the cauldron, turning the liquid a deep shade of violet.
As the lesson progressed, Evelyn kept an eye on Harry. To her surprise, his potion was… good. Almost perfect, actually. She caught a glimpse of his book—an older copy, filled with neat, scrawled annotations that were definitely not his handwriting.
By the time Slughorn made his rounds, he hummed in delight at Evelyn’s work. “Ah, excellent, Miss McCrae! A near-perfect consistency.”
She smirked but wasn’t too surprised.
Then Slughorn turned to Harry’s potion and beamed even wider. “Merlin’s beard, Potter! This is outstanding! I daresay… near perfection.”
Harry looked just as startled as Evelyn felt.
Slughorn laughed. “For that, you win the Felix Felicis! ” He handed over the tiny vial of golden liquid.
As the students packed up, Evelyn shot Harry a knowing look. “So, what’s in the book?”
Harry showed her the pages filled with careful corrections and additional notes.
Draco peered over, snorting. “That’s not your handwriting.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”
Evelyn smirked. “Whoever wrote this knew their stuff.”
Their next class was Defense Against the Dark Arts, and if the air of excitement was anything to go by, everyone was eager to see Snape finally teaching the subject he had always wanted.
Snape stood at the front of the classroom, his dark eyes sweeping over them. “For years, this subject has been taught by varying degrees of incompetence,” he said smoothly. “That ends now.”
With a flick of his wand, Nonverbal Magic appeared on the board.
“Sixth-year students are expected to master the ability to cast spells without speaking. Verbal incantations leave you vulnerable. A skilled duelist must be able to attack and defend without giving their opponent time to react.”
Most of the class looked slightly apprehensive—except for Evelyn and her friends, who had been training with the DA for over a year now.
Snape’s gaze flickered to them, his expression unreadable. “We shall see how prepared you all truly are.”
He split them into pairs for practice. Evelyn was paired with Blaise, Draco with Theo, and Harry with Ron.
“Begin,” Snape ordered.
Evelyn flicked her wand at Blaise, casting a silent Expelliarmus. His wand jerked in his hand, though he managed to keep hold of it.
“Not bad,” Blaise muttered. “ Protego. ”
The shield shimmered into existence, cast without a word.
Across the room, Harry was successfully blocking Ron’s attacks but struggling to send his own spells nonverbally. Ron, however, had clearly improved.
Theo sent a silent Stupefy at Draco, who dodged with a smirk. “You’ll have to do better than that, mate.”
Snape prowled between the pairs, watching them with a calculating gaze. When he stopped beside Harry, he said, “Potter. You struggle with nonverbal spells?”
Harry clenched his jaw. “I’m working on it.”
Snape arched an eyebrow. “Clearly.”
Evelyn caught Harry’s eye and gave him a small nod, silently telling him to keep his cool.
“Again,” Snape commanded, and the practice continued.
By the end of the lesson, the class was worn out but pleased with their progress. Snape assigned them an essay on the advantages of nonverbal magic before dismissing them.
As they made their way out, Blaise groaned. “I feel like my brain is melting.”
Draco smirked. “You’re just upset Evelyn disarmed you three times.”
“Oh, shut up, Malfoy.”
Evelyn chuckled as they made their way toward the Great Hall. “You’ll thank me when it saves your life.”
Blaise muttered something under his breath, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.
As they settled in for lunch, Evelyn couldn’t shake the feeling that this year was going to be unlike any other. They had a solid plan, strong allies, and the upper hand.
It was time to start making real changes.
_______________
The Room of Requirement had become something of a second home to them, a place of strategy, refuge, and occasional chaos. Tonight, it was set up as usual—cushioned chairs arranged in a circle, a few conjured tables with stacks of parchment and books, and warm candlelight flickering from sconces on the walls. The gang sat together, discussing everything from upcoming assignments to the latest reports of Voldemort’s movements, but something felt off.
“Theo’s not here,” Pansy said, breaking off in the middle of a discussion about their next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.
Evelyn frowned. She hadn’t noticed at first, caught up in the usual rhythm of their meetings, but now that Pansy had pointed it out, the absence felt glaring. Theo was always here—maybe a little quiet at times, but present.
“Maybe he’s in the library?” Hermione suggested, though even she didn’t sound convinced.
“Doubt it,” Blaise muttered, stretching his legs out in front of him. “He’d never skip a meeting for schoolwork.”
“He wouldn’t skip a meeting at all,” Evelyn murmured, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach.
“Maybe he just wanted space,” Ron offered, but Harry shook his head.
“I don’t like it,” Harry admitted. “Should someone go check on him?”
“I’ll go,” Evelyn said immediately, standing up before anyone could argue. “Finish the meeting without me—I’ll let you know if anything’s wrong.”
She left before anyone could protest, her feet carrying her swiftly down the hallways of Hogwarts. Her mind was racing—something was wrong. Theo wouldn’t just disappear without telling her.
After searching the Slytherin common room, the library, and the Astronomy Tower, she finally found him at the edge of the Black Lake, just by the boathouse. He was sitting on a low stone wall, his arms resting on his knees, staring blankly at the water.
Evelyn approached cautiously, the crunch of gravel under her boots breaking the silence. “Theo?”
He didn’t flinch, but he exhaled softly and turned his head slightly to acknowledge her. “Hey.”
“You weren’t at the meeting.”
“I know,” he muttered, shifting his gaze back to the lake.
Evelyn sat beside him, following his line of sight. The lake was calm tonight, the water lapping gently against the shore. Moonlight cast a silver sheen over its surface, creating a stark contrast to the tension in Theo’s expression.
She didn’t push him. Instead, she waited. And after a long silence, Theo pulled something from his pocket—a letter, its edges slightly crumpled as if it had been read and reread too many times.
“My father,” he said, voice quiet. “He’s decided it’s time.”
Evelyn frowned, taking the letter from him. As her eyes skimmed the words, her stomach twisted.
You are to be marked by Christmas. There will be no debate. The Dark Lord will hear of this next week. Do not disappoint me.
She inhaled sharply and looked at Theo. He was staring down at his hands, fingers tightening into fists.
“I don’t want this,” he admitted, voice strained. “But if I say no—”
“He’ll force you anyway,” Evelyn finished for him.
Theo let out a bitter laugh. “Pretty much.”
Evelyn folded the letter carefully and handed it back. “Then don’t say no.”
He turned to her, startled. “What?”
She met his gaze, her mind already working through the possibilities. “Draco’s already marked,” she pointed out. “Having two of you inside Voldemort’s ranks? That’s an opportunity, Theo. We need people close to him, and if you’re forced into this, at least you can use it to our advantage.”
Theo swallowed hard. “And if he gives me orders? If he tells me to kill someone?”
“You won’t,” Evelyn said firmly. “I won’t let you. We’ll figure something out, just like we always do. Just like we’re doing with Draco.”
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, finally, he nodded. It was hesitant, but it was something.
Evelyn reached over, squeezing his hand. “You’re not alone in this, okay? No matter what happens, we’ve got your back.”
Theo let out a slow breath and nodded again, this time with more certainty.
Chapter 66: Dates for Two, Dates for Planning
Chapter Text
The next Hogsmeade weekend arrived as a much-needed break from the chaos of school and war planning. The crisp autumn air carried the scent of damp earth and distant chimney smoke as Evelyn and Harry strolled hand in hand down the bustling village streets. The trees lining the road had begun to change, their leaves a fiery mixture of reds, oranges, and golds, and the atmosphere buzzed with the energy of students eager for a day of freedom.
Evelyn glanced up at Harry, watching as he took in the surroundings with an expression of quiet contentment. His hand was warm in hers, his thumb idly brushing against the back of her palm as they walked. He looked more relaxed than he had in weeks, and that alone made her glad they’d decided to do this.
“I still can’t believe they finally opened a new restaurant here,” she mused as they neared their destination. “You’d think someone would have done it years ago.”
Harry chuckled. “Guess The Three Broomsticks and The Hog’s Head had too much of a monopoly. But hey, I’m not complaining. I could go for something that isn’t just pub food.”
As they reached the small restaurant—a cozy place tucked between Honeydukes and Scrivenshaft’s—they stepped inside, immediately greeted by the comforting scent of roasted meat, fresh bread, and something sweet baking in the oven. The place had a warm, rustic charm, with wooden tables, candlelit sconces, and large windows offering a view of the bustling street outside.
A hostess led them to a table by the window, and as soon as they sat down, Evelyn leaned her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand, smirking at Harry. “So, Mr. Chosen One, what’s it like finally having a normal day for once?”
Harry snorted, shaking his head. “We’ve barely been here five minutes. Maybe let me eat first before I decide if this is truly a ‘normal day.’”
Evelyn laughed, but there was an underlying sincerity in her amusement. She wanted this to be normal for him—for both of them. Just a simple day, no war, no Horcruxes, no secrets looming over their heads.
After placing their orders—Harry opting for a steak and kidney pie while Evelyn chose a roasted chicken dish—they leaned back into their seats, the conversation flowing easily. They spoke about Defence Against the Dark Arts, and about Slughorn’s obvious favoritism toward certain students.
“I swear, if I hear him fawn over ‘the great Harry Potter’ one more time, I’m going to hex him,” Evelyn said, rolling her eyes.
Harry groaned. “Tell me about it. I’ve never seen someone fish for connections so hard. You’d think he’s planning to write a book about me.”
Evelyn smirked. “You do have a habit of collecting powerful people. Maybe he just wants to make sure he’s on your list.”
Harry shook his head with a laugh. “Right, because I totally keep a list of influential people I could use to my advantage.”
“Maybe you should,” she teased. “You’re already the Chosen One, dating a powerful witch, best friends with the brightest witch of our age, and apparently Slughorn thinks you have ‘immense talent.’” She made air quotes with her fingers.
Harry snorted. “You’re inflating my ego, McCrae.”
“Someone has to. You have a habit of downplaying how bloody amazing you actually are.”
There was something softer in Evelyn’s voice then, something that made Harry pause. He reached across the table, taking her hand in his, his thumb idly running over her knuckles. “You’re kind of amazing yourself, you know.”
She arched a brow. “Am I now?”
Harry grinned. “Yeah. I mean, not as amazing as me, obviously, but you’re up there.”
Evelyn gasped in mock offense and flicked a sugar packet at him. “I take it back. Your ego is massive.”
He laughed, and the sound warmed her more than the candlelight flickering on their table. For a moment, it really did feel like they were just two normal teenagers on a date, not war strategists preparing to fight the darkest wizard in history.
Their food arrived shortly after, and as they ate, they continued talking, trading stories about their summers, their classes, and their theories on what the year ahead would bring.
“I still think Dumbledore is up to something,” Harry admitted between bites. “He’s been acting different. Not just with me, but in general.”
Evelyn nodded. “I agree. I don’t trust him at all, not after everything. But at least he’s busy enough to leave us alone most of the time.”
Harry hummed in agreement, stabbing at his food with his fork. “Still, I wonder what he’s really planning.”
Evelyn reached across the table again, squeezing his hand. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it. We always do.”
Harry looked up at her then, and for a moment, he forgot about everything else—the war, the prophecy, the weight of his destiny. All he saw was Evelyn, unwavering and strong, the person who had been by his side through everything.
And in that moment, he truly believed her.
After finishing their meal, they wandered around Hogsmeade, taking their time visiting a few shops. They stopped by Honeydukes, where Harry insisted on buying Evelyn her favorite chocolates, and then they headed toward Zonko’s, where they browsed the prank supplies, laughing over the ridiculous products.
“I swear, the twins would buy everything in here if they could,” Harry said, shaking his head as he picked up a box of Self-Writing Detention Slips.
Evelyn smirked. “They’d probably find a way to charm them so that teachers assigned detentions to themselves instead.”
Harry laughed. “That’s exactly the kind of thing they’d do.”
As the afternoon wore on, they eventually made their way to the outskirts of the village, finding a quiet spot overlooking the hills. The sun was beginning to set, casting the sky in shades of pink and gold, and for a while, they simply stood there, taking in the view.
Harry wrapped his arms around Evelyn from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. “This was nice,” he murmured.
She leaned back into him, smiling softly. “It was.”
“We should do this more often.”
Evelyn nodded. “Yeah, we should.”
For a little while longer, they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, watching the sun dip below the horizon. And for that brief, fleeting moment, all was right in their world.
____________
Later that night, after their date in Hogsmeade, Harry found himself unable to sleep.
He slipped out of bed quietly, making his way down to the Room of Requirement, which had become the unofficial headquarters for their group. It was empty at this time of night, exactly as he’d hoped.
Taking a deep breath, Harry strode over to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo powder. He tossed it into the flames, watching as they turned green. Kneeling, he leaned forward and said clearly, “Grimmauld Place!”
The world blurred for a moment before coming into focus, revealing the dimly lit sitting room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Sirius was lounging on the couch, a bottle of firewhisky beside him. He looked up, startled at first, but when he saw Harry’s face in the fire, his expression softened into a grin.
“Well, well, look who it is,” Sirius said, setting his drink aside and leaning forward. “What’s got you up this late, kid?”
Harry hesitated, then sighed. “I just needed to talk.”
Sirius studied him for a moment before nodding. “Alright. What’s on your mind?”
Harry shifted, running a hand through his hair. “It’s… about Evelyn.”
Sirius raised a brow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh? Trouble in paradise?”
“No,” Harry said quickly. “It’s nothing like that. It’s just… I love her, Sirius. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. And I—” He exhaled heavily. “I think I want to marry her. Someday.”
Sirius blinked, clearly taken aback. “Well, that’s—wow. I wasn’t expecting that conversation tonight.”
Harry let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah. Me neither.”
Sirius leaned back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “You really love her?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. I do.”
Sirius was silent for a long moment before he finally spoke. “You remind me a lot of your dad, you know.”
Harry frowned. “How so?”
Sirius chuckled. “James was the same way with your mum. The moment he realized he loved her, that was it. No doubts, no second thoughts. Just complete certainty.” He studied Harry with a small smile. “You have that same look in your eyes when you talk about Evelyn.”
Harry swallowed hard. “I just… I know it’s early. We’ve only been together for a year and a half. But I can’t imagine my life without her.”
Sirius nodded. “And you don’t have to rush. You’ve got time, kid. If you’re sure about her, then that’s what matters.”
Harry let out a breath, some of his tension easing. “Yeah. I think I’ll buy a ring eventually. But I’m not planning on proposing anytime soon.”
Sirius smirked. “Just don’t wait too long. You never know when some other bloke might try to swoop in and steal her.”
Harry laughed. “Not a chance.”
Sirius chuckled. “Good answer.”
They talked a little longer before Harry finally pulled back from the fire, feeling lighter than he had in weeks.
As he made his way back to bed, he found himself smiling. Maybe the future wasn’t so uncertain after all.
____________
The following week was filled with intense classes, but compared to previous years, it was oddly enjoyable. With Slughorn teaching Potions, the subject had a different feel to it. He was far more lenient than Snape had ever been, and even though he still played favorites, most of the students found themselves excelling.
Evelyn, of course, was thriving in all of her classes, but that wasn’t surprising. She had a natural talent for nearly everything magical, and Harry was convinced she’d be able to teach half of their subjects better than the actual professors.
Defense Against the Dark Arts was a whole different experience now that Snape was teaching it. Unlike Umbridge’s useless curriculum the year before, Snape had them practicing advanced nonverbal spells from the very start. Their group, thanks to the DA, had a massive advantage, and it quickly became clear that they were far ahead of their classmates.
One afternoon, after a particularly intense session of spell practice, Snape surveyed the class with his usual cool expression.
“Some of you,” he drawled, “have at least a basic understanding of nonverbal magic.” His dark eyes flickered toward the Slytherin side of the room, lingering on Evelyn, Theo, and Blaise before shifting to the Gryffindors, where he gave an approving nod to Harry and Hermione. “Others,” he continued, his gaze briefly passing over Ron, “will need to put in significantly more effort.”
Ron scowled, but Evelyn nudged him. “You’re getting better,” she whispered.
Ron muttered something under his breath, but Harry caught the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.
Their other subjects were equally demanding. Charms focused on more advanced spell combinations, and Transfiguration was pushing them toward human transfiguration. Even with their packed schedules, the gang still made time to meet up in the Room of Requirement, ensuring that their plans for the war were still in motion.
Everything was moving forward—some days slower than others, but always in the right direction.
And for the first time in a long while, Harry allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they had a real chance at winning.
___________
The morning air in the Great Hall was thick with the hum of student chatter and the clinking of cutlery against plates. November had settled over Hogwarts, dusting the castle grounds with snow and turning the enchanted ceiling into an overcast sky that threatened more snowfall.
Evelyn sat beside Harry at the Slytherin table, sipping on a cup of tea as she skimmed the Prophet . Across from them, Theo was half-heartedly picking at his toast, while Draco and Pansy whispered about something that had happened in Advanced Charms the day before.
A flurry of wings signaled the arrival of the morning post, and an owl swooped down in front of Harry, dropping a neatly folded note onto his plate before taking off again. He frowned, wiping jam off his fingers before picking it up. Evelyn, noticing his expression, leaned in to read over his shoulder.
Harry,
Please come to my office later today at your earliest convenience. The password is ‘Fizzing Whizzbee.’
-Albus Dumbledore
Evelyn hummed thoughtfully. “It’s probably about the lessons,” she said, keeping her voice low. “The ones about Voldemort’s past and the Horcruxes.”
Harry exhaled sharply, folding the note and stuffing it into his pocket. “Yeah, well, I’m not going.”
Theo, who had been silent up until now, finally looked up. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t need Dumbledore’s version of events,” Harry replied. “We already know about the Horcruxes, and we’re actually doing something about them. He probably just wants to feed me half-truths and get me to follow whatever plan he’s been setting up since I was a baby.”
Evelyn nodded in agreement. “He’s been trying to control you for years, Harry. If you go, he’ll try to manipulate you into doing things his way.”
Draco, who had been listening in, smirked slightly. “Finally catching on, Potter?”
Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. “Yeah, yeah. Took me long enough.”
Pansy arched a brow. “So, what are you going to do instead?”
Harry exchanged a glance with Evelyn before saying, “We focus on what actually matters—killing Nagini.”
The table fell silent.
Evelyn cast a quick glance around the Great Hall. Too many ears. She tapped her fingers lightly against the table. “Let’s move this conversation somewhere else.”
Fifteen minutes later, the gang was gathered inside the Room of Requirement, the walls lined with bookshelves and the center occupied by a long, comfortable-looking couch and chairs. A small fire crackled in the hearth, casting warm light around the space.
Sirius was already waiting for them when they arrived, leaning casually against the arm of a chair. “Took you lot long enough,” he said.
Pansy folded her arms. “You’re supposed to be at home , you know.”
Sirius grinned. “And yet, here I am.”
Evelyn shut the door behind them and turned to the group. “Alright, now that we’re in private—Nagini.”
Sirius straightened. “Snape and I have been discussing it,” he said. “Nagini is never far from Voldemort, but we have noticed that he sends her to deliver messages sometimes. That’s when she’s vulnerable.”
Draco frowned. “She’s his most trusted companion. He won’t let her out of his sight easily.”
“Then we wait for the right opportunity,” Sirius said.
Harry crossed his arms. “So, how do we kill her?”
Evelyn reached into her robes and pulled out the dagger Sirius had given her last Christmas. The blade gleamed under the flickering firelight.
“This isn’t just any dagger,” Evelyn said. “Sirius had it specially made. It can kill anything, even something as magically protected as a Horcrux.”
Theo stared at it, then exhaled. “Alright. So when do we do this?”
Evelyn exchanged a look with Harry and Sirius. “After the Christmas holidays,” she said. “That’s when we make our move.”
Chapter 67: The Christmas Lead-Up
Chapter Text
The weeks leading up to the Christmas holidays passed in a blur of classes, strategy meetings, and careful maneuvering. Despite the weight of their plans and the knowledge of what was to come, the gang made a conscious effort to keep things as normal as possible.
Then, the day arrived—Theo’s marking.
The morning of his departure was eerily quiet. Theo barely touched his breakfast, his usual composed expression unreadable. Evelyn, seated beside him, glanced at Draco, who looked equally tense. The rest of the Slytherins at the table didn’t say much; they all knew what was happening.
When the time came, Theo rose from the bench, brushing off his robes as though preparing for nothing more than an afternoon lesson. His father, Lord Nott, was waiting in Snape’s office, where the fireplace was connected to the Floo Network. The method was deliberate—it allowed for quick transportation without raising suspicion.
Evelyn, Draco, Blaise, and Pansy walked with him to the entrance of the dungeons.
“You don’t have to go through with it,” Pansy murmured, arms crossed.
“Yes, I do,” Theo replied firmly. “We knew this would happen eventually.”
Draco exhaled sharply. “When you get back, come straight to the dorms.” His tone was serious. “No detours.”
Theo nodded. His gaze met Evelyn’s, and something unspoken passed between them. Then, without another word, he turned and strode away.
Hours later, the Slytherins were waiting.
The moment Theo stepped back into the common room, a casual observer might have thought nothing had changed. His uniform was immaculate, his hair neatly styled, and his face betrayed no emotion.
But Evelyn knew better.
He walked straight to the boys’ dormitory without acknowledging anyone. Draco and Blaise immediately followed, with Evelyn and Pansy lingering near the entrance.
Inside, Theo sat on the edge of his bed, hands clasped together. His sleeves were still rolled down, covering the brand newly burned into his forearm.
Draco, who had gone through this exact process months earlier, knelt beside him. “Show me,” he said quietly.
For a moment, Theo hesitated. Then, he unfastened his cufflinks and pulled back the sleeve. The Dark Mark was freshly inked into his skin, an angry red against his pale complexion.
He stared at it, his throat working as he tried to suppress the emotions bubbling beneath the surface.
“Nobody wants this,” Draco reminded him. “But we take it because it gives us access to the information we need. It lets us protect the people we care about.”
Theo exhaled shakily. “I know.”
Blaise sat down on Theo’s other side. “We’re with you. Every step of the way.”
For a long moment, no one spoke. Then, Theo finally nodded. “Thanks,” he muttered, voice rough with restrained emotion.
Evelyn and Pansy waited outside, allowing the boys to have their moment.
When they finally emerged, Theo looked a little steadier, though his shoulders still carried a weight none of them could lift for him.
Evelyn caught his gaze and simply said, “We’ve got you.”
Theo’s lips twitched into a ghost of a smile.
_______________
The morning air was crisp as Evelyn made her way down the snow-laden streets of Hogsmeade, the cold biting at her cheeks despite the thick cloak wrapped around her shoulders. The village was alive with the hum of last-minute Christmas shoppers, the scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider wafting from the Three Broomsticks. But Evelyn wasn’t here to browse Honeydukes or sip butterbeer by the fire. She had a meeting to attend, one that would shift the tides of public opinion against Albus Dumbledore.
She spotted Rita Skeeter waiting for her near the abandoned post office, wrapped in an elegant emerald-green cloak, her blonde curls tucked neatly beneath a feathered hat. A quill was already floating beside her, poised and ready to capture every word.
“Miss McCrae,” Rita purred, her red lips stretching into a knowing smile. “I do hope you have something juicy for me. I’m always happy to expose the skeletons in someone’s closet—especially when that someone is dear old Dumbledore.”
Evelyn smirked, pulling her cloak tighter as she stepped into the dimly lit alleyway beside the building. “Oh, you’ll find this more than juicy, Skeeter,” she said smoothly. “Let’s talk about Ariana Dumbledore.”
Rita’s eyes gleamed with intrigue, her Quick-Quotes Quill poised in midair, ready to scrawl every damning word Evelyn was about to utter. She pulled a small, bejeweled notepad from her crocodile-skin handbag and flipped it open, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the parchment.
“Ariana Dumbledore, you say?” she murmured, pretending to feign ignorance while her excitement practically radiated from her. “Now, why don’t you start from the beginning, dear?”
Evelyn leaned against the frost-covered stone wall, her breath curling into the cold air as she spoke. “Dumbledore’s biggest secret is that he had a sister,” she began, her voice calm but carrying a distinct sharpness. “Ariana. She was powerful, but something happened to her when she was a child—Muggle boys attacked her when they saw her doing magic, and she was never the same after. Couldn’t control it anymore. She was hidden away, kept secret from the world while Albus went off to make a name for himself.”
Rita nodded along, her quill scribbling furiously across the parchment, capturing every word with precision. “Fascinating,” she murmured. “So he abandoned his family, did he?”
“In a way,” Evelyn continued. “But it gets worse. When his mother died, he was forced to come home and care for Ariana alongside his brother, Aberforth. But he didn’t do it alone—he had a… friend.” She let the word hang in the air for a moment before adding, “Gellert Grindelwald.”
Rita’s sharp inhale was music to Evelyn’s ears. The journalist’s quill trembled with excitement, as if sensing the scandal about to unfold. “Grindelwald? You mean to tell me that the so-called champion of the Light was once best friends with the most infamous dark wizard of the last century?”
Evelyn smirked. “Oh, it was more than friendship,” she said smoothly. “They were obsessed with each other. They spent weeks plotting a world where wizards ruled over Muggles, calling it ‘The Greater Good.’ And Ariana? She was nothing but an obstacle in their grand plans. Until, of course, she got caught in the crossfire.”
Rita’s quill nearly tore through the parchment in its eagerness. “What do you mean, ‘crossfire’?” she prompted, leaning in closer.
Evelyn folded her arms. “A duel,” she said. “Between Albus, Aberforth, and Grindelwald. Ariana was there—helpless, unable to control her magic. And in the chaos, she was killed. No one knows whose curse struck her down, but Dumbledore never denied the possibility that it was his own.”
Rita’s breathless laughter was laced with glee. “This is extraordinary!” she whispered, as if the revelation alone would set the world aflame. “The great Albus Dumbledore, responsible for his own sister’s death, once aligned with Grindelwald, a man he later had to defeat! The hypocrisy! The tragedy!”
“Exactly,” Evelyn said coolly. “And the best part? He’s spent decades covering it up. Everyone praises him as this wise, untouchable figure, but the truth is that he’s always been a man willing to sacrifice others for his so-called ‘Greater Good.’ First it was his sister. Then it was Harry.”
Rita let out a delighted gasp. “And you’re willing to go on record with all of this?”
“Every word,” Evelyn confirmed. “Publish it in the Daily Prophet , let the world see the cracks in Dumbledore’s pedestal.”
Rita’s eyes glowed with unfiltered satisfaction. “Oh, darling, this will be the story of the decade,” she purred. “I’ll have it printed before the holidays.”
Evelyn smirked. “Perfect. Now, let’s discuss the finer details of your compensation.”
As Rita pulled out her purse, already prepared to negotiate, Evelyn allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. The war for public perception had begun.
______________
The morning after Evelyn’s meeting with Rita Skeeter, the gang was gathered at their usual table in the Great Hall, eating a leisurely breakfast while the enchanted ceiling above them reflected the overcast sky outside. A cold snap had settled over Hogwarts, and many students were wrapped in scarves even indoors, sipping on hot tea and pumpkin juice as they talked about the upcoming Christmas holidays.
The group had fallen into an easy rhythm—Harry was buttering a slice of toast while half-listening to Evelyn explain something about an advanced Charms theory, Theo and Draco were murmuring to each other about an upcoming essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Pansy was flipping idly through a copy of Witch Weekly while leaning into Ron, who had his arm draped comfortably around her shoulders.
It was a peaceful morning, right up until Hermione unfolded the letter in her hands and let out a small, thoughtful hum.
Evelyn, who had been seated beside her, glanced at the parchment curiously. “What’s that?”
Hermione hesitated for a moment, then placed the letter on the table between them. “It’s from Viktor.”
That caught everyone’s attention. Harry, who had been mid-bite, set his toast down. Theo quirked an eyebrow, interested, and Pansy looked up from her magazine with a smirk.
Draco made a vague noise of amusement. “Ah, the famous Krum. Bet he’s still holding a torch for you, isn’t he, Granger?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut it, Malfoy.”
Pansy nudged her. “Well, don’t keep us waiting. What does it say?”
Hermione took a breath and began reading aloud:
Hermione,
It has been too long since we last spoke. I hope you are well. I write to you now with a request—this summer, would you come to Bulgaria and stay with me for some time? I would like for you to see my home, my work, and perhaps show you more of the world outside of England. Let me know your answer soon.
Yours,
Viktor
When she finished, the group fell into a brief silence, digesting the words.
Then, Pansy let out a low whistle. “Well, well ,” she teased, a sly grin spreading across her face. “You’ve got yourself an invitation to a romantic summer abroad. Krum moves fast.”
“Shut up,” Hermione said, though there was a pink tinge to her cheeks.
“I think it’s sweet,” Daphne added, stirring a spoonful of honey into her tea. “He obviously still cares about you.”
Harry tilted his head, thoughtful. “I mean, it’d be a good opportunity, wouldn’t it? You’d get to see Bulgaria, spend time with Krum.”
Ron, who had been listening quietly with his arm still draped around Pansy, finally spoke up. “Well, if you want to go, you should. No reason not to.” He shrugged. “You’ve always wanted to travel, and this seems like a good chance to do it.”
Hermione looked over at him, as if checking to see if he meant it, and when she found no trace of jealousy or discomfort, she smiled. “Thanks, Ron.”
Pansy smirked at him. “That was surprisingly mature of you.”
“I am capable of maturity, you know,” Ron shot back dryly, squeezing her shoulder.
Draco snorted. “Debatable.”
Ron flicked a bit of toast in his direction.
Meanwhile, Hermione tucked the letter away safely into her bag. “I think I will go,” she decided. “It’s a good opportunity, and Viktor’s always been a good friend. Besides, I could use a break after this year.”
Pansy leaned in closer. “Just don’t forget to bring us back something nice. You can’t just flounce off to Bulgaria and not return with souvenirs.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered. “Fine, fine. I’ll bring you all something.”
With that settled, the group returned to their breakfast, the conversation shifting to other topics. But Hermione felt a quiet excitement bubbling beneath the surface—summer in Bulgaria. It would be an adventure, something entirely new, and for the first time in a long while, she was looking forward to what came next.
______________
A few days after Hermione received her letter from Krum, the Slytherins were gathered in their common room, taking advantage of a rare free evening. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the emerald-green furnishings, and the soft hum of conversation filled the space.
Evelyn sat curled up in an armchair near the fire, a book open in her lap, though she was only half-paying attention to the words. Pansy and Daphne were sprawled across the nearby sofa, whispering about something that made them giggle every now and then, while Theo and Blaise were locked in a quiet game of wizard’s chess.
Draco was sitting across from Evelyn, flipping through a Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook, when a sudden whoosh of green flames disrupted the calm atmosphere.
Two small scrolls materialized in the fireplace, tied with dark thread.
Draco and Theo stiffened.
Evelyn’s gaze snapped to the scrolls, her stomach twisting. She had seen messages arrive like this before—never a good sign.
For a brief moment, no one moved. Then, slowly, Theo got to his feet, walking over to retrieve both letters. He handed one to Draco without a word.
A thick silence fell over the room as they untied the threads and unrolled the parchment. Their eyes scanned the words, and Evelyn, who had stood up to move closer, watched their faces carefully. Draco’s expression remained unreadable, his grip tightening slightly on the paper, while Theo paled.
Pansy was the first to break the silence. “What does it say?”
Draco let out a slow breath before reading his aloud:
It has been long enough. You were given a task, and I expect results. The old man still breathes, and I am beginning to wonder whether you are worthy of the Dark Lord’s trust. What is taking so long?
A sharp silence followed.
Pansy sucked in a breath. “Bloody hell.”
Blaise exhaled through his nose, leaning back against the sofa. “We knew this was coming.”
Evelyn frowned, her mind already working through the implications. They had expected Voldemort to push harder, but this was a direct warning. And warnings, when it came from the Dark Lord, were never just words.
Theo sat down heavily, staring at the parchment in his hands. “He’s losing patience.”
“No,” Evelyn corrected, voice steady. “He lost patience a long time ago. This is him demanding proof that you’re still worth keeping alive.”
Draco clenched his jaw, folding his parchment carefully and tucking it into his robes. “We need to send a reply.”
Theo swallowed. “What the hell are we supposed to say?”
“I’ll handle it,” Evelyn said before either of them could overthink it.
Theo blinked at her. “Evelyn—”
“It’ll be fine.” She held out her hand for the letters. “I’ll write back in a way that makes him think progress is being made, and that punishing you both would only slow things down. I’ve handled worse.”
Draco hesitated, then handed over his letter. Theo followed after a moment.
“Make sure it sounds believable,” Draco murmured.
Evelyn shot him a sharp look. “Obviously.”
Pansy exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “This is getting riskier by the day.”
Evelyn didn’t disagree. But risk was the price they had always known they’d have to pay.
“I’ll send the letter tonight,” she said. “And with any luck, it’ll be enough to keep him satisfied—at least for now.”
With that, the plan was set.
But as Evelyn left for her dormitory to write the response, she couldn’t shake the cold feeling curling in her chest.
The game was getting more dangerous. And they were running out of time.
________________
The chilly winds of December had settled across Hogwarts, whipping the grounds with a cold bite as students busily packed their trunks in preparation for the three-week Christmas holidays. Snow had started falling, blanketing the castle in a soft, white cover that made everything feel still, as if the world was holding its breath.
She stood by her dormitory window, watching the snowflakes drift past, wondering how she would spend her holiday. Though she had grown accustomed to the silence and solitude of her apartment when it was just her and Harry, she knew that the holidays would feel especially lonely this year with Harry at the Burrow.
She was jolted from her thoughts by a knock on the door.
“Evelyn, you coming?” Harry’s voice came through the thick wood, gentle yet insistent.
She smiled faintly, pulling away from the window. “Yeah, just a second.”
Evelyn took one last glance at her empty bed and the packed trunk sitting next to it before grabbing her jacket and heading out. As she walked down the corridors, she was joined by Harry, who looked unusually bright-eyed despite the early hour.
“You’re really looking forward to seeing the Weasleys, aren’t you?” Evelyn teased, adjusting her scarf. Harry had always been fond of their Christmas traditions, and she knew he’d be spending the holiday with the Weasley family this year.
He shrugged, a shy grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, I guess. It’ll be good to have a big family Christmas for once.”
The two of them made their way to the Great Hall, where a group of students were gathering to board the carriages to Hogsmeade.
Upon entering the Great Hall, she was greeted by the sight of her friends. Pansy, Theo, and Daphne were huddled together near the entrance, talking animatedly about their respective family holidays. Evan and Blaise were across the room, deep in conversation. The twins, Fred and George, were already making a ruckus, their voices carrying across the hall as they joked with Ron, who was standing beside Hermione.
“You ready for the holidays?” Harry asked as they approached their group.
Ron looked up from his conversation with Fred. “Absolutely. No schoolwork, no Umbridge… just food and relaxation.” He shot a sly look at his twin brothers. “And if I’m lucky, no pranks this year.”
George grinned mischievously. “No promises, Ron. It’s Christmas. Everyone needs a little excitement, don’t they?”
Evelyn couldn’t help but laugh. Despite the chaos that the twins often caused, she appreciated their antics. They made everything feel a little lighter, even when things were heavy.
“Where’s Draco?” she asked, glancing around the room. She hadn’t seen him yet, but it wasn’t exactly a surprise. He was always a little… distant.
Theo, who had been listening in, shrugged. “I heard he’s leaving with his parents right after breakfast. You know how it is. Pureblood families and their holiday traditions.”
“Right,” Evelyn muttered. While she didn’t have anything against Draco, she couldn’t help but feel slightly out of place when it came to his family’s rigid expectations. At least she wasn’t alone in that.
As the bell rang for the students to board their carriages, Evelyn’s thoughts drifted back to her uncertain holiday plans. She didn’t want to be a burden to anyone, but she knew she couldn’t spend the entire holiday at Hogwarts.
“Hey,” Harry said softly as he nudged her, “The Weasleys are hosting this year and they’d be happy to have you. Saved us all from Grimmauld Place.”
Evelyn hesitated for a moment, considering the offer. She knew how much Harry loved the Weasley family, and the idea of spending Christmas with them — like last year — sounded appealing. It would be a distraction from the stressful workload of this year.
“I don’t want to intrude, though,” she said, feeling a slight nervousness in her chest. “It’s your family time.”
Harry grinned, taking her hand in his. “You’re not intruding, Evelyn. The Weasleys are all about family. Besides, you’re already part of mine.”
Evelyn smiled softly, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “I love you, Harry.”
Pansy, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation with a smirk, chimed in, “Well, if you’re going, it’ll be more fun for me.” She shot a teasing look at Ron, who was still standing with Fred and George. “Ron and I are going together, after all.”
Ron raised an eyebrow, looking amused. “Oh, are we now? Didn’t realize you were making plans without me.”
Pansy smirked. “It’s called being organized, Weasley. You should try it sometime.”
With that, the group began to make their way to the carriages. Evelyn felt a bit of comfort in the knowledge that she wouldn’t be completely alone during the holidays. She could already imagine the laughter and chaos of the Weasley household, with Pansy and Ron no doubt bickering and Harry and herself enjoying the warmth of family for the first time in ages.
As they boarded the carriages, the last of the students leaving for the holidays waved goodbye, and Evelyn’s thoughts returned to the offer she had just accepted.
Chapter 68: A Weasley Family Christmas
Chapter Text
The journey to the Burrow was as chaotic and lively as expected. The air was crisp, with snowflakes gently falling from the overcast sky as Harry, Evelyn, Pansy, Ron, and the twins made their way to the Weasley’s home for Christmas. They stopped off at Evelyn’s on the way to pick up some of her things. The Burrow was nestled just outside of Ottery St. Catchpole, its crooked, towering shape already visible as they approached on broomsticks and carriages, the outline of smoke rising from the chimneys.
Evelyn, perched beside Harry on a broomstick, couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement at the sight of the Burrow. It was always so different from Hogwarts—warm, inviting, filled with life and energy. There was a certain charm to it, even with its wobbly structure and seemingly disorganized nature. This was a place where people belonged, and Evelyn hadn’t realized how much she longed for that feeling until now.
As they touched down in the snowy yard, the front door swung open, and Mrs. Weasley greeted them with a wide, loving smile. Her arms opened in a welcoming gesture as she ushered them inside.
“Harry, Evelyn! So glad you could make it! And Pansy, Ron—come on in, everyone, don’t just stand there! You must be freezing!” Mrs. Weasley’s voice was always a mix of warmth and authority, and Evelyn found herself instantly at ease under her welcoming gaze.
The Burrow’s warmth hit her immediately, the smell of roasting turkey and freshly baked bread making her stomach growl. The living room was already filled with the laughter of the Weasley family—Fred and George’s voices bickering cheerfully over something trivial, Ginny attempting to herd her brothers into some semblance of order, and Arthur Weasley chuckling at the scene as he tinkered with something mechanical in the corner.
Evelyn smiled as she followed Harry and the others into the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley handed out cups of hot cider.
“We’ve got a big family lunch planned, so everyone get comfortable,” she said, bustling around. “Bill and Charlie will be here later—had to work, poor things.”
The long table in the kitchen was already set, covered in an impressive array of food: roast chicken, potatoes, vegetables, and every kind of dessert imaginable. Evelyn felt a bit overwhelmed by the sight—she hadn’t had a proper family meal like this in years. As she took a seat next to Harry, Pansy, and Ron settled across from them, the conversation quickly turning to the upcoming holiday plans.
“Hopefully we’ll have some time for a good snowball fight tomorrow,” Fred said, a gleam of mischief in his eye. “I’m ready to put up a proper fight this year.”
“Don’t think you’ll have much of a chance against me,” Ron countered, his voice tinged with confidence.
Evelyn grinned, her eyes flickering to Harry. “I’m up for it. Let’s make it a proper battle, shall we?”
“Deal,” Harry replied with a mischievous smile.
The meal itself was an extravagant affair, with the Weasleys eagerly passing around dishes, everyone talking at once and laughing loudly. Evelyn couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so included—so warm and surrounded by people who seemed to genuinely care about each other. She glanced around the table, noticing how Harry seemed to bask in this environment, his smile widening every time someone new entered the conversation.
After the meal, everyone gathered into the living room, where Mrs. Weasley started setting up a large tray of hot chocolate.
As the night wore on, the conversation naturally moved toward family stories, and Evelyn found herself quietly listening, nestled comfortably beside Harry. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, “I’m glad you’re here, Evelyn. This place feels like home, doesn’t it? Home away from our home.”
Evelyn met his gaze, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “It really does.”
Before long, the group settled into the comfortable rhythms of family life—hot chocolate being passed around, Fred and George starting their usual antics, and the warm crackling of the fireplace filling the background.
After some time, Evelyn and Harry, along with Pansy and Ron, made their way up to their rooms. Evelyn and Harry were given a small, cozy room that had a lovely view of the snowy garden. Their rooms were adjacent with Pansy & Ron’s, separated by a thin wall, but the comfort they felt in the Burrow made the small distance between them insignificant.
Evelyn unpacked her things, the quiet of the room settling over her like a soft blanket. She could hear the sounds of the others downstairs, but for now, she appreciated the stillness, glad that she had decided to spend christmas with the Weasley’s instead of at her apartment.
__________
The next morning, Evelyn was awoken by the distant sound of laughter and the thudding of footsteps outside. Blinking against the soft light filtering through the curtains, she sat up and stretched.
Harry stirred beside her, mumbling something incoherent before cracking open one eye. “What time is it?”
“Time to get up before Fred and George decide to drag us outside themselves,” she replied, amused.
As if on cue, a loud series of bangs echoed from the hallway.
“OI! GET UP! SNOWBALL WAR STARTS IN TEN MINUTES!” Fred’s voice rang out.
Pansy’s voice, muffled from the other room, grumbled something about “absolute children,” but Evelyn could already hear Ron coaxing her into joining in.
Evelyn turned to Harry with a grin. “Think we have time to strategize?”
Harry smirked. “We could. But let’s be honest—we’re both just going to end up winging it.”
They quickly threw on warm clothes, bundling up against the cold, and hurried downstairs. The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and fresh bread, but there was no time for breakfast—not when the battlefield was already forming outside.
The Burrow’s yard had been transformed into a winter wonderland. A fresh layer of snow covered the ground, and a biting chill hung in the air. The Weasley siblings, along with Pansy and Evelyn, had already split into two teams: Fred, George, and Ginny on one side; Ron, Pansy, and Harry on the other. Evelyn, still deciding, stood on the porch surveying her options.
“You’re with us,” Fred called, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “We need someone who can actually aim.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes, but she accepted the challenge. “Fine. But if you lose, don’t blame me.”
The fight that followed was nothing short of legendary. Snowballs flew in every direction, people dove behind hastily built walls of snow, and spells were occasionally used to launch surprise attacks. Pansy proved to be viciously accurate, pelting Fred in the face more than once, while Harry used his Seeker reflexes to dodge nearly every incoming hit.
“Traitor!” George howled as Evelyn hit him square in the chest with a perfectly aimed snowball.
“You recruited me!” she shot back, ducking just in time to avoid Ron’s counterattack.
It was only when Mrs. Weasley called them all inside for breakfast that they finally stopped, covered in snow, flushed with cold, and breathless from laughter.
As they peeled off wet layers and gathered around the kitchen table, the sound of wings flapping at the window signaled the arrival of the morning post.
A tawny owl swooped in, dropping a copy of the Daily Prophet into Evelyn’s lap. She blinked, surprised. She hadn’t subscribed to the paper, but as she unfolded it, her stomach twisted.
Right there, in bold lettering across the front page, was the headline:
“The Fall of a Legend: Has Albus Dumbledore Lost His Way?”
Evelyn’s hands tightened around the paper. She skimmed the article quickly, her heart pounding. Rita Skeeter had done exactly as she’d promised—twisting the narrative in a way that would plant the first seeds of doubt about Dumbledore in the wizarding world’s mind.
“Sources close to Hogwarts reveal a troubling pattern of favoritism and manipulation, with Albus Dumbledore’s leadership coming under scrutiny like never before. Is the beloved headmaster truly acting in the best interests of his students, or does he have a hidden agenda?”
“One student, speaking under anonymity, describes a culture of secrecy within the walls of Hogwarts, where some students are protected while others are sacrificed for a ‘greater cause.’”
“Has the era of Dumbledore’s wisdom come to an end? Only time will tell.”
Evelyn swallowed hard, her mind racing. She had been careful with what she told Rita during their meeting, but the journalist had done exactly what she did best—she took those fragments of truth and wove them into a compelling, dangerous story.
Pansy, who had been reading over her shoulder, let out a low whistle. “Merlin. This is actually good.”
Ron, however, looked concerned. “Yeah, but what if it causes problems? People love Dumbledore.”
“People also love a good scandal,” Fred pointed out, taking the paper from Evelyn and reading further. “I’d bet a hundred Galleons that Fudge is eating this up.”
Evelyn glanced at Harry, who had remained quiet. When their eyes met, he gave her a small nod.
“This is the first step,” he seemed to say.
And he was right.
The rest of the day continued with games and lighthearted distractions, but Evelyn’s mind kept drifting back to the article. This wasn’t just an attack on Dumbledore’s reputation. This was a shift in power.
The excitement from the snowball fight and the Daily Prophet article lingered throughout the morning, but by midday, Evelyn found herself itching for a change of scenery. The Burrow was warm and welcoming, but after being surrounded by people nonstop, she needed a bit of quiet—at least, as quiet as one could find in a bustling wizarding shopping district a few days before Christmas.
Harry must have been thinking the same thing because, after lunch, he turned to her and said, “Fancy a trip to Diagon Alley? We could do some last-minute shopping.”
Evelyn raised a brow. “Are you saying you haven’t bought my gift yet?”
Harry looked scandalized. “I—of course not! I just thought we could, you know, browse. Together.”
Pansy, who was lounging nearby with a cup of tea, smirked. “That means no, he hasn’t.”
Ron snorted into his drink, and Harry shot them both a glare. Evelyn, amused, decided to let him off the hook. “Alright, Potter. Let’s go.”
They said their goodbyes to the group and stepped out into the crisp December air, bundled in their cloaks. With a quick use of the Floo Network, they arrived in the Leaky Cauldron, brushing soot off their sleeves before stepping out into Diagon Alley.
The street was alive with holiday cheer—fairy lights twinkled along shop windows, enchanted snow drifted lazily from above, and carolers from Celestina Warbeck’s fan club sang festive tunes near Flourish and Blotts. Families bustled about with shopping bags, children pressed their noses against display windows, and the scent of cinnamon and roasted chestnuts filled the air.
Evelyn breathed it in, feeling lighter already. “I think this is the most crowded I’ve ever seen it.”
“It’s madness,” Harry agreed, dodging a pair of young witches who ran past, giggling. “So, where to first?”
They strolled down the street, popping into various stores. Evelyn took her time selecting small gifts for everyone at the Burrow—some high-end quills for Hermione, a sleek new broom servicing kit for Ron, and a set of enchanted joke cards for Fred and George. Pansy was easy—a bottle of expensive French perfume she had been eyeing the last time they were in Hogsmeade.
Harry, on the other hand, was a nightmare to shop with.
“What do you think Ron would like?” he asked, staring blankly at a wall of Chudley Cannons merchandise in Quality Quidditch Supplies.
“Harry, you’ve known him since you were eleven. I think you can guess.”
“Yeah, but… I get him Quidditch stuff every year. Do you think he’d want—”
“Yes, he’d want Quidditch stuff. Just pick something before we freeze to death out here.”
Harry sighed dramatically but grabbed a signed poster anyway, muttering, “You’re really bossy, you know that?”
Evelyn smirked. “And yet, you still asked for my help.”
After an hour or so of shopping, Harry suddenly excused himself.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, already backing away. “Meet me at Fortescue’s in fifteen minutes?”
Evelyn narrowed her eyes. “Why are you sneaking off?”
“I’m not sneaking, I’m—”
But he was already disappearing into the crowd before she could argue.
She exhaled, shaking her head with a fond smile. He was obviously buying her gift, which meant she had to do the same.
With only a few minutes to spare, she made her way into a small, tucked-away shop that specialized in magical artifacts. She had spotted something in the window earlier—something perfect for Harry.
A delicate, golden watch, enchanted so that instead of hands, the face displayed shifting constellations. It reminded her of their late-night conversations under the stars, the moments where they felt like the only two people in the world. She knew he didn’t wear watches, but this wasn’t just for telling time—it was a reminder of all they had been through together, all they would still experience.
“This,” she told the shopkeeper. “I’ll take this one.”
With her purchase secured, she met Harry outside Fortescue’s, where he was already waiting with two steaming cups of hot chocolate.
“You look suspiciously pleased with yourself,” he observed as she approached.
“So do you.”
He grinned, handing her a cup. “Successful shopping trip?”
“Very.”
They spent the next hour wandering the alley, talking, laughing, and stopping to admire the Christmas decorations. The bustling crowds, the glowing shopfronts, the warmth of Harry’s hand in hers—it all made her feel, for the first time in a long time, like maybe, just maybe, she was exactly where she was meant to be.
As they made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron to Floo home, Evelyn stole a glance at Harry, feeling a familiar warmth settle in her chest.
Christmas was going to be perfect.
____________
By the time Evelyn and Harry stepped out of the Floo at the Burrow, the house was buzzing with warmth and activity. The scent of roasting meat and fresh bread filled the air, mingling with the sharp winter chill that clung to their cloaks. Laughter rang out from the sitting room, and the soft crackling of the fireplace made the entire house feel even cozier.
“Finally!” Pansy’s voice cut through the chatter as she appeared in the kitchen doorway, hands on her hips. “We were starting to think you two had eloped.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes as she set her shopping bags down on the table. “Yes, because sneaking off to Diagon Alley for last-minute shopping is exactly the same as running away together.”
Harry, grinning, nudged her. “We could’ve, though.”
Ron, who had just entered from the sitting room, looked mildly horrified. “You’d better not. Mum would kill you both.”
Mrs. Weasley, busy stirring a thick stew on the stove, turned with a knowing smile. “I wouldn’t kill them, Ron. Just give them a proper talking to.”
Harry let out a nervous chuckle. “Good thing we just went shopping, then.”
“You better have gotten me something good,” Pansy teased, peeking into one of Evelyn’s bags.
“You’ll have to wait and see,” Evelyn replied, pulling it away with a smirk.
As they shed their cloaks and warmed up, the rest of the household slowly trickled into the kitchen, eager to hear about their trip. Fred and George immediately demanded details on any pranks they might’ve seen, while Ginny tried (and failed) to pry information about her gift from Harry.
It wasn’t long before Mrs. Weasley ushered them all into the sitting room with cups of steaming cider, insisting that dinner would be ready soon.
The Burrow’s sitting room was packed, everyone squeezed onto the mismatched sofas and armchairs, some sitting cross-legged on the floor near the fireplace. The tree in the corner twinkled with floating fairy lights, and enchanted ornaments danced lazily between the branches.
Harry sat beside Evelyn on the sofa, his arm slung casually around her shoulders. Pansy had claimed the spot next to Ron, their fingers intertwined as she leaned into him.
The warmth of the fire, the buzz of conversation, and the general feeling of home settled over Evelyn like a comforting blanket.
“Did we mention Bill and Charlie are coming tonight?” Ginny said suddenly, her eyes lighting up.
Harry perked up. “Really? When?”
“Should be any minute now,” Mr. Weasley answered, checking the clock on the wall.
As if on cue, the sound of the front door opening was followed by a gust of cold air and two familiar voices.
“Bloody hell, it’s freezing out there.”
“Stop whinging, Bill, we’ve been in colder places.”
The room erupted in excitement as Bill and Charlie stepped inside, both covered in a thin layer of snow, their faces red from the cold.
“Finally, the party can start!” George declared, standing to clap them both on the back.
Charlie shook the snow from his cloak, grinning. “What, you lot haven’t started without us?”
“We’ve been keeping the fire warm for you,” Ron said, standing to hug his brothers.
The next several minutes were filled with greetings, stories of dragon-wrangling and curse-breaking, and general chaos as everyone found space to squeeze in. Evelyn watched as the Weasley siblings—plus honorary members like herself, Harry, and Pansy—fell into an easy rhythm, teasing and laughing like they had never been apart.
Bill eventually dropped into a chair near the fire, stretching out his legs. “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“Games, of course,” Fred said. “Maybe another snowball fight.”
Charlie snorted. “Who won today?”
“Harry, Ron, and Pansy’s team,” Evelyn admitted, though begrudgingly.
Pansy smirked. “As if there was ever any doubt.”
Charlie chuckled. “Well, we’ll have to even the playing field tomorrow, won’t we?”
Fred waggled his eyebrows. “You saying you’re joining?”
Charlie leaned back, arms crossed. “Oh, I’m winning .”
The laughter and easy banter continued as hot chocolate was passed around. Evelyn sipped hers, watching the flames flicker in the hearth. She caught Harry’s gaze, and he gave her a soft smile, squeezing her hand under the blanket draped over their laps.
Home.
This was what home felt like.
And for once, she let herself believe she deserved it.
Chapter 69: Christmas obviously includes planning
Chapter Text
Evelyn woke to the distant sound of excited voices and the unmistakable scent of cinnamon and cloves drifting through the air. The Burrow was already alive with Christmas morning energy, and as she turned over, she found Harry still half-asleep beside her, his hair messier than usual.
“Morning,” she murmured, nudging him lightly.
Harry groaned into his pillow. “Too early.”
“You say that, but I guarantee that if we don’t get up, Fred and George are going to break in here and hex us out of bed.”
Harry cracked one eye open. “They wouldn’t.”
Evelyn gave him a knowing look.
“…Alright, they absolutely would.” He sighed, stretching before finally sitting up. “Guess we should go before they drag us downstairs.”
They dressed quickly, layering up in warm jumpers and thick socks before making their way to the sitting room, where the rest of the household was already gathered. The tree twinkled with floating fairy lights, and beneath it lay a mountain of gifts. The room smelled of pine and something sweet—probably whatever Mrs. Weasley had baking in the kitchen.
Ron and Pansy were curled up together on the couch, both wearing matching knitted jumpers that were unmistakably Mrs. Weasley’s handiwork. Ginny was already ripping into a present, and Fred and George were whispering about whatever prank they had planned for later in the day.
“Finally!” Fred called out when he spotted Evelyn and Harry. “Thought you two were going to sleep through Christmas!”
“We might have, if you didn’t make us fear for our lives,” Harry shot back, flopping onto the couch next to Evelyn.
Mrs. Weasley bustled in, beaming. “Happy Christmas, dears!”
Presents were passed around, laughter filling the room as wrapping paper was torn away and excited exclamations rang out. Ginny shrieked when she unwrapped a new broom polish set, while Ron gaped at the massive box of Honeydukes chocolates from Pansy.
Evelyn received an assortment of gifts—a beautiful enchanted locket from Pansy that shimmered between silver and emerald, a collection of rare magical books from Hermione, and a Weasley jumper in deep green with her initial embroidered in golden thread.
Then, finally, she got to Harry’s present.
He looked nervous as he handed her a small, neatly wrapped package. “I, uh, wasn’t sure if you’d like it, but…”
Curious, Evelyn carefully peeled away the wrapping, revealing a small, wooden box. She lifted the lid—and gasped.
Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, but what made it special were the tiny, intricately crafted charms dangling from it—each one holding meaning. A small emerald snake for Slytherin. A tiny book. A broomstick. And, at the center, a miniature stag and a doe, side by side.
Evelyn stared at it, her heart clenching. “Harry…”
“I figured you should have something that—y’know, reminded you of everything important,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had it enchanted, too. If you ever need me, just hold onto the stag, and I’ll know.”
For a long moment, Evelyn didn’t know what to say. Then, before she could stop herself, she leaned in and kissed him—right there, in front of everyone.
The room erupted into cheers and groans.
“Oh, come on,” Ron groaned. “Do you have to do that here?”
Fred whistled. “Blimey, Potter, I thought we were keeping things family-friendly today.”
Evelyn ignored them, pulling back just enough to meet Harry’s gaze. “It’s perfect,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
His green eyes softened. “Merry Christmas, Evie.”
Merry Christmas, indeed.
___________
The days following Christmas passed in a blur of warmth and laughter. The Burrow was always a little chaotic, but it felt more like home than Evelyn had ever expected. Even Sirius and Remus, who had arrived for Christmas dinner and decided to stay for a few extra days, had blended seamlessly into the family atmosphere.
Sirius spent most of his time either swapping stories with the Weasley twins—much to Mrs. Weasley’s dismay—or dramatically retelling tales of his rebellious youth to an eager audience. Remus, on the other hand, was quieter but no less present, offering steady warmth in between cups of tea and well-timed quips at Sirius’s expense.
By the time the week was nearly up, Evelyn had almost forgotten about the outside world entirely—until an owl swooped in during breakfast, dropping a crisp letter directly onto her plate.
She blinked. The envelope bore the familiar seal of Slytherin house, and the handwriting on the front was unmistakable.
Evelyn hesitated before breaking the seal, her eyes skimming over the contents.
Evelyn,
I hope your holidays have been well. I need to speak with you as soon as we return to Hogwarts—preferably before the rest of the house catches on. There’s something that requires your attention. Given recent events, I think you’ll know what I’m referring to.
We’ll talk in the common room. One week.
- Pucey
Evelyn’s stomach twisted slightly. She had a feeling she knew exactly what he was talking about.
“Something wrong?” Harry asked, nudging her lightly.
She shook her head, slipping the letter into her pocket. “Nothing urgent. Just something I’ll have to deal with when we’re back.”
Harry studied her for a second, clearly debating whether or not to press for more information, but thankfully, Ron chose that moment to launch into an argument with Fred over who had stolen the last piece of toast. The distraction was enough for Harry to let it go—for now.
Evelyn took a sip of her tea, her mind already working through what this meant. If Pucey was reaching out to her now, before they’d even returned to school, it could only mean one thing.
Slytherin had finally made its choice.
____________
A few days had passed since Christmas, and the Burrow was still buzzing with life. The house was as full and chaotic as ever, but there was a warmth to it that Evelyn had grown fond of. There was always laughter echoing from one room or another, the smell of Mrs. Weasley’s cooking wafting through the house, and the occasional explosion from the twins’ room that no one even bothered questioning anymore.
As much as Evelyn loved the holiday atmosphere, she was beginning to crave a little time alone with Harry. The Burrow was wonderful, but privacy was not its strong suit.
So, when she found Harry sitting at the kitchen table, absently flicking crumbs at Ron while Sirius and the twins debated whether or not fireworks could be set off indoors (“Absolutely not!” Mrs. Weasley had already warned from the stove), Evelyn saw her chance.
She leaned down next to Harry and murmured, “Let’s get out of here.”
Harry glanced up at her, interest sparking in his eyes. “Where?”
“Anywhere that’s not packed with Weasleys,” she said.
He grinned. “Say no more.”
Evelyn straightened and, as casually as possible, grabbed her coat from the hook by the door. Harry followed her lead, stretching as if he were just heading outside for some air.
“Where are you two going?” Pansy asked, lounging on the couch with her legs draped over Ron’s lap.
“Out,” Evelyn answered vaguely.
Ron barely looked up. “Alright, just don’t get hexed or anything.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “You have so much faith in us.”
Pansy, on the other hand, arched a suspicious brow. “You’re not just going for a walk, are you?”
Evelyn smirked. “See you later, Pansy.”
Before she could press further, Evelyn grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him out the door, shutting it firmly behind them.
⸻
They Apparated straight to Diagon Alley, which was quieter now that the Christmas shopping rush had died down. Snow still blanketed the cobblestone streets, and festive lights were still twinkling in the shop windows, but there was a calmness to the air that hadn’t been there before.
“Better?” Harry asked, adjusting his scarf as they started walking.
“Much,” Evelyn sighed, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets. “As much as I love the Burrow, I needed a break.”
Harry chuckled. “I get it. It’s impossible to be alone there. Fred and George have too much energy, and Sirius has basically adopted them at this point.”
“That’s because they encourage all his worst impulses.”
“Which is exactly why they get along,” Harry pointed out.
Evelyn snorted. “Fair enough.”
They wandered down the street, taking their time browsing through shop windows and enjoying the rare peace and quiet. They passed Flourish and Blotts, where enchanted books rearranged themselves on the shelves, and the Magical Menagerie, where a snowy owl was preening itself in the window. Evelyn paused in front of the display at Quality Quidditch Supplies, watching as a sleek, new broom twitched in its stand as if eager to take off.
“You sure you don’t want a new broom?” Harry teased, nudging her.
Evelyn smirked. “I’m sure. You just want me to race you again.”
He grinned. “Maybe.”
They continued walking until they reached a small, tucked-away café at the end of the alley. It was one of Evelyn’s favorite spots—quiet, warm, and filled with the scent of cinnamon and chocolate.
Harry held the door open for her, and they found a cozy table near the window. The café wasn’t crowded, just a handful of other witches and wizards scattered around, chatting over steaming mugs of cocoa.
A house-elf in a neat apron appeared at their table almost immediately. “What can I get for you?”
“Two hot chocolates,” Evelyn said. “And whatever pastry is the best today.”
The elf beamed. “Excellent choice, miss! I’ll bring it right out.”
As soon as they were alone again, Harry leaned back in his chair, a small smile tugging at his lips. “This is nice.”
Evelyn tilted her head. “Spending time with me?”
“Well, obviously,” he said with a smirk. “But also just…being out. No stress, no planning, no worrying about what’s next. Just us.”
She softened, reaching for his hand across the table. “Yeah. We don’t get this often, do we?”
“Not nearly enough,” he murmured, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.
Their drinks arrived a moment later, two steaming mugs of rich hot chocolate and a plate of flaky pastries drizzled with caramel. Evelyn wrapped her hands around her cup, savoring the warmth as she took a sip. Outside, snow was falling again, soft and steady.
For a while, they just sat there, enjoying the moment.
Then, Evelyn smirked. “You do realize that as soon as we get back, Pansy’s going to interrogate us, right?”
Harry groaned. “She does have a habit of doing that.”
“She’s just nosy.”
“She’s worse than Hermione when she wants information.”
Evelyn chuckled. “Yeah, but I love her for it.”
Harry shook his head, clearly amused. “At least Ron keeps her distracted most of the time.”
“Honestly, I never saw that pairing coming.”
“Neither did I,” Harry admitted, taking a sip of his drink. “But I’m kind of glad it happened. It’s nice seeing Ron actually try with someone. And Pansy—well, she’s still Pansy, but she’s softer with him.”
Evelyn hummed in agreement. “It works.”
They stayed in the café for another hour, talking about everything and nothing, until eventually, the warmth made them sleepy and the idea of curling up back at the Burrow started to sound appealing.
Harry paid for their drinks despite Evelyn’s protests, and they stepped back into the cold, their fingers laced together as they wandered toward the Apparition point.
“I like this,” Harry murmured as they walked.
Evelyn glanced up at him. “Like what?”
He gave her a lopsided smile. “Just us. No distractions. No pressure. Just…” He squeezed her hand. “Being together.”
Evelyn felt warmth bloom in her chest, a slow, steady sort of happiness that felt almost too good to be true.
She leaned into his side, smiling softly. “Yeah. Me too.”
As they disappeared with a crack, the snow continued to fall, leaving only their footprints behind.
_____________
The Burrow was always lively, filled with the sounds of laughter, conversation, and the occasional magical mishap. However, there was one place in the house that even the most fearless Weasleys hesitated to enter—the room belonging to Fred and George Weasley. No one, not even Mrs. Weasley, dared to barge in unannounced, given the twins’ ever-growing collection of experimental joke products that could leave an unsuspecting intruder hexed, jinxed, or covered in an unfortunate shade of purple for days.
Which made it the perfect location for a secret meeting.
Evelyn sat cross-legged on Fred’s bed, running her fingers along the smooth surface of a charmed parchment. Harry was beside her, his brow furrowed as he looked over the plans they’d been discussing for weeks. Pansy and Ron sat together near the window, Hermione was perched on George’s desk chair, and the twins lounged against their dresser, arms crossed, their usual grins absent for once.
“We all know why we’re here,” Evelyn started, setting the parchment down. “We’ve been discussing this for a while, but now that the holidays are almost over, we need to finalize our plan.”
Fred leaned forward. “We’re really doing this, then?”
Evelyn nodded. “Yes. Nagini is crucial to Voldemort. If we get her, we weaken him. But this has to be perfect—no mistakes, no risks we can’t control.”
Harry ran a hand through his hair. “We know she’s always near him, which makes this damn near impossible.”
Ron frowned. “How do we even get close? He’s not exactly strolling through Diagon Alley with her.”
“That’s why we need bait,” Hermione interjected, her voice calm but serious. “Something he can’t ignore.”
Pansy glanced at Evelyn. “You’re thinking of using yourself as bait, aren’t you?”
Evelyn exhaled. “Yes.”
Harry’s jaw tightened. “No.”
She turned to him. “Harry—”
“No,” he repeated firmly. “You’ve risked yourself enough. We all have. There has to be another way.”
Hermione cleared her throat. “Actually, I think Evelyn’s right.”
Harry gaped at her. “What?”
“Think about it,” Hermione continued. “Voldemort is obsessed with control. With power. And Evelyn is a wildcard in his world. He’s got to have noticed what Evelyn is changing. If he thinks he can capture her—maybe even turn her—he will take the bait.”
Pansy looked uneasy. “And what? You just waltz up to his front door and hope he lets the snake out for a walk?”
Evelyn smirked. “Not exactly. We set the location. Somewhere neutral. Somewhere he won’t suspect a trap.”
Fred and George exchanged a glance. “The abandoned manor outside Hogsmeade?” George suggested. “It’s secluded, untraceable, and no one’s lived there for decades.”
Ron nodded slowly. “If we make it look like Evelyn’s seeking him out, he might bring Nagini to her.”
“And that’s when we strike,” Harry muttered, clearly unhappy but understanding the logic.
Evelyn reached for his hand. “I’ll be protected. We’ll have backup. I’m not doing this alone.”
He squeezed her fingers, jaw tight, but nodded.
Fred clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s get into the details. How do we pull this off without ending up dead?”
The next hour was spent refining every aspect of the plan. Hermione, quill in hand, took careful notes, and by the end of the meeting, a detailed strategy was finalized. Letters containing the plan were written out and prepared for their allies—Draco, Theo, Blaise, Evan, Daphne, Luna, Neville, Sirius, and Snape.
When they were finally finished, George stretched. “Right, then. We just planned a heist on Voldemort’s pet snake. Bloody brilliant.”
Fred grinned. “Best way to end the holidays, I’d say.”
Evelyn chuckled, but her mind was already focused on what came next.
____________
Draco stood in front of the Dark Lord, his pulse hammering in his throat. The room was dimly lit, torches casting eerie shadows against the damp stone walls. Theo stood beside him, his expression carefully schooled into neutrality, but Draco knew his friend well enough to see the tension in his shoulders.
Lord Voldemort sat in an ornate chair, fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest. His crimson eyes bore into them, unblinking. “You have had ample time to begin your task,” he said, voice silky and laced with venom. “Tell me, young Malfoy, young Nott—how progresses your mission?”
Draco swallowed. “My Lord, we have been laying the groundwork. Dumbledore remains unaware of our intentions, and we have ensured that no suspicion has fallen upon us.”
The Dark Lord’s gaze flickered to Theo. “And you, Nott? Have you proven yourself useful, or are you merely a shadow?”
Theo kept his voice even. “I have been working closely with Draco to ensure we remain unnoticed. We cannot act recklessly, my Lord. We must wait for the opportune moment.”
Voldemort leaned forward slightly, his presence suffocating. “You are stalling.”
Draco forced himself to meet the Dark Lord’s eyes. “No, my Lord. We are ensuring success. If we act too soon, we risk failure. Dumbledore is not a fool.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Draco could feel the weight of Voldemort’s mind pressing against his own, searching for any trace of deception. He focused every ounce of his will on pushing back, on maintaining the lie that had been carefully crafted.
Finally, Voldemort leaned back. “Very well. But know this—I do not tolerate incompetence. The time for action draws near. Do not disappoint me.”
Draco and Theo bowed deeply. “Yes, my Lord.”
They did not breathe easily until they were back outside the manor’s gates, the cool night air sharp against their skin.
Theo let out a shaky exhale. “That was close.”
Draco nodded, his hands clenched into fists. “Too close.”
They had survived this encounter, but they both knew the truth—time was running out.
Chapter 70: A Happy New Year — 1997
Chapter Text
Evelyn stretched her arms over her head as she surveyed her apartment. It was compact but cozy, the walls lined with shelves filled with books, potions ingredients, and a few enchanted trinkets she had collected over the years. The space was perfect for her daily life—but not for hosting a party with nearly twenty people.
Harry, standing beside her, glanced around and gave her a lopsided grin. “You know, it’s a good thing you can magically expand this place, or we’d all be celebrating New Year’s stacked on top of each other.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes but smirked. “I wouldn’t mind you being that close,” she teased, stepping past him to retrieve her wand from the kitchen counter. “But I think our friends might have some complaints.”
With a flick of her wand, the walls began to shift, stretching outward as the room expanded. The tiny kitchen merged seamlessly with the living area, growing into an open space large enough to accommodate the number of guests expected. The ceiling lifted, giving the apartment an airy feel, and additional seating appeared—plush armchairs, a long, cushioned bench along one wall, and a wide sofa perfect for lounging.
Harry let out a low whistle. “Every time you do that, it still amazes me.”
Evelyn grinned. “You should see what I can do when I actually try.”
He shook his head fondly before rolling up his sleeves. “Alright, what’s next? Need me to summon decorations? Set up the food?”
Evelyn tapped her chin. “Decorations first.”
With a wave of Harry’s wand, golden and silver streamers unraveled from the ceiling, twinkling like fairy lights. Banners appeared along the walls, shifting between phrases like Happy New Year! and Welcome, 1997! in bold, elegant script. A few enchanted lanterns floated around the room, casting a warm glow.
Evelyn nodded approvingly. “Not bad, Potter.”
“I aim to impress,” he said smugly.
She pointed at the empty space in the corner. “Now, we need music.”
Harry flicked his wand, and a wireless wizarding radio appeared, playing soft, cheerful tunes that filled the room. Evelyn grinned as she twirled in place. “Perfect.”
They spent the next hour setting up refreshments—trays of snacks, bottles of butterbeer, and a few stronger drinks for the adults. A self-replenishing bowl of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans sat on the coffee table, along with plates of homemade pastries Evelyn had baked earlier in the day.
Harry grabbed a chocolate frog from one of the plates and popped it into his mouth. “Do you think Sirius and Remus will survive this party without causing trouble?”
Evelyn snorted. “Doubtful. But I’d be disappointed if they didn’t at least try.”
Just as she said it, there was a loud crack! from behind them, and both spun around, wands at the ready.
Sirius Black stood in the doorway, grinning. “Did I hear someone say my name?”
Evelyn shook her head. “You’re early.”
He shrugged. “Wanted to check out the setup before the mayhem begins.”
Harry smirked. “And make sure we had enough drinks?”
Sirius grinned. “You know me too well.”
As Sirius wandered around the expanded space, nodding approvingly, Evelyn turned to Harry. “Well, I think we’re officially ready.”
Harry wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Then let’s make this a night to remember.”
As the sun set and the evening deepened, the apartment filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter. Guests arrived gradually, stepping through the floo in small groups or apparating directly into the designated entryway. The first to arrive were Pansy and Ron, hand in hand, both wrapped in thick winter cloaks.
Pansy gave Evelyn an approving once-over before glancing around the apartment. “You really know how to throw things together last minute, McCrae.”
Evelyn smirked. “Well, when you have magic, last minute isn’t really a problem, is it?”
Ron had already made a beeline for the refreshment table, grabbing a butterbeer. “This place looks amazing,” he said between gulps.
Before anyone could respond, the floo flared up again, and out stumbled Fred and George, both wearing identical mischievous grins.
Fred slung an arm around Evelyn’s shoulders. “Ah, our brilliant hostess! A round of applause for making this happen.”
George nodded solemnly. “We’ll make sure to make full use of the expanded space.”
“That means no pranks,” Harry warned, shooting them a look.
Fred gasped in mock horror. “Harry, my dear friend, we would never—”
George clutched his chest. “—dream of ruining a perfectly lovely evening.”
Evelyn raised a skeptical brow. “That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”
Before the twins could retort, the floo flared again, and more guests stepped through—Theo, Draco, Blaise, and Evan, followed closely by Daphne, Neville, Hermione and Luna.
Draco brushed soot off his robes, muttering under his breath, while Theo smirked. “Nice place, Evelyn. Feels… homier than I expected.”
“Probably because it’s not a dungeon like our common room,” Blaise added dryly, grabbing himself a drink.
The last to arrive were Remus and Tonks, the latter practically bouncing with excitement. “Merlin, I needed this,” Tonks declared as she flopped onto the couch. “Been a long couple of weeks.”
Evelyn grinned. “Well, you’re in the right place, then.”
Sirius clapped his hands together, standing in the middle of the room. “Alright, now that we’re all here, let’s get this party started!”
The music turned up slightly, drinks were passed around, and the night truly began.
⸻
The atmosphere in the apartment was warm and lively. Conversations flowed easily between groups, and for the first time in a long while, everyone seemed relaxed.
At one point, Evelyn found herself leaning against the kitchen counter, a glass of firewhisky in hand as she observed her friends. Pansy and Ron were curled up together on the couch, heads close as they murmured to each other. Hermione was deep in discussion with Daphne, both looking animated as they talked about their latest readings.
Sirius and Remus sat in a corner, Sirius laughing loudly at something Tonks had said, while Harry was deep in conversation with Theo and Draco. Seeing them talk so casually still felt strange sometimes, but Evelyn had to admit, it was nice.
Blaise sidled up next to her, sipping his drink. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”
Evelyn raised a brow. “What is?”
He gestured toward the room. “All of us. Different houses, different backgrounds. This time two years ago, most of us barely tolerated each other. Now, we’re celebrating the new year together.”
She smiled slightly. “We’ve come a long way.”
Blaise clinked his glass against hers. “That we have.”
As the night progressed, the group played a few rounds of card games—Snap, Wizard’s Poker, and even a round of Exploding Snap that ended with Draco’s sleeve catching fire (to everyone’s great amusement).
It was nearly midnight when Evelyn pulled Harry aside. They stood near the window, looking out at the snow-covered streets below.
Harry smiled softly. “It’s been a hell of a year.”
Evelyn nodded. “Yeah. But I think next year’s going to be even bigger.”
He chuckled. “You’re probably right.”
The countdown began, voices filling the room.
“Ten… Nine… Eight…”
Harry turned to her, taking her hand. “Happy New Year, Evelyn.”
She grinned. “Happy New Year, Harry.”
As the room erupted in cheers and fireworks lit up the sky outside, Harry leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss.
This year was going to be one to remember.
______________
The apartment was a mess. Empty bottles, abandoned glasses, and scattered remnants of party decorations littered the expanded living room. A few people were still sprawled out in various places—Ron and Pansy were asleep on the couch, tangled together under a blanket, while Theo had passed out in one of the armchairs, his head tilted at an uncomfortable angle.
Evelyn groaned as she stretched, rolling onto her side in bed. Beside her, Harry was still asleep, his face buried in the pillow. She watched him for a moment before slipping out of bed, throwing on a jumper over her pajamas as she padded out of the room.
Sirius was already up, sitting at the kitchen counter nursing a cup of coffee. His hair was a mess, and he looked vaguely amused as Evelyn walked in.
“Morning, kid,” he greeted. “How’s your head?”
“Not too bad,” Evelyn muttered, grabbing herself a coffee.
Sirius chuckled. “You lot actually managed to keep things under control. I’m impressed.”
Evelyn smirked. “Give us some credit, Sirius.”
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. Instead, he gestured toward the disaster in the living room. “You planning on leaving it like this, or…?”
Evelyn sighed, taking a long sip of coffee. “I’ll clean it up in a bit. I want to enjoy the quiet before everyone wakes up.”
The quiet didn’t last long. One by one, the others started to wake, groaning and grumbling as they shuffled into the kitchen. Pansy was the first to complain about a headache, which prompted Fred and George—who looked suspiciously unaffected by the previous night—to loudly offer their homemade ‘Hangover Cure.’
“No thanks,” Theo grumbled. “I’m not letting you experiment on me first thing in the morning.”
Fred grinned. “Your loss.”
Breakfast was a slow, lazy affair, with everyone eventually helping to clean up the apartment before preparing to leave. They only had a couple of days left before they needed to return to Hogwarts, and most of them were heading back to their own homes first.
As Evelyn leaned against the counter, sipping the last of her coffee, she caught Harry’s eye from across the room. He smiled at her, and despite the lingering exhaustion, warmth spread through her chest.
____________
The return to Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays always felt like stepping into another world. The Burrow had been warm, chaotic, and filled with laughter, but as Evelyn stepped through the castle doors once more, a familiar tension settled into her bones. Hogwarts was home in its own way, but it was also the center of a war they were all fighting, and the second term promised no respite from it.
She glanced around as students filtered in, wrapped in scarves and shaking off the last remnants of holiday ease. The Slytherins walked in their usual tight-knit groups, though Evelyn caught more than a few lingering glances her way. Word had spread quickly that Adrian Pucey wanted to meet with her, and she knew that the internal politics of Slytherin would be pressing down on her soon enough.
But that was the least of her concerns at the moment.
She sat beside Harry at the Slytherin table for the welcome-back feast, something that would have been unthinkable in their earlier years. Pansy sat across from her, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers as she murmured, “So? Did he write back?”
Evelyn nodded, pulling a folded piece of parchment from her pocket and handing it under the table to Pansy. Across from them, Blaise and Theo leaned in, their casual expressions barely hiding their intrigue.
Pansy unfolded the letter carefully, reading it in the dim candlelight of the Great Hall. Her lips pressed into a tight line as she scanned the words.
Evelyn,
I am pleased to see your interest in furthering our cause.
I will be in the Shrieking Shack on January 12th at 7 PM.
Do not be late.
- Lord Voldemort
Theo exhaled sharply. “He’s actually giving you a location and a time. That’s… bold.”
Blaise frowned. “He must not suspect anything. Or he’s confident enough that he doesn’t care.”
Evelyn took the letter back, folding it carefully before slipping it into her robe pocket. “Either way, we have four days to finalize everything.”
Pansy tapped her nails against the wooden table. “We need to go over the plan one more time. Tonight.”
Harry, who had been listening silently, finally spoke. “Room of Requirement. After dinner.”
Evelyn nodded in agreement. “We need everyone on the same page.”
They ate quickly after that, the air between them tense with anticipation. The night ahead would be filled with planning, but this was it. In four days, they would be face-to-face with the Dark Lord.
And they had to win.
Later that night, the Room of Requirement shaped itself into something both familiar and tactical. Maps were stretched across a long wooden table, enchanted candles floated overhead, and a large chalkboard had been conjured, filled with notes detailing their plan.
Evelyn stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, as the group gathered around. The tension was palpable—this wasn’t a theoretical discussion anymore. In four days, they would be luring Nagini away from Voldemort himself.
Harry leaned forward, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table. “Alright. Let’s go over everything one last time.”
Pansy nodded and pulled out her wand, tapping the map of Hogsmeade. “We know that the Shrieking Shack is his chosen meeting spot. That’s in our favor—it’s isolated, meaning fewer chances of interference.”
“But also fewer chances of escape,” Blaise pointed out.
Evan smirked. “Escape isn’t the goal. We’re taking Nagini, not running.”
Draco folded his arms. “And how, exactly, do we separate her from him? He doesn’t let her out of his sight.”
Theo took over, his voice steady. “Evelyn and Pansy will be the ones drawing Nagini away. Since Evelyn wrote the letter, she’ll be the one Voldemort is expecting. We need him to think this is a meeting, not an ambush. That’s why we’re not bringing the entire group in at once.”
Harry nodded. “Once Nagini is far enough away, we attack.”
Evelyn pulled out a second parchment, enchanted to reveal the timeline they had drafted.
“Here’s how it happens, Pansy and I arrive first, and we go inside alone. Voldemort will want to test my loyalty. He may ask questions, use Legilimency. I’m ready for that. The moment he lets his guard down, I signal to Pansy. She distracts him. That’s when I take Nagini.
By then, the rest of you will be in place. Harry, you and Ron will be positioned at the back entrance. Draco, Theo, and Blaise will be waiting outside for reinforcement. Hermione and Evan will be providing cover from a distance. Once I have Nagini, we get out—fast.”
Harry’s jaw clenched. “We should expect a fight.”
“We should expect him ,” Draco muttered. “And he won’t be pleased.”
A long silence followed. Everyone knew what was at stake. Voldemort was no ordinary opponent—he was the most dangerous wizard alive.
But Evelyn met Harry’s gaze and spoke firmly. “We can do this.”
Harry exhaled and nodded. “Yeah. We can.”
Chapter 71: Nagini
Chapter Text
January 12th arrived in a cold, biting haze. The air was thick with the tension of what was about to unfold, every member of the gang acutely aware that by night’s end, they would have either succeeded in dealing a crippling blow to Voldemort—or they would be dead.
Evelyn stood in front of the mirror in her dormitory, dressed in dark robes. She took slow, even breaths, focusing on steadying herself. Pansy was seated on her bed, similarly dressed, though her fingers were twisting the hem of her sleeve in an uncharacteristic show of nerves.
“We’ll be fine,” Evelyn said, turning to her.
Pansy let out a short laugh. “Easy for you to say. You’re the Dark Lord’s newest fascination.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Hardly. He’s testing me. But that’s why this plan will work—he doesn’t suspect a thing.”
Pansy stood, smoothing out her robes before giving Evelyn a firm nod. “Then let’s go.”
They left the common room quietly, slipping into the shadows of the castle. The others would be meeting them outside the Shrieking Shack, hidden in the darkness, waiting for the right moment to strike.
As they reached the Hogwarts gates, Evelyn felt a presence beside her. Harry.
He didn’t say anything—he just reached out, took her hand, and gave it a firm squeeze. A silent promise.
Then he let go, disappearing into the night with Ron to take their positions.
Evelyn and Pansy made their way to Hogsmeade, their footsteps muffled by the fresh snow. The village was quiet, the only sign of life being the dim flickering of candles in the shop windows. The Shrieking Shack loomed in the distance, its warped wooden exterior casting eerie shadows against the snow-covered ground.
Evelyn swallowed hard, then pushed the door open.
The room was dark, lit only by the pale glow of the moon filtering through the broken windows. The air was thick, charged with an unsettling energy that sent every instinct in her body screaming to run.
And then, he was there.
Lord Voldemort stood in the center of the room, his skeletal frame draped in flowing black robes, red eyes gleaming in the dim light. And at his feet, coiled and watchful, was Nagini.
Evelyn stepped forward, keeping her expression carefully neutral. “My Lord,” she said, bowing slightly.
Voldemort tilted his head, his lips curling into something that was almost a smile. “Evelyn McCrae. How very bold of you to summon me.”
His voice was like silk wrapped around steel—dangerous, calculated. Evelyn forced herself to hold his gaze. “You said you were pleased by my interest. I assumed you would want to meet in person.”
Voldemort chuckled, a cold, hollow sound. “Indeed. But tell me… what is it you truly seek?”
Evelyn felt his presence press against her mind, subtle at first, then stronger. Legilimency. She had been prepared for this.
She let him in, but only as much as she wanted. She let him see what she wanted him to see —her time at Hogwarts, her frustrations with Dumbledore, her desire to prove herself. She wove a convincing story, one that would satisfy his curiosity without giving him a reason to doubt her.
Voldemort’s eyes narrowed slightly, then he smiled. “You are… interesting .”
Evelyn forced a smirk. “I try.”
Pansy shifted beside her, clearing her throat. “My Lord, we wished to speak about—”
But that was the moment Evelyn chose to move.
With lightning speed, she flicked her wand, sending a nonverbal spell at Nagini. The massive snake hissed in surprise as she was suddenly yanked from the floor, suspended in mid-air by invisible bindings.
Voldemort’s expression twisted in rage. “ You dare?! ”
Evelyn didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the enchanted rope Pansy had been holding and looped it around Nagini, tightening it with a sharp pull.
Pansy spun, her wand already raised as she blasted the door open. “NOW!”
Harry and Ron burst into the room, wands drawn. Spells flew through the air in rapid succession. Voldemort deflected them with ease, his face contorted in fury.
“ Fools! ” he spat, sending a jet of green light toward Ron.
Ron barely dodged, rolling to the side as the Killing Curse shattered the wooden wall behind him. Splinters flew through the air, but he was already back on his feet, firing a Stupefy at Voldemort. The Dark Lord swiped his wand through the air, deflecting the spell effortlessly.
Evelyn tightened her grip on the enchanted rope wrapped around Nagini. The massive snake was thrashing wildly, her hissing filling the room, but the bindings held firm.
“Harry! Now!” Evelyn shouted.
Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He lunged forward, his wand aimed directly at Voldemort’s chest. “ Expelliarmus! ”
The force of the spell was so powerful that Voldemort staggered back a step. His grip on his wand tightened, and his red eyes flashed with fury. “You dare challenge me ?!”
With a flick of his wrist, he sent a wave of dark magic surging toward Harry. Harry barely managed to throw up a Shield Charm in time, but the sheer power behind Voldemort’s attack sent him skidding backward.
“Pansy, go!” Evelyn shouted, shoving the end of Nagini’s bindings into her hands.
Pansy didn’t hesitate. She sprinted toward the door, dragging the massive, thrashing snake behind her. Ron covered her retreat, sending stunning spells at Voldemort to keep him distracted.
But Voldemort was done playing games. He turned, his wand raised—
“ Avada Kedavra! ”
The curse shot toward Pansy in a streak of blinding green light.
“NO!” Evelyn threw herself between them, her wand flashing as she conjured a massive barrier of pure force. The Killing Curse collided with it, shattering the shield into fragments of golden light, but it held.
Pansy stumbled but kept running, dragging Nagini out the door. The second she was clear, she activated the Portkey in her pocket, and in an instant, she and the snake were gone.
Evelyn turned back to Voldemort just in time to see him advancing on her, his eyes burning with rage.
“You insolent girl, ” he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. “You think you can defy me and live?”
Evelyn lifted her chin. “I think we just did.”
Voldemort let out a roar of fury, his wand slashing through the air. Dark tendrils of magic lashed toward Evelyn, but before they could reach her, Harry was there.
“ Protego Maxima! ”
The shield he conjured was so strong it sent shockwaves through the room. Voldemort’s spell rebounded, striking the ceiling and causing part of it to collapse.
“Harry, go!” Evelyn shouted. “We got what we came for!”
But Harry didn’t move. His emerald eyes were locked onto Voldemort’s, his jaw set. “Not yet.”
Voldemort tilted his head, amused despite his rage. “So eager to die, Potter?”
Harry smirked. “Funny, I was about to say the same to you.”
And then he attacked.
Harry moved faster than Evelyn had ever seen before. He wasn’t just casting spells—he was dueling. He sent a rapid barrage of hexes and jinxes flying at Voldemort, barely giving him time to block. The Dark Lord countered with his own magic, but Harry dodged each curse with precise footwork, forcing Voldemort to take a step back.
Ron jumped in to help, throwing a Blasting Curse at Voldemort’s feet. The explosion rocked the ground, sending debris flying. Voldemort snarled, raising his wand—
And that was when Evelyn struck.
She whipped her wand in a tight arc. “ Confringo! ”
The curse exploded against Voldemort’s side, sending him crashing against the far wall. He let out a furious snarl, his robes smoldering.
For the first time, Evelyn saw something in his expression she had never seen before.
Pain.
Harry lunged forward, his wand raised for another attack—
But Voldemort vanished.
One second he was there, and the next, he was gone, Disapparating with a sharp crack.
The sudden silence was deafening.
Evelyn stood there, chest heaving, heart hammering against her ribs. Her mind raced. He was gone .
Harry turned to her, his own breath coming fast. “We did it.”
Ron let out a disbelieving laugh. “Bloody hell, we did.”
Evelyn nodded, swallowing hard. “Let’s go.”
The three of them rushed outside, and the second they were clear of the Shrieking Shack, they activated their own Portkeys, disappearing into the night.
They had done it.
Nagini was theirs.
____________
The Portkey deposited Evelyn, Harry, and Ron directly into Evelyn’s apartment, located within the magically expanded trunk she kept inside her Hogwarts dorm. The moment they landed, Pansy was already there, crouched near Nagini’s bound form. The massive snake hissed furiously, her dark eyes burning with rage, but the enchanted ropes remained tight around her thick body.
“You’re back,” Pansy breathed, relief flooding her features as she looked up at them. “How did it go?”
Ron let out a breathless chuckle as he collapsed onto Evelyn’s couch. “Voldemort was livid. He dueled Harry before we left.”
Pansy’s eyes widened, flicking toward Harry in alarm. “Are you okay?”
Harry nodded, running a hand through his messy hair. “He was angry , but we got away. And we have her.” He looked at Nagini, his expression grim.
Evelyn took a step closer, surveying the snake. “We’ll keep her here for now,” she decided. “It’s the safest place. No one can get into this apartment unless I allow it.”
Blaise, Theo, Draco, Evan, and Daphne had been waiting in Evelyn’s apartment for their return. Now, they stepped forward, each of them watching Nagini with wary expressions.
“Bloody terrifying thing, isn’t she?” Blaise muttered, eyeing the massive snake. “She’s not going to get out, is she?”
Evelyn shook her head. “Not unless we let her.” She turned back to the group, her mind already working through the next steps. “We need to keep this quiet. No one else can know we have her.”
Theo exhaled sharply. “The Dark Lord is going to lose it when he realizes she’s missing.”
Evelyn nodded. “He already has. But he won’t know where to look. As far as he’s concerned, we could have taken her anywhere. ”
Draco crossed his arms, his face set in a deep frown. “How long are we keeping her here?”
“Not long,” Evelyn answered. “One week at most. Then we take her to the Room of Requirement and finish this.”
Harry met her gaze, his expression determined. “Together.”
Evelyn gave him a small nod. “Together.”
⸻
Hiding Nagini inside Evelyn’s apartment was more stressful than any of them had anticipated. Though the enchanted bindings kept her restrained, the snake never stopped hissing and writhing. At night, her low, eerie noises filled the apartment, sending chills down their spines.
Evelyn had placed additional silencing charms around the trunk to ensure no one outside of it could hear the noises, but even so, it was nerve-wracking.
Classes resumed as normal, and the gang forced themselves to act as if nothing had changed.
In Potions, Evelyn worked with Evan, stirring a Strengthening Solution while glancing at the other side of the room, where Harry and Draco were paired together.
“Think he suspects anything?” Evan murmured, following her gaze to Snape.
Evelyn shook her head. “No. But we need to be careful. He and Voldemort are both going to be on edge.”
“Then we better make sure they don’t have a reason to look our way.” Evan smirked, dropping an extra ingredient into their cauldron. “Speaking of people looking our way—Pucey wants to meet with you, doesn’t he?”
Evelyn exhaled sharply. “Yeah. He wrote to me over the holidays. He wants to talk about me taking over as Queen of Slytherin.”
Evan grinned. “Well, if anyone deserves the title, it’s you.”
Evelyn smirked. “We’ll see.”
The rest of the week passed in a blur of tense classes, whispered conversations in the common rooms, and careful monitoring of Nagini.
Then, finally, the night came.
⸻
Evelyn and Pansy stood in the Room of Requirement, the enchanted trunk open before them. Inside, Nagini hissed violently, sensing what was coming.
Pansy held the Basilisk fang tightly in her hand, her knuckles white.
“She knows,” Pansy murmured.
Evelyn nodded. “Good.”
With a flick of her wand, she levitated Nagini out of the trunk. The bindings kept her coiled tightly, but the snake thrashed violently, baring her fangs.
Evelyn stepped forward, her eyes locked onto the serpent. “This is for every life you helped take,” she said quietly.
Then, she turned to Pansy. “Do it.”
Pansy didn’t hesitate. She drove the Basilisk fang into Nagini’s skull.
The snake let out a final, bloodcurdling screech before falling limp. A pulse of dark magic rippled through the air, making the room tremble as the Horcrux inside the snake died.
It was over.
Pansy let out a shaky breath. “It’s done.”
Evelyn nodded. But they weren’t finished yet.
She pulled a small envelope from her pocket and tucked it into the coils of Nagini’s corpse. Then, she activated the Portkey they had prepared.
The snake’s body vanished in a blur of magic.
Their message had been sent.
⸻
Lord Voldemort sat upon his throne in the dark chamber, his crimson eyes staring at the flickering fire. His mind was clouded with rage, his fury barely restrained as he contemplated his stolen familiar.
Then, without warning, a pulse of magic rippled through his body. A deep, wrenching pain twisted inside him.
Something was wrong.
His eyes snapped to the center of the room—just as a Portkey activated. Nagini’s lifeless body dropped onto the stone floor with a sickening thud.
Voldemort’s breath caught. He stared, frozen in disbelief.
His snake.
His last Horcrux.
Gone.
His shaking hands reached forward, brushing over her cold scales. He could feel it—feel the absence of her connection to his soul. A part of him was missing.
His fury boiled over.
The chamber walls shook as his magic lashed out in violent waves, cracking the stone.
His red eyes locked onto the small envelope attached to Nagini’s body.
With a flick of his wand, the letter unfolded.
Inside, written in precise, taunting script, were two simple words.
Checkmate Bitch.
____________
The Slytherin common room was as cold and dark as ever, the dimly flickering fire casting long shadows across the stone walls. Despite the fire’s warmth, Evelyn couldn’t help but feel the weight of the chill that had settled within her, a gnawing tension that had been building for weeks.
There was too much happening at once, too many shifting alliances, and an entire house holding its breath for what would come next. Tonight, however, the silence was broken only by the faint crackle of the fire and the occasional murmur from students at the tables, finishing their homework or speaking in low tones.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The figure standing at the entrance to the common room, framed by the flickering light of the fire, was Adrian Pucey. Sixth year. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a presence that commanded attention the moment he stepped into a room. Adrian had always been one of the untouchables, someone who seemed to glide through the hierarchy of Slytherin without ever breaking a sweat. Until now.
He met her eyes across the room, his expression unreadable, but there was something there—something she hadn’t seen in him before.
“You’re still up?” he said, his voice low but purposeful as he made his way toward her.
Evelyn didn’t bother to look up from the book she was pretending to read. “I could say the same about you, Pucey. Late night patrol?”
“Something like that,” he said, his lips curling slightly into an amused smirk. He stopped just in front of her, leaning against the arm of the chair as though he owned the space. “We need to talk.”
The words hung in the air like a challenge. Evelyn knew what this was about; she had known it would come sooner or later. After all, when you were as closely tied to Slytherin’s power structure as she had become, these conversations weren’t so much a choice as they were inevitable.
She set the book down with a soft thud and looked up at him, her eyes sharp and calculating. “Go on then, what’s this about?”
Adrian’s gaze flickered to the others in the room before he stepped closer, his voice dropping even lower. “ You know exactly what it’s about. It’s about you. About Slytherin.”
Evelyn tilted her head slightly, waiting for him to elaborate. Adrian Pucey didn’t speak in riddles; he was usually direct—too direct, in fact, for his own good. So, when he paused, she raised an eyebrow, silently urging him to continue.
“You’ve been making waves, McCrae,” he finally said. “And the house has noticed. They like you more than they like me.”
Evelyn leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs as she gave him a long, deliberate look. “I thought I was just doing my homework.”
“You can fool the others with that,” Adrian replied, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “but you’re too sharp to let anyone believe that’s all you’ve been doing.”
Evelyn felt a flicker of something—excitement, maybe? She had always known she was more than just another student in Slytherin, but hearing it from Adrian, someone with more pull than most, made it feel real.
“So, what exactly is it that the house has noticed?” she asked, playing it cool.
Adrian’s expression grew more serious, the smile fading. “You’re not like the rest of us, McCrae. You’ve got something they can’t ignore. The seventh years, they see it too. You’ve got the connections, the influence… and the brains. You’ve been playing your cards well. You’re not the typical sixth-year; you’re one of the only ones with the ambition to—”
“To what?” Evelyn interrupted, her voice tinged with curiosity, though she already knew the answer.
“To take the throne.”
The words landed between them like a heavy stone. Evelyn’s heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t let it show. “The throne, huh? That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
Adrian smiled, though it wasn’t a soft smile—it was a smile of someone who had already considered the ramifications of his words. “You know what I mean. You could be Queen of Slytherin, if you wanted to be. You know that I’m happy to relinquish the throne. We both know it.”
Evelyn met his gaze, studying him for a moment before responding. “I’m not exactly what you’d call ‘popular’ with the older students. Not the ones who matter, anyway.”
“Not yet,” Adrian replied, voice steady. “But you will be. You’ve got a way of making things happen, McCrae. And people respect that. Or they will, when the time’s right.”
The challenge in his tone was unmistakable. Adrian wasn’t just suggesting it; he was pushing her toward it, offering her a chance to claim the title that most could only dream of.
Evelyn exhaled slowly, considering the offer. Power. Respect. Control over the most influential house at Hogwarts. It was everything she’d ever wanted—and it was right there in front of her.
“You’re serious about this,” she finally said, her voice low.
“Dead serious,” Adrian replied, a flicker of something calculating in his eyes. “We can crown you in a week. That gives you time to build your court. Gather the right people. The seventh years will fall in line. They always do. We just need to make sure they see it your way first.”
Evelyn’s mind raced. A court. She would need to choose her allies carefully—those who could help her climb to the top and maintain her hold there. Evan, Theo, Blaise, Pansy. They were all important. But it was more than just alliances; she would have to prove herself.
“If I take the crown… we’re doing it right. No half-measures.”
Adrian’s eyes gleamed with approval. “That’s what I like to hear. We’re in this together, McCrae.”
Evelyn met his gaze, the weight of what they were about to do settling on her shoulders. But in that moment, she knew there was no turning back.
Chapter 72: Let’s Groove
Chapter Text
Voldemort was growing restless. The war was coming.
And now, Adrian Pucey had come to her with an offer—one that, a year ago, she never would have considered.
“Evelyn.”
She glanced up to find Adrian standing a few feet away, watching her with that same unreadable expression he always wore.
“Do you have a moment?”
She hesitated, glancing at Pansy, who raised a curious eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Then she nodded, pushing herself up from the sofa and following Adrian toward a quieter corner of the common room.
He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, studying her carefully before he spoke.
“So,” he said. “Have you thought about it?”
Evelyn exhaled slowly, folding her arms as well. “Yes.”
Adrian didn’t rush her, simply waiting, letting her take her time.
And maybe that was why she finally admitted it aloud.
“I want it.”
She expected the words to feel heavier, but instead, they settled inside her with a strange sense of certainty.
Adrian nodded, as if he had already known her answer. “Then it’s yours.”
It was that simple.
Evelyn let out a breath of laughter, shaking her head. “Just like that?”
Adrian smirked. “Just like that. Though, you’ll need to make it official. The court, the recognition—it’s important. You know how Slytherin works.”
She did.
The Slytherin hierarchy was deeply ingrained in the house’s culture. The title of King or Queen wasn’t just a formality—it came with influence, power, and responsibility. It was a position typically reserved for seventh years, but this year had been different. With the war looming and alliances shifting, the structure of the house had begun to change.
And now, Adrian was offering her the chance to shape it.
“I’ll need a week,” she said. “To choose my court.”
Adrian nodded in approval. “That’s fair. Just don’t take too long. Once it’s official, people will look to you.”
She knew that.
And yet, for the first time in a long while, she wasn’t afraid of what came next.
Because she wasn’t just some transfer student anymore.
She was Evelyn McCrae.
⸻
Later that night, long after most of Slytherin House had retreated to their dormitories, Evelyn remained curled up in one of the deep green armchairs by the fire, her thoughts too tangled to allow her rest. The flickering light cast shadows along the stone walls, the emerald glow of the lake outside barely visible through the windows.
She exhaled slowly, rubbing her fingers over the fabric of her sweater, grounding herself. So much had changed since she had first set foot in Hogwarts. It wasn’t just about becoming Queen of Slytherin—though that was significant. It was about how she had carved a place for herself in this world, one that had once been so foreign to her.
Evelyn had arrived at Hogwarts as an outsider, someone who had no history here, no deep family ties. She had been sorted into Slytherin, a house with a history of pureblood dominance, when she herself had come from a completely different existence. And yet, over time, she had made it her own.
She thought of Harry.
Their relationship had changed everything. She had come to Hogwarts wary of him—of what it would mean to get close to someone like him, someone who was already tangled in the fight against Voldemort. And yet, Harry had become the person she trusted most. He had seen her at her lowest, had stood by her even when things became complicated, when their worlds should have pulled them apart.
She had fought for him. She had fought with him.
And now, she was stepping into yet another role, another responsibility. Not just as part of this war, not just as someone Voldemort was watching carefully, but as a leader within Slytherin itself. It was strange—she had spent so much time seeing herself as an outsider, and now she was about to take on one of the most influential positions in the house.
She wasn’t afraid.
But she felt the weight of it.
The weight of everything that had led her here.
The fights, the late-night conversations, the battles, the heartbreaks, the losses. The moments of quiet happiness with Harry, the rare but genuine friendships she had built with people like Pansy and Theo, even Draco. The times when she had felt utterly alone, and the times when she had felt like she finally belonged.
Evelyn sighed, letting her head fall back against the chair.
Everything was changing. And for once, she wasn’t running from it.
⸻
The castle was silent as Evelyn made her way down toward the Black Lake, the cool night air brushing against her skin as she stepped carefully over the frost-covered grass. It was past curfew, but she had long stopped caring about that. No one was going to patrol this far out, not in the dead of winter.
She needed this.
Her thoughts had been too loud ever since she spoke with Adrian. Everything about her life at Hogwarts—her past, her present, her future—had been pressing down on her, and she needed to drown it out.
Slipping out of her cloak, she stepped into the water, the cold biting at her skin immediately. Most people wouldn’t dare swim in the lake at this time of year, but Evelyn had never been like most people. The cold felt good, like a shock to her system, forcing her mind to focus on the present moment rather than the mess of thoughts swirling inside her head.
She waded in deeper until she was fully submerged, floating on her back and staring up at the night sky. The stars were sharp pinpricks of light, scattered across an endless stretch of darkness.
It was quiet.
Until it wasn’t.
A shift in the air. A presence.
Evelyn didn’t startle—she knew this energy too well by now.
She turned her head slightly and saw her.
Lady Magic stood just at the edge of the water, her form more solid than Evelyn had ever seen before. She looked like something out of a dream, her hair flowing unnaturally, as if caught in an invisible current, her robes shifting through colors too fluid to name.
“You’re restless,” Lady Magic observed, her voice carrying across the water despite the soft tone.
Evelyn exhaled, letting herself float again. “That obvious?”
Lady Magic stepped forward, her bare feet meeting the surface of the lake as if it were solid.
“To me? Always.”
There was a beat of silence before Evelyn spoke again, her voice quieter now. “Everything feels… heavy.”
“You have taken on much,” Lady Magic acknowledged, her expression unreadable but not unkind. “More than most would dare to.”
Evelyn didn’t reply. She just kept floating, her body barely making a ripple in the water.
“I have questions,” she admitted after a moment. “About… the other night. When Voldemort tried to kill me.”
Lady Magic tilted her head slightly, her eyes glowing with something unreadable. “You wish to know how your shield stopped a Killing Curse.”
Evelyn turned her head, meeting her gaze. “That shouldn’t have been possible. Even Harry only survived because of his mother’s sacrifice—because of something beyond him. But I… I didn’t have that.”
“You had me,” Lady Magic said simply.
Evelyn blinked.
Lady Magic took another step forward, the surface of the water shifting beneath her feet. “You are my chosen,” she continued. “I willed that curse not to touch you. That is why it failed.”
Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat. “But that means… if you hadn’t intervened, I would have died.”
Lady Magic nodded, her expression unwavering. “Yes.”
The confirmation sent a shiver down Evelyn’s spine, and this time, it wasn’t from the cold water. She had known—of course, she had known—that Voldemort’s Killing Curse should have been the end of her. But hearing it spoken aloud, knowing for certain that it had only been Lady Magic’s will that kept her alive, made it feel all too real.
“I don’t understand,” Evelyn admitted, her voice quieter now. “Why? Why go to such lengths for me?”
Lady Magic stepped closer again, and this time, when she spoke, her voice was softer, almost gentle. “Because you are my child, Evelyn.”
The words sent another shiver through her, but this one felt different.
Lady Magic gazed at her, and Evelyn swore she could see the entire universe reflected in her eyes. “From the moment you first arrived in this world, you have been touched by me. I have guided you, tested you, strengthened you. You are not bound by fate as others are—you shape it. You bend it to your will. And so, when the time came, I would not allow you to be taken from this world before your story was complete.”
Evelyn let out a slow breath, closing her eyes for a moment as she let the words sink in. It was overwhelming in a way she couldn’t quite describe. The weight of it all. The knowledge that her very survival had been an act of divine intervention.
And yet, despite everything, she wasn’t afraid.
When she opened her eyes again, Lady Magic was still watching her, something unreadable in her expression.
“If the war doesn’t start by summer,” Lady Magic continued, “I will grant you whatever you desire for those months. A reprieve. Freedom. Time to live before the storm arrives.”
Evelyn’s heart clenched at that. A reprieve. A chance to breathe, to exist beyond war and strategy and danger, even if only for a little while.
“You promise?” she asked, almost afraid to believe it.
Lady Magic gave her a small, knowing smile. “I do.”
For the first time that night, Evelyn felt something ease within her.
She didn’t know what was coming next. She didn’t know if she was ready for it.
But for now, she floated on the surface of the water, staring up at the endless sky, and allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—there was still time for something more.
____________
The Slytherin common room was unusually lively that evening. The deep green glow from the lake cast long shadows across the dungeon walls, giving the space its familiar eerie ambiance, but the students inside were anything but somber. It was one of those rare nights when the stress of schoolwork, blood politics, and war talk took a backseat to something much simpler: being teenagers.
Evelyn sat cross-legged on the thick emerald carpet near the fireplace, her back resting against the side of the plush sofa where Pansy was sprawled out, lazily flipping through her Ancient Runes textbook. Across from them, Theo and Blaise were playing a slow-moving game of wizard’s chess on the low glass table, neither particularly invested in winning, while Daphne sat on the arm of Evan’s chair, helping him proofread an essay.
The usual buzz of quills scratching against parchment filled the room, mixed with the occasional muttered curse when someone got stuck on a difficult problem. The atmosphere was warm, relaxed—a stark contrast to the tension that had consumed them just a few weeks ago before Christmas break.
Evelyn had been quiet for the past half hour, listening to the soft murmur of her friends’ conversations as she absentmindedly traced patterns on the spine of a book resting on her lap. Her mind, however, was elsewhere.
She had been thinking a lot about what Lady Magic had told her that night at the lake. The war wasn’t inevitable just yet. They still had time.
And if they had time, didn’t that mean they should make the most of it?
Evelyn had never been one to focus on the future too much. Her life had always been unpredictable, shifting course in ways she could never control. But for once, she wanted something to look forward to—something completely separate from war, Voldemort, and the endless games of strategy they had all been playing for months.
Which was why, without much preamble, she finally said, “We should go to Ibiza this summer.”
Silence.
For a moment, nobody reacted. The crackling fireplace filled the void of sound as her words hung in the air, seemingly too out of place in the usual discussions of coursework and politics.
“You want to what?” Pansy asked, turning her head toward Evelyn with a confused but intrigued expression.
“Ibiza,” Evelyn repeated, sitting up straighter. “The island. Off the coast of Spain.”
“We know where Ibiza is, McCrae,” Blaise said dryly, moving his knight on the chessboard without looking. “What we don’t know is why you just randomly brought it up in the middle of Theo absolutely humiliating me in chess.”
“You’re playing yourself, mate,” Theo muttered, examining the board.
Evelyn rolled her eyes, unfazed. “Because I was thinking,” she continued, looking around at all of them now, “that if we don’t end up in a full-scale war by summer, we should do something fun. And reckless. And completely irresponsible. Like a holiday.”
For a moment, there was stillness.
“That’s actually not a terrible idea,” Daphne said, tilting her head in thought.
“Not a terrible idea?” Pansy scoffed, closing her book. “That’s a bloody brilliant idea.”
Theo let out a low whistle. “An entire summer in Ibiza? Do you realize how much trouble we’d get into?”
“That’s the point,” Evelyn said with a grin.
“And,” Evan added, setting his quill down, “how exactly would this work? We’d all need permission, for one.”
Evelyn waved a hand dismissively. “My apartment will be packed away in my trunk, so we’d have a place to stay. No need to rent anywhere. We just need to get there.”
“You’re assuming our parents will allow us to just bugger off to Spain for the summer,” Blaise pointed out, though he looked far too entertained by the idea to actually be against it.
Evelyn smirked. “Who said we’re asking for permission?”
Pansy let out a delighted laugh. “I love it.”
Theo shook his head, grinning. “You are an absolute menace.”
“You love it,” Evelyn shot back.
“Unfortunately.”
The excitement in the room shifted as everyone started to actually consider it, the weight of the war momentarily lifting off their shoulders.
Daphne leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Okay, but who exactly is going?”
“The lot of us,” Evelyn answered without hesitation. “Whoever wants in.”
“We’d need to figure out logistics,” Evan mused. “We can’t just portkey straight into Ibiza. Muggle authorities would definitely notice a group of teenagers appearing out of nowhere.”
“True,” Evelyn conceded. “But we could make a few stops along the way. Maybe stay in Paris for a night or two before heading to Spain.”
“Oh, now you’re just spoiling us,” Pansy teased.
“Don’t act like you’re not already planning your entire summer wardrobe in your head,” Theo snorted.
“I absolutely am,” Pansy said without shame.
Blaise stretched lazily. “This actually sounds better by the second.”
Evelyn grinned, watching as the idea took root, excitement growing amongst her friends.
For the first time in what felt like forever, they were planning something just for themselves.
And maybe, just maybe, they deserved that.
____________
The Room of Requirement had once again transformed itself to suit their needs—a spacious, dimly lit hideout lined with comfortable chairs, large cushions, and an impressive spread of snacks on a conjured table in the center. The walls flickered with torchlight, casting long shadows over the assembled group.
It was the first full meeting of their inner circle since returning from the Christmas holidays, and the mood was already far lighter than usual. The past week had been filled with tense conversations about Nagini, Voldemort, and what would come next, but tonight felt different. More relaxed.
Evelyn leaned against the arm of a plush green couch, watching as the others settled in. Harry and Ron sat cross-legged on the floor near Hermione, who had already pulled out a roll of parchment, assuming this was going to be another strategy meeting. Pansy perched on the arm of Draco’s chair, while Theo, Neville and Blaise lounged against a stack of pillows, looking as effortlessly regal as ever. Evan, Ginny and Daphne sat close together, engaged in quiet conversation. Fred and George were whispering to each other about something undoubtedly mischievous and Luna was staring out the window.
Once everyone was settled, Evelyn exchanged a glance with Pansy, who smirked and gave her a tiny nod.
Evelyn cleared her throat. “Right, so—before anyone asks—no, this isn’t another war meeting.”
Hermione, who had just dipped her quill into ink, paused and looked up, confused. “It’s not?”
“Nope.” Evelyn grinned. “In fact, for once, we’re talking about something that has absolutely nothing to do with the war.”
That immediately caught their attention.
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”
“Depends,” Theo said lazily. “How do you feel about breaking about twenty different rules of international wizard travel and pissing off our parents?”
That got everyone’s attention.
“What?” Ginny laughed.
Evelyn leaned forward. “We’ve decided that if the war doesn’t kick off by summer, we’re all going to Ibiza.”
Silence.
For a moment, the gang just stared at her as if she’d suddenly announced they were all going to Azkaban for a holiday instead.
“I’m sorry—Ibiza?” Ron spluttered. “As in the place with, like, beaches and nightclubs and—Spain?”
“That’s the one,” Blaise confirmed, smirking.
Fred and George immediately exchanged a look.
“Why do I feel like this is something we’d absolutely support?” Fred mused.
“Because we absolutely do,” George answered.
Harry blinked. “Hold on, are we seriously talking about going to Spain for the summer?”
“Yes.”
“For fun?”
“Yes.”
Pansy crossed her arms. “You all look like we just suggested infiltrating the Ministry again. Why is this shocking?”
“Because we’ve spent the past year fighting for our lives?” Hermione said, exasperated.
“Which is exactly why we deserve a bloody holiday,” Theo pointed out.
“You’ve got to admit, Hermione, it’s actually a brilliant idea,” Daphne added. “We could actually have fun for once.”
“But how are we supposed to go?” Neville asked, frowning slightly. “I doubt our parents are just going to let us leave the country for weeks on end.”
“Who said we’re asking?” Evelyn countered.
That earned her a collective round of grins from the Slytherins, while the Gryffindors looked somewhere between impressed and concerned.
“So, what, we just—disappear?” Luna asked, tilting her head.
“Well,” Evan said thoughtfully, “we’ll obviously have to make it look like we’re going to be somewhere else. Evelyn’s apartment will be packed away in her trunk, so we don’t need to rent anywhere. We can tell our parents that we’re staying at Evelyn’s — which we will be.”
“And we can use the international Floo network or a portkey,” Pansy added. “Not directly to Ibiza, but we could stop in France first.”
Hermione looked torn. “This sounds insanely irresponsible.”
“Yes,” Evelyn said cheerfully. “That’s the point.”
Ron’s ears were turning slightly pink, but he looked half convinced. “Well… I have always wanted to go to Spain.”
“Oh, come on,” Theo said, shaking his head. “Imagine it. We’re on the beach. No war, no school, no—”
“You’ve already won me over,” Harry interrupted.
That was when Hermione sighed, setting her quill down. “Fine. But only if we actually plan it properly.”
Evelyn smirked. “Of course. We’ll be very responsible criminals.”
Fred grinned. “Oh, I love this plan.”
Chapter 73: Time Goes On
Chapter Text
The Slytherin common room was uncharacteristically silent as Evelyn McCrae stood near the grand fireplace, her fingers subtly tracing the emerald embroidery on her robes. The flickering green flames cast eerie shadows across the stone walls, illuminating the gathered students who had assembled for the momentous occasion. This was the night Adrian Pucey would officially step down as King of Slytherin, and Evelyn would take her place as Queen—a title not easily given nor lightly held.
The air was thick with anticipation, an undercurrent of hushed whispers and curious glances passing through the crowd. It was unusual for a sixth-year to ascend to this position, but Evelyn had carved out a space for herself among the Slytherins in a way that defied convention. Despite her late arrival to Hogwarts, she had garnered respect, influence, and most importantly, the loyalty of many within the house.
Adrian stood on the raised stone platform at the head of the room, his expression unreadable as he addressed the gathered students. “For years, Slytherin has thrived under a strong hierarchy, a structure that ensures our house remains the most formidable in Hogwarts. Leadership is not simply about status—it is about power, strategy, and ensuring that our legacy remains untarnished.” His dark eyes flickered to Evelyn, and a smile curled at the corner of his lips. “Evelyn McCrae has proved herself more than capable of continuing that legacy.”
The murmur of voices swelled at his words, some in agreement, others still skeptical. The older students had seen many rulers come and go, but Evelyn’s rise was unconventional. Still, her actions over the past year had spoken louder than any bloodline or tradition ever could.
Adrian reached into the pocket of his robes and withdrew a silver signet ring—a serpent coiled intricately around a deep green stone. The symbol of the Slytherin monarchy. He held it up for all to see before turning to Evelyn.
“Kneel,” he instructed, his voice firm but not unkind.
Evelyn hesitated for only a fraction of a second before stepping forward and lowering herself to one knee. The ancient stone beneath her pressed uncomfortably against her skin, but she ignored it, keeping her gaze fixed on the flames.
Adrian extended the ring, his fingers brushing against hers as she accepted it. “By taking this, you acknowledge the responsibility that comes with it. You will be expected to lead, to protect, and to uphold the values that make Slytherin great. Do you accept this duty?”
A sharp silence filled the room.
Evelyn met his gaze, unwavering. “I do.”
A satisfied murmur rippled through the crowd as Adrian stepped back and gestured for her to rise. She slipped the ring onto her finger, its weight foreign yet fitting. As she stood, the whispers around her solidified into something else—approval.
“Then it is done,” Adrian announced, stepping aside and giving her the space to take center stage.
The Slytherins broke into applause, some hesitant, others more enthusiastic. Pansy and Blaise exchanged smirks before raising their goblets in a silent toast. Theo gave her a brief nod of acknowledgment. Even Draco, who had once been skeptical of her place in their house, watched her with something that almost resembled pride.
Evelyn turned slightly, letting her gaze sweep across the room. For so long, she had been an outsider, navigating the treacherous waters of both Slytherin and the larger wizarding world. Yet, at this moment, she belonged. She had claimed her place—not because of a name, not because of pureblood heritage, but because she had fought for it.
As the celebration began, students clinking goblets and engaging in quiet, strategic discussions, Evelyn found herself locking eyes with Harry across the room. He stood at the very edge, leaning casually against the wall, his expression unreadable. But she knew him well enough to recognize the glint of pride hidden beneath his usual guarded demeanor.
Pansy slid into the seat beside her, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Well, Your Majesty, what’s next on your grand agenda?”
Evelyn smirked, lifting her goblet. “We have a lot to do. And it starts with securing our future.”
The night carried on with the weight of new beginnings, and Evelyn McCrae, now Queen of Slytherin, had never felt more certain of her place in the world.
_____________
The night after Evelyn’s coronation, the gang gathered once more in the Room of Requirement. The atmosphere was different from their usual meetings—there was an urgency in the air, an unspoken understanding that what they were about to discuss could change everything.
Evelyn sat cross-legged on one of the plush armchairs, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest. Harry was beside her, his expression tense. Pansy, Ron, Hermione, and the others were scattered around the room, some sitting on cushions, others perched on the edges of chairs.
“Alright,” Evelyn said, breaking the silence, “we all know why we’re here. We need to figure out how to get rid of the Horcrux in Harry’s scar.”
The words hung heavily in the air. Evelyn stole a glance at Harry, whose jaw was clenched tight. She knew he hated being the center of this particular discussion, but there was no avoiding it.
“I’ve been looking into it,” Hermione said, pulling out a thick, leather-bound book. “From everything I’ve read, there’s no known way to safely remove a Horcrux from a living person. The only confirmed method of destroying a Horcrux is with something powerful enough to obliterate the fragment of soul—like basilisk venom or fiendfyre.”
Harry let out a dry laugh. “Great. So, unless we want to set me on fire or stab me with a venomous fang, we’re out of options?”
“Not necessarily,” Blaise interjected, leaning forward. “The Dark Lord created this one by accident. He never meant for a piece of his soul to be in you, which means it might be different from the others. Maybe there’s a way to force it out, rather than destroy it inside you.”
“How?” Evelyn asked.
“That’s what we need to figure out,” Theo said. “Soul magic is complicated. It’s dangerous. If we mess this up—”
Harry cut him off. “I die. Yeah, we get it.” His tone was light, but Evelyn could see the tension in his shoulders.
Evelyn sighed, rubbing her temples. “We need to talk to someone who actually understands this kind of magic.”
“Like who?” Ron asked.
“Gringotts,” she said immediately. “The goblins know magic older than anything we learn here. If anyone understands Horcruxes, it’s them.”
“Would they even help?” Draco asked, skeptical.
Evelyn smirked. “They will if we give them a reason to.”
A murmur went through the group as they considered it.
“It’s worth a shot,” Harry finally said. “We don’t have many other choices.”
The conversation continued late into the night, each of them tossing out theories and half-formed plans. They knew this wouldn’t be easy, but they also knew one thing for certain: failure wasn’t an option.
______________
The day after their intense planning session in the Room of Requirement, Evelyn decided that Harry needed a break.
“You’re coming with me,” she announced as she grabbed his hand, tugging him away from the Gryffindor table at breakfast.
Harry blinked. “Uh—what?”
“You need a break, and I have plans. Don’t argue.” She shot him a knowing look, daring him to protest.
Harry sighed but let her pull him along. “I feel like I should argue on principle.”
“Too bad,” Evelyn said smugly, dragging him toward the doors.
They stepped outside into the crisp winter air, the snow crunching beneath their boots. It had been a while since either of them had done something just for themselves, and Evelyn wanted to make sure they had a moment away from war plans and looming battles.
“Where are we going?” Harry asked as they reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
“You’ll see.”
Evelyn led him through a winding path, past trees heavy with snow, until they emerged at the frozen Black Lake. In the distance, Hogwarts stood like something out of a fairy tale, its towers dusted with white, the sky a brilliant blue.
“This is your plan?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
She smirked. “No faith in me?”
With a flick of her wand, a thick blanket appeared on the ice, along with a small enchanted fire that flickered warmly without melting the ice beneath it. A basket floated beside them, filled with food.
“You brought a picnic?” Harry said, grinning.
“Obviously. Now sit.”
Harry laughed, and Evelyn felt a sense of accomplishment at the sound. He hadn’t been laughing nearly enough lately.
They ate in comfortable silence for a while, watching the occasional owl soar overhead. Then Harry turned to her, his expression softer.
“You always know what I need before I do.”
She shrugged. “That’s my job, isn’t it?”
Harry reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. “It’s more than that. I don’t think I ever really understood what it meant to have someone just… be there. Until you.”
Evelyn’s heart swelled, and for a moment, she couldn’t find the words. She squeezed his hand, hoping he understood anyway.
They stayed by the lake for hours, talking, laughing, and, for the first time in a long while, forgetting about the war. Just for a little while.
_____________
The weeks following Evelyn’s coronation as Queen of Slytherin settled into a strange mix of normalcy and quiet tension. Hogwarts moved forward as if nothing had changed, but within the walls of the castle, the students who knew what was coming could feel the shift in the air.
Classes became more demanding as professors pushed students harder, seemingly aware that their time as carefree schoolchildren was running out.
In Potions, Evelyn found herself paired with Evan more often than not. He had a sharp mind for ingredients and measurements, though he didn’t have quite the same finesse as some of the others. Evelyn, naturally gifted in the subject, found herself taking the lead in their work, though Evan never seemed to mind.
“You’re lucky you’re good at this,” Evan muttered one day as their potion turned a perfect shade of deep indigo. “Otherwise, I’d be very annoyed with how much you take over.”
Evelyn smirked. “I take over because I don’t trust you not to blow us up.”
“That happened one time,” he shot back.
Across the table, Theo and Draco were working together, their conversation quiet and measured. The two of them had been more withdrawn than usual, likely still on edge after their last meeting with Voldemort. Evelyn didn’t push them about it—she knew they’d talk when they were ready.
Meanwhile, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become a test of patience. Professor Snape had taken a more hands-on approach, forcing them into practical dueling exercises nearly every lesson. Harry and Evelyn excelled, their training putting them leagues ahead of their classmates. Pansy, Blaise, and Theo also held their own, though others, like Ron, were still struggling with the finer points of nonverbal spellcasting.
One afternoon, Snape called Evelyn up to demonstrate a shield charm against a rather vicious hex. As she raised her wand, Snape’s dark eyes flickered with something unreadable.
“Protego!”
The hex rebounded off her shield effortlessly, but Snape’s gaze lingered.
After class, he caught her as she was packing up.
“A word, McCrae.”
Evelyn exchanged a glance with Harry before following Snape to his desk.
“You’re improving,” Snape murmured. “Rather quickly.”
Evelyn raised a brow. “Should I slow down?”
His lips pressed into a thin line. “I would rather you be prepared. The time is approaching when you will have no choice but to fight.”
She met his gaze evenly. “I know.”
Snape inclined his head slightly before dismissing her.
Transfiguration was equally demanding. McGonagall was particularly ruthless in her lessons, her patience thinning with students who failed to grasp the advanced material. Evelyn, sitting beside Blaise and Evan, found herself working harder than ever to meet expectations.
“If I have to transfigure one more teacup into a bloody ferret, I’m going to lose it,” Blaise muttered one day.
“Maybe you should transfigure your frustration into competence,” Evelyn teased.
Blaise shot her a glare, but Evan snickered.
Between classes, studying, and secret meetings with the gang, the weeks passed in a blur. The castle remained cold, the winter dragging on as February crept closer.
And then, before anyone realized it, Valentine’s Day arrived.
Chapter 74: St. Valentine & Parties
Chapter Text
The morning of February 14th dawned crisp and clear, with the lingering chill of winter still clinging to the castle. Hogwarts, however, had embraced the occasion in full force. Pink and red decorations adorned the Great Hall, courtesy of the ever-enthusiastic Hogwarts house-elves (and possibly some meddling from Professor Flitwick). Heart-shaped confetti rained down sporadically from the enchanted ceiling, and even the suits of armor in the corridors had been charmed to hum love ballads as students passed by.
Evelyn sat at the Slytherin table during breakfast, watching with a mixture of amusement and mild horror as Blaise eyed a bouquet of enchanted roses that had been left beside his plate.
“I swear, if these explode when I touch them, I’m hexing whoever left them,” he muttered.
Pansy, stirring sugar into her tea, smirked. “Oh, Blaise, you should be flattered. You’ve got a secret admirer.”
“Or an enemy with a twisted sense of humor,” he grumbled, pushing the bouquet away.
Evelyn barely paid attention to their banter. Her gaze flickered toward the Gryffindor table, where Harry sat talking to Ron and Hermione. He must have felt her eyes on him because he glanced up and shot her a quick grin. She returned it, feeling warmth rise to her cheeks.
They had plans for today—plans Harry had insisted on keeping a surprise.
As breakfast wrapped up, Harry made his way over to the Slytherin table, ignoring the stares from her housemates as he stopped beside Evelyn’s seat.
“Ready to go?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his green eyes.
Evelyn arched a brow. “I would be, if I knew where we were going.”
He only grinned wider. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
With a sigh that was only half exasperation, Evelyn stood, following Harry out of the Great Hall. She caught Draco watching them from a few seats down, his expression unreadable. Pansy, on the other hand, gave her an encouraging wink before returning to her tea.
Harry led her through the corridors of Hogwarts, taking several twists and turns that made it clear he was leading her somewhere specific.
“Are you at least going to tell me if we’re leaving the castle?” Evelyn asked as they climbed another staircase.
He hesitated for half a second before shaking his head. “Nope.”
“Figures.”
Eventually, they reached the seventh floor, stopping in front of a very familiar stretch of blank wall. Evelyn raised an eyebrow.
“The Room of Requirement?”
Harry nodded, pacing three times in front of the wall.
“I need a place for a perfect date,” he murmured under his breath.
A door appeared, and when he pushed it open, Evelyn felt her breath catch.
The room was unrecognizable from its usual training-space appearance. Instead, it had been transformed into a breathtaking winter garden. Snow-dusted trees surrounded the edges, twinkling with soft golden lights. A frozen pond lay at the center, reflecting the glow of enchanted lanterns floating above. At the far end, a cozy seating area had been arranged, complete with a roaring fireplace and a table set for two.
Evelyn turned to Harry, blinking in surprise. “You did all this?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly sheepish. “Well, the room did most of the work. But I thought you’d like it.”
“Harry,” she breathed, stepping forward. “This is…this is incredible,” Evelyn finished, her voice softer than before.
Harry watched her with an expectant look, as if hoping he’d done well. The sight of his slightly nervous expression made warmth bloom in her chest.
She turned to him with a small smile. “I love it.”
Relief flickered across his face before he grinned. “Good. Because we have the whole day here, just the two of us.”
Evelyn glanced around again, taking in the twinkling lights, the crisp scent of pine lingering in the air, and the gentle crackling of the fireplace. It was perfect. Peaceful. A rare moment away from everything—away from war, from Voldemort, from the weight of responsibility that always seemed to press down on them.
She slipped her hand into his. “Then let’s make the most of it.”
Harry squeezed her hand in response and led her toward the frozen pond. “Fancy a bit of skating?”
Evelyn laughed lightly. “I don’t exactly have skates on me, Potter.”
“Neither do I.” He grinned and tapped his wand against his boot. “But luckily, magic exists.”
With a quiet spell, their shoes morphed into a pair of sleek ice skates. Evelyn raised an eyebrow, impressed.
“I see you’ve thought of everything.”
Harry smirked. “I try.”
She stepped onto the ice first, testing her balance. It had been years since she’d last skated, but muscle memory kicked in quickly. Gliding forward, she turned just in time to see Harry stumble onto the ice with a muttered curse.
She bit back a laugh. “You planned an ice-skating date but can’t actually skate?”
“I thought it wouldn’t be that hard,” he grumbled, attempting to push forward only to nearly topple over.
Evelyn shook her head, amused, and skated back toward him. “Come on, I’ll help you.”
She reached for his hands, steadying him as he found his footing. Harry’s grip on her was firm, but there was an unmistakable hint of embarrassment in his eyes.
“This isn’t exactly how I pictured this going,” he admitted.
She smirked. “Oh? And how did you picture it?”
“Well, for one, I wasn’t planning on looking like a complete idiot.”
Evelyn chuckled. “You don’t look like an idiot. Just a bit… unsteady.”
Harry rolled his eyes, but he didn’t let go of her hands. Slowly, she guided him across the ice, adjusting their pace to something manageable for him. At first, he was stiff, clearly overthinking each movement, but as time passed, he relaxed, moving with more confidence.
After a while, he even managed to let go of one of her hands. “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”
Evelyn arched a brow. “Oh? Want to try on your own, then?”
Harry hesitated, eyeing her suspiciously. “You’re going to let go, aren’t you?”
She gave an innocent smile. “What? Me? Never.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Evelyn—”
Before he could finish, she let go of his other hand.
For a second, he stayed upright. Then, his skates wobbled, and in the span of a heartbeat, he went down. Hard.
Evelyn winced as Harry landed flat on his back, staring up at the enchanted ceiling. She skated over, covering her mouth to suppress her laughter.
“You okay?” she asked, though the amusement in her voice was obvious.
Harry groaned. “I take back everything. Ice-skating was a terrible idea.”
She held out a hand to help him up, but at the last second, he tugged her down with him.
Evelyn let out a startled yelp as she landed beside him on the ice. The cold seeped through her coat instantly, but she barely registered it, too busy glaring at Harry.
“That was uncalled for.”
He grinned, completely unapologetic. “You deserved it.”
She huffed but didn’t move to get up. Instead, she lay there beside him, looking up at the enchanted lanterns floating above them. For a moment, everything was quiet. Just them, together.
After a few minutes, Harry shifted onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow to look at her. “You know… I don’t think we’ve ever had a day like this before.”
Evelyn turned her head toward him. “A day like what?”
“Just… a normal one. No plotting, no training, no Voldemort. Just us.”
Her expression softened. He was right. Ever since they met, their lives had been entangled in something much bigger than just themselves. It felt like they had always been preparing for the next battle, always thinking ten steps ahead. But today… today was just about them.
She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Maybe we should have more of these days.”
Harry caught her hand, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. “I’d like that.”
They stayed there for a while longer before finally getting up and continuing their date.
The rest of the day was spent in quiet bliss. They skated a bit more (with Harry managing to only fall a few more times), had a cozy meal by the fire, and simply enjoyed each other’s company without the weight of war pressing down on them.
By the time they left the Room of Requirement, the day had faded into evening, and Evelyn found herself reluctant for it to end.
Harry must have felt the same because he took her hand as they walked back through the corridors of Hogwarts, his thumb tracing slow circles against her skin.
“Best Valentine’s Day yet,” he murmured.
Evelyn smiled. “Agreed.”
___________
The next time the gang gathered in the Room of Requirement, there was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. The carefree feeling from Valentine’s Day had faded, replaced by the ever-present reality of what they were up against. They all knew the war wasn’t just approaching—it was looming over them.
Evelyn leaned against the edge of one of the conjured tables, arms crossed as she surveyed the room. Harry stood beside her, his expression serious as the others settled in.
Neville, Luna, and Ginny were now fully part of their group, and though they didn’t know all of the deeper secrets Evelyn and Harry carried, they understood enough. They had all agreed weeks ago that they would have to do something about Voldemort before he made his next move.
“The war is inevitable,” Blaise said, breaking the silence first. He sat lazily in one of the armchairs, but his sharp gaze betrayed his casual posture. “He’s been quieter than usual, though. No attacks. No movements that we know of. That means he’s either planning something big or waiting for something to happen.”
“Maybe he’s looking for a new way to replace Nagini,” Theo suggested. “A new Horcrux, maybe?”
Ron grimaced. “Is that even possible?”
Evelyn shook her head. “No. From what I’ve read, creating a Horcrux requires a specific ritual that can only be done at the time of splitting the soul. It’s not like he can just shove part of his soul into something new now that Nagini’s dead. He doesn’t have enough pieces left to work with.”
Harry exhaled, rubbing his forehead. “Which means he’s still got the last piece… inside me.”
The weight of those words settled over the group like a heavy fog.
“We need a plan,” Hermione said firmly. “If we don’t figure out how to get it out of you, we’re just wasting time.”
“Agreed,” Daphne added. “We need to go back through everything we know about Horcruxes. There has to be something we’re missing.”
Silence stretched between them for a moment before Ginny hesitantly spoke. “Have we thought about Gringotts?”
Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well… the goblins. They have ancient magic, don’t they? If anyone outside of Hogwarts could know something about separating a soul from a person, it might be them.”
Evelyn exchanged a glance with Harry. “You think we should go there and ask?”
Ginny shrugged. “Not directly. But if you and Harry went over the Easter holidays, maybe you could find a way to get answers.”
A murmur of agreement passed through the room.
“We can do that,” Harry said. “Evelyn and I will go to Gringotts, see what we can find. The rest of you should stay at Hogwarts and keep an eye on things. If Voldemort starts moving, we need to know about it immediately.”
Theo and Draco nodded in unison.
“We can handle that,” Draco said. “He still trusts my father, and I know how to access some of their communication channels. If I hear anything, I’ll send word.”
Luna, who had been sitting quietly up until now, tilted her head. “Do you think he suspects you and Theo yet?”
Draco hesitated. “I don’t think so. Not yet.”
“But it’s only a matter of time,” Theo added grimly.
Evelyn sighed, running a hand through her hair. They were running out of time, and they all knew it. But at least now, they had a plan.
“Alright,” she said. “We’ll leave for Gringotts over Easter. Until then, we keep preparing.”
____________
The Slytherin common room had never looked like this before.
It was the last Saturday of March, and the long-awaited party celebrating Evelyn’s coronation as Queen of Slytherin was in full swing. The room had been completely transformed—green and silver banners hung from the ceiling, floating lanterns cast a warm glow over the space, and the air was thick with the scent of firewhisky and expensive cologne. Someone—probably Blaise—had managed to smuggle in an absurd amount of alcohol, and the enchanted gramophone in the corner was playing a steady mix of both wizarding and Muggle music.
This wasn’t just a Slytherin event. That had been made clear from the start. Invitations had gone out to the right people, and now the common room was packed with students from every house. Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs mingled among the emerald-clad crowd, drinking, dancing, and making it clear that house rivalries meant little when there was a good party involved.
Evelyn stood near the center of the room, leaning against one of the dark leather sofas, a drink in her hand as she watched everything unfold.
“You’ve really outdone yourself,” Pansy said beside her, smirking as she clinked her glass against Evelyn’s. “I don’t think this common room has ever been this lively.”
Evelyn smirked. “It was about time Slytherin threw something worth remembering.”
Pansy tilted her head, watching the crowd. “You realize this just solidifies your position, right? No one’s going to question you after tonight.”
“Good,” Evelyn said simply, taking a slow sip of her drink.
Across the room, she spotted Theo, Blaise, and Draco near the drinks table, deep in conversation with a group of Ravenclaws. Not far from them, Daphne was laughing at something one of the Weasley twins had said. It was strange seeing people from different houses all gathered in the Slytherin common room without any tension, but at the same time, it felt right.
Harry had just arrived, slipping in through the entrance with Hermione and Ron. He caught Evelyn’s eye and made his way over.
“Didn’t think you’d actually go through with this,” he said, looking around with a grin.
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “What, and pass up the chance to throw the best party Hogwarts has ever seen? Please.”
Ron had already gravitated toward the drinks table, and Hermione was looking around, her expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation.
“This is madness,” she muttered.
Evelyn smirked. “It’s fun.”
Before Hermione could argue, Pansy grabbed her hand. “You need a drink.”
Hermione barely had time to protest before Pansy was dragging her toward the bar, leaving Evelyn and Harry alone for a moment.
Harry turned to her, his gaze softening. “You look happy,” he said.
She shrugged, glancing around. “I think I am.”
It was strange, after everything, to feel this light. To feel like, for just one night, the war didn’t exist. There was no looming battle, no whispered conversations about horcruxes or strategy. Just music, drinks, and laughter.
“I’m glad,” Harry said, and there was something warm in his expression, something that made her heart stutter slightly.
She smiled, bumping her shoulder against his. “Come on, Potter. Let’s dance.”
Harry groaned. “I don’t dance.”
“You do tonight.”
And before he could protest, she was pulling him toward the crowd, into the sea of bodies swaying to the music.
The night stretched on, filled with laughter, teasing, and moments that felt untouched by the weight of what was coming. The party was a success, but more than that, it was a reminder—of what they were fighting for. Of why they had to win.
Because this—this joy, this freedom, this feeling of being young and alive—was worth protecting.
Chapter 75: Horcrux Madness
Chapter Text
The days leading up to the Easter holidays were filled with quiet anticipation. While most students were looking forward to returning home for a week of relaxation, Evelyn and Harry had something far more important on their minds. Their trip to Gringotts had been planned carefully—coordinated with Snape, the goblins, and the highest level of secrecy. They couldn’t risk anyone discovering what they were about to do, not even their closest friends until they had more information.
On the morning of their trip, Evelyn and Harry met in the dimly lit corridors of the dungeons outside Snape’s office. It was early—barely sunrise—and most of the castle was still asleep. Harry, dressed in his usual jeans and sweater beneath his school robes, looked slightly anxious but determined. Evelyn, on the other hand, was composed, her dark green cloak wrapped around her as she gave him a reassuring nod.
Snape opened the door just as they approached, his expression unreadable. He didn’t question them, didn’t offer any last-minute warnings or words of caution. Instead, he simply turned and walked toward the fireplace inside his office. The large, stone hearth crackled faintly with a few embers left over from the night before. With a wave of his wand, emerald flames roared to life.
“The wards will recognize your presence at the bank,” Snape said, glancing between them. “You’ll be expected.”
Harry took a deep breath, tightening his grip on Evelyn’s hand before stepping into the flames. “Gringotts, King Ragnok’s office,” he said firmly, and in the next instant, he was gone.
Evelyn stepped forward next, meeting Snape’s gaze briefly before she followed, the flames swallowing her whole.
They landed in a grand office within Gringotts, the room dimly lit by enchanted torches that cast golden light upon the stone walls. The ceiling was high, decorated with intricate carvings that told the history of the goblins and their ancient rule over treasure and magic. At the far end of the room sat King Ragnok, his piercing gaze fixed upon them the moment they arrived. He was an imposing figure, dressed in deep crimson robes with golden embroidery, his long silver beard braided neatly.
“Mr. Potter, Lady McCrae,” he greeted, his voice low and gravelly. “You are expected. Sit.”
“Lady?” Evelyn asked with a smile.
“Yes, Lady Magic visited again and demanded that as her child you should be emancipated and referred to as your proper title. Therefore, you are Lady McCrae”
Harry and Evelyn took their seats in the high-backed chairs across from the goblin king, and Evelyn felt the weight of the moment settle over them. This was it.
King Ragnok studied them carefully before speaking. “You have come to me with an unusual request,” he said. “The removal of a soul fragment is no simple matter. It is dangerous, even for those with the knowledge to attempt it. But it is not impossible.”
Harry shifted slightly in his chair. “You mean… you can do it?”
“Yes,” Ragnok confirmed. “But not immediately. The process requires time, preparation, and specific conditions. The ritual to extract and destroy a horcrux embedded within a living soul is delicate. It must be performed in a controlled environment with a series of protective enchantments.” His sharp eyes flicked between them. “We estimate that everything will be in place by the start of summer.”
Evelyn exhaled slowly, her mind already working through what this meant. “So that means we have a few months to prepare,” she said, glancing at Harry. “That gives us time to plan.”
Harry nodded. “And you’re sure this will work?”
King Ragnok’s gaze darkened slightly. “It is the only method we know that will not kill you in the process.”
The words sent a chill down Evelyn’s spine, but she refused to let fear take hold. This was their best chance.
Ragnok leaned forward slightly. “The question is—are you prepared for what this ritual entails? The pain, the risk?”
Harry didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Evelyn turned to Ragnok. “Then we’ll be ready. Just tell us what we need to do.”
_____________
The return to Hogwarts after their meeting at Gringotts felt different. There was an undeniable weight to the knowledge they now carried—Harry had a way to remove the horcrux, but it wouldn’t happen for months. That meant months of preparation, months of uncertainty, months of Voldemort growing stronger while they could only wait.
Evelyn and Harry had agreed not to tell the others the full details until they knew more, but that didn’t mean the weight of the secret was easy to bear. As the Easter holidays came to an end and students flooded back into the castle, the rhythm of school life resumed, but beneath it all, the gang remained as focused as ever.
NEWT classes intensified now that the exams were only a couple of months away. Professors weren’t holding back anymore—every lesson was packed with complex spells, theory, and revision work. Even for those who weren’t taking their NEWTs that year, the pressure in the air was impossible to ignore.
Evelyn found herself spending more time in the library, often accompanied by Theo and Hermione, both of whom were in their element when it came to studying. Blaise and Daphne took a more relaxed approach, usually claiming an entire table and spreading out their books while quietly gossiping about the latest Hogwarts drama. Pansy, meanwhile, had taken to quizzing Evelyn at random points throughout the day, making sure she was keeping up with everything.
“You’re going to be Queen of Slytherin and survive the war, McCrae,” Pansy had said one evening in the common room, tossing a book into Evelyn’s lap. “That means no failing your exams.”
Evelyn had rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. As much as it seemed trivial compared to everything else they were dealing with, she knew Pansy had a point. If they lived through this, they still had futures to consider.
Their meetings in the Room of Requirement continued regularly, with Sirius and Snape joining them whenever possible. The group had taken to laying out detailed maps of the wizarding world, marking possible locations for Voldemort’s movements, Death Eater hideouts, and anything else that might give them an advantage.
“What we need to figure out,” Draco said one evening, leaning over the table, “is whether or not he knows about the horcruxes being destroyed.”
Evelyn met his gaze. “He knows.”
The room fell silent.
Harry sat forward. “You’re sure?”
Evelyn nodded. “He doesn’t know who did it, but I’d bet anything that he’s realized something is wrong. He’s weaker. He can probably feel it, even if he doesn’t understand why yet.”
Neville, who had joined their meetings alongside Luna and Ginny, frowned. “Then that means he’s going to start making moves soon, doesn’t it?”
Luna tilted her head slightly. “He’ll lash out first, I think. If he doesn’t know who to blame, he’ll try to find out. That means more attacks.”
There was a heavy pause as the weight of her words settled over them.
Sirius exhaled sharply. “Then we don’t have as much time as we thought.”
Theo tapped his fingers against the map. “Do you think he suspects us?”
Snape’s voice was low. “He doesn’t suspect you yet. But he’s been keeping a closer eye on certain people.” His dark gaze flicked to Draco and Theo. “You need to be more careful than ever.”
Draco nodded once, his expression unreadable. Theo, however, smirked slightly. “I think you underestimate how good we are at keeping secrets.”
Evelyn leaned back, taking in the group in front of her. Their numbers had grown over the past year, their alliances stronger than ever. What had once been a scattered collection of students from different houses was now a force—one that Voldemort would never expect.
And if he was already beginning to feel the consequences of their actions?
Then they were finally on the right track.
_____________
The gang gathered once again in the Room of Requirement, but this meeting felt more urgent than the others. Sirius and Snape had returned, bringing more intelligence from the outside world, and there was a growing tension among them now that they knew Voldemort was aware of the horcruxes being destroyed.
The Room had shifted its design for them, creating something that resembled a war strategist’s hideout. Large wooden tables covered in maps, moving figurines, and enchanted parchment filled the space. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with books on battle tactics, dark magic, and protective enchantments. The flickering torches cast long shadows, making everything feel just a little more ominous.
Harry stood at the head of the largest table, tapping his fingers against the worn surface. His gaze was sharp as he looked between them all.
“We don’t have much time,” he said. “Voldemort knows something’s wrong. He’ll start lashing out soon, and we need to be ready.”
Ginny crossed her arms. “We’re already preparing. What else can we do?”
Sirius exchanged a look with Snape before speaking. “You need a plan for when he finally comes for you. There’s no avoiding it, Harry.”
“I know,” Harry admitted, jaw tight.
Harry nodded, glancing at her. “Ragnok said they can remove the horcrux, but it takes months to prepare. The ritual will happen at the start of summer.”
Theo exhaled. “That means we have to keep you safe until then.”
Draco frowned. “That also means Voldemort has months to figure out what’s going on. If he suspects anything, he might not wait.”
“That’s why we have to mislead him,” Luna said softly. “Make him think he still has the upper hand.”
Pansy arched a brow. “How exactly do we do that?”
Evelyn smirked slightly. “We give him something else to focus on.”
She pulled out a piece of parchment and placed it on the table. It was a detailed outline of every Death Eater stronghold they knew about, every location Voldemort had used in the past.
“We need to keep him paranoid,” she continued. “If he’s looking in every direction, trying to figure out where we’ll strike next, he’ll be too distracted to realize what’s right in front of him.”
Blaise hummed in approval. “A game of misdirection. I like it.”
Sirius leaned on the table, studying the plan. “It’s risky, but it could work.”
Snape, however, was watching Evelyn with a sharp, calculating gaze. “And what exactly do you plan to do while the rest of us keep the Dark Lord distracted?”
Evelyn met his stare without hesitation. “I’ll make sure he never sees it coming.”
⸻
Voldemort’s Private Sanctum was a place of dread and desolation—a dark chamber deep within his mind where even shadows seemed to cower. The torches along the cold stone walls burned with an unnatural blue flame that offered little warmth. Here, in this forsaken space, the Dark Lord paced before a massive obsidian mirror, a relic from an age long past, its surface shimmering with an eerie, dismal light.
He had just returned from one of his nightly forays through the dark corridors of his own creation—a search for stability in a power that was now slipping through his grasp. For decades, he had relied on his Horcruxes to anchor his soul to this world. They were his secret promise of immortality, each one a carefully crafted repository of his dark essence. But tonight, as he inspected each hidden fragment with his baleful gaze, something was dreadfully amiss.
Voldemort’s red eyes narrowed to slits as he approached the vault that once held the remnants of his soul. In the space where Nagini had lain—his final and most prized Horcrux—a cold, hollow void now reigned. He could sense it even without the need for overt magic: the connection was severed, the bond broken. A searing rage flared within him, a tumultuous mix of fury and disbelief that threatened to boil over.
“Impossible,” he hissed in a voice that slithered across the chamber like a serpent. His mind raced, replaying every moment that might have led to this catastrophe. His own schemes, his intricate plans—had they been unraveling all along? In that bitter moment, a singular thought crystallized with the force of a curse: Evelyn McCrae must be responsible.
Every fiber of his being screamed for retribution. The audacity of a mere student, a girl who had not even reached the apex of her power, to tamper with the very foundations of his immortality was an insult he could neither ignore nor forgive. The destruction of his Horcruxes meant that his life, which he had nurtured through dark rituals and cunning deceit, was now in mortal peril. His power was waning, and with it, his ability to command terror among the ranks of his followers.
He turned away from the vault, pacing once more with a predator’s grace. His mind churned with dark plans and vengeful schemes. Every spell, every incantation he had mastered seemed to surge within him as he contemplated the cost of this betrayal. He would not allow this slight to pass unpunished. The name “McCrae” echoed in his mind like a curse—her very existence was now a threat to his dominion, a stain upon his carefully constructed legacy.
As he entered his private study—a labyrinth of ancient texts and forbidden lore—Voldemort sank into a high-backed, ebony chair. The ambient magic of the room pulsed with a sinister energy as he unfurled a scroll, its parchment as dark as the void. With a trembling hand, he began to inscribe a new directive in his own inky script. The words, etched with deadly precision, outlined the grim measures he would take to obliterate this insidious challenge.
His thoughts turned to his plans for the war ahead. No longer could he rely on the subtle terror of a hidden Horcrux; now, he had to compensate by demonstrating overwhelming force. He recalled the fragmented whispers of his supporters—the Death Eaters—who reported that his enemies were emboldened by recent successes. Their unity, their secret meetings, even the casual camaraderie among the students at Hogwarts—all of it was proof that his influence was crumbling.
In the flickering candlelight, Voldemort’s mind crafted a meticulous blueprint of revenge. He would dispatch his most loyal followers to scour the castle for any trace of Evelyn McCrae. He would personally oversee the creation of new curses, spells so potent that they would crush the spirit of any who dared defy him. His wrath would be a storm—a force of nature that would obliterate all hope in its path.
A bitter smile crept across his thin, snake-like lips as he contemplated the irony: the very girl he now planned to destroy had once been an insignificant anomaly in his grand design. She had learned to wield power like a weapon, and now she dared to defy him. That defiance would be her undoing.
Rising from his chair, Voldemort began to pace once more. His thoughts now turned to the logistics of his retribution. He would need to dispatch his most ruthless agents—Death Eaters whose loyalty was unquestionable. They would be tasked with hunting her down, tracking her movements, and ensuring that her influence among the students was shattered. He envisioned long nights of dark rituals and meetings in shadowed corridors, the chill of death ever-present as his followers carried out his bidding.
In the depths of his mind, Voldemort whispered promises of a new era—one in which his power would be restored, his enemies vanquished, and the memory of Evelyn McCrae erased from existence. Each whispered vow of vengeance was like a dark seed planted in the fertile soil of his rage, destined to sprout into unspeakable horrors.
The Dark Lord paused at his desk and ran his long, cold fingers over a faded tapestry depicting scenes of ancient battles between dark wizards. The images stirred something deep within him—a reminder of the countless times he had risen from defeat to reclaim his place in history. He would not be defeated by a child. He would not be undone by someone whose existence had been an affront to his legacy.
Voldemort’s eyes glowed with a terrible light as he finished his dark soliloquy. His next moves would be swift and merciless. In his heart, he knew that every plan had its flaws, and that his enemies were as cunning as they were desperate. But he also knew that fear was his ally. He would instill it, sharpen it, and let it guide him to the one person who now dared to defy him.
In the silence of his study, as the shadows lengthened and the torches flickered with malignant energy, Voldemort vowed that he would bring down Evelyn McCrae—no matter the cost. Bringing down Evelyn would help him finally kill Harry Potter. And as the winds outside began to howl like tortured souls, the Dark Lord’s plotting grew ever more intricate, setting the stage for a confrontation that would shake the very foundations of the wizarding world.
Chapter 76: AAAHHHHHH EXAMS!!!!!
Chapter Text
The castle had entered a state of barely controlled chaos.
It was as if a collective weight had settled over Hogwarts, an invisible force pressing down on the shoulders of every seventh-year student as the reality of their impending NEWTs loomed over them like an unrelenting storm cloud. The usual hum of chatter in the Great Hall during breakfast had been replaced with frantic muttering as students flipped through textbooks with bleary, sleep-deprived eyes, cramming in last-minute revisions between bites of toast and sips of coffee.
Even the most composed students were starting to crack under the pressure. Hermione had taken to carrying around not one, but three study planners, each one color-coded and filled with precise timetables dictating every minute of her day. Blaise, typically cool and unaffected, had started furrowing his brows more often, muttering under his breath about spell theory whenever someone tried to talk to him. Pansy and Daphne had long since abandoned their usual leisurely approach to studying and were now seen dragging massive textbooks to every meal, flipping through pages furiously as if their very lives depended on it.
And Evelyn—well, Evelyn was doing what she always did: keeping herself just calm enough to maintain the illusion that she wasn’t on the verge of hexing someone out of frustration.
“Remind me again why we need to know the entire history of Goblin Rebellions?” Theo groaned as he let his head fall against the wooden table in the Slytherin common room. “It’s not like I’m planning on having diplomatic relations with the bloody goblins anytime soon.”
Evan, who had been attempting to make sense of his Ancient Runes textbook, snorted. “Maybe if you actually read the material instead of complaining about it, you’d know that half of the rebellions started because wizards underestimated the goblins.”
“You sound like Binns,” Draco muttered, rubbing his temples as he scanned his Transfiguration notes for what had to be the hundredth time that evening. His pale complexion was even paler than usual, exhaustion settling into the sharp angles of his face.
Evelyn sighed, closing her Arithmancy book with a dull thud. “It’s only been one week of exam prep, and you’re all already acting like we’re going to die.”
“That’s because we are,” Pansy said, stretching out on the sofa across from her. “NEWTs are designed to kill us. You know what my mother told me? That if I don’t get at least three Outstandings, I might as well not bother coming home for the summer.”
Theo gave her a flat look. “Then maybe you should’ve started revising earlier instead of flirting your way through half the school year.”
Pansy shrugged, looking completely unbothered. “I’ll survive. I always do.”
The stress was palpable, and it wasn’t just Slytherin House feeling the pressure. The entire school was on edge. Professors were doubling down on coursework, piling on additional essays and practical exercises that left little room for anything else. The library had become a war zone, with students aggressively staking out their favorite study spots and viciously guarding them as if they were the last pieces of land in a battlefield.
And when they weren’t studying, they were worrying.
Because no matter how much time they spent preparing, there was always that underlying dread—the nagging thought that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be enough.
____________
The pressure of exams was nothing compared to the weight of actual death hanging over Theo and Draco’s heads.
Most of the school was consumed with worrying about their futures—what careers they would pursue, which NEWT scores would set them on the right path. But for Theo and Draco, the future had already been decided for them. And if they failed, they wouldn’t have one.
It had started slowly. Subtle warnings. Hints from the Dark Lord that he was beginning to doubt their commitment to the task he had set for Draco. The failure of previous attempts to assassinate Dumbledore had not gone unnoticed, and Voldemort was growing impatient.
The most recent message had been far less subtle.
“Your time is running out.”
That was the only thing written in the letter Draco had received a few nights ago, written in dark, inked strokes that almost seemed to bleed into the parchment. It had arrived through a House Elf in the middle of the night, delivered in complete silence, with nothing else—no signature, no indication of where it had come from.
But they didn’t need to ask.
They knew.
Draco hadn’t spoken about it—not in the way he probably needed to. But Evelyn could see the way it was affecting him.
She had always been good at reading people. It was something she had learned out of necessity, a survival tactic built over years of navigating Hogwarts and Slytherin House. And Draco had always been a ticking time bomb, but now?
Now he looked ready to explode.
The sharp edges of his personality had grown even sharper, his temper quicker to ignite. He barely slept, and when he did, the dark circles under his eyes betrayed the nightmares that lurked beneath the surface.
And Theo wasn’t much better.
Unlike Draco, Theo had always been skilled at keeping his emotions locked away, buried under layers of carefully constructed detachment. But even he had limits. Evelyn had noticed how his hands had started shaking when he thought no one was looking, how his gaze had become more guarded, more paranoid.
They were running out of time. And Voldemort was running out of patience.
It was only a matter of when, not if, he would turn on them.
“Draco,” Evelyn said softly one evening, approaching him as he stood near the Slytherin common room fireplace, staring into the flames like they held the answers he was looking for.
He didn’t respond at first. But she knew he had heard her.
“I can feel you thinking too loudly,” she continued, keeping her voice even, careful not to sound too concerned, even though she was.
Draco exhaled, his jaw tightening as he glanced at her. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I don’t have to,” Evelyn said. “But I do.”
His fingers curled into fists. “He’s going to know, Evelyn. He’s going to know we’ve been stalling.”
“We’ll figure it out,” she said firmly. “We always do.”
But even as the words left her lips, she knew how hollow they sounded.
Because the truth was, this wasn’t like everything else.
This wasn’t a game. This wasn’t a political move they could outmaneuver.
This was life or death.
And Voldemort was watching.
_______
The Room of Requirement is usually a place of secrecy, but tonight, it served a very different purpose. Evelyn sat in a plush velvet armchair, her posture relaxed but her mind sharp, as she faced Rita Skeeter across a small, ornately decorated table.
The journalist’s quill was already poised, hovering above her notepad, eager to spill whatever scandalous information Evelyn was about to feed her.
“My, my,” Rita purred, adjusting her glasses as she peered at Evelyn with barely restrained greed. “You must really have it out for dear old Dumbledore. The things you’ve already given me…” She let out a soft, delighted chuckle. “You do know you’ve practically buried his reputation alive, don’t you?”
Evelyn tilted her head, a slow, calculating smile forming. “Not buried, Rita. Just… exposed.”
Because that was the truth.
Dumbledore had built his legacy on carefully woven illusions. A man of wisdom. A beacon of goodness. A champion of the light.
But Evelyn had lived under his rule. She had seen the cracks in the façade, the choices he had made—the sacrifices he had deemed necessary. And she was done letting him control the narrative.
The wizarding world deserved to know the truth.
Rita’s quill twitched excitedly. “Well, then. What scandalous little secrets do you have for me this time?”
Evelyn leaned back slightly, her expression unreadable. “Tell me, Rita… what do you know about Dumbledore’s past?”
Rita raised an intrigued eyebrow. “Oh, I know plenty. His little brother, Aberforth, the dead sister, Ariana. His friendship with Grindelwald before they became enemies—”
“But do you know why he and Grindelwald fell apart?” Evelyn interrupted smoothly.
Rita hesitated. “The usual reason. Power struggles. Opposing ideals.”
Evelyn smiled. “No, Rita. It was because they both wanted the same thing. They weren’t enemies, not at first. They were two sides of the same coin—and it wasn’t until Dumbledore realized the public would never accept a leader like Grindelwald that he decided to distance himself.”
Rita’s lips parted slightly. Her fingers twitched around her quill. “Are you saying…”
“That Dumbledore wanted power just as much as Grindelwald did?” Evelyn supplied. “That he helped him in the beginning? That his hands aren’t as clean as he wants everyone to believe?” She tilted her head. “Yes, Rita. That’s exactly what I’m saying. He also orchestrated Voldemort’s rise into the world — a boy once known as Tom Marvolo Riddle.”
For a long moment, there was silence.
Then, a slow, wicked smile curved across Rita’s lips. “Oh, this will be delicious.”
Her quill scratched furiously, ink soaking into the parchment, weaving the next blow to Dumbledore’s legacy.
And Evelyn sat back, watching, knowing that by tomorrow morning, the wizarding world would wake up to another shattered illusion.
⸻
Breakfast at Hogwarts was usually filled with the normal hustle and bustle of students chattering over their meals. But today, the air was thick with tension.
The moment the Daily Prophet landed in front of Evelyn, she knew why.
The headline took up nearly half the page.
DUMBLEDORE’S DARK PAST: THE TRUTH BEHIND HIS CONNECTION TO GRINDELWALD!
By Rita Skeeter
Evelyn skimmed through the article, but she already knew what it said—because she had orchestrated it.
Gasps and murmurs spread through the Great Hall as students read the front-page scandal. Some shocked, others vindicated, and some still in denial.
Across the room, the Gryffindor table was filled with conflicted expressions.
And then there was Harry.
His gaze found hers across the Hall, his green eyes unreadable. But he didn’t look angry. If anything… he looked like he understood.
Evelyn held his stare for a long moment, then returned her attention to her food, ignoring the chaos she had unleashed.
Dumbledore had built his power on secrets and half-truths.
It was about time they were torn down.
______________
The Slytherin common room had been transformed.
Instead of its usual dark, brooding atmosphere, tonight it was brighter, livelier—mostly due to the pile of catalogs spread across the emerald-green velvet couches, the constant excited chatter, and the fact that even the normally reserved Daphne Greengrass was holding up a pair of sandals and debating the pros and cons of a wedge heel.
“Ibiza is all about the aesthetic,” Pansy declared, flipping through a glossy catalog featuring witch-approved swimwear. “We need to look good. Scratch that—we need to look perfect.”
Evelyn smirked from her spot on the couch, where she was lazily flipping through a high-end wizarding fashion magazine. “You do realize we’re going on holiday to relax, not walk a bloody runway?”
Pansy scoffed. “Speak for yourself. I plan to do both.”
Hermione, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside Ginny and Luna, rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her amusement. “I still can’t believe we’re actually doing this. A whole summer in Ibiza.”
“It’s going to be amazing,” Ginny said, flipping to a page featuring bikinis with self-drying charms. “We’ll have sun, beaches, clubs…” She grinned. “And no school for two whole months.”
“That’s the real selling point,” Daphne murmured, scribbling a note on her parchment. “Two months of not worrying about NEWTs.”
Evelyn leaned back against the couch, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers. It was strange to think about how different this summer would be.
Two years ago, she hadn’t even known if she’d survive Hogwarts, let alone plan a carefree holiday with her closest friends.
But now?
Now she had people—friends—who wanted her around. A future that wasn’t dictated by Dumbledore’s plans or Voldemort’s war.
She was going to Ibiza. With her gang.
And for the first time in a long time, she felt like she had something to look forward to.
“Alright,” Pansy announced, snapping her fingers. “Let’s get serious. We need to put together actual outfits.”
She pointed at Evelyn. “You’re getting a whole new summer wardrobe. No arguments.”
Evelyn raised an amused brow. “Are you implying my wardrobe is lacking?”
“I’m stating it,” Pansy replied smugly. “You wear black far too often. You need color.”
Ginny hummed in agreement. “You’d look amazing in red.”
“Or emerald green,” Luna added dreamily.
Evelyn chuckled, shaking her head. “Fine, fine. Pick out whatever you want, and I’ll wear it.”
Pansy beamed. “Now, that’s the attitude I like.”
The rest of the evening passed in a whirl of fabric swatches, enchanted size charts, and heated debates over whether strappy sandals were better than espadrilles.
By the time they had all sent out their orders, the excitement in the air was palpable.
Ibiza wasn’t just a trip.
It was a symbol of everything they had fought for—a future they were choosing for themselves, beyond war, beyond expectations, beyond Hogwarts.
And for Evelyn, it was a reminder of just how much had changed.
_____________
The atmosphere in Hogwarts had completely shifted. Again.
For weeks, the castle had been consumed by an air of stress and desperation, students pacing corridors with their noses buried in textbooks, frantically muttering incantations under their breath, and collapsing into exhausted heaps in the library. The professors, usually strict and imposing, had even softened, allowing minor rule-breaking and offering last-minute study tips in hushed voices.
But now, finally, it was over.
The last exam—Defense Against the Dark Arts—had been grueling, filled with complex theoretical scenarios and a practical portion that had left many students sweating. Evelyn had faced off against a particularly tricky Boggart that shifted unpredictably, forcing her to think on her feet. Harry had aced his Patronus Charm demonstration, while Hermione had practically written a full textbook in response to the written questions.
As soon as they stepped out of the Great Hall, a collective sigh of relief rippled through the group.
“Well, that’s it,” Theo said, rubbing his temples. “We either did brilliantly, or we failed so miserably that we’ll have to flee the country before results day.”
Draco groaned beside him, loosening his tie. “If I ever have to write another essay about Shield Charms, I’m going to—”
“Jump into the lake?” Blaise supplied.
“I was thinking more along the lines of setting fire to my textbooks,” Draco muttered.
“You could always do both,” Evelyn smirked.
The tension broke at that, laughter bubbling up between them as they began heading down the stone steps of the castle, toward the lake.
Today, there was no studying, no plotting, no stress. Just a chance to breathe.
⸻
They found a shady spot beneath a large tree near the edge of the lake, where the grass was soft and cool beneath them. House-elves had been kind enough to pack them a proper feast—buttered bread, roasted chicken, fresh fruit, pumpkin pasties, and chilled pumpkin juice.
For the first time in what felt like months, the group let themselves relax.
Harry stretched out on the grass, lying back with his arms folded behind his head, eyes closed. Pansy had kicked off her shoes, sitting cross-legged as she carefully peeled an orange, tossing a piece at Theo when he made a sarcastic comment about her taking too long. Evelyn sat between Harry and Daphne, picking at a plate of grapes while Draco and Blaise argued over who had done worse on their exams.
“Alright,” Hermione said, pulling out a neatly written list from her bag, “since we’re all here and not currently hexing each other over exam scores, let’s go over the plans for summer.”
The group shifted, sitting up slightly straighter as the conversation turned serious.
“First up,” Evelyn said, glancing at Harry, “Gringotts.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. I’m going straight from Evie’s when we’re back home.”
Hermione frowned slightly. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Safer than leaving it in my head,” Harry muttered.
That was hard to argue with.
“After that,” Evelyn continued, “we’ll spend a couple of days at my place, just in case Harry needs to recover, and then we’re off to France for two days before heading to Ibiza.”
At that, the group perked up.
Pansy clapped her hands together. “I still can’t believe we’re actually doing this! France and Ibiza? This is going to be the best summer ever.”
Theo smirked. “Depends. Are we going to behave?”
Draco scoffed. “Absolutely not.”
Evelyn laughed, shaking her head. “We’ll make sure we don’t get thrown out of France, at least.”
The conversation drifted after that, moving from serious planning to excitement over all the things they wanted to do.
The sky shifted to deep oranges and soft pinks as the sun began to set, casting golden light over the lake’s surface. For a brief moment, Evelyn let herself soak in the moment—the warmth of her friends beside her, the quiet laughter, the feeling of freedom on the horizon.
For the first time in a long while, things felt light.
And that was something worth holding onto.
Chapter 77: The End of 6th Year
Chapter Text
With exams officially behind them, Hogwarts transformed from a place of stress and panic into a haven of relaxation and celebration.
The once-tense corridors were now filled with students laughing and chatting, their shoulders noticeably lighter without the weight of exams pressing down on them. The weather had warmed considerably, and the grounds were constantly bustling with students taking advantage of the sunshine, sprawling out on picnic blankets, tossing enchanted frisbees, and dipping their toes into the lake.
For the first time in what felt like ages, the gang had nothing pressing to worry about—no last-minute studying, no dangerous missions, no immediate threats. They floated through classes, many of which had turned into casual review sessions or practical exercises that didn’t hold any real stakes.
McGonagall had them transfiguring teacups into small animals one afternoon, and when Daphne had successfully turned hers into a fluffy white rabbit, Pansy had promptly stolen it and declared that she was keeping it.
Flitwick set up a dueling tournament in Charms, which led to an intense and hilarious series of spell-slinging matches, culminating in a final round between Theo and Hermione that ended with Hermione flipping Theo upside down and refusing to let him down until he admitted she was better than him.
Even Snape, who was usually unwaveringly strict, seemed to have eased up slightly, allowing their final DADA lessons to be less grueling. Evelyn had worked alongside Blaise on a particularly tricky shield spell, and when Snape had passed by and given an approving nod, Blaise had whispered, “I think he actually likes us now.”
The castle was alive with energy, but also with an underlying nervousness.
Though no one voiced it often, there was an unspoken anxiety about exam results, particularly among the seventh years. Conversations often drifted to their future plans, to career ambitions, and to the looming August letter that would determine whether they had passed their N.E.W.T.s.
“I swear,” Draco muttered one evening as they sat in the common room, “if I don’t get an Outstanding in Potions, my mother will find a way to have my name erased from the family tree.”
“You think that’s bad?” Theo said, sprawled out on the sofa. “My father will probably make me redo my entire sixth year just to avoid the shame of an Exceeds Expectations.”
Evelyn snorted. “Maybe you two should start preparing your fake identities now. That way, if it all goes wrong, you can flee the country before the letters arrive.”
The two boys pretended to consider this, nodding solemnly, which earned laughter from the rest of the group.
⸻
The Slytherin common room was particularly lively now that most students weren’t bogged down with studying. It had turned into a place of celebration and late-night conversations, with people staying up far later than usual, knowing that their schedules were blissfully empty the next day.
One night, Evelyn, Pansy, Daphne, Blaise, and Theo had pulled an all-nighter, sprawled across the emerald couches, playing enchanted board games and eating snacks they’d nicked from the kitchens.
On another evening, the group had found themselves reminiscing about the last few years, talking about everything they’d been through—the chaos of Umbridge, the formation of their alliance, the war that loomed ahead.
It was a rare kind of peace, one that felt fragile but precious nonetheless.
⸻
One particularly warm Saturday, the gang decided to make the most of their last weekend by taking a trip to Hogsmeade.
The small wizarding village was buzzing with students who had all had the same idea—shops were packed, the air was filled with the scent of fresh butterbeer, and Zonko’s was overflowing with students looking to stock up on prank supplies before the summer.
Evelyn and Harry wandered through the village together, hand in hand, taking in the carefree atmosphere. They stopped by Honeydukes, where Harry bought a ridiculous amount of chocolate, then spent a good half hour inside Scrivenshaft’s so Hermione could stock up on parchment and quills before they finally headed to the Three Broomsticks.
Seated in their usual corner booth, surrounded by the chatter of other Hogwarts students, Evelyn leaned back in her seat, exhaling contentedly. “You know,” she said, swirling her butterbeer, “it’s weird. This is the first summer I actually have plans. Real plans.”
Harry smiled, reaching for her hand. “Yeah. And they’re going to be brilliant.”
She squeezed his fingers. “Yeah, they are.”
⸻
The final days of the school year moved too quickly—one moment, they were celebrating the end of exams, and the next, students were packing their trunks, preparing to board the Hogwarts Express.
Evelyn found herself walking the corridors with a strange sense of nostalgia, knowing that next year would be different.
As the last night at Hogwarts arrived, the castle seemed quieter—a strange mix of excitement and reluctance hanging in the air as students prepared to say their goodbyes to another year.
For the gang, though, this wasn’t goodbye—it was only the beginning of the summer of their lives.
_______________
The Slytherin common room was packed wall to wall with students, the emerald glow from the lanterns casting a soft shimmer across the stone walls. A quiet hum of conversation filled the space, but there was an unmistakable anticipation in the air as they waited.
Evelyn stood near the fireplace, dressed in her usual composed elegance, her emerald-green robes catching the light of the flames. Pansy and Daphne stood beside her, arms crossed, looking as self-assured as ever. Blaise and Theo leaned against the far wall, their expressions a mix of amusement and curiosity.
At exactly nine o’clock, Adrian Pucey, who had officially stepped down as leader of the house weeks ago, clapped his hands together. The murmurs died down instantly.
“All right,” Adrian said, his gaze sweeping across the room. “We’ve all had a long year, and I know you’re eager to get on with your summer—but before that, our new Queen of Slytherin has a few words to say.”
A small ripple of cheers and applause ran through the crowd as Adrian stepped back, gesturing toward Evelyn.
She took a deep breath, scanning the familiar faces before her. For the past few weeks, she had stepped into this leadership role seamlessly, but this was the first time she was addressing them as their queen, officially.
She lifted her chin and let her voice cut through the silence.
“You all know I’m not one for long speeches,” she started, and a few people chuckled. “But I won’t let the year end without saying this—Slytherin House is more than a reputation. We’re more than the nonsense people say about us in hallways. We are more than the expectations put on us by our families, by the world.”
The room was silent now, the weight of her words sinking in.
“This year has been one of the most challenging we’ve ever faced. Some of you have had your loyalties questioned. Some of you have been put in impossible situations. And some of you…” Her gaze flickered briefly to Draco and Theo, who remained still, watching her carefully. “…are walking a very dangerous line between two worlds.”
A murmur ran through the crowd at that, but Evelyn didn’t let it linger.
“We are not just followers,” she continued. “We are leaders, thinkers, survivors. Whatever this war brings, we will not be used as pawns. We will make our own choices, stand by our own decisions, and most importantly—we will protect our own.”
A small wave of nods passed through the room, and a few people even murmured in agreement.
Evelyn exhaled, letting the room settle before delivering her final words.
“For now, though, all I ask is that you take care of yourselves this summer. Make sure you know where you’re going. If you don’t, speak to Professor Snape.” She paused. “And if anyone tries to take away your choices—remember that they don’t own you. No one does.”
A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “Now, enough of the serious talk—get packing, and for Salazar’s sake, don’t leave anything behind. If I hear one more person complain about losing a potions textbook, I might actually hex someone.”
A small wave of laughter rippled through the crowd, easing the tension.
Adrian stepped forward, smirking. “Well said, McCrae.” He turned back to the house. “You heard her. Get moving.”
With that, the gathering dissolved into chatter, and students began retreating to their dorms, their heads filled with thoughts of summer, home, and everything that lay ahead.
⸻
Evelyn’s dorm was an absolute disaster.
Clothes were strewn across the beds, books piled high on the floor, and an array of jewelry, potions bottles, and makeup were scattered across her nightstand. Pansy sat cross-legged on Evelyn’s bed, flipping through a catalogue, while Daphne methodically folded a stack of robes and tossed them into Evelyn’s trunk.
“I don’t know why you’re acting like you have to pack up your entire life,” Pansy drawled, flipping a page lazily. “You’re literally just going back to your apartment.”
“Yeah,” Daphne added. “It’s not like you have to haul all of this to another country—yet.”
Evelyn sighed, throwing a pair of heels into her trunk. “I just don’t want to forget anything. I hate unpacking only to realize I’ve left something behind.”
Daphne smirked. “That’s why we’re here, darling. To ensure you don’t have a packing disaster.”
Pansy finally looked up from the catalogue, a wicked grin stretching across her face. “Speaking of which—you should definitely take some of our clothes. You know, for Ibiza.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Why, we’ve been and knowing you will be going shopping.”
“Because,” Pansy said, standing up and walking over to her own trunk, pulling out a few particularly expensive-looking outfits, “you need to be properly dressed for a summer abroad. Your wardrobe is impressive, but mine is iconic.”
Evelyn glanced at Daphne, who just shrugged and added, “She’s not wrong.”
Rolling her eyes but secretly pleased, Evelyn accepted a few pieces from Pansy—a silk dress, a designer bikini, a lightweight cover-up that practically screamed luxury.
Daphne, not to be outdone, tossed in a pair of her own sunglasses and a set of gold bangles.
“You two act like I don’t already have clothes,” Evelyn said dryly.
Pansy just smirked. “You’ll thank us when you’re the best-dressed woman in Ibiza.”
Laughing, Evelyn continued packing, feeling a strange mix of excitement and anticipation for the summer ahead.
____________
The Hogwarts Express stood gleaming on the platform, red paint vibrant against the dull gray sky. The familiar chugging of the engine and the echoing calls of students bidding each other farewell filled the air.
Evelyn took a deep breath as she stepped onto the train, the weight of the past year settling in her chest.
“Oi, hurry up before we leave you behind!” Theo’s voice called from inside the train.
Rolling her eyes, Evelyn followed the others down the narrow corridor. The train was packed with students, exhausted but excited, talking about their summer plans. She passed a group of Hufflepuffs gossiping about the latest Daily Prophet article, a few younger Slytherins already changing into Muggle clothes, and a pair of Ravenclaws discussing their best and worst exams.
At last, she reached their usual compartment.
Inside, the entire gang was sprawled across the seats, as if they had claimed this space as their own for years rather than just one school term.
Harry sat with his arm slung over the back of an empty seat — Evelyn’s seat, idly flipping through an old Quidditch magazine. Ron was already elbow-deep in a pile of snacks, unwrapping a Chocolate Frog while Hermione gave him a look of disapproval.
Pansy, Daphne, and Ginny were huddled together, comparing their shopping catalogues again, while Luna leaned against the window, watching the countryside fly past with a dreamy smile.
Draco and Theo sat across from Blaise and Evan, the four of them engaged in a quiet but serious conversation about something Evelyn couldn’t quite hear over the general noise of the train.
“You finally made it,” Pansy said, raising an eyebrow as Evelyn took the seat next to her. “I thought we’d have to send a search party.”
Evelyn smirked. “Packing took longer than expected.”
“She means she let Pansy and Daphne stuff her trunk with designer clothes she doesn’t need,” Theo muttered, not even looking up.
Daphne flipped her hair dramatically. “Oh, I’m sorry, would you rather we let her go to Ibiza in ugly robes?”
“Ibiza,” Hermione repeated, still sounding skeptical. “Are we sure this is a good idea?”
Ron scoffed. “Of course, it is! It’s bloody brilliant! Sun, sand, no exams—”
“And absolutely no Death Eaters,” Harry added, finally looking up from his magazine. “Which is the most important part.”
That seemed to settle any doubts Hermione had.
“So, we’re all agreed then?” Neville asked from his spot near the window. “Two days in France, then off to Ibiza?”
Everyone nodded enthusiastically.
“We should plan a day to go shopping in Paris,” Daphne suggested.
“Shopping?” Ron groaned. “Can’t we just—”
“If you finish that sentence, Weasley, I’ll hex you,” Pansy interrupted sweetly.
Evelyn chuckled, resting her head briefly on Harry’s shoulder as the conversation continued to spiral into playful arguments.
The train ride passed in a blur of laughter, plans, and teasing. Ginny and Luna started braiding each other’s hair, Draco and Theo got into a heated debate over whether or not the Cannons could actually make it into the top three Quidditch teams next year, and at some point, Evan fell asleep, his head nearly landing on Blaise’s shoulder.
As the journey neared its end, Evelyn gazed out the window, watching as the train drew closer to King’s Cross Station.
A whole summer of freedom lay ahead of them.
And with it, a war they would soon have to face.
⸻
As the Hogwarts Express pulled into Platform 9¾, the train gave one final hiss of steam before coming to a halt. The station was already bustling with parents and siblings, some waving eagerly while others stood stiffly, waiting for their children to disembark. The usual hum of conversation filled the air, punctuated by shouts of recognition, hurried goodbyes, and the occasional crash of a trunk being dropped too hard onto the platform.
Evelyn stood with the rest of the gang, taking a deep breath before stepping off the train. The warm summer air hit her immediately, a stark contrast to the cool, castle-filled Scottish highlands she had called home for nearly a year.
This was it.
The school year was officially over.
As the group emerged onto the platform, Theo let out a low whistle. “Merlin, it’s busy this year.”
Ron, already struggling with his overstuffed trunk, groaned. “It’s always like this. You’d think people would have figured out a system by now.”
Hermione sighed. “Well, if we staggered departures instead of everyone leaving at the same time—”
“No one cares, Granger,” Draco cut in, smirking as he casually leaned against his own luggage.
Evelyn ignored their bickering, her gaze scanning the crowd. Her chest tightened slightly. All around her, families reunited, parents pulling their children into tight embraces, siblings laughing and exchanging stories of their time apart.
“Alright,” Blaise said, stretching lazily. “So, we all know the plan?”
“Yeah,” Neville nodded. “Two days to ourselves, then we meet up and head to France.”
“You sure you can handle two whole days without us, Pans?” Theo teased.
Pansy flipped her hair, nose in the air. “Unlike you, Theo, I actually have a life outside of this group.”
“She means she’s spending the next forty-eight hours shopping,” Daphne added dryly.
“And getting a manicure,” Pansy confirmed.
Ginny rolled her eyes but smiled. “Of course you are.”
Harry glanced at his watch. “We should probably get going. Gringotts is waiting for us.”
At that, the group fell silent for a moment. The next step of the plan was about to begin.
This wasn’t just a summer holiday. They were moving forward, making real progress.
Evelyn took a deep breath before turning back to the others. “Two days,” she reminded them. “Then we’re back together.”
Theo smirked. “Try not to miss us too much, Queenie.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile.
One by one, the gang began splitting off. Hermione and Ron left together, chattering about the train ride. Neville gave them all a quick wave before disappearing into the crowd. Pansy, Daphne, and Ginny linked arms, talking excitedly about their upcoming Paris shopping spree. Blaise and Evan departed soon after, dragging Draco and Theo with them.
That left only Harry and Evelyn.
Evelyn glanced up at him. “Ready?”
Harry exhaled slowly. “As I’ll ever be.”
With that, they turned and made their way toward the far end of the platform.
Chapter 78: Horcrux & Holiday
Chapter Text
The world spun violently as the Floo carried them through the magical network, and in an instant, they were spit out onto the grand marble floor of Gringotts.
Harry stumbled slightly, dusting soot off his clothes, while Evelyn stepped out gracefully, already scanning the room.
The goblins bustled around them, clad in deep crimson robes, their sharp eyes flickering with curiosity and suspicion as they recognized who had just arrived.
Before either of them could speak, a familiar goblin with a golden chain draped across his chest approached them.
“Ah, Mr. Potter, Lady McCrae,” Ragnok greeted, his voice cool and businesslike. “You are expected. Follow me.”
They exchanged a quick look before following him through the vast, dimly lit corridors of the bank. The polished marble floors gleamed beneath their steps, and the deeper they walked, the colder the air became.
Eventually, Ragnok halted before an intricately carved silver door, its surface covered in runes pulsing with magic.
“This is as far as you go,” Ragnok informed Evelyn. His gaze turned to Harry. “Only the one undergoing the ritual may enter.”
Evelyn’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. She had known she wouldn’t be allowed in, but now that they were here, it felt wrong to let Harry go in alone.
Harry must have sensed her hesitation because he turned to her, lacing his fingers through hers. “I’ll be fine,” he assured her quietly.
Evelyn squeezed his hand tightly before letting go. “You’d better be, Potter.”
He smirked before turning back to Ragnok. “Let’s do this.”
And with that, the goblin pushed open the silver doors, and Harry stepped inside, leaving Evelyn behind.
⸻
The moment the doors clanked shut, Evelyn let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
She hated this. Hated waiting. Hated not knowing what was happening behind that door.
She turned and began pacing the hallway, her footsteps echoing off the stone walls.
There had been a time when she wouldn’t have cared. A time when Harry Potter had just been another Gryffindor, another player in the grand chess game of Hogwarts.
But things were different now.
Harry had become the one constant in her life, her closest friend, her partner in everything. The idea of losing him—of something going wrong with the ritual—sent a shiver down her spine.
She tried to distract herself by examining the runes on the silver door, but her thoughts kept circling back to the what-ifs.
What if the ritual didn’t work?
What if the horcrux fought back?
What if Harry came out of there… changed?
She swallowed hard and forced herself to lean against the cold stone wall. He’ll be fine. He has to be.
⸻
As soon as Harry stepped inside, the temperature dropped drastically. The chamber was circular, its walls lined with ancient goblin-forged weapons and shimmering magical artifacts.
At the center stood a raised obsidian altar, surrounded by a ring of glowing emerald runes.
Ragnok gestured for Harry to step forward.
“The ritual is dangerous,” the goblin warned. “You will feel pain, Potter. More pain than you’ve ever felt before. But if you endure, you will be free.”
Harry nodded, his jaw set. “I’m ready.”
Ragnok stepped aside as a group of goblin shamans entered the room, their robes embroidered with golden sigils.
One of them stepped forward, holding a dagger made of blackened dragonbone.
Harry barely had time to react before the goblin pressed the dagger’s tip against the center of his forehead, right over his scar.
The moment the blade made contact, Harry felt it.
A searing, white-hot pain exploded behind his eyes, and suddenly, he was somewhere else.
⸻
The world around him was pitch black, a void that stretched endlessly in every direction. Cold and unwelcoming, but warm and safe at the same time.
Then, a sickly green light pulsed in front of him, and out of the darkness, a figure emerged.
It was him.
But not him.
A shadowy, distorted version of himself, eyes burning a deep, unnatural red. The thing that had lived inside him for sixteen years.
The Horcrux.
“So,” it hissed, its voice echoing in the darkness. “You finally decided to get rid of me.”
Harry clenched his fists. “You don’t belong here.”
The Horcrux tilted its head, its lips curling into a sneer. “And yet, I’ve been here all along.”
The darkness around them shuddered, and Harry felt a crushing weight settle on his chest.
The Horcrux took a step forward. “You think you can just cut me out?” It laughed, the sound sharp and grating. “I am a part of you, Harry Potter.”
“No.” Harry gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand taller. “You were forced into me. I never wanted you here.”
The Horcrux smirked. “But you needed me. You wouldn’t have survived without me.”
Pain spiked through Harry’s scar, and suddenly, he was flooded with memories—times when he had acted on impulse, when his anger had burned too hot, when the whisper of parseltongue had come too naturally.
The Horcrux took another step forward, and Harry felt his limbs lock in place.
“You and I, we are the same,” it whispered. “You destroy me, you destroy yourself.”
Harry’s breathing was ragged, but his eyes remained steady.
“You’re wrong.”
And then, he reached his hand out—past the scar, past the pain, past the darkness—
And he let go.
A brilliant golden light erupted around him, blasting the Horcrux backward.
The creature screamed, its form twisting, unraveling like frayed rope. It clawed at the air, at him—at anything to hold onto.
But Harry pushed harder, forcing it back into the void.
The darkness shattered.
Everything went white.
⸻
Two hours later, the silver door burst open, and Harry collapsed forward, gasping for breath.
Evelyn was on him in an instant, dropping to her knees as she grabbed his face.
His scar was gone.
Her breath hitched. “Harry?”
His eyes fluttered open, green and clear. His lips quirked up into a small, exhausted smile.
“It’s gone,” he rasped.
And for the first time since she had met him—since this war had begun—
Harry Potter was free.
Evelyn didn’t let go of Harry’s face, her fingers pressing into his skin as if she was trying to confirm he was real, that he was okay.
His scar—that damn lightning bolt that had defined him for so long—was gone. In its place was smooth, unmarked skin, as if it had never been there at all.
“Are you sure it worked?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
Harry gave a weak chuckle. “Yeah. I can feel it. He’s gone.”
Evelyn exhaled shakily, brushing his sweaty fringe away from his forehead before dropping her hands. She needed to compose herself—this wasn’t the time to get emotional.
She glanced over at Ragnok, who stood nearby, observing the scene with his usual detached expression.
“It is done,” the goblin confirmed. “The piece of Voldemort’s soul that was lodged within Mr. Potter has been destroyed.”
Evelyn helped Harry to his feet, keeping a steadying hand on his arm. He was shaky but standing, his breaths still a little uneven.
“Can he travel?” she asked, turning to Ragnok.
The goblin nodded. “He will be weakened for several hours, but he is stable. You may leave whenever you are ready.”
Harry gave Ragnok a lopsided grin. “Thanks for not killing me in there.”
The goblin smirked. “It was a close call.”
Harry let out a breathless laugh, but Evelyn wasn’t amused. “Come on, Potter. We’re getting out of here.”
She wrapped an arm around his waist and led him toward the exit.
⸻
Harry barely had the strength to walk in a straight line, so Evelyn didn’t risk side-along Apparition. Instead, they stepped out of Gringotts and headed toward the nearest free floo connection in the Leaky Cauldron.
It was quite late in the day, so Diagon Alley wasn’t as crowded as usual. A few witches and wizards were out shopping, glancing at them curiously as they passed.
Harry leaned into Evelyn slightly, his body still recovering from the ritual.
“You okay?” she murmured, keeping her voice low.
He nodded sluggishly. “Just… drained. Feels like I ran a marathon while getting punched in the face.”
Evelyn snorted. “Sounds about right.”
They finally reached the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, and Evelyn wasted no time leading Harry inside.
Tom, the innkeeper, looked up from behind the bar and immediately froze when he saw them. His eyes flickered to Harry’s forehead—where his infamous scar used to be—and his brows shot up in shock.
“Blimey,” he muttered. “I’ll be damned…”
Evelyn ignored the look he was giving them and steered Harry straight toward the fireplace.
“Hold on to me,” she instructed.
Harry gripped her hand, and with one swift motion, she tossed the Floo powder into the flames.
⸻
They stumbled out of the fireplace, collapsing onto the couch in a tangled heap.
Harry groaned, his head falling back against the cushions. “I am never doing that again.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “I’d be concerned if you were.”
She stood, brushing soot off her clothes before heading toward the kitchen. “You need food. And water. Stay put.”
Harry didn’t argue. He looked like he could barely move, his entire body sagging into the couch.
Evelyn filled a glass of water and grabbed a plate of leftover sandwiches from the fridge, bringing them back over.
Harry took the water first, draining half of it in one go.
“You alright?” she asked as he set the glass down.
Harry exhaled. “Yeah. Just… it’s weird. I feel different.”
Evelyn tilted her head. “How?”
Harry was quiet for a moment before he said, “Lighter. Like something’s been sitting on my chest my whole life, and now it’s gone.”
Evelyn watched him carefully. He looked—for the first time ever—at peace.
She smirked. “About time, Potter.”
Harry grinned, grabbing a sandwich. “Yeah. About time.”
_______________
The day after Harry’s ritual, the gang reunited at Evelyn’s apartment to finalize their plans for summer.
It was the first time everyone had seen Harry since his Horcrux removal, and the moment he stepped into the living room, they all froze.
Theo, who had been lazily sprawled across the couch, sat up so fast he nearly fell off. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, staring at Harry’s forehead. “It’s really gone.”
Pansy and Daphne crowded around, their eyes darting across his face.
“This is so weird,” Pansy whispered, reaching out as if to touch the now scarless skin.
Harry leaned away, smirking. “I’d rather not have my face poked, thanks.”
Blaise gave an approving nod. “You look… normal now.”
“Cheers, mate.”
Ron grinned and clapped Harry on the back. “How do you feel?”
Harry shrugged, though there was a lightness to his expression that hadn’t been there before. “Better. Lighter. It’s weird not having him in my head anymore.”
Hermione, ever the logical one, studied him critically. “Any side effects? Any strange feelings since it was removed?”
“Other than exhaustion? Not really.”
Neville, who had been quiet up until now, grinned. “That’s good. One less thing tying you to him.”
Ginny nudged him. “Now you can enjoy the holiday without worrying about—you know—dying.”
“Small victories,” Luna said dreamily.
Evelyn, who had been watching silently, finally spoke up. “Alright, since Harry is officially Horcrux-free, let’s go over the plan again.”
Evelyn grabbed a parchment from the coffee table and held it up.
“So. We leave for France in two days. We’ll stay there for two days before heading to Ibiza for the rest of the summer.”
Daphne, ever the perfectionist, leaned forward. “Do we have everything booked?”
“Yeah,” Evelyn confirmed. “I sorted out the Portkeys. First one takes us to Paris. Then, after two days, we’ll take another to Ibiza.”
Theo stretched his legs out. “And where are we staying in France?”
“My family’s summer house,” Daphne answered. “It’s big enough for all of us.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Won’t your parents mind?”
Daphne waved a hand. “They never use it. It’s just sitting there, so we might as well take advantage.”
Hermione, ever cautious, frowned. “Are we sure it’s safe?”
Daphne smirked. “I added some extra security charms just in case. No one will be able to find us unless we want them to.”
Pansy clapped her hands together. “Alright, so that’s settled. Now—important question—what are we wearing?”
Ginny laughed. “I knew this was coming.”
Pansy ignored her. “We need proper holiday outfits. We’ll be spending most of the time at the beach in Ibiza, but we also need decent clothes for Paris. And don’t get me started on accessories—”
Daphne sighed dramatically. “I knew I should’ve ordered more.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “We’ll go shopping again before we leave.”
The girls cheered, while the boys groaned.
“You lot are impossible,” Ron muttered.
Pansy smirked. “Oh, Ronald. You should be grateful we’re making sure you don’t look like a disaster.”
Ron looked offended. “Oi!”
Blaise grinned, nudging Theo. “This is going to be a long summer.”
Theo chuckled. “No doubt about that.”
The next two days were spent in absolute chaos as everyone packed for the trip.
Evelyn’s apartment became a temporary storage facility, with trunks, bags, and shopping bags littered everywhere.
Hermione, who had made a detailed packing list, was the only one truly organized.
Ron, on the other hand, kept forgetting things.
“Ron, do you have your swim trunks?” Hermione asked for the third time.
Ron froze. “…I knew I forgot something.”
Pansy groaned. “Merlin, Ronald.”
Daphne sighed and tossed him a bag. “Here. I got extra.”
Ron peered inside and grimaced. “These are bright pink.”
Daphne smirked. “Yes. Yes, they are.”
The room burst into laughter.
Meanwhile, Harry sat back and watched, shaking his head as Evelyn tried to squeeze everything into her suitcase.
He leaned in. “Are you sure you need all of that?”
Evelyn shot him a look. “Do you want to argue with me about my packing choices, babe?”
Harry raised his hands in surrender. “Absolutely not.”
She smirked. “Smart choice.”
⸻
Finally, after two days of last-minute packing, the group gathered in Evelyn’s apartment, ready to leave.
Everyone had their bags shrunk down for easy travel, and the Portkey—a simple silver bracelet—sat in the center of the table.
Evelyn picked it up, glancing around. “Everyone ready?”
The group nodded.
“Alright. On three.”
They all placed a finger on the bracelet.
“One… two… three—”
With a sudden pull behind their navels, the world blurred into a swirl of colors as they were yanked forward—destination: France.
Chapter 79: Paris
Summary:
oui oui, bonjour
Chapter Text
Evelyn stepped out onto the bustling streets of Paris, the air warm with the lingering heat of the afternoon sun. The scent of fresh bread and sweet pastries from the nearby boulangeries mixed with the faint floral fragrance drifting from the Seine. She took a deep breath, letting the city’s energy settle into her bones.
Beside her, Pansy linked their arms, grinning. “Alright, where to first? Shopping? Sightseeing? Or do we just find the best café and order enough pastries to last us the rest of the trip?”
Daphne, walking just ahead with Theo and Blaise, turned slightly, already rolling her eyes. “You act like you wouldn’t eat half of them before we even get to the house.”
Evelyn laughed, the sound easy and light. It had been so long since she had felt truly relaxed. The weight of war, of strategy, of constant planning—none of it existed here. Just for these two days, they were just a group of friends, enjoying the city before the chaos resumed.
Harry was a few steps ahead, caught in conversation with Ron and Hermione, though he glanced back at her every now and then. He knew her well enough to understand that she was soaking it all in, committing every detail to memory. She wasn’t sure if they would ever get this again—this perfect stillness before the storm.
“Come on,” Evelyn said finally, tugging Pansy along. “Let’s at least pretend we’re sophisticated tourists before we raid every shop on this street.”
As they wandered through the city, she took in every sight—the winding cobblestone streets, the golden glow of the Eiffel Tower in the distance, the quiet hum of conversation in French drifting through the air. For once, her mind wasn’t running through strategy or battle plans. She wasn’t thinking about Voldemort, or the war, or what came next. She just existed here, in this moment, with the people she loved.
And for now, that was enough.
___________
Daphne’s summer house was nothing short of breathtaking. As their group approached through the grand, wrought-iron gates, Evelyn felt her breath catch. The estate was enormous, even by pureblood standards—a sprawling, cream-colored mansion with elegant French balconies, tall windows framed by ivy, and an intricate stone pathway leading to the front entrance. Lush gardens stretched out on either side, bursts of vibrant flowers dotting the pristine green lawns. The scent of lavender and roses lingered in the warm evening air.
“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered as they stepped inside. “This place makes Malfoy Manor look like a shed.”
Draco shot him an unimpressed look but didn’t argue, which meant Ron had a point.
Inside, the house was just as stunning. High ceilings, gilded chandeliers, and a sweeping marble staircase that split off into two separate wings. The walls were adorned with enchanted paintings—some depicting breathtaking landscapes of the French countryside, others featuring elegant, long-dead witches and wizards who watched them enter with mild curiosity.
“Alright, rooms,” Daphne announced, leading them deeper inside. “Everyone gets their own, but obviously, I put Evelyn and Harry and Ron and Pansy together, because I am merciful and don’t want to deal with you four sneaking around.”
Evelyn smirked at that but didn’t argue.
Daphne led them up the staircase and down a long, beautifully decorated hallway before stopping in front of a set of ornate double doors. “This one’s yours.” She pushed the doors open, revealing a breathtaking suite.
Evelyn stepped inside, eyes widening. The room was spacious, with high ceilings and large windows framed by flowing white curtains. But what took her breath away was the view—the Eiffel Tower stood tall in the distance, glittering against the early evening sky. The sight was nothing short of magical.
“Daph, this is incredible,” Evelyn said, turning back to her friend.
Daphne shrugged, pretending as if it was no big deal, but Evelyn caught the pleased smile she tried to hide. “Only the best for you lot. The rest of you, your rooms are just as nice—except Evan’s”
“Oi!”
The rest of the gang disappeared down the hall to find their rooms, leaving Evelyn and Harry alone.
Harry dropped their bags onto the plush, four-poster bed and crossed the room, wrapping his arms around Evelyn from behind. She leaned into him, his warmth against her back a welcome comfort.
“Not bad, huh?” he murmured, resting his chin on her shoulder as they both gazed out at the twinkling city below.
She let out a soft laugh. “Not bad at all.”
The rest of the evening was spent lounging around the house, finally unwinding after their long journey. Blaise and Theo immediately claimed the lavish sitting room, sprawling across the silk-upholstered sofas with glasses of elf-made wine that Daphne’s family kept stocked. Pansy and Hermione had already disappeared to explore the extensive library, while Ron and Draco had somehow found their way to the grand dining hall, where the house-elves had prepared an extravagant spread of French cuisine.
Evelyn found herself curled up in one of the cushioned window seats, chatting lazily with Daphne and Luna as the evening stretched on. There was something peaceful about it—being here, away from the looming weight of war, surrounded by the people she cared about.
As the sky darkened and the Eiffel Tower’s lights shimmered against the night, the group finally gathered to plan their second day in Paris.
“Alright,” Theo said, pulling out a map of the city. “Obviously, we have to do some proper sightseeing. We can’t just lounge in this ridiculously luxurious house all day—tempting as that sounds.”
“We should go to the Louvre,” Hermione suggested immediately. “You can’t come to Paris and not see it.”
“Shopping,” Pansy added. “Obviously.”
“Food,” Ron chimed in. “Lots of it.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “That’s not an itinerary, Weasley. That’s just your daily routine.”
Ron ignored him.
Evelyn glanced at Harry. “Any requests?”
He shook his head with a smile. “I’m happy with whatever, as long as you’re there.”
Daphne made a gagging noise, and Evelyn flicked a cushion at her.
After a bit of back and forth, they finally settled on a plan: a morning visit to the Louvre, lunch at a highly recommended wizarding café, then an afternoon wandering through the streets of Paris before finishing the evening with a river cruise along the Seine.
By the time they all started heading to bed, Evelyn felt more at peace than she had in months. Tomorrow would be an adventure, but tonight was simply perfect.
____________
The morning sun streamed through the tall windows of Evelyn and Harry’s suite, casting golden light across the plush bed where they lay tangled together. Evelyn stretched lazily, feeling the warmth of Harry’s body beside her before she turned to face him.
“Morning,” she murmured, voice still heavy with sleep.
Harry cracked one eye open and gave her a sleepy grin. “Morning.”
For a moment, they just lay there, wrapped in the comfort of each other and the quiet hum of Paris outside their window. But then a sharp knock sounded at the door, followed by Daphne’s impatient voice.
“Up, up! We’re leaving in an hour, and I will not tolerate lateness!”
Evelyn groaned and buried her face in Harry’s shoulder. “Why are we friends with her?”
Harry chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You love her.”
“Unfortunately.”
Still, they got up, showered, and dressed quickly. Evelyn opted for a flowy white sundress with lace detailing and a pair of comfortable sandals, while Harry threw on jeans and a simple button-up shirt. Once they were both ready, they met the others downstairs, where the group was already gathered around a breakfast spread fit for royalty.
“Alright,” Theo said, finishing off a croissant. “Everyone ready for a day of art, culture, and—”
“Shopping,” Pansy cut in.
“—aimless wandering,” Theo finished.
After breakfast, they set off toward the Louvre. The walk through Paris was beautiful, the streets alive with the scent of freshly baked bread, the hum of conversation in rapid French, and the occasional burst of music from street performers. Hermione practically vibrated with excitement as they neared the museum, and even Draco, who had originally been indifferent, seemed mildly interested as they stepped into the grand glass pyramid entrance.
The inside was breathtaking. The Louvre was massive, and it would have taken days to see everything, so they focused on the highlights—Hermione led the charge straight to the Mona Lisa, where they elbowed through the crowd to get a decent look.
“She’s smaller than I expected,” Blaise muttered.
“She’s still brilliant,” Hermione shot back.
Theo and Luna wandered off together, enchanted by some of the more surrealist pieces, while Evelyn and Harry stuck close, taking in everything at their own pace.
“Bet you I can find the weirdest painting in this place,” Harry murmured to her.
Evelyn smirked. “Oh, you’re on.”
They spent the next twenty minutes competing, whispering increasingly ridiculous commentary about various pieces until Daphne finally dragged them toward the museum exit.
By lunchtime, they were at a charming little wizarding café tucked away in a hidden corner of the city, where the tables floated a few inches off the ground, and enchanted menus rearranged themselves based on the customer’s preferences. They ate croque-monsieurs and delicate pastries, sipping on chilled butterbeer and French wizarding wines.
After lunch came the shopping—Pansy was relentless, dragging everyone into boutique after boutique. Evelyn didn’t mind, though, and even Harry was a good sport about it, holding her bags without complaint and occasionally picking out things he thought she’d like.
Eventually, as the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, they made their way toward the Seine for the river cruise. The boat was elegant, with cushioned seats and tables set up with little lanterns that flickered with warm golden light. As they drifted down the river, the Eiffel Tower came into view, its lights shimmering against the evening sky.
Evelyn leaned against the railing, taking it all in. Paris was stunning, but it wasn’t just the city that made this trip special—it was the people she was with, the laughter that filled the air, the way Harry’s hand found hers without hesitation.
Harry stepped beside her, bumping his shoulder against hers. “Having a good time?”
She turned to him, a soft smile on her lips. “The best.”
He grinned, squeezing her hand as they stood there together, watching the city lights dance across the water.
______________
The morning in Daphne’s summer house was a slow, indulgent one. Sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the grand living space. The air smelled of fresh coffee, buttery croissants, and the faint hint of sea salt drifting in from the open balcony doors.
Evelyn was curled up on one of the luxurious cream-colored sofas, still wrapped in the softness of her silk pajama set, a book resting on her lap as she lazily flipped through the pages. Across from her, Hermione was reading as well, though with far more focus—her brows slightly furrowed as she absorbed every word.
Pansy, on the other hand, had sprawled herself dramatically across a chaise lounge, a hand draped over her forehead. “I think we should just stay here forever,” she sighed. “Who even needs Ibiza when we have this?”
“You,” Blaise pointed out from his spot at the breakfast table, where he was sipping an espresso. “You were the one most excited about Ibiza.”
Pansy scoffed. “That was before I experienced the luxury of waking up in a bed that feels like sleeping on clouds.”
Daphne strolled into the room then, already dressed in an elegant yet casual summer outfit. “Well, as much as I’d love to let you all laze about like aristocrats for the rest of the day, we have plans. We’re heading to Celestial Alley after lunch.”
That got everyone moving—though at their own pace. Breakfast stretched late into the morning, with people moving in and out of the dining area, helping themselves to flaky pastries, fresh fruit, and cups of coffee or tea. Theo and Draco had taken over the kitchen, much to the horror of the house elves, and were attempting to make omelets, though most of their efforts resulted in burnt eggs and laughter.
Eventually, everyone drifted upstairs to get dressed, choosing outfits suitable for both the elegance of Celestial Alley and the inevitable beach weather of Ibiza. Evelyn picked out a breezy white linen romper with delicate gold embroidery, pairing it with comfortable sandals and a pair of oversized sunglasses. Harry, always practical, stuck to a simple white button-down with sleeves rolled to his elbows and black trousers.
By midday, they were all ready and gathered at the house’s private Floo station. One by one, they disappeared into the emerald flames, reappearing in the heart of Celestial Alley.
The moment they stepped out of the Floo network, they were met with the breathtaking sight of Celestial Alley. Unlike London’s Diagon Alley, which was bustling and slightly chaotic, Celestial Alley exuded an air of refined beauty. The cobblestone streets gleamed as if freshly polished, lined with elegant boutiques and cafés with charming wrought-iron balconies draped in ivy. Floating lanterns hovered in the air, even in the daylight, shimmering with soft golden light. The scent of lavender and fresh bread wafted from a nearby boulangerie, mingling with the faint perfume of enchanted flowers blooming from shop windows.
“It’s so… posh,” Ron muttered, eyes wide as he took in the grandeur of the place.
“Of course it is,” Daphne said smugly. “It’s French.”
Pansy was already dragging Evelyn toward one of the upscale clothing boutiques, but Daphne quickly grabbed her arm. “No time for shopping, Parkinson. We have a Floo to catch.”
Pansy huffed but followed along as the group made their way down the alley. Evelyn and Harry walked hand in hand, enjoying the atmosphere. At one point, they passed an elegant patisserie, and Evelyn tugged him toward it, unable to resist.
“We have to at least try something before we leave,” she insisted.
Harry chuckled but let her pull him inside. The rest of the group, already expecting this, followed suit.
Inside, the patisserie was filled with rows upon rows of delicate pastries—macarons in every color imaginable, flaky mille-feuille, glossy fruit tarts, and elegant éclairs. Evelyn picked out a selection of treats, including a lavender honey macaron that melted on her tongue the moment she took a bite.
Theo and Blaise, meanwhile, had found a collection of French wizarding sweets that changed flavors with every bite, while Ron simply pointed to the largest chocolate pastry he could find.
Once everyone had their fill, they finally made their way to the Floo station, located at the end of the alley. Unlike the cramped fireplaces in London’s network, the Parisian station was a grand, open hall with marble floors and individual, beautifully carved archways leading to different locations.
Daphne stepped forward, speaking smoothly to the attendant in fluent French before collecting a handful of shimmering blue Floo powder.
“Alright,” she said, turning back to the group. “Ibiza, here we come.”
One by one, they stepped into the grand marble hearths, tossing the powder into the flames and calling out their destination. As the green fire roared around her, Evelyn felt the familiar tug behind her navel before everything blurred into a whirlwind of color.
When she finally landed, stumbling slightly on her feet, she blinked against the sudden brightness.
The air was warm, carrying the salty tang of the ocean and the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. The Ibiza branch of Celestial Alley — Compras Tropicales — was nothing like its Parisian counterpart—here, the cobblestones were sun-bleached and warm beneath their feet, the buildings were painted in bright whites and blues, and instead of the refined elegance of Paris, there was an effortless, laid-back charm to everything.
The alley was lively, filled with music, laughter, and the scent of tropical fruits. Vendors sold chilled coconut drinks from enchanted carts, while others displayed racks of lightweight summer robes and swimwear enchanted to dry instantly after swimming.
Pansy spun around, already in love with the place. “Now this is a vibe.”
Draco snorted but looked amused as he adjusted his sunglasses. “This is going to be chaotic.”
Evelyn grinned, slipping her hand back into Harry’s. “That’s the best part.”
With that, they stepped forward into the sun-drenched alley, ready to start their summer in paradise.
Chapter 80: Ibiza Baby!!!
Chapter Text
The moment they arrived at the villa Evelyn had decided to book — very last minute but she wanted to stay somewhere that wasn’t her normal home — it was clear this would be the perfect summer getaway. The villa was perched right on the coast, with a sprawling terrace that led directly onto the private stretch of sandy beach. The entire place had a modern yet cozy aesthetic—white-washed walls, airy rooms with floor-to-ceiling windows, and decor in soft blues and creams that blended seamlessly with the ocean view.
Evelyn flicked her wand, setting the final touches—floating lanterns glowed warmly on the terrace, a cooling charm kept the place refreshingly crisp against the summer heat, and fresh flowers arranged themselves in vases on the dining table.
Everyone quickly claimed their rooms—keeping their usual pairings. Evelyn and Harry took the master bedroom, which had an open balcony overlooking the beach, while Daphne and Pansy shared the room next to hers, their window facing the pool. Theo and Blaise took the loft-style suite, and Hermione, Ginny, and Luna set up in the cozy guest room with a charming seafoam green aesthetic. Ron and Draco ended up in the room nearest the kitchen, which Ron called a win, given its proximity to snacks and the twins ended up with the hammocks in the room next to Pansy and Daphne’s.
Once settled, everyone took their time getting ready for dinner. The warm Ibiza air carried the scent of salt and citrus through the open villa, and the excitement was palpable as they prepared for their first night out.
Evelyn chose a flowy, off-the-shoulder white dress that swayed elegantly as she moved, pairing it with golden sandals and delicate jewelry. Her hair fell in loose waves down her back, the salty air giving it a natural, windswept look. When she stepped into the living area, Harry was waiting for her, dressed in a crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons undone, his green eyes gleaming under the soft lighting.
“You look incredible,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her lightly.
She smiled. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
Once everyone was ready, they set off into town. The streets of Ibiza were alive with energy—music floated from bars and restaurants, the scent of grilled seafood and fresh paella filled the air, and groups of tourists and locals alike strolled along the cobbled streets, soaking in the summer night.
They found a charming seaside restaurant with a terrace overlooking the water, fairy lights twinkling in the palm trees surrounding it. The group took a long table, ordering pitchers of sangria and indulging in fresh seafood, tapas, and traditional Spanish dishes. Laughter filled the air as they recounted moments from the past school year, finally able to let loose after months of stress.
After dinner, it was time to experience Ibiza’s famous nightlife. They found a lively club with open-air seating, a glowing dance floor, and music that pulsed through the warm night air.
Pansy, ever the instigator, was the first to pull Evelyn onto the dance floor, followed quickly by Ginny and Luna. Soon, the entire group was caught up in the atmosphere, dancing beneath the neon lights, sipping fruity cocktails, and simply enjoying the summer night.
Harry had his arms wrapped around Evelyn as they swayed to the beat, his breath warm against her ear as he murmured, “This is definitely better than anything the Dursleys would’ve planned for my summer.”
She laughed, leaning into him. “I should hope so.”
As midnight approached, they finally decided to head back to the villa, the warm night air wrapping around them as they strolled along the beachside path. The ocean shimmered under the moonlight, waves gently lapping at the shore.
Ginny, still buzzing with energy, suddenly spun around and grinned. “Midnight swim?”
A pause. Then, without hesitation, George kicked off his shoes and ran toward the water, shouting, “Last one in has to buy breakfast tomorrow!”
Chaos erupted as everyone scrambled, kicking off shoes, peeling off their dresses and shirts, and running toward the waves. The water was surprisingly warm, the salty ocean wrapping around them as they splashed and laughed under the moonlit sky.
Harry pulled Evelyn close, his hands settling on her waist. “You know, this might be my new favorite tradition.”
She smiled, brushing wet hair from his forehead. “Then we’ll have to do it every summer.”
Eventually, waterlogged and exhausted, they made their way back to the villa, collapsing into their beds, the sound of the waves lulling them to sleep.
⸻
The next morning, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon filled the villa.
Dobby had arrived.
The excitable house-elf had insisted on coming to stay with them, and Evelyn, knowing better than to argue, had given him free rein of the kitchen. Now, he had set up a massive breakfast spread on the terrace, complete with fresh fruit, pastries, and an assortment of homemade dishes.
After eating their fill, they changed into swimwear and headed down to the beach, setting up under a large umbrella with sun loungers, towels, and a charmed cooler stocked with refreshments.
The day was a blur of sunshine and laughter.
They played beach volleyball, with Ginny and Luna shockingly proving to be an unbeatable team, much to Draco’s frustration. Pansy and Theo attempted to build an elaborate sandcastle, only for Fred to accidentally knock it over while chasing Blaise with a seaweed-covered stick.
Hermione had set up with a book under the shade, but even she couldn’t resist the occasional dip in the clear blue water.
Lunch was a relaxed affair—Dobby had packed a massive picnic, complete with fresh sandwiches, fruit, and chilled lemonade. They ate sprawled out on their towels, the sun drying the saltwater on their skin.
Evelyn lay with her head on Harry’s stomach, eyes half-lidded as she listened to the murmur of conversation around her.
“This,” she murmured, “is perfection.”
Harry’s fingers traced lazy patterns on her arm. “Yeah,” he agreed. “It really is.”
______________
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson, Harry pulled Evelyn aside.
“Come with me?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips.
She raised an eyebrow. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
With curiosity piqued, she let him lead her through the winding streets of town, the scent of blooming jasmine filling the warm night air. After a short walk, they arrived at a small, candle-lit restaurant tucked away in a quiet alley.
It was intimate, with tables set beneath a canopy of fairy lights, the gentle hum of acoustic music drifting through the air. A soft breeze carried the scent of grilled seafood and fresh herbs.
Evelyn looked at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “You planned this?”
Harry shrugged, a little sheepish. “Wanted to do something special. Just us.”
Her heart melted. “It’s perfect.”
They were seated at a table near the edge of the terrace, the ocean just visible in the distance. The meal was slow and indulgent—fresh pasta, grilled prawns, and the best wine they’d ever tasted. They talked for hours, about everything and nothing, losing themselves in the moment.
At one point, Harry reached across the table, fingers brushing against hers. “I love you, you know.”
Evelyn’s breath hitched, warmth spreading through her chest. She squeezed his hand. “I love you too.”
They spent the rest of the night wandering the quiet streets, stopping to admire street performers and little artisan shops. By the time they returned to the villa, the rest of the group had long gone to bed.
Evelyn curled into Harry’s side, the rhythmic sound of the ocean filling the silence.
“This has been the best summer,” she murmured sleepily.
Harry pressed a kiss to her forehead. “And it’s only just beginning.”
With that, they drifted off, the warmth of the night settling around them like a dream.
____________
The first few days in Ibiza slipped by in a golden haze of sun, sea, and absolute freedom. With no pressing worries and no expectations beyond enjoying their summer, the group fell into an easy routine—late mornings, lazy afternoons on the beach, and evenings spent exploring the island’s vibrant nightlife.
The beachside villa had quickly become their sanctuary. Waking up to the gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore was a luxury none of them took for granted. Every morning, sunlight streamed through the open balcony doors, filling the rooms with warmth.
Harry was always the first to wake, slipping out of bed quietly so as not to disturb Evelyn. He’d sit out on the terrace, watching the sunrise with a cup of coffee in hand, reveling in the peace of it all. Eventually, Evelyn would pad out to join him, her hair still messy from sleep, and they’d sit in companionable silence before the rest of the house stirred.
Dobby ensured they never went hungry, preparing elaborate breakfasts of fresh fruit, pastries, and cooked dishes that reminded them of Hogwarts feasts. The house-elf had even set up a tiny hammock for himself in the kitchen, determined to stay for the entire trip.
Their days were filled with pure relaxation. Mornings were spent lounging by the water, the soft white sand warm beneath their toes. Some days, they took a boat out along the coast, stopping to swim in hidden coves with crystal-clear water. Other times, they simply basked under the sun, reading, napping, or joking around.
The twins took it upon themselves to master paddleboarding, though Fred spent more time falling into the water than actually standing. Pansy, naturally graceful, made it look effortless, much to Draco’s annoyance when she refused to let him live down his own failed attempts.
Hermione and Luna often wandered off to explore the surrounding area, enchanted by the island’s natural beauty. They found hidden cliffs with breathtaking views, little artisan markets selling handcrafted jewelry, and quiet cafés where they could sit and talk for hours.
Ron, meanwhile, had discovered his love for Spanish food and made it his personal mission to try every restaurant within walking distance. He often dragged Ginny and Draco along with him, the three of them returning each afternoon with enthusiastic reviews of whatever they had eaten that day.
Evenings in Ibiza were nothing short of magical. Some nights, they opted for quiet dinners at the villa, watching the sunset from the terrace with plates of fresh seafood and glasses of sangria. Other times, they ventured into town, finding lively beachside restaurants with live music and dancing.
The nightlife, of course, was an experience in itself. The clubs pulsed with energy, filled with music that seemed to vibrate through the air. They danced for hours, losing themselves in the rhythm, in the flashing lights, in the sheer euphoria of it all.
For Harry and Evelyn, it felt like the perfect escape. Here, away from Hogwarts and the weight of the world, they could just be them —no expectations, no responsibilities, just two people in love, making the most of every moment.
_______
One afternoon, Daphne, ever the planner, suggested they take a boat tour around the smaller islands off the coast of Ibiza.
“I booked us a private yacht for the day,” she announced at breakfast, sipping her morning coffee with a smug smile.
“Of course you did,” Blaise drawled, shaking his head. “Only you would consider renting a yacht for a casual day trip.”
“Oh, hush. It’ll be fun,” she shot back. “We’ll see some of the best-hidden beaches, and there’s even a stop where we can go snorkeling.”
And so, after a quick round of excited agreement, they packed up a cooler of snacks, donned their swimsuits, and headed for the marina.
The yacht was nothing short of luxurious, with plush sun loungers on deck and a sleek, polished interior. As soon as they set off, Pansy stretched out with a sigh of contentment.
“This is exactly how summer should be,” she said, tipping her sunglasses down to admire the ocean view.
Their first stop was a secluded cove with water so clear they could see straight to the bottom. Theo, Fred and Draco immediately dove in, challenging each other to a race while Luna and Hermione paddled out more leisurely, taking in the colorful fish darting beneath them.
Harry and Evelyn swam out together, the warm saltwater enveloping them as they floated side by side.
“Remind me why we don’t just live here forever?” Harry mused, brushing wet strands of hair from Evelyn’s face.
“As tempting as that is, I think we’d get bored eventually,” she teased. “You’d miss Hogwarts.”
“I’d miss you more,” he said with a grin, and she rolled her eyes fondly before tugging him under the water in retaliation.
After a few hours of swimming, exploring, and a rather competitive round of diving contests (which Ginny won, to Ron’s horror), they continued along the coast, stopping for lunch at a floating seafood restaurant. The food was incredible—freshly grilled prawns, garlic-infused calamari, and crisp, golden patatas bravas.
They spent the rest of the afternoon sailing, sunbathing, and laughing until their stomachs hurt. By the time they returned to the villa, the sky had begun to shift into hues of pink and orange, setting the stage for their next adventure—a bonfire on the beach.
That evening, as darkness settled over the island, they gathered on the sand with blankets, firewood, and a collection of snacks Dobby had prepared.
With a flick of her wand, Evelyn lit the bonfire, the flames flickering to life and casting a warm glow over the group.
The night was filled with laughter, storytelling, and music. George had somehow procured a guitar, and though none of them had ever known he could play, he strummed a soft, rhythmic tune while Ginny sang along.
“Alright,” Theo said after a while, stretching out on the sand. “We’ve had a whole week of fun. What’s been everyone’s favorite part so far?”
“The yacht,” Pansy said immediately. “I refuse to accept that we don’t own one permanently.”
“Jumping off the cliffs at Cala Tarida,” Ron added. “Terrifying, but worth it.”
“The food,” Draco said, earning a round of laughter. “What? Have you tasted the paella here?”
“Exploring the island,” Hermione said. “There’s so much history here—it’s fascinating.”
Evelyn smiled, looking around at her friends, her family. “I think for me, it’s just been this —all of us together, no worries, no expectations. Just… enjoying life.”
Harry squeezed her hand, leaning closer. “I was going to say the same thing.”
As the fire crackled and the night stretched on, they stayed there, talking, laughing, and simply being. It was one of those perfect moments—the kind that they’d remember forever.
⸻
The second week of their Ibiza holiday dawned bright and warm, the sun casting golden streaks across the sky as the gang settled further into their summer routine. With one week already gone, they all agreed to make the most of their remaining time before heading back to London.
Theo, ever the instigator, decided that a proper beach day meant a tournament of games.
“We can’t just lounge around all day,” he declared over breakfast. “We need a competition. ”
“And what exactly do you have in mind?” Evelyn asked, sipping her morning coffee.
“A full-blown tournament,” Theo announced, pulling out a parchment. “I’ve already made a bracket.”
“You made a bracket?” Pansy asked, raising an eyebrow.
“What do you think I was doing while you all slept in?”
And so, the Ibiza Beach Games were born, with events ranging from volleyball and relay races to ridiculous challenges like “who can build the best sandcastle” and “who can stay on a float without falling off the longest.”
Team Chaos – Harry, Evelyn, Theo, and Ginny
Team Domination – Draco, Pansy, Blaise, and Ron
Team Genius – Hermione, Daphne, Luna, and Fred
Referee: George Weasley
The volleyball match was a mess from the start—Ginny and Blaise were terrifyingly competitive, Evelyn tripped over her own feet twice, and Hermione somehow managed to smack Ron in the face with the ball. In the end, Team Chaos won, mostly due to Ginny’s sheer determination.
The relay races were even more chaotic. At one point, Draco tackled Theo into the sand, Daphne hexed Fred’s shoelaces together mid-sprint, and Luna somehow finished the race without touching the ground once.
The final event—the sandcastle contest—should have been easy. But, of course, things escalated when Ron and Blaise turned it into a duel, transfiguring their castles into full-blown fortresses.
By the end of the day, everyone was covered in sand, exhausted, and thoroughly entertained. Team Chaos ended up winning, though Evelyn suspected Theo may have bribed George to rig the scoring.
After an entire day of competitive chaos, they decided to spend the next day in Ibiza Town for a shopping spree.
“I need new dresses for the rest of summer,” Pansy announced. “And I don’t trust any of you to shop without me.”
The group wandered through the bustling streets, weaving in and out of high-end boutiques and local markets. Ginny and Daphne dragged Hermione and Luna into a vintage shop, while Blaise and Theo went off in search of a new set of sunglasses.
Evelyn and Harry found themselves in a small jewelry store, browsing through delicate charms and elegant rings.
“See anything you like?” Harry asked, watching as Evelyn traced her fingers over a silver necklace.
She smiled, turning to him. “I’m just looking.”
Harry, however, made a mental note to return later.
By the end of the afternoon, everyone had acquired something new—flowy dresses, stylish swimsuits, a ridiculous sun hat that Theo insisted on buying, and an excessive amount of souvenirs.
That evening, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, the group returned to the beachfront villa.
“What’s all this?” Evelyn asked as she stepped onto the terrace, where a beautifully decorated dinner table awaited them, adorned with candles and fairy lights.
“Surprise!” Ginny grinned. “We wanted to celebrate.”
“Celebrate what?” Evelyn asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Everything,” Pansy said. “You and all the changes you’ve brought with you, school, making it through the year, being together—just life. ”
Touched, Evelyn smiled, taking a seat as Dobby appeared with plates of beautifully prepared food.
They spent the night eating, drinking, and reminiscing about their time at Hogwarts, the upcoming future, and all the things they had yet to experience.
As the night stretched on, Evelyn found herself sitting on the edge of the terrace, the ocean breeze brushing against her skin. Harry joined her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“Are you happy?” he asked softly.
She glanced at him, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “Yeah. I really am.”
And for the first time in a long time, she truly felt it.
Chapter 81: Home Time
Chapter Text
The group had been in Ibiza for four weeks, and while the entire holiday had been filled with sun-drenched days and unforgettable nights, there was still time for one last wild outing. Their time on the island had been a blur of beach days, shopping trips, and lazy afternoons spent basking in the Mediterranean heat, but they all knew it wouldn’t be a proper send-off without one final night at the clubs.
Pansy was the first to declare it. “We are going clubbing one last time.”
They spent the early part of the evening getting ready, the villa filled with the sound of laughter, music, and the occasional argument over who got to use the mirror next.
“I’m just saying,” Theo called from the other room. “Some of us have hair that takes effort.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes, adjusting her earrings. “Oh, shut up, Theo, you look the same no matter what.”
“Rude!”
By the time they left, the group was dressed to impress. They made their way through the lively streets of Ibiza, the air thick with the scent of salt and citrus, the sound of music and laughter spilling out of every club they passed.
The moment they stepped inside Eclipse, one of the island’s most famous clubs, they were greeted by flashing lights, a pounding bass, and an atmosphere thick with energy.
The first song that played was “Don’t Worry” by Madcon, instantly setting the mood.
Ginny grabbed Hermione’s hand and dragged her onto the dance floor. “No excuses tonight, Granger!”
Draco rolled his eyes but was already nodding to the beat, and soon, the whole group had made their way to the center of the floor.
By the time “Everybody” by the Backstreet Boys started blasting, Theo and Blaise were dramatically belting out the lyrics, much to the amusement of everyone around them.
Harry, who wasn’t much of a dancer, found himself being pulled along by Evelyn. “You have to dance,” she insisted.
“I am dancing,” he protested, swaying slightly.
Evelyn laughed, pressing close as she moved with the beat. “That’s not dancing.”
“Fine,” Harry sighed, pulling her in properly, and soon they were moving together, lost in the music.
As the night went on, “SexyBack” by Justin Timberlake turned the club into a hypnotic, neon-lit haze. Ginny and Luna were dancing like they owned the place, while Ron, who had been initially hesitant, had clearly had enough drinks to loosen up.
“I love Ibiza,” Ron declared loudly over the music.
Theo, also several drinks in, pointed at him. “Mate, you said that last night.”
“Yeah, well, I mean it more now.”
When “SOS” by Rihanna started playing, Pansy and Daphne dragged Draco onto the floor. He put up a token protest before giving in, rolling his eyes as he spun Pansy around.
By the time “Die Young” by Ke$ha came on, the whole club felt like it was moving in sync, everyone caught up in the high-energy chaos of the night.
Harry and Evelyn had momentarily disappeared to grab another round of drinks, only to return and find Fred and Blaise attempting to start a conga line.
“You two are menaces,” Evelyn declared, watching as Ron got pulled into it.
“I know,” Fred grinned. “Isn’t it great?”
The last song of the night, “Fireball” by Pitbull, had the group going wild. Everyone was singing, laughing, and completely absorbed in the moment.
By the time they stumbled out of the club at 4 AM, they were exhausted, tipsy, and completely satisfied with their last night in Ibiza.
Ginny stretched, yawning. “That was perfect.”
Ron groaned. “I need a bed immediately.”
“Midnight dip one last time?” Ginny suggested mischievously.
Everyone exchanged looks, and then—why not?
So, tipsy and laughing, they made their way down to the beach, shedding their shoes and running into the cool water. The moon hung low, casting silver light over the waves, and they splashed around, their laughter carrying into the early morning air.
It was nearly sunrise when they finally made it back to the villa, collapsing into bed with aching feet and memories they’d never forget.
_________________
The sun was far too bright when Evelyn woke up. Groaning, she turned over and buried her face into her pillow, willing the world to stop spinning. Her mouth was dry, her head was pounding, and she vaguely regretted all the drinks she had downed the night before.
Across the room, Daphne was sprawled out on the floor, muttering something unintelligible. Pansy, who had somehow managed to also sleep on the floor, with a blanket half covering her, let out a muffled groan.
“Kill me,” Pansy croaked.
Evelyn peeked out from under the covers. “Not before I kill myself first.”
From down the hall, a very loud “OW!” was followed by Ron’s voice. “Why is everything so loud?!”
Harry, who had been sleeping next to Evelyn, let out a pained chuckle. “Remind me never to drink that much again.”
Evelyn smirked at him. “You’ll forget that promise by next week.”
Eventually, they all dragged themselves out of bed, grumbling and groaning as they shuffled into the kitchen. Dobby, bless his tiny soul, had already anticipated their condition and prepared hangover potions for everyone, setting out a breakfast of toast, eggs, and strong coffee.
“Dobby is thinking that Young Masters and Mistresses will be feeling very bad today,” he said cheerfully, handing Ron a goblet of potion.
Ron, who looked seconds away from death, accepted it with both hands and downed it in one gulp. “You are my hero, Dobby.”
The potions worked quickly, and within half an hour, most of them were functional humans again—though Theo still had sunglasses on inside and refused to speak above a whisper.
⸻
By the time afternoon rolled around, Pansy had bounced back completely and was already planning round two.
“We have to drink again,” she declared, stretching lazily on the couch. “We leave tomorrow. We need one last proper send-off.”
“Absolutely not,” Hermione groaned, still nursing her coffee.
“Absolutely yes,” Blaise countered, already reaching for the unopened bottles of firewhiskey they had left over from the week before.
An hour later, they were all drinking again.
Seated in a circle on the floor of the living room, they had started a game of “Never Have I Ever.”
Ginny was the first to start. “Never have I ever… been in detention.”
Harry, Evelyn, Draco, Theo, Pansy, Blaise, Fred, George and Ron all drank.
Hermione, predictably, looked smug.
“You’re such a teacher’s pet,” Theo groaned, nudging her.
“You say that,” Daphne smirked, “but she’s secretly feral when no one’s watching.”
Hermione huffed. “I am not.”
Draco smirked, leaning forward. “Never have I ever… made out in a broom closet.”
Pansy, Blaise, Harry, George and Evelyn all drank.
Ron choked on his drink. “Wait—what?!”
Harry and Evelyn exchanged amused glances. “Ron,” Harry sighed, “we’ve been dating for years.”
“Yeah, but you weren’t making out in broom closets!” Ron argued.
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Do you remember fifth year?”
Ron blinked and shook his head as though a traumatic memory had resurfaced. “Oh… yeah. Fair point.”
The game continued, with the questions getting progressively more chaotic as the drinks kept flowing.
By the time Theo slurred out, “Never have I ever skinny dipped,” and Ginny downed her drink immediately, the group lost it.
“GINNY?!” Ron shrieked.
Ginny just grinned.
Evelyn and Pansy exchanged knowing looks. “You’re wild, Weasley,” Pansy declared approvingly.
Ginny shrugged. “You only live once.”
As the night went on, the drinks flowed, the laughter never stopped, and their last evening in Ibiza was one they’d never forget.
____________
Morning came far too quickly, bringing with it the harsh reality that their holiday had come to an end.
Evelyn groaned as she sat up, stretching her sore limbs. The air in the apartment smelled of spilled firewhiskey and regret, and judging by the way everyone was still sprawled out in various corners of the living room, no one was ready to face the day.
Dobby, however, was very ready.
“Young Mistresses and Masters must get up!” the elf announced, clapping his hands. “You is all needing to be packing! The floo will be leaving in three hours!”
A chorus of groans followed, but slowly, everyone dragged themselves up and started moving.
Evelyn and Pansy took charge of organizing the chaos, making sure everyone’s luggage was properly packed and that nothing was left behind.
“Where’s my other sandal?” Daphne asked, rummaging through her suitcase.
“Check the balcony,” Theo muttered from where he was lying face down on the couch. “You threw it off last night and said, ‘let the ocean have it.’”
Daphne blinked. “Oh.”
Blaise, who had somehow managed to pack in his sleep, was already lounging on the counter, drinking coffee and watching everyone scramble. “You lot are a mess,” he commented.
Hermione huffed as she folded her clothes neatly into her trunk. “Some of us planned ahead.”
Draco scowled as he wrestled with the zipper on his suitcase. “Some of us are not morning people.”
After two hours of chaotic packing, multiple misplaced wands, and one near-disaster where Ron almost left his entire trunk behind, the gang was finally ready to leave.
They took one last look at the villa, their home for the past four weeks, before stepping through the floo to Compras Tropicales.
The gang stumbled out of the floo portal into the warm, sunlit marketplace of Compras Tropicales, the Spanish version of Diagon Alley.
Evelyn brushed soot off her shirt and sighed. “Merlin, I hate floo travel.”
Ron, still dizzy, nodded in agreement. “I feel like I left my stomach back in the villa.”
Compras Tropicales was lively and colorful, filled with magical street vendors selling everything from enchanted jewelry to floating lanterns. Palm trees lined the cobbled streets, and the scent of spiced churros and sea breeze filled the air.
Pansy sighed dramatically. “I’m not ready to go back to London. Can we just stay here?”
Draco smirked. “What, and work at a potion stall for the rest of our lives?”
Pansy shot him a glare. “You joke, but I would do it.”
“Five minutes,” Hermione reminded them, checking her watch. “The floo to London leaves soon.”
They spent the last few moments soaking in the atmosphere, buying a few last-minute souvenirs (Ginny found a charmed seashell necklace that shimmered in different colors, while Evelyn picked up a bottle of enchanted Spanish wine for later).
Finally, the group stepped into the main floo station, and one by one, they disappeared in flashes of green fire—returning home.
______________
The moment Evelyn and Harry stepped out of the floo, the familiar scent of rain-soaked pavement and fresh parchment hit them. They had landed in The Leaky Cauldron, where the usual bustle of London’s magical community carried on as if they hadn’t just spent the last month living their best lives on an island.
Ron was the first to stumble out behind them, still wiping soot off his face, followed quickly by Hermione, who looked far too put-together for someone who had just traveled by floo.
“Ugh,” Pansy groaned, stepping out with a look of utter disgust. “I already miss the sun.”
Theo smirked as he dusted off his shirt. “What, don’t fancy the fine British weather?”
Pansy shot him a look as the doors to the pub swung open, revealing gray skies and a slight drizzle. She sighed dramatically. “I hate it here.”
Blaise, who had been the last one through, clapped his hands together. “Alright, so what’s the plan?”
Everyone looked at each other, a sudden realization settling over them. After spending nearly every second together for the past month, they were finally about to part ways—if only for a short while.
Ron slung an arm around Pansy’s shoulders. “Well, we’re off to the Burrow,” he announced, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“Ugh,” Ginny groaned. “Mum’s going to kill us when she sees how much we’ve spent this summer.”
Pansy smirked. “You mean when she sees you spent all your money on new bikinis?”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Don’t act like you didn’t do the same.”
Daphne was next to speak. “I’ll be heading home for the last week of summer, but I’ll see you all soon.” She smiled at Evelyn. “Try not to get too bored without me.”
Evelyn scoffed. “Bored? With Harry around? Highly unlikely.”
Draco, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally sighed. “I suppose I should get home before my mother sends out a search party.”
Theo nodded. “Same here. But we’ll be in touch.”
Blaise stretched lazily. “I’m heading home, too. Don’t have too much fun without me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Evelyn said dryly.
Hermione gave everyone a meaningful look. “And don’t forget—results come in next week.”
A collective groan swept through the group.
“Why would you bring that up now?” Theo complained.
Hermione huffed. “Because some of us actually care.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes playfully before turning to the group at large. “Well, I guess this is it. For now.”
There was a moment of silence, before Ron, ever the sentimental one, grinned and said, “See you all at King’s Cross, yeah?”
And with that, they all went their separate ways.
⸻
The familiar warmth of their London flat was a welcome change from the chaotic movement of the past month. The second Evelyn and Harry stepped inside, she dropped her bags unceremoniously by the door and flopped onto the couch with a dramatic groan.
“Finally,” she mumbled into a pillow.
Harry chuckled, kicking off his shoes before collapsing beside her. “Missed our bed already?”
Evelyn turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze. “Obviously.”
For a moment, they just lay there, soaking in the quiet. It was strange—not having the rest of their friends yelling, laughing, or dragging them off to some ridiculous adventure.
It was just them.
Harry nudged her. “We’ve got a week before everything starts up again.”
Evelyn hummed. “What shall we do with it?”
Harry smirked. “Sleep. For at least two days.”
She laughed softly, reaching for his hand. “Sounds perfect.”
And for the first time in what felt like forever, they let themselves relax.
Chapter 82: Harry gets to experience 7th year?????
Chapter Text
The morning was quiet—a rare thing, given the past few weeks had been filled with beaches, music, and late-night adventures.
Evelyn was still half-asleep, curled into Harry’s side on the couch (courtesy of falling asleep watching a movie) when a sharp pecking noise against the window pulled her from her drowsiness.
Harry groaned, shifting slightly. “Ignore it.”
Another, more insistent peck.
Evelyn sighed, cracking one eye open to see a large tawny owl perched on the windowsill, a thick stack of letters clutched in its beak.
“Not a chance,” she muttered, reluctantly untangling herself from Harry’s arms to get up and let the owl in.
The moment the window was open, the owl swooped inside, dropping its bundle on the coffee table before giving them a rather judgmental hoot and flying off.
Evelyn stared down at the pile, her stomach twisting slightly.
Harry, now sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, frowned. “That—” he yawned, “—better not be what I think it is.”
Evelyn picked up the envelope with her name scrawled in elegant green ink and turned it over in her hands. “NEWT results.”
That woke Harry up immediately.
He grabbed his own envelope, staring at it like it might explode. “Do we open them at the same time?”
Evelyn smirked. “Scared, Potter?”
He shot her a look, but the small smile tugging at his lips told her he wasn’t really annoyed.
She took a deep breath and ripped the envelope open.
⸻
Evelyn McCrae’s NEWT Results
• Defense Against the Dark Arts – O
• Charms – O
• Transfiguration – O
• Potions – O
• Herbology – E
• Ancient Runes – O
• Arithmancy – O
She exhaled sharply, scanning the parchment twice just to make sure she hadn’t imagined it.
Harry was silent beside her.
She turned, watching as he slowly unfolded his own results. His eyes flickered across the page, widening slightly as he read.
“Well?” she prompted.
Harry handed her his results with an almost dazed expression.
⸻
Harry Potter’s NEWT Results
• Defense Against the Dark Arts – O
• Charms – O
• Transfiguration – O
• Potions – E
• Herbology – E
• Care of Magical Creatures – O
Evelyn let out a low whistle. “Not bad, Harry.”
He blinked at her. “I actually passed Potions.”
She grinned. “Not just passed—you got an E. You could still be a Healer if you wanted.”
Harry snorted, tossing the parchment onto the table before pulling her into his lap. “That’s not happening.”
She laughed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Fine, fine. But still—this is impressive.”
Harry hummed, resting his forehead against hers. “So, we both did well.”
Evelyn smirked. “Did you expect anything less from me?”
He chuckled, kissing her lightly. “Not even for a second.”
⸻
With their results out of the way, there was nothing left to do but enjoy their last week together.
For the first time in weeks, there were no friends, no distractions, no plans—just them.
They spent long mornings in bed, only getting up when their stomachs forced them to. Evelyn, despite claiming she wasn’t a morning person, often woke up before Harry and curled into his side, tracing patterns on his bare shoulder until he finally grumbled awake.
In the afternoons, they would wander through London, stopping at little cafés and exploring the Muggle side of the city.
At night, they barely made it out of the flat, spending most of their time wrapped up in each other, tangled in sheets, whispering between lazy kisses.
One evening, they sat on the balcony, watching the London skyline as the sun set. Evelyn had a glass of wine in hand, while Harry sipped his beer, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh.
“Can we just stay like this forever?” he asked, only half-joking.
Evelyn smirked, swirling the wine in her glass. “Tempting. But unfortunately, we have one more year of Hogwarts to get through.”
Harry groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
She laughed, nudging his foot with hers. “Come on, you’ll survive.”
Harry turned his head slightly, looking at her with something softer in his gaze. “As long as I have you, yeah.”
Evelyn blinked, caught off guard for a moment before a slow smile spread across her lips. “You’re getting sappy, Potter.”
Harry rolled his eyes, setting his drink down before pulling her into his lap. “And what are you going to do about it?”
She smirked, leaning in until her lips barely grazed his. “Oh, I can think of a few things.”
And just like that, the conversation was forgotten.
⸻
Their final week together was filled with moments like that—stolen kisses, laughter echoing through the flat, whispered confessions in the dark.
And before they knew it—Hogwarts was calling them back.
________________
The familiar hum of the Hogwarts Express filled the air as Evelyn and Harry made their way down the corridor, maneuvering past younger students searching for compartments. The scent of pumpkin pasties and fresh parchment lingered in the air, mixing with the occasional burst of laughter from already-settled groups.
Evelyn felt a strange mix of nostalgia and anticipation. It was their final year, the last time they’d ever take this train to Hogwarts.
“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” Harry murmured beside her, as if reading her thoughts.
She nodded. “Yeah. Last year.”
He squeezed her hand before pushing open the door to their usual compartment.
Inside, chaos reigned.
Pansy, Theo, Daphne, Blaise, Evan, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George were all crammed inside, talking over each other while trying to find comfortable spots to sit.
“Oh, finally,” Pansy drawled, rolling her eyes as she spotted them. “Took you long enough.”
Fred grinned, patting the tiny sliver of space between himself and George. “Room for one more, but I can’t promise there won’t be some groping involved.”
Evelyn snorted. “Pass.”
Harry raised a brow. “Alright, let’s fix this.”
With a flick of her wand, Evelyn muttered “Amplio.” The compartment stretched, seats expanding, giving them all much more room to sit comfortably.
Blaise smirked, lounging back. “Now that’s more like it.”
Theo raised an eyebrow at her. “So, you do have useful magic, McCrae.”
She smirked. “I know. Shocking.”
As everyone settled in, Hermione was the first to bring up what was on everyone’s minds.
“So? How did everyone do on their NEWTs?”
A chorus of groans and mutters followed.
“Decent,” Theo shrugged. “Enough to get me through another year of hell.”
“Brilliant,” Hermione said proudly, though no one was surprised.
Ron sighed dramatically. “Not all of us can be Hermione Granger.”
“You passed, didn’t you?” Daphne asked, raising a brow.
“Barely,” Ron muttered.
Evan nudged him. “That’s all that matters.”
Pansy grinned, pulling a folded parchment from her pocket. “Since someone is too modest to brag, I’ll do it for her. Evelyn got almost all Outstandings.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes, plucking the parchment from Pansy’s fingers. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
Blaise whistled. “That’s actually impressive. What’s your worst grade?”
Evelyn sighed. “Herbology. Got an E.”
“Same,” Harry muttered. “Could’ve been worse.”
“Could’ve been better,” Hermione pointed out.
“Could’ve not happened at all,” Harry shot back.
Laughter filled the compartment before Theo asked, “So what’s everyone doing for their seventh year? Did you lot pick Mastery subjects?”
Everyone perked up at that.
In seventh year, students had the option to study one or two subjects at a Mastery level, as long as they passed the required NEWT. It was a way to specialize before leaving Hogwarts, and most people only chose subjects that directly related to their future plans.
Hermione immediately answered, “I picked Arithmancy and Ancient Runes.”
Ron grimaced. “I’m only doing Charms. Bare minimum.”
Daphne flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I chose Potions. Professor Slughorn adores me, and I plan to use that to my advantage.”
“Care of Magical Creatures,” Evan said. “Might be useful.”
Pansy nodded. “I went with Potions too. You, McCrae?”
Evelyn leaned back against Harry, her fingers absently playing with his. “Ancient Runes and Transfiguration.”
Harry smirked. “You’re insane.”
She nudged him with her elbow. “Says the one who still hasn’t told us what he picked.”
All eyes turned to Harry.
He hesitated for a second before shrugging. “Defense Against the Dark Arts. Figured I might as well make it official and keep studying it. Never know, might come in handy.”
A brief silence.
Then Fred let out a low whistle. “You mean to tell me that the bloke who’s been fighting dark wizards since he was eleven is now officially studying Defense?”
Harry grinned. “Guess so.”
Theo smirked. “Took you long enough.”
Blaise leaned back, amused. “You planning on going pro, Potter?”
Harry hesitated, exchanging a glance with Evelyn.
“Something like that,” he said instead.
Pansy stretched out her legs, looking pleased. “Well, it’ll be nice having half the class scared of you.”
Fred snickered. “Half? I’d say most.”
As laughter filled the compartment, Evelyn caught Harry’s small smile and squeezed his hand. Their final year was starting, and whatever came next—they were in it together.
_____________
As the train rumbled into Hogsmeade Station, the familiar excitement of returning to school mixed with an odd sense of finality. This was their last first day at Hogwarts.
Evelyn watched the castle come into view through the window—tall towers silhouetted against the dusky sky, the Great Lake reflecting the warm golden lights of the castle windows. Even after all these years, the sight still gave her a sense of awe.
Pansy stretched as she stood, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder. “Come on, then. Time to face another year of complete and utter madness.”
“Sounds about right,” Fred grinned, hauling his bag over his shoulder.
As the group spilled onto the platform, they were met with the usual chaos—first-years huddled together, looking wide-eyed, and Prefects trying to herd them towards the boats.
“Seventh years! Over here!”
McGonagall’s voice rang out over the crowd, sharp and commanding as ever.
Evelyn exchanged a glance with Harry before they made their way over to where the professor was standing near a row of enchanted Thestral-drawn carriages.
“You will not be riding with the younger students this year,” McGonagall explained, her gaze sweeping over the assembled seventh-years. “Instead, you will be taken directly to the castle and assigned your schedules for Mastery classes upon arrival.”
“Finally, some special treatment,” Blaise muttered under his breath.
The gang climbed into the carriages, settling into the plush seats as they began the ride up to the castle. The cool evening air carried the scent of pine and damp earth, and the rhythmic clip-clop of Thestral hooves against the path was oddly soothing.
“I can’t believe this is our last year,” Hermione murmured, staring out at the castle.
“Don’t get all sentimental now, Granger,” Theo teased.
Evelyn smirked. “It is weird, though. No more sitting through boring classes that don’t matter, no more stressing over OWLs or NEWTs. Just… finishing what we started.”
Harry nodded, his fingers brushing against hers. “And figuring out what’s next.”
For a moment, the carriage was silent as that thought hung in the air.
What came after Hogwarts?
They all had their plans—Mastery subjects, potential careers, but everything beyond that felt uncertain. Especially with everything they knew about Dumbledore, about Voldemort and the war, about the secrets they were unraveling.
The carriages rolled to a stop at the castle steps, and as they climbed out, McGonagall was already waiting for them at the entrance.
“Inside, quickly,” she instructed. “Professor Snape and I will be assigning your schedules before the Welcoming Feast begins.”
With that, the group made their way into the castle, stepping into the warm, torch-lit corridors of Hogwarts—one last time as students.
______________
As the group followed McGonagall through the familiar stone corridors, Evelyn couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of excitement and apprehension. Seventh year was different. There were no standardized exams looming over them—just the pursuit of higher-level magical mastery.
They were led into a smaller, private classroom rather than the Great Hall. Several other seventh years were already waiting—students from all four houses, some chatting nervously, others staring at the front of the room where both Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape stood behind a desk covered in parchment.
McGonagall cleared her throat. “Welcome back to Hogwarts. As seventh years, you will find that your schedules are significantly different than previous years. Instead of following a full course load, those of you who achieved at least an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in a subject at the N.E.W.T. level have the opportunity to pursue a Mastery in one or two subjects. This will allow for more independent study and in-depth focus under the guidance of your respective professors.”
Snape stepped forward, his dark eyes sweeping the room. “This year, you will be treated less like students and more like apprentices in your chosen subjects. Expectations will be high, and there will be no hand-holding. If you cannot keep up, you will be dismissed from your Mastery course. Do not waste our time.”
His words were met with a tense silence, though Evelyn noticed a few people exchange uneasy glances.
McGonagall paid him no mind as she waved her wand, and several stacks of parchment lifted off the desk, floating toward each student. “These are your final schedules. If you find anything amiss, you may come speak to me after the feast.”
Evelyn caught her own schedule out of the air and scanned it quickly:
⸻
Evelyn McCrae – Seventh Year Schedule
• Mastery in Ancient Runes – Professor Babbling
• Mastery in Transfiguration – Professor McGonagall
• Independent Research Periods
• Assisting in Sixth-Year Charms – Professor Flitwick
⸻
She smirked. Exactly what she had planned.
“Thank Merlin,” Daphne murmured beside her, glancing at her own schedule. “Two classes, and the rest of the time we’re free? Seventh year might not be so bad after all.”
Pansy leaned over her shoulder. “What’d you get?”
“Runes and Transfiguration,” Evelyn replied, handing it over for her to see. “And I get to help with Charms, which should be easy enough.”
Theo let out a low whistle. “Ambitious.”
She nudged him with her elbow. “Like you’re any different.”
“What did you pick?” Hermione asked.
Theo handed over his schedule. “Defense and Potions.”
“Shocking,” Blaise drawled. “Truly.”
Evelyn glanced at Harry’s schedule next—Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms Mastery. She wasn’t surprised, considering his skill in both subjects.
“Everything as expected?” McGonagall’s voice rang out as she scanned the room. “If there are no issues, you may proceed to the Great Hall for the feast.”
With that, the seventh years filed out of the classroom, making their way toward the Great Hall for the last Welcoming Feast of their Hogwarts careers.
_____________
As the doors to the Great Hall swung open, Evelyn was hit with a rush of nostalgia. The enchanted ceiling above reflected the darkening night sky, the last remnants of sunset casting deep purples and oranges across the clouds. Hundreds of floating candles hovered over the long wooden tables, illuminating the familiar scene below.
Students were already filing into their seats, chattering excitedly about their summers and speculating about the new year. The air buzzed with excitement, though there was an undercurrent of tension—the war may not have openly begun, but everyone could feel it brewing.
Evelyn, flanked by Pansy and Daphne, made her way toward the Slytherin table, where the rest of their friends had already gathered. Harry, Hermione and Ron, despite their Gryffindor loyalty, sat comfortably on the opposite side of the table, a clear sign of just how much things had changed since their first year.
“Merlin, I forgot how loud it gets in here,” Daphne muttered, slipping onto the bench.
Pansy smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “You’d think after six years we’d be used to it.”
Evelyn dropped into the seat beside Harry, who instinctively shifted closer, draping his arm across the back of the bench behind her. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes—especially to those who were still adjusting to the idea of a Gryffindor dating a Slytherin.
Across the table, Theo and Blaise were engaged in an animated conversation with Ron and Hermione.
“—don’t see why I should be surprised,” Ron was saying. “You lot already had your schedules worked out before we even got back. Bet you bribed McGonagall to approve them.”
Theo scoffed, leaning back against the bench. “Bribery? Please, Weasley. We Slytherins prefer to call it ‘advanced planning.’”
Ron rolled his eyes. “Same difference.”
“Some of us actually like to be prepared,” Hermione chimed in, giving Ron a pointed look.
Ron held up his hands in defense. “Hey, I passed my N.E.W.T.s, didn’t I?”
“Barely sweetheart,” Pansy muttered, sipping her pumpkin juice.
Before Ron could retaliate, the doors to the Great Hall creaked open once more, and the entire room fell into hushed anticipation as Professor McGonagall led the first-years inside.
A sea of tiny, nervous eleven-year-olds trailed behind her, their wide eyes darting between the four house tables. Evelyn watched as they whispered among themselves, some clutching the sleeves of their robes anxiously.
“Merlin,” Blaise muttered. “Were we ever that small?”
Harry chuckled. “You were.”
Blaise shot him an unimpressed look.
The Sorting Hat sat atop its usual stool at the front of the Hall, looking as ancient and worn as ever. As the first-years lined up, the hat’s seams stretched into a mouth, and it began to sing.
The Hall erupted into applause as the hat finished its song. McGonagall stepped forward with the long parchment scroll in her hands.
“When I call your name, you will come forward and sit on the stool,” she instructed. “The Sorting Hat will determine your house.”
The first name was called, and the Sorting began. Evelyn barely paid attention, letting the familiar ritual fade into background noise as she leaned into Harry’s side, her fingers absently tracing circles on the table. She could tell he was only half-listening as well—his gaze was distant, his thoughts likely on everything they had been through in the past year.
It wasn’t long before the Sorting ended, and Headmistress McGonagall stood once more, drawing everyone’s attention to the front of the Hall.
“As we begin this new school year, I must remind you all that Hogwarts remains a place of learning, respect, and camaraderie,” she said, her sharp gaze sweeping over the students. “The challenges ahead will test us all, but I have no doubt that each of you will rise to meet them. To address why I am speaking here and not Professor Dumbledore, I have taken over as Headmistress of Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore has decided to retire in quiet fashion and as previous Deputy Headmistress, it is my turn to take the stand. I have appointed Professor Snape as Deputy Headmaster.”
Her words were met with scattered murmurs, a silent acknowledgment of the tensions in the wizarding world beyond the castle walls.
McGonagall continued, “For our seventh years, this will be your final year at Hogwarts. You will find that your studies will require a greater level of dedication and focus than ever before. The Mastery programs will demand your best efforts. Do not squander this opportunity.”
She turned slightly, her expression softening just a fraction. “But for now, let us eat.”
With a flick of her wand, the golden plates and goblets filled instantly, a feast appearing before them in a dazzling display. The tension in the room eased almost immediately as students dug into their meals, the scent of roasted meats, buttered vegetables, and freshly baked bread filling the air.
⸻
“So,” Theo said, stabbing a piece of roasted chicken with his fork, “now that we’re actually back, what’s the plan?”
Evelyn raised a brow. “Plan for what?”
“For the year,” Blaise added, pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice. “We spent all summer lounging around. Now we’re back in Hogwarts, and I refuse to spend my seventh year buried in books like Granger.”
Hermione huffed. “There’s nothing wrong with preparing for the future.”
“No one’s saying there is, love,” Theo said smoothly. “We just prefer a little more…balance.”
Daphne leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Well, aside from our Mastery courses, we’ve got a lot more freedom this year. No scheduled classes for most of the day, just independent work.”
Pansy nodded. “Which means more time for fun. ”
Harry smirked. “Let me guess. You want to organize some kind of social takeover?”
Pansy gasped dramatically. “Me? Take over the school? What a scandalous accusation, Potter.”
Evelyn snorted. “Don’t act like you haven’t been planning something since the train ride. Also, we’ll wait until we’re all settled but we need to head back to the RoR”
Pansy smirked. “Alright, maybe I have. But seventh year should be legendary. We have to go out with a bang.”
Theo raised a brow. “Define ‘bang.’”
Pansy winked. “Just trust me.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t deny that a part of her was looking forward to whatever Pansy had planned. Their last year at Hogwarts was bound to be interesting.
As the feast continued, they slipped into comfortable conversation, discussing everything from their summer in Ibiza to what they expected from their Mastery courses. The energy at the table was light, full of laughter and teasing, a stark contrast to the weight of the war lingering in the shadows.
For now, at least, they could pretend everything was normal.
Chapter 83: AUTHOR’S NOTE (very sorry)
Chapter Text
Hi everyone,
as you can probably tell by the title, this isn’t a chapter but i’m realising that this story is getting away from me a bit so i thought i would post this to explain some of the main plot holes there might be.
I.
for the sake of this story - and because i love them so much - i’m having fred & george repeat their seventh year so that they are still at school with the group. i feel like it fits and at this point they have not yet bought the premises for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes so they decide that repeating a year isn’t so bad.
it’s never explicitly said that they are repeating a year but i wrote them in future chapters without realising it so it looks like they are!
II.
the war has, obviously, not started yet and the group don’t really know what voldemort is planning. (hehe i do)
so they will slowly get back into the swing of things but for the first week or so of 7th year - the war is put on the back burner. (really not that long it’s like a chapter for you guys)
III.
i do keep reading the relationship tags and realising that i have to make lots of people couples, so if anyone has anything in particular they would like to see regarding any of the couple (except harry and evelyn - they’re my babies) feel free to comment it and i’ll try work it into the storyline.
IV.
also, im not entirely sure what everyone thinks of there being a monarchy within Slytherin and Evelyn being the queen. personally, i’ve always felt that slytherin is definitely the type of house to have a monarchy and to worship it but that might just be me 🤷♀️
thank you for all the support on my story! i’m so glad i decided to continue ur writing it after almost a year and im so happy that you guys are enjoying it! love and appreciate you all
- A
Chapter 84: Back In The Swing of Things
Chapter Text
The Slytherin common room was exactly as Evelyn remembered—dark green and silver tones, lush emerald velvet sofas, and intricate silver chandeliers that cast a soft glow across the space. Large windows looked into the depths of the Black Lake, the occasional ripple of water distorting the murky view outside.
It was elegant, cool, and undeniably impressive.
Students filtered inside, some throwing themselves onto the plush chairs, others gathering in small groups to talk about their summers. The fireplace crackled warmly, offering a rare sense of comfort in the otherwise sharp and polished aesthetic of the room.
Evelyn exchanged glances with Theo and Pansy, who were waiting for her to take the lead. As a seventh-year and Queen of Slytherin, it was expected that she would address the house before the school year truly began.
She stepped forward, her gaze sweeping over the gathered students. The conversation gradually died down, and all eyes turned to her.
She didn’t bother with formalities. Slytherins respected confidence, not theatrics.
“You all know who I am, and if you don’t, you’ll learn fast,” she said smoothly. “This year is going to be different from any we’ve had before. Things are changing outside these walls. It’s not going to be long before it affects us here, too.”
A murmur spread through the crowd, but Evelyn continued before anyone could interrupt.
“I’m not going to stand here and give you some grand speech about unity,” she said. “But what I will say is this—Slytherins take care of their own. If you want to survive what’s coming, be smart. Be careful. And don’t be a bloody idiot.”
A few snickers broke the tension. Some students nodded in agreement, others looked uneasy, but no one spoke against her.
Satisfied, Evelyn stepped back. “That’s all,” she said simply, before turning away.
“Short and to the point,” Theo murmured approvingly.
Pansy smirked. “Very Slytherin of you.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “What did you expect? A rousing monologue?”
“I was hoping for some theatrics,” Blaise said. “Maybe a dramatic pause or two.”
Evelyn gave him a flat look, and the group dissolved into laughter.
⸻
Once the excitement had died down, everyone began retreating to their dorms.
The Slytherin dormitories were just as luxurious as Evelyn remembered—dark green hangings, rich silver embroidery, and soft, feathered mattresses that practically swallowed you whole.
She and Pansy claimed their usual beds, and Evelyn changed into a silk nightgown before collapsing onto her mattress.
Across the room, Daphne was already curling under her covers. “I forgot how exhausting the first night back is,” she muttered.
“Probably because we spent the entire summer in a bloody palace,” Pansy said, fluffing her pillows.
Evelyn chuckled but didn’t comment. She was comfortably exhausted, a strange mix of relief and anticipation settling in her chest. This was her last year at Hogwarts. Whatever happened next—with the war, with Dumbledore, with everything—this would be the last time she spent a first night at Hogwarts.
She wasn’t sure whether that was comforting or terrifying.
As the room fell into quiet, Evelyn rolled onto her side, her thoughts drifting to Harry.
He was just a few corridors away, probably lying awake in his four-poster, thinking about everything that lay ahead.
They had made it this far.
Now, all that was left was to see what this year would bring.
_______________
Seventh year at Hogwarts had officially begun, and despite the looming war and their secret plans against Voldemort, the atmosphere among the students was surprisingly lighthearted.
For the first time in years, they weren’t burdened by OWLs or NEWTs—though, in a way, the workload for mastery-level subjects was just as intense. The excitement of delving deeper into their chosen subjects, however, made up for it.
Evelyn had chosen Ancient Runes and Transfiguration for her mastery-level studies, and the first thing she noticed was the immediate difference in how these classes were conducted. Unlike standard Hogwarts lessons, these felt almost like private tutoring sessions, though there were still a handful of students in each. Mastery courses were designed to push them beyond their limits, and she could already tell that while she would love Ancient Runes, Transfiguration was going to be gruelling.
Harry had chosen Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms, and so far, he was enjoying them both. His skill in Defence was practically unmatched, and Professor Flitwick was excited to have a student so dedicated to Charms.
On the first day back, as they sat in the Great Hall eating breakfast, Evelyn turned to Harry and the others.
“So, what’s everyone taking for their mastery-level classes?” she asked, already knowing Harry’s choices but curious about the others.
Theo was taking Potions and Charms—a combination that made sense, given his precision with spells.
Draco had also chosen Potions, along with Transfiguration like Evelyn.
Hermione, of course, had opted for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy—no surprise there.
Pansy had taken Charms and Divination, which had raised a few eyebrows at the table.
Blaise had chosen Potions and Alchemy, while Daphne was doing Herbology and Magical Creatures.
Fred and George, who were technically still students after being forced to repeat a year, were only attending business-focused lessons under McGonagall’s supervision—an independent mastery course of sorts tailored to their future ambitions.
After breakfast, they split off into their separate classes.
⸻
The first class of the year took place in a new classroom, much smaller than the usual Ancient Runes classroom. With only six students in the course, it felt almost like a study group.
Professor Babbling greeted them with an enthusiastic energy, already explaining that this year they would be translating, decoding, and even creating their own complex rune sequences.
“Unlike your previous years, where you focused on theoretical knowledge, this year is entirely about practical application,” she announced, waving her wand so that the chalk on the board started scribbling notes. “You’ll be handling ancient artifacts, crafting protective enchantments, and even learning how to break down the runic magic of old wards.”
Evelyn’s eyes lit up at the prospect—this was exactly the kind of magic she loved.
The first task was a simple translation exercise using Nordic runes to decipher an old wizarding contract. Hermione, of course, finished hers first, but Evelyn wasn’t far behind. They spent the rest of the lesson discussing how different runes held multiple meanings depending on their placement, and by the end of class, Evelyn was already scribbling down notes for future reference.
⸻
If Ancient Runes had been exciting, Transfiguration was brutal.
Professor McGonagall wasted no time setting the tone for their mastery-level studies.
“This is not standard Transfiguration,” she said sternly, pacing in front of them. “You are here to master some of the most complex forms of transformation magic, and I will not tolerate mediocrity. If you cannot keep up, I suggest you leave now.”
No one moved.
McGonagall nodded approvingly and flicked her wand—suddenly, the room shifted around them. The desks disappeared, replaced by a circle of training dummies.
“Your first challenge: Human transfiguration. You will attempt to transform these dummies into living, breathing creatures. Not animals. Humans.”
There was a stunned silence.
Evelyn exchanged a look with Draco, whose face was comically blank.
*“That’s—” Draco started, but McGonagall cut him off.
“Yes, Mr. Malfoy, it is extremely advanced. But I assume you signed up for this class because you were prepared for a challenge?”
He shut up.
Evelyn rolled her shoulders, took a deep breath, and focused on her dummy. The theory behind human transfiguration was insanely complex—it required an understanding of not just appearance, but anatomy, structure, magical essence—but she was determined to try.
She raised her wand, muttered the first incantation, and watched as the dummy twitched— its wooden limbs shifting slightly.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.
McGonagall walked past and gave her an approving nod.
“You’re on the right track, Miss McCrae. Keep going.”
Draco, on the other hand, had accidentally transfigured his dummy into a rather horrifying half-human, half-wooden mess. Evelyn stifled a laugh as McGonagall sighed.
“Mr. Malfoy, I do not believe I assigned you the task of creating a magical abomination. Try again.”
Draco grumbled but went back to work.
By the end of class, Evelyn was exhausted.
⸻
If McGonagall was strict, then Snape was ruthless, Harry thought.
Mastery-level Defence wasn’t about blocking spells or learning counter-curses. Snape made it clear that this was about real combat.
“If you believe this will be anything like your previous Defence lessons, you are mistaken,” he said coolly. “You will be trained in advanced dueling, battle tactics, and high-level magic that could save your life in a real fight. If you are not prepared for that, you are free to leave.”
No one left.
Snape’s lips twitched. “Good.”
Then, without warning, he flicked his wand—and Harry barely dodged a hex aimed at his head.
The rest of the class was pure chaos. Snape made them duel over and over, pushing them past exhaustion, forcing them to think strategically rather than just relying on reflexes. By the end of the lesson, Harry was drenched in sweat but grinning—this was the kind of training he needed.
As they left class, Theo nudged him. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”
Harry shrugged, smirking. “Maybe a little.”
⸻
By the time Friday rolled around, the gang collapsed in the common room, exhausted but exhilarated. Their mastery classes were far harder than anything they’d done before, but they were loving the challenge.
“One week down,” Blaise muttered, sprawled on the couch. “Fifty-two to go.”
“Fifty-two?” Draco groaned. “Merlin, don’t remind me.”
“Still better than revising for NEWTs,” Pansy pointed out.
“Barely,” Theo grumbled.
_______________
The second week of term had barely begun when Evelyn sent out a message to the others, summoning them to the Room of Requirement that evening. They had put off this meeting long enough, and it was time to start making real plans.
When she and Harry arrived, they found that the room had already arranged itself into a large, circular meeting space. A massive table sat in the center, covered with parchment, maps, and quills. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and a roaring fire crackled at one end of the room.
Draco and Theo arrived next, followed by Blaise, Daphne, and Pansy. Neville, Ginny and Luna arrived together. Hermione and Ron walked in soon after, with Fred and George close behind. Snape appeared as silently as ever, taking a seat at the far end of the table, his expression unreadable.
The last to arrive was Sirius, who stepped out of the shadows with a smirk. “Missed me?”
“Not really,” Snape said flatly.
Sirius scoffed. “Nice to see you too, Snivellus.”
“Enough,” Evelyn said, cutting off any further bickering before it could start. “We have work to do.”
She took a seat at the head of the table and tapped her wand against the map in front of her. It shimmered, revealing several marked locations across Britain.
“These are the known Death Eater safe houses and meeting points,” she said. “We’ve been gathering this information for months, but now it’s time to start planning actual attacks.”
Draco leaned forward, studying the map. “Some of these places are well-guarded. The Lestrange estate, for example. If we go in unprepared, we won’t make it out.”
“We’re not going in unprepared,” Evelyn said. “That’s the whole point of this meeting. We need to figure out when and how we can take them down.”
Harry glanced at Theo. “You said the other day that Voldemort called all his Death Eaters to him just before summer ended. What exactly did he tell them?”
Theo exhaled slowly. “He went over his plans for the next year. He was furious that Draco and I failed to kill Dumbledore, but since Dumbledore is out of the way now by leaving Hogwarts, he’s focusing on the Ministry. He’s tightening his control over the Death Eaters, making sure they’re completely loyal. He doesn’t want any more mistakes.”
Draco nodded. “He also mentioned Hogwarts. He knows it’s the last real stronghold against him, and he’s planning something big. I don’t know exactly when, but he wants to take the castle.”
A tense silence fell over the group.
“We can’t let that happen,” Ginny said firmly.
Evelyn nodded. “Which is why we need to strike first. If we can weaken his forces before he makes a move, we stand a chance.”
Fred leaned back in his chair. “And how exactly are we supposed to do that without getting caught?”
“Hogsmeade weekends,” Harry said. “We can sneak away and attack the smaller bases first. The ones that don’t have heavy protection.”
George frowned. “That still leaves the problem of getting in and out without being noticed.”
“I can handle that,” Snape said. “I still have contacts within Voldemort’s ranks. I can make sure the information we want them to hear gets to the right ears.”
Sirius crossed his arms. “And how do we know you’re not feeding them information about us?”
Snape gave him a withering look. “If I were, you’d all be dead by now.”
Evelyn sighed. “I thought you two put aside your hatred for one another when you agreed to work together, was I wrong?”
Neither of them looked pleased at being chastised, but they didn’t argue further.
Luna studied the map closely. “If we’re attacking on Hogsmeade weekends, we need to pick targets that are close enough for us to get there and back in a few hours.”
Evelyn tapped her wand against one of the locations. “Here. A Death Eater base in a small village near York. It’s used as a meeting point, but there are only a handful of people stationed there at a time. We could hit it and be gone before reinforcements arrive.”
Theo nodded. “That’s doable. We should plan for the next Hogsmeade weekend.”
They spent the next hour going over potential strategies, deciding who would go, what spells they would use, and how they would escape if things went wrong. By the time they finished, everyone looked tense but determined.
“We’ll meet again before the attack to finalize everything,” Evelyn said. “For now, act normal. We can’t afford to draw any suspicion.”
As the group began to disperse, Hermione pulled Evelyn aside.
“I got a letter from Viktor this morning,” she said, lowering her voice slightly. “He’s moving to London in November and wants to meet up during one of the Hogsmeade weekends.”
Evelyn smirked. “A date?”
Hermione rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. “I couldn’t visit him over the summer, so I think he just wants to catch up.”
“And you’re definitely not interested in him?”
Hermione hesitated for half a second too long.
Evelyn grinned. “Thought so.”
Hermione huffed. “It’s not—he’s just—ugh, never mind. I have more important things to worry about.”
Evelyn let it go for now, but she filed that information away for later.
As she and Harry left the Room of Requirement, Evelyn glanced at him. “That went well, all things considered.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. Now we just have to pull it off.”
He took her hand, squeezing it. No matter how much they planned, nothing about this war was certain. But at least they had each other.
_____________
Evelyn sat at the Slytherin table the next morning, absently stirring her tea as she watched Blaise and Fred from across the Great Hall.
They were doing their usual routine—throwing lingering glances at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking, finding excuses to sit close together but never quite touching. It had been going on for weeks, and Evelyn was officially tired of watching them dance around their feelings.
She nudged Harry, who was sitting beside her. “They’re ridiculous.”
Harry followed her gaze and snorted. “Took you this long to notice?”
“I’ve noticed for ages, but I thought they’d figure it out on their own,” Evelyn muttered. “Clearly, I was wrong.”
Harry leaned back in his seat, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What’s your plan?”
Evelyn smirked. “I’m going to push them together.”
Harry grinned. “This should be fun.”
At that moment, Blaise got up from the Slytherin table and walked towards the exit. Fred stood a second later, pretending to be deep in conversation with George but very obviously following in the same direction.
Evelyn didn’t waste a second. She shot up from her seat. “I’ll be back.”
Harry chuckled. “Don’t do anything too evil.”
Evelyn flashed him a grin before hurrying after Blaise and Fred.
She caught up with them just as they reached the Entrance Hall. Without hesitation, she flicked her wand, and the heavy wooden doors slammed shut behind them with a loud thud.
Both boys spun around in surprise.
“What the hell?” Fred said, reaching for his wand.
Blaise narrowed his eyes at Evelyn. “I know that was you.”
Evelyn gave them an innocent look. “Oh dear, did the doors just lock on their own?”
Fred crossed his arms. “What are you up to?”
Evelyn leaned against the stone wall. “You two have been eyeing each other like lovesick puppies for weeks. It’s exhausting to watch. So, you’re not leaving this hall until you talk about it.”
Blaise scoffed. “This is ridiculous.”
Fred ran a hand through his hair. “I mean… she’s not wrong.”
Blaise faltered. “Wait—what?”
Fred let out a breath and looked him straight in the eye. “We’ve been dancing around this for too long. Maybe we should actually talk about it.”
Evelyn smirked in satisfaction and stepped away. “I’ll leave you to it.”
With a flick of her wand, the doors swung open again, and she walked away, grinning to herself.
One couple down, one to go.
Later that evening, she met up with Harry in the common room. He was lounging on the sofa with a book in his lap, but he set it aside as soon as he saw her.
“Well?” he asked.
Evelyn flopped down beside him. “Fred and Blaise are talking. No idea how it’s going, but at least I got them to acknowledge it.”
Harry chuckled. “And Ginny and Neville?”
Evelyn sighed. “They’re even worse.”
Harry nodded. “I’ll handle it.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
He smirked. “You’re not the only one who knows how to meddle.”
Evelyn laughed. “Alright. Let’s see who succeeds first.”
Harry leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “What’s the prize?”
Evelyn tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “Winner gets to decide our next date night.”
Harry grinned. “You’re on.”
He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before pulling back, eyes twinkling with amusement. Evelyn rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile.
If nothing else, this year was going to be very entertaining.
Chapter 85: The War “kinda” Starts
Summary:
with the first attack on a death eater base, evelyn pushes the strings of fate together and the results could be damning.
Chapter Text
The next morning, Evelyn was making her way to breakfast when she heard familiar voices coming from a hidden alcove just off the main corridor. She slowed her pace, recognizing Ginny’s sharp tone and Neville’s flustered stammering.
Curious, she peered around the corner and found Ginny standing with her arms crossed, staring Neville down.
“Just say it, Neville,” Ginny huffed. “It’s not that hard.”
Neville looked incredibly uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his neck. “I—look, I don’t want to ruin anything. If I say the wrong thing—”
Ginny threw up her hands. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake—”
Evelyn took that as her cue to step in. “Morning, lovebirds.”
Both of them jumped.
Ginny groaned. “You, too?”
Evelyn smirked. “I did tell Harry I’d leave this one to him, but I happened to overhear…” She leaned against the wall. “So, what’s the holdup?”
Neville flushed red. “I—uh—”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “He’s being ridiculous.”
Neville sighed. “Ginny—”
Evelyn held up a hand. “Alright, let’s make this easy.” She turned to Neville. “Do you like Ginny?”
Neville hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Yeah.”
Ginny arched an eyebrow.
Evelyn turned to Ginny. “Do you like Neville?”
Ginny’s expression softened, and she exhaled. “Of course, I do.”
Evelyn clapped her hands together. “Brilliant. Now, was that so hard?”
Neville and Ginny exchanged a look before Ginny snorted, shaking her head.
Neville sighed. “No, I guess not.”
Evelyn smirked. “Good. Now, you two go figure things out properly. I have a bet to win.”
Ginny shot her an amused look. “You and Harry are competing over us, aren’t you?”
Evelyn gave her an innocent smile. “Maybe.”
Ginny laughed. “You’re terrible.”
Evelyn shrugged. “It’s all out of love, I promise.”
With that, she left them to it, feeling very pleased with herself.
⸻
When she arrived at the Great Hall, Harry was already at the Slytherin table. He looked up from his plate as she slid into the seat beside him.
“How did it go?” he asked.
Evelyn smirked. “I win.”
Harry blinked. “No way.”
“Ginny and Neville are talking as we speak,” she said smugly, reaching for a piece of toast.
Harry groaned, slumping back in his seat. “Unbelievable. I was going to set something up today.”
Evelyn grinned. “Too slow, Potter.”
He narrowed his eyes playfully. “I thought we agreed—you don’t call me that.”
Evelyn leaned in, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Maybe I like the way it riles you up.”
Harry huffed, shaking his head with a laugh. “You’re impossible.”
Evelyn just smirked, stealing a sip of his pumpkin juice before turning her attention back to breakfast. Across the table, Theo and Daphne were engaged in a quiet but animated discussion, while Blaise nudged Fred with his elbow about something that had the redhead rolling his eyes.
Across the table, Daphne suddenly groaned and dropped her head into her hands.
“What is it?” Theo asked, raising a brow.
Daphne lifted her head, glaring at him. “I completely forgot I have a Charms essay due today.”
Theo smirked. “Unfortunate.”
Daphne scowled. “You’re supposed to say something reassuring, not laugh at me.”
Theo shrugged. “What do you want me to do, rewrite time?”
Daphne huffed, stealing Theo’s toast off his plate.
Evelyn smirked. “You should’ve done it earlier.”
Daphne shot her a flat look. “Thank you, Queen of Time Management.”
Evelyn grinned. “Always here to help.”
Harry laughed beside her, shaking his head. The atmosphere at the table was light, everyone still high off the ease of their seventh year. With most of them only focusing on their mastery subjects, they had fewer classes than the younger years, making their workload far more manageable.
As breakfast continued, the conversation shifted to their upcoming plans for the Hogsmeade weekend.
“I say we go straight to The Three Broomsticks,” Blaise suggested. “Butterbeer first, shopping later.”
Pansy nodded. “Agreed. Priorities.”
Daphne sighed. “Fine, but then we go to Honeydukes.”
Fred grinned. “You lot are so predictable.”
Evelyn glanced at Harry, who looked amused.
She leaned in towards the middle of the table. “We should use the Hogsmeade trip as an excuse to sneak off for a bit.”
Harry smirked. “Thinking about our other plans?”
Evelyn nodded. “We need to start setting things in motion.”
Harry’s gaze darkened slightly, seriousness settling over him. He reached under the table, fingers brushing against hers in silent agreement.
“We’ll make it work,” he murmured.
She nodded, gripping his hand briefly before letting go.
_______________
The morning of the first Hogsmeade weekend dawned bright and crisp, a cool autumn breeze sweeping through the castle as students bustled about in excitement. In the Slytherin dorms, Evelyn was putting the final touches on her outfit—a simple yet stylish dark green sweater, fitted black trousers, and her favorite boots. She glanced at herself in the mirror before nodding in approval.
Behind her, Daphne was fastening a delicate silver necklace around her neck while Pansy fussed over which coat to bring.
“I swear, if you don’t pick one, we’re leaving without you,” Daphne said, rolling her eyes.
Pansy huffed. “I just want to look good, is that a crime?”
Evelyn smirked. “We’re literally going to a village full of students in mismatched scarves and lumpy jumpers. You’ll be fine.”
Pansy finally settled on a sleek black coat before turning to them. “Alright, let’s go.”
They made their way to the Great Hall, where the rest of the group was waiting. Harry was leaning against the wall near the doors, chatting with Theo and Blaise. Fred and George stood nearby, already laughing at something, while Ron, Hermione, and Ginny looked like they were in deep discussion.
As Evelyn approached, Harry’s eyes flickered to her, a slow smile creeping across his face. “You look good.”
She smirked. “I always look good.”
Theo snorted. “She’s not wrong.”
Evelyn ignored him and turned to the group. “Alright, before we head out, let’s go over the plan.”
The playful atmosphere dimmed slightly as they all focused. This wasn’t just a normal Hogsmeade weekend for them—this was the beginning of something bigger.
“We have the location of the first Death Eater base,” Evelyn continued. “It’s about an hour outside of Hogsmeade, hidden behind a Muggle-repelling ward. We can’t take the direct route there—we’ll have to use a portkey.”
Sirius had managed to acquire the portkey for them, though how exactly he had done so was still a mystery. Regardless, it would activate at the right time and take them straight to the base’s outskirts.
“We’ll split into groups,” Harry said. “Theo, Draco, and I will handle taking out the wards. Once they’re down, Daphne and Blaise will handle any traps inside the house. Evelyn, you and Pansy will clear the lower floors, while Ron and Fred cover the exits. Hermione and George will be our lookout and backup if anything goes wrong.”
“Are we sure this is the best way?” Hermione asked. “Shouldn’t we scout it first?”
“We have,” Theo said. “Sirius had some of his people check it out. It’s not heavily guarded—mostly a safe house, not a main headquarters. This is the best opportunity we’ll get to strike first.”
Hermione still looked uncertain, but she nodded.
“And what about Snape?” Blaise asked. “Did he have anything to add?”
Evelyn sighed. “He just said to be careful. He can’t be directly involved in case it raises suspicion, but he knows what we’re doing. He won’t stop us.”
Theo cracked his knuckles. “Good. Then let’s make sure this is worth it.”
They had been waiting for this—waiting for the chance to strike back before Voldemort made his next move. If they could take out a few of his safe houses, weaken his network, it would put them one step ahead.
Evelyn glanced at Harry. His jaw was set, his green eyes steady. He had been waiting for this longer than any of them.
She reached for his hand, squeezing briefly.
“Alright,” she said, voice firm. “Let’s go to Hogsmeade.”
The first half of the day in Hogsmeade was deceptively normal. The group spent their morning browsing Zonko’s and Honeydukes, grabbing sweets and prank supplies as though they weren’t planning an attack later. Evelyn knew it was mostly for appearances—if anyone were watching, they would see a group of students enjoying their weekend, not a carefully coordinated rebellion against Voldemort.
She and Harry wandered through the aisles of Honeydukes together, his hand resting at the small of her back as they debated between chocolate cauldrons and blood-flavored lollipops.
“Do people actually eat these?” Harry asked, holding up the lollipops with a disgusted expression.
Evelyn smirked. “Blaise does. He says they taste like spiced cherries.”
Harry wrinkled his nose. “I’ll take his word for it.”
After buying a few things, they met the others outside, where Fred and George were already setting off a small, harmless explosion from one of their new products. Pansy rolled her eyes as she sipped from a Butterbeer.
“You two are a menace,” she said.
“We take that as a compliment,” Fred grinned.
They made their way toward The Three Broomsticks for lunch, slipping into their usual corner booth. Madam Rosmerta, as always, greeted them warmly, bringing over a round of drinks before they even asked.
“Any news from the castle?” she asked as she set down the mugs.
“McGonagall’s already threatening to hex anyone who skips class,” Theo said. “So, a normal start to the year.”
Rosmerta laughed. “That sounds about right. Enjoy your drinks.”
Evelyn sipped her Butterbeer, letting the warmth settle in her stomach. The conversation was light, casual—normal. It almost made her forget what they were about to do. Almost.
Eventually, the clock struck two. Evelyn met Harry’s gaze across the table. It was time.
The group left the pub in pairs, casually strolling toward the outskirts of the village, far from any prying eyes. As soon as they were out of sight, they regrouped in a clearing.
Theo pulled the portkey—a simple, rusted spoon—from his pocket. “Everyone ready?”
No one hesitated. They each placed a finger on the spoon, and the moment Theo murmured the activation phrase, the world around them vanished in a blur of wind and pulling pressure.
They landed just outside the Death Eater safe house, a small, unassuming cottage surrounded by thick woods. It looked abandoned, but Evelyn knew better.
Harry, Theo, and Draco moved first, dismantling the wards with precision. Within minutes, they were down.
Daphne and Blaise crept forward next, casting detection charms over the house.
“No major traps,” Daphne whispered. “Just standard security spells.”
Evelyn drew her wand. “Then let’s move.”
She and Pansy slipped in first, clearing the lower level. It was quiet—too quiet. But just as she reached the kitchen, a figure appeared in the doorway.
A Death Eater. Masked. Armed.
Evelyn reacted instantly, flicking her wand. “Expulso!”
The blast sent the Death Eater flying into the wall, but another came charging down the stairs, throwing a hex in her direction. She dodged, countering with a slicing curse that hit him squarely in the chest. Blood splattered the floor as he crumpled.
The first Death Eater groaned, trying to push himself up, but Pansy was faster. With a voice stronger than Evelyn had ever heard come from Pansy, she shouted, “Avada Kedavra!”
Green light flashed, and he collapsed, lifeless.
A heartbeat of silence followed. Then Harry’s voice rang out from upstairs. “It’s clear! Grab anything useful and burn the rest.”
Evelyn exhaled, wiping a stray drop of blood from her cheek, though it didn’t do much as her whole face and chest was covered in blood. She glanced at Pansy, who was breathing heavily.
“You good?” she asked.
Pansy nodded sharply. “Yeah. Let’s finish this.”
They searched the house quickly, taking anything of value—maps, letters, enchanted objects. Once they had everything, Ron and Fred set the place ablaze, flames licking at the walls and devouring the furniture.
As they stood outside watching it burn, Evelyn stepped forward. She knelt in the dirt, pressing her fingers to the ground as she carved a rune with the tip of her wand—an intricate, curved E.
Harry frowned as he cupped her face, his hands now red. “You sure you want to do that?”
Evelyn didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
This was her message. Her declaration. She wanted Voldemort to know it was her.
She wasn’t afraid of the target on her back.
________________
The journey back to Hogwarts was quiet. Too quiet.
The rush of battle had worn off, and in its place was a heavy, suffocating weight. They had won today—completed their mission, eliminated a threat—but the reality of what they’d done was beginning to settle in.
Evelyn kept a close eye on Pansy as they made their way back through Hogsmeade, blending in with the last of the students returning from their weekend trip. Pansy hadn’t spoken since they left the burning safe house. She walked with her arms folded tightly across her chest, her usual confident posture drawn inward.
Evelyn knew that look. She recognized the way her hands trembled slightly at her sides, the way her jaw was set just a little too tight.
She was holding herself together by a thread.
By the time they made it back to the castle, everyone was exhausted. They exchanged quiet goodnights, slipping off to their dorms, eager to pretend, just for a moment, that things were normal.
Evelyn had just changed into her nightclothes when she heard it.
A sharp, shaky breath.
Then another.
The distinct sound of someone gasping, fighting for air.
Her stomach dropped.
She turned toward the bathroom door, which was barely cracked open, soft candlelight flickering against the marble walls. She didn’t hesitate. She stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind her.
Pansy was curled against the far wall, her knees pulled to her chest, her hands pressed over her mouth as her body trembled violently. Her breaths were rapid, uneven—too fast.
Evelyn’s chest tightened.
Slowly, carefully, she knelt beside her.
“Pans,” she said gently. “You’re having a panic attack.”
Pansy squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head as if she could will herself out of it. “I— I can’t— I—”
She choked on her words, her breathing growing more erratic. Evelyn could hear how much she was struggling, how close she was to completely unraveling.
“Hey,” Evelyn said softly, placing a hand on her arm. “Look at me.”
Pansy’s eyes fluttered open, wide and filled with raw panic.
“You’re safe,” Evelyn murmured. “You’re here, in the dorms, with me. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
Pansy shook her head again, tears slipping down her cheeks.
“I killed him,” she whispered hoarsely. “I— I said the words, and he just— he just—”
She pressed her hands over her mouth again, her whole body shaking.
Evelyn’s heart clenched.
It didn’t matter how much they had trained, how much they had prepared. Nothing could truly prepare someone for their first kill. And Pansy… Pansy had done it in cold blood.
She hadn’t hesitated. She had looked that Death Eater in the eye and ended his life.
And now, it was breaking her.
Evelyn shifted closer, keeping her voice soft and steady.
“Pansy, I need you to breathe with me, okay?”
Pansy let out a strangled sob. “I— I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” Evelyn said firmly. “Just follow me.”
She took a slow, deep breath, exaggerating it so Pansy could see.
“In for four,” she counted. “One… two… three… four.”
Pansy hiccupped but tried to inhale with her. It was shaky, but it was a start.
“Good,” Evelyn murmured. “Now hold it. One… two… three… four.”
Pansy clenched her hands into fists, nails digging into her palms.
“Now out,” Evelyn instructed, keeping her voice low, soothing. “One… two… three… four.”
They repeated the pattern several more times, Evelyn guiding her through each breath, until the trembling in Pansy’s limbs started to ease.
After a while, Pansy exhaled shakily, resting her forehead against her knees. “It’s going to be traced back to my wand, isn’t it?” she whispered.
Evelyn shook her head. “No, it won’t.”
Pansy lifted her head slightly, her eyes still glossy with tears.
“But the Ministry—”
“They don’t have access to Hogwarts’ wards,” Evelyn interrupted gently. “The only way they’d know is if someone reported it.” She placed a hand on Pansy’s knee, squeezing lightly. “And no one is going to do that. Nobody even knows we were there.”
Pansy swallowed hard, nodding, but she still looked unconvinced.
Evelyn sighed, her voice softening. “You did what you had to do.”
Pansy let out a bitter laugh, wiping at her wet cheeks. “That doesn’t make it any easier.”
“No,” Evelyn admitted. “It doesn’t.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy and unspoken.
Then, after a moment, Pansy sniffled. “How do you do it?” she asked quietly. “How do you live with it?”
Evelyn hesitated.
She had asked herself that same question once. After her first kill, she had spent nights staring at the ceiling, wondering if the weight of it would ever fade.
It didn’t. Not completely.
“You learn to carry it,” Evelyn said at last. “You remind yourself why you did it. And you keep moving forward.”
Pansy closed her eyes, exhaling slowly.
Another beat of silence. Then, finally, she spoke again.
“Will you stay?” she asked in a small voice.
Evelyn nodded immediately. “Of course.”
She shifted so that she was sitting beside Pansy properly, her shoulder pressed lightly against hers.
They stayed like that for a long time, the only sound in the bathroom the quiet rhythm of their breathing.
Eventually, Pansy sighed, wiping at her face one last time. “I think I’m okay now.”
Evelyn gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Good.”
Together, they stood, and without another word, they slipped back into the dormitory, climbing into their respective beds.
As Evelyn lay there in the dark, she listened to Pansy’s breathing, making sure it remained steady, that she wasn’t falling back into panic.
When she was sure Pansy had finally drifted off to sleep, Evelyn closed her own eyes.
Tonight had been a victory.
But it had come at a cost.
_______________
Evelyn pulled Harry through the entrance of the Room of Requirement, the heavy wooden doors closing softly behind them. The space was warm and inviting, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows along the walls, and in the center of the room sat a large, plush bed with deep green sheets. It was clear the room had molded itself to fit exactly what Evelyn had envisioned.
Harry turned to look at her, curiosity and something deeper flickering in his green eyes. “Evelyn?”
She stepped closer, fingers lightly tracing down his arm before taking his hand in hers. “I just… wanted some time with you,” she admitted softly. “Before things get too chaotic, before the war takes over everything again.”
He exhaled slowly, squeezing her hand. “I get it,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I want that too.”
There was a tenderness in his touch, a quiet understanding between them that words couldn’t quite capture. They had spent the last few years fighting battles—against enemies, against expectations, against the future looming over them. But in this moment, it was just them. Just Harry and Evelyn.
She reached up, cupping his face, her thumb brushing lightly over his cheekbone. “Then let’s just have this,” she whispered. “Just us, just tonight.”
Harry leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss, and the rest of the world faded away.
The fire had burned lower by the time they lay tangled together beneath the sheets, Evelyn’s head resting against Harry’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His fingers traced lazy patterns against her skin, his other hand entwined with hers.
“I love you,” he murmured into her hair.
Evelyn smiled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I love you too.”
For the first time in what felt like forever, everything was quiet. No war, no responsibilities, no expectations. Just warmth, love, and the feeling of belonging.
Tomorrow, they would step back into the fight. But tonight, they had each other.
Chapter 86: More Attacks
Chapter Text
The Room of Requirement was already set up when Evelyn arrived, the space shifting into something resembling a war room. A large wooden table sat in the center, covered with maps, parchment, and magical blueprints of various properties. Candles floated overhead, casting flickering light over the gathered group.
Harry was already there, standing next to Sirius, who was leaning casually against the table, arms crossed. Snape stood further back, his usual scowl in place, though his presence alone spoke volumes—he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t take this seriously.
Pansy, Draco, Theo, Daphne, Blaise, Fred, George, Ron, and Hermione were already seated around the table, talking in low voices. Neville and Luna arrived next, Luna looking around the room with wide, dreamy eyes, as if she could see something the others couldn’t. Ginny was the last to enter, closing the door firmly behind her.
Evelyn took her seat beside Harry, fingers brushing against his under the table. He gave her a small smile before turning his attention to the group.
“Alright,” he started. “Let’s talk about our next target.”
Blaise waved his wand, and a section of the table shimmered before a new map appeared. “We’re looking at the Avery estate in Sussex. It’s been in the family for generations and has been used as a Death Eater base in the past. According to Theo and Draco, it’s one of their fallback locations.”
Draco leaned forward, pointing to the map. “This means it’s likely to be occupied, but not heavily. Voldemort hasn’t been recalling his followers often, at least from what I’ve heard, which means there’s a chance we could take out a few more of them before he even realizes what’s happening.”
“Are we sure he hasn’t noticed yet?” Hermione asked, skeptical. “I find it hard to believe that a Death Eater base was destroyed and no one reported back to him about it.”
“If he does know, he hasn’t done anything,” Theo replied. “No retaliation, no new security measures that we know of. He might think it was just an accident.”
“Or he’s waiting for us to slip up,” Snape interjected, voice low. “Do not underestimate him. Just because he hasn’t acted yet doesn’t mean he won’t.”
Evelyn tapped her fingers on the table, considering. “Either way, we should take advantage of the fact that he isn’t moving yet. The longer we have the element of surprise, the better.”
The group murmured in agreement.
Sirius grinned, eyes glinting with excitement. “So, what’s the plan?”
Theo took over, tapping the map with his wand. The image zoomed in, revealing the Avery estate in more detail. It was a sprawling, isolated manor with high iron gates and thick hedges surrounding the perimeter.
“There are a few key things to note about the property,” Theo explained. “First, it’s under heavy magical protections—standard anti-Apparition wards, anti-Muggle charms, and likely some security spells meant to keep out intruders. But it’s nothing we haven’t dealt with before.”
Draco nodded. “We can assume the manor is being used as a safe house, not a full-fledged stronghold. That means there might be Death Eaters staying there, but it won’t be packed.” He pointed to a side entrance. “This is the weakest access point. I remember my father talking about it—it leads through a secondary garden, which is rarely used. That’s how we should go in.”
“We need to plan this carefully,” Hermione said. “We got lucky last time, but if Voldemort figures out what we’re doing, he could set a trap.”
“Then we make sure we’re in and out quickly,” Harry said firmly. “We eliminate any Death Eaters we find, destroy their resources, and get out before anyone can alert Voldemort.”
Evelyn nodded. “I’ll handle setting up the destruction spells. The place needs to be leveled when we leave.”
“I’ll go with you,” Theo offered. “Draco and I know where they’re most likely to store important documents or artifacts.”
“We’ll need people watching for any unexpected arrivals,” Fred added. “George and I can handle that. We’ll set up distraction spells if we need to.”
“Pansy, Blaise, Daphne, and I will be on defense,” Ron said, cracking his knuckles. “Anyone who tries to stop us, we take them down.”
Snape, who had remained quiet for most of the conversation, finally spoke. “If you insist on this foolish plan, you need to ensure there is no evidence left behind. The Ministry may not be much of a concern right now, but that could change.” His dark eyes landed on Evelyn. “And stop leaving calling cards. That little stunt at the last base was reckless.”
Evelyn met his gaze without flinching. “I’m not hiding from them.”
“You should,” Snape snapped. “Drawing attention to yourself will only make you a target.”
“She already is a target,” Sirius countered. “We all are.”
“Then do not make it easier for the Dark Lord to find you,” Snape said sharply, then exhaled, clearly frustrated. “Regardless, you have less than two weeks to finalize your plan. I suggest you use the time wisely.”
The room was quiet for a moment before Harry clapped his hands together. “Alright. We have a plan. We’ll refine the details over the next few days. Until then, let’s keep our heads down and focus on classes.”
Theo smirked. “You saying that makes me think something is about to explode in Transfiguration tomorrow.”
Harry rolled his eyes, but Evelyn was the one who responded. “Well, we are learning how to become Animagi. So something might.”
That immediately caught everyone’s attention. The attack on the Avery estate would have to wait—but for now, there was something just as exciting on the horizon.
_____________
The next morning, the atmosphere at breakfast was buzzing with excitement. Seventh-year Transfiguration had been fascinating so far, but today was the lesson everyone had been waiting for. McGonagall had informed them the week prior that they would officially be beginning Animagus training—one of the most complex magical transformations in existence.
Evelyn sat beside Harry at the Slytherin table, sipping her coffee as she watched Fred and Blaise. They were sitting closer than usual, whispering back and forth and exchanging amused glances. She smirked.
“They’re going to cave soon,” she muttered to Harry.
Harry glanced at the pair and chuckled. “You really think so?”
“Oh, definitely. I give it a few more days, tops.”
Across the table, Theo was reading over his Transfiguration notes while idly munching on toast, and Hermione was explaining something to Ron, who was nodding along despite looking half-asleep. Pansy, who had barely touched her food, was staring into space, lost in thought.
“Oi, Pans,” Evelyn nudged her with her elbow. “You alright?”
Pansy blinked, then turned to her with a forced smile. “Yeah. Just thinking about today’s lesson.”
Evelyn gave her a knowing look but didn’t push. Pansy was still dealing with what had happened during their last attack, but she was trying to act as if nothing was wrong. Evelyn knew better than to force the conversation—Pansy would talk when she was ready.
Soon, the Great Hall emptied as students began heading to their first classes. The group made their way to the Transfiguration classroom, arriving to find McGonagall already waiting for them. She stood at the front of the room, her sharp gaze sweeping over them as they took their seats.
“Good morning,” she said briskly. “Today, we begin what is undoubtedly one of the most advanced branches of Transfiguration—becoming an Animagus. This is a skill very few witches and wizards manage to master, as it requires not only immense magical ability but also precise control and patience.”
She waved her wand, and a detailed diagram of a human body shifting into an animal appeared on the blackboard.
“The first stage is self-discovery,” McGonagall continued. “An Animagus form is not something you choose—it is a reflection of your inner self. The process of discovering your form begins with meditation and wandless magic, focusing your energy inward.”
She paused, glancing around the room. “To begin, you will each need to produce the initial sign—an involuntary reaction from your body that signals your connection to your animal form. This could be anything from a sudden shift in eyesight, a brief change in senses, or even a temporary transformation of a body part. I will guide you through the process.”
The students exchanged glances, intrigued. Evelyn felt a flicker of excitement—this was the kind of magic that truly interested her.
“Everyone, place your wands down,” McGonagall instructed. “Close your eyes and focus on your magic. Breathe deeply. Your goal is to reach into your core and allow your magic to react naturally.”
The classroom fell silent except for the sound of steady breathing. Evelyn let herself relax, feeling the familiar pulse of her magic spreading through her limbs. It was a strange sensation—like something deep within her was stirring.
For a few moments, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, a sharp tingling sensation shot up her spine, and she gasped. When she opened her eyes, she saw that the nails on her hands had lengthened slightly, taking on a sharper, more claw-like appearance.
McGonagall nodded approvingly. “Excellent. That is the first sign of your connection to your Animagus form. Over the next few weeks, you will continue to practice until you gain full control of the transformation.”
Evelyn stared at her hands as the claws slowly faded, her heart racing. If this was only the beginning, she couldn’t wait to see what came next.
______________
As the week progressed, the anticipation surrounding their Animagus training grew. Between lessons, Evelyn and the others often discussed their early signs, speculating about what their forms might be.
“I think you’re going to be some kind of bird,” Theo mused to Evelyn one evening as they walked to dinner. “The claws give it away.”
Evelyn smirked. “Maybe. What about you? Your eyes went all dark—maybe you’ll be something creepy, like a bat.”
Theo scoffed. “Charming.”
Ron, who had been listening in, grinned. “Bet Harry’s going to be a stag, just like his dad.”
Harry shrugged. “Makes sense, but we’ll see.”
As they entered the Great Hall, their conversation was interrupted by the sight of Fred and Blaise standing on one of the long benches, clinking their goblets together loudly to get everyone’s attention.
“Alright, everyone, listen up!” Fred called, grinning wildly. “We have an announcement to make!”
Blaise smirked, slinging an arm around Fred’s shoulders. “After weeks of being idiots, we’ve finally admitted what we’ve known all along—we’re dating.”
The Great Hall erupted into cheers, with their group being the loudest.
“About bloody time!” Pansy called from her seat.
Evelyn and Harry exchanged knowing glances before joining in the applause. She leaned in and murmured, “Told you they’d cave.”
Harry laughed. “Yeah, yeah. You were right.”
As Fred and Blaise hopped down from the bench, they were immediately pulled into a round of congratulations. Hermione clapped happily while Ron shook his head in amused disbelief.
“Well, I can’t say I saw this coming,” Ron admitted. “But I guess it makes sense.”
“Oh, shut up, Weasley,” Blaise said with a grin. “You’re just jealous of how good we look together.”
Fred winked. “It’s true. We’re a power couple.”
The laughter and excitement carried through dinner, and as the night stretched on, Evelyn couldn’t help but feel a warmth settle in her chest. Their seventh year had already been packed with challenges, but moments like these—moments of pure joy—made it all worth it.
And with another Hogsmeade weekend approaching, she knew things were about to get even more interesting.
As Friday approached, excitement for Hogsmeade weekend grew. Discussions about plans filled the common rooms and hallways. Most students were looking forward to a carefree day of shopping and Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.
But for Evelyn and her group, it was about something else entirely.
That evening, she called everyone into the Room of Requirement. Once everyone had arrived—including Sirius and Snape—the room shifted to accommodate their needs, with a large wooden table appearing in the center, maps and notes scattered across its surface.
Evelyn stood at the head of the table, arms crossed. “Alright, we need to finalize our plan for the Avery estate.”
Draco and Theo exchanged glances before Theo spoke. “We still haven’t heard anything about the first attack. Either Voldemort hasn’t figured out it was us, or he’s keeping quiet about it.”
“He’s probably trying to figure out if it was a random act or something organized,” Snape added. “But make no mistake—he’ll realize soon enough.”
Sirius leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Then we hit him again before he has time to react. The Avery estate is closer, but that also means it could be more heavily protected.”
Hermione frowned. “How are we getting in?”
Evelyn tapped the map in front of her. “There’s a weak point in their wards along the west side. We use the same method as last time—Polyjuice for anyone who needs it, and we go in fast.”
Ron looked uneasy. “And what if there are more than just a couple of Death Eaters this time?”
“We adapt,” Harry said firmly. “We’ve trained for this.”
Ginny nodded. “We knew what we were getting into.”
The discussion continued for another hour as they refined the plan, assigning roles and working through potential obstacles. When they finally finished, there was a heavy silence in the room.
Evelyn met each of their gazes in turn. “We’re doing this because we have to. We’re not just fighting—we’re making sure Voldemort doesn’t have a future to plan for. If any of you want to back out, now’s the time.”
No one moved.
“Good,” she said. “We hit them tomorrow.”
As they left the Room of Requirement that night, the weight of what they were about to do settled over them. But there was no turning back now.
Tomorrow, they would strike again.
_____________
The morning of the Hogsmeade trip was filled with a nervous energy that only the group could detect. To anyone else, they looked like any other group of students excited for a day out, but beneath the surface, they were running through the plan over and over again in their heads.
They spent the first few hours in Hogsmeade keeping up appearances. They stopped by Honeydukes, where Ron and Theo nearly emptied an entire shelf of Chocolate Frogs. They sat at The Three Broomsticks, drinking Butterbeer and laughing at something Sirius was telling them about James and Remus back in their school days. Evelyn could feel the tension buzzing beneath the surface of their seemingly normal day, but they all played their parts well.
As the afternoon stretched on, the time to act drew closer.
The group gradually began splitting up in pairs and small clusters, making it seem as though they were all heading in different directions. Evelyn and Harry were the last to leave the pub, hands intertwined as they stepped into the brisk autumn air.
“Last chance to back out,” Harry murmured as they made their way toward the secluded area behind the Hog’s Head, where the others were waiting.
Evelyn scoffed. “You know me better than that.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded. They both knew this wasn’t the kind of fight you walked away from.
The others were already gathered, their expressions hard and focused. Snape and Sirius were there too, their usual disdain for each other put on pause for the sake of wishing the kids well for today.
Evelyn turned to the group. “We’re doing this fast. Get in, wipe out whoever’s inside, and burn it down. If things go sideways, we use the portkeys to get back.”
Everyone nodded.
With a final glance at each other, Theo grabbed hold of Draco’s arm, and the two boys turned on the spot, vanishing with a sharp crack. One by one, the rest followed.
The Avery estate was a looming, gothic structure, its dark stone walls covered in creeping ivy. The air smelled damp, thick with the scent of earth and decay.
Evelyn adjusted her grip on her wand. “Let’s go.”
They moved swiftly through the overgrown gardens, slipping into the side entrance where the wards were weakest. The moment they stepped inside, they knew they weren’t alone.
A voice barked out from the shadows, “Who the hell—”
A flash of green light. Silence.
Pansy stood motionless, her wand still raised, breathing heavily. The Death Eater slumped to the floor, lifeless.
There was no time to react. The noise had drawn attention.
“Stupefy!” Blaise shouted, sending another Death Eater crashing into the far wall.
A third came charging from the hallway, but Harry was faster. “Sectumsempra!”
Blood sprayed across the stone walls, and the man crumpled.
The fight didn’t last long—there were only four of them inside, and they weren’t prepared for an ambush. The last Death Eater tried to run, but Ron hit him with a Blasting Curse, sending him flying across the room.
Panting, Evelyn scanned the room. “That’s all of them.”
Draco was already pulling out the enchanted vial of fire. “Let’s finish this.”
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it into the middle of the room. The moment it shattered, flames erupted, spreading unnaturally fast, licking up the walls and consuming everything in sight.
Evelyn stood at the threshold for a moment longer, her heart pounding as she raised her wand and carefully etched a rune onto the doorframe—an elegant, unmistakable “E.”
A calling card. A warning.
Then they were running.
The fire raged behind them, black smoke curling into the sky as they disappeared into the night.
By the time they reappeared in the outskirts of Hogsmeade, their adrenaline was still coursing through them. They had done it. Again.
But how much longer could they keep this up?
_______________
The adrenaline had worn off by the time Harry and Evelyn made it back to Hogwarts. The castle loomed above them, its warm glow standing in stark contrast to the cold night air and the weight pressing down on them. Neither spoke as they slipped through the hidden passage leading to the Room of Requirement.
Inside, the room had adjusted itself to what they needed—cozy and warm, with a low fire crackling in the hearth. A large couch sat in the center, and a small table nearby held two steaming cups of tea. Evelyn wasn’t surprised. The room always seemed to know what they needed before they did.
Harry exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before sinking onto the couch. Evelyn followed, tucking her legs beneath her as she turned to face him.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Harry let out a breathy, humorless laugh. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”
Evelyn nodded, her gaze steady. “We are.”
He shook his head, staring down at his hands. “It still doesn’t feel real sometimes. We just killed four people, and I barely even thought about it. It’s like—like it’s just something we do now.” His voice was quiet, but there was something raw in it, something vulnerable.
Evelyn reached out, taking his hand in hers. “It’s war, Harry. This is what war is.”
“I know,” he muttered. “I just—” He looked up, meeting her eyes. “Do you ever wonder what happens after? If we even get an after?”
She swallowed. It wasn’t something she let herself think about often, but it was a fair question.
“We have to believe we do,” she said. “That’s the only way we keep going.”
Harry was silent for a moment before he nodded. “And if we don’t?”
Evelyn squeezed his hand. “Then at least we know we tried.”
A bitter smile crossed his face. “That’s not exactly comforting.”
“No,” she admitted. “It’s not.”
Silence stretched between them again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy, weighted with everything they had been through, everything they still had to face.
After a while, Evelyn spoke again. “Are you okay, Harry?”
He let out a slow breath, leaning his head back against the couch. “I don’t know. Some days, it feels like I am. Others… it feels like I’m just pretending. Like I’m keeping it together because if I don’t, I’ll fall apart completely.”
Evelyn shifted closer, resting her head against his shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
He exhaled softly, wrapping an arm around her. “I know.”
For a long time, they just sat there, the fire flickering in the quiet room.
Then Harry spoke again. “Are you okay?”
Evelyn hesitated. She wanted to say yes, to brush it off, but she knew that wasn’t fair—not to him, not to herself.
“I don’t know either,” she admitted. “I feel like I should be, but… every time we do this, every time we kill someone, I feel like I’m losing a little bit more of myself.”
Harry turned to look at her, his gaze filled with understanding. “Me too.”
She let out a shaky breath. “Does that make us bad people?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think it makes us human.”
Evelyn nodded slowly, leaning into him again. “We’ll get through this,” she said softly.
Harry tightened his grip around her. “Yeah. We will.”
They didn’t say anything else after that. They didn’t need to.
For tonight, it was enough just to be together.
Chapter 87: Sectumsempra
Chapter Text
Harry lingered behind as the rest of the class packed up their things and left the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The usual clatter of books and murmurs of conversation faded into the corridor, leaving only Snape at the front of the room, methodically vanishing the defensive wards he had put up for their lesson.
Snape didn’t look up from his work, but Harry knew he had noticed him staying behind.
“Is there a reason you’re still here, Potter?” Snape asked finally, his tone neutral.
Harry hesitated, gripping the strap of his bag a little tighter before stepping forward. “I need to talk to you. About last weekend.”
That got Snape’s full attention. He finished removing the last of the wards with a flick of his wand before turning to face Harry properly, his dark eyes scanning him with sharp curiosity.
Harry took a breath. He had been rehearsing how to say this, but now that he was here, standing in front of Snape, it felt heavier. “During the attack on the Avery estate… I used one of your spells.”
A flicker of surprise crossed Snape’s face, but he remained still, his expression carefully controlled. “Which one?”
Harry swallowed. “Sectumsempra.”
There was a long pause.
Snape’s eyes narrowed slightly, but not in anger. He was analyzing Harry, assessing him in the way he always did when something was more important than it seemed. “And?”
Harry exhaled. “And it worked. Too well.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I killed someone with it.”
Snape’s lips pressed into a thin line. His gaze didn’t waver. “And how do you feel about that?”
Harry frowned, shifting on his feet. “I don’t know. It happened so fast, I barely had time to think. One moment he was coming at me, and the next he was on the ground. I didn’t even hesitate, and that—” He hesitated. “That scares me.”
Snape didn’t speak immediately, but there was something different in his expression. He wasn’t sneering, wasn’t criticizing. If anything, his usual cold detachment had softened into something almost—understanding.
“War makes killers of us all, Potter,” Snape said quietly. “Hesitation gets you killed. The fact that you are here, that you are questioning yourself, means you are not a monster.”
Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He wasn’t sure what he had expected from Snape—maybe a warning, maybe criticism—but not this. Not quiet reassurance.
Snape studied him for a long moment before he spoke again. “That spell was never designed to be used in a duel. It is a finishing blow, not a defense.”
Harry nodded slowly. “I know that now.”
Snape crossed his arms. “And yet you will continue to use them.” It wasn’t a question.
Harry met his gaze evenly. “Yes.”
There was no disappointment in Snape’s expression, no reprimand. Just quiet acceptance. “Then you will run them by me first.”
Harry blinked. “What?”
“If you insist on using my spells,” Snape said, his voice firm but not unkind, “then you will learn how to wield them properly. I will not have you testing magic you barely understand in the middle of a battlefield. That is how you get yourself killed.”
Harry hesitated, but then nodded. “Alright.”
Snape’s expression darkened slightly. “And, Potter—understand this. The spells I created were never meant to be used lightly. You have taken a life now. Do not let it become easy.”
Harry swallowed. “I won’t.”
Snape nodded once, seemingly satisfied. “Good.”
For a moment, there was silence between them, the weight of everything unspoken settling into the space.
Then, in the quietest voice Harry had ever heard from him, Snape said, “You are not your father.”
Harry looked up sharply, caught off guard. There was no malice in Snape’s tone, no resentment. Just an odd, quiet certainty.
Harry didn’t know what to say to that.
So he just nodded.
And, for once, Snape didn’t push him for an answer.
_________________
The Room of Requirement had transformed into a dimly lit war room, its walls lined with maps, parchment, and various notes scrawled in different handwriting. The group sat in a wide circle, tense but focused, as Evelyn stood at the center, her wand tapping the floating map in front of her.
“Alright,” she said, looking around at them. “We’re ramping things up. Two attacks this weekend—two different locations, same night. We split up and hit them both simultaneously. Voldemort still hasn’t reacted to the last two, which means either he doesn’t care or he’s biding his time.” Her eyes flickered to Theo and Draco. “Did either of you hear anything from your families?”
Theo shook his head. “Nothing. Father is still playing both sides, but as far as I can tell, the Dark Lord hasn’t issued any orders about the attacks. It’s like he doesn’t believe it’s worth his attention.”
“Good,” Sirius said, leaning back with his arms crossed. “That means we can keep picking them off before he realizes we’re a serious threat.”
Snape gave him a sharp look but said nothing.
Evelyn nodded and tapped her wand again. Two red markers glowed on the map. “Targets this time: Macnair’s estate in Northumberland and the Carrow safe house in Wales. Both places are used to store supplies—potions, weapons, and anything else the Death Eaters might need. They won’t be as heavily guarded as the more prominent houses, but there will be resistance.”
Draco exhaled. “And we’re splitting up?”
“Yes,” Evelyn confirmed. “Groups of two. We’ll need to be fast, hit hard, and then get out before reinforcements arrive. No more than twenty minutes inside each base.”
“Who’s paired with who?” Hermione asked.
Evelyn scanned the room. “Harry and I will take the Carrow house,” she decided. “It’s rumored to be a meeting place for lesser-known Death Eaters, which means we need to be quick and make sure we destroy any information they have stored there.”
Harry nodded. He had expected as much.
“Sirius and Snape, you’re handling Macnair’s estate,” Evelyn continued.
Snape immediately shot her a glare. “Absolutely not.”
Sirius scoffed. “Oh, relax, Snivellus. It’ll be just like old times.”
“That is exactly the problem,” Snape snapped.
Evelyn ignored them both. “You’re the best pair for this,” she said firmly. “Macnair knows you both, and he won’t expect you working together. Sirius, you have experience breaking into places undetected, and Snape, you know how Death Eaters think better than any of us.”
Snape’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t argue further.
“Theo and Draco will be our emergency exit team,” Evelyn went on. “You’ll stay outside each location with emergency Portkeys. If anything goes wrong, you pull us out.”
Draco looked mildly relieved. “Good. I prefer not getting hexed tonight, thanks.”
“That just leaves Neville, Ginny, Luna, Blaise, and Fred,” Hermione said.
“You’ll be covering our trail,” Evelyn said. “Disrupt any tracking charms, confuse their wards, and make sure there’s no way for them to follow us back to Hogwarts.”
Fred grinned. “Oh, I can definitely handle that.”
Blaise rolled his eyes. “You just want an excuse to cause chaos.”
“Isn’t that the whole point?” Fred smirked.
Evelyn ignored their banter and looked at everyone seriously. “We need to start hitting them harder. Voldemort is going to realize what’s happening sooner or later, and when he does, he’ll come for us. We need to weaken him before that happens. Are we all clear on the plan?”
A round of nods went around the room.
Evelyn exhaled. “Then let’s get to work.”
The night air was crisp, and the full moon cast an eerie glow over the Welsh countryside as Evelyn and Harry crouched behind a cluster of trees, their eyes locked on the old stone house ahead of them. It was smaller than expected, but that didn’t mean it was any less dangerous.
Evelyn tightened her grip on her wand. “Wards?” she murmured.
“Minimal,” Harry whispered. “Looks like they’re relying more on secrecy than actual defenses. I can break them in under a minute.”
Evelyn smirked. “Think you can do it in thirty seconds?”
Harry rolled his eyes but set to work, his wand moving in a series of intricate swipes. The air around the house shimmered briefly before the protective charms melted away.
“Thirty-two seconds,” he muttered.
“I’ll let it slide.” Evelyn pushed forward, her boots making no sound against the damp grass. She could feel the adrenaline thrumming through her veins as she approached the house. The plan was simple—get in, wipe out anything of value, and get out. Fast.
Harry pressed against the wooden door, wand raised. He nodded at her once before casting a silent Alohomora. The door creaked open, and they slipped inside.
The interior was dark, but Evelyn could make out the faint flicker of candlelight from deeper in the house. A pair of voices drifted from the next room—casual, unaware.
She exchanged a glance with Harry. He nodded.
With a flick of her wand, Evelyn sent a silent Stupefy at the first figure she saw. The man crumpled without a sound. Harry followed up with a precise Expelliarmus, disarming the second Death Eater before hitting him with a full-body bind.
Too easy.
“Let’s move,” Evelyn whispered. They stepped over the fallen bodies and headed for what looked like an office.
Inside, shelves lined the walls, crammed with books, maps, and stacks of parchment. Harry scanned the contents, his jaw tightening.
“This is it,” he muttered. “Orders, names, locations—”
Evelyn didn’t hesitate. She raised her wand. “Incendio.”
The papers erupted into flames, and the fire spread rapidly, licking at the wooden walls. A muffled yell sounded from outside the room.
“Company,” Harry said.
Evelyn spun just as a third Death Eater burst into the room. He barely had time to register them before she hit him with a Reducto, sending him crashing into the bookshelf.
Harry turned back toward the hallway, firing off a shield charm as another enemy came running. “We need to go—now!”
Evelyn didn’t argue. The fire was spreading fast, and smoke filled the room. They sprinted for the exit, dodging hexes from the few remaining Death Eaters who had realized what was happening.
Just before they reached the door, Evelyn turned and carved a rune into the wooden beam above the entrance with a flick of her wand—an elaborate E, glowing faintly with blue light.
“Really?” Harry asked, grabbing her wrist and pulling her through the door as another curse exploded behind them.
“They need to know who did this,” she said, breathing hard as they ran toward the treeline where Draco and Theo were waiting.
A bright flash signaled the explosion as the flames consumed the house behind them.
And Evelyn smiled.
_____________
Sirius crouched low behind a line of thick hedges, his sharp gaze locked onto the Macnair estate. It was larger than the Carrow house but not nearly as well protected as some of the bigger Death Eater strongholds. Still, it was nothing he and Snape couldn’t handle.
Beside him, Snape studied the mansion with a calculating expression. “The wards?”
“Stronger than the last place, but not impenetrable,” Sirius murmured. “If we time it right, we can slip through before Macnair even knows what’s happening.”
Snape hummed in acknowledgment, his wand already in hand. “And what is your plan beyond breaking in? You seem to prefer reckless improvisation over actual strategy.”
Sirius rolled his eyes. “Oh, I have a plan. We get in, kill anyone inside, set the place on fire, and get out.”
Snape exhaled sharply, giving him a look of exasperation. “How very sophisticated.”
“Hey, no complaints last time,” Sirius shot back, smirking.
Snape didn’t argue, which Sirius took as agreement. They moved quickly, casting Disillusionment Charms over themselves before slipping through a weak spot in the wards. Inside the estate, they crept through the grand entryway, wands at the ready.
It didn’t take long to find their targets. Macnair was in his study, poring over a pile of documents. He barely had time to register their presence before Sirius stunned him, the red jet of light slamming into his chest and sending him sprawling across his desk.
Snape moved forward, examining the papers. “These might contain information on other Death Eater movements.”
“Great, grab them,” Sirius muttered, stepping over Macnair’s unconscious form. “I’ll take care of him.”
Without hesitation, he raised his wand. “Confringo.”
The explosion was controlled but powerful, the force sending Macnair’s lifeless body against the far wall. Sirius didn’t feel an ounce of remorse.
Snape barely spared the scene a glance before he flicked his wand, setting fire to the bookshelves lining the walls. The flames caught quickly, spreading with an eerie glow.
“We should go,” Snape said coolly.
Sirius nodded, following him through the corridors as fire consumed everything behind them. They made it out just as the estate was engulfed in an inferno, the sky above them turning orange with the blaze.
Sirius turned to Snape. “That went well.”
Snape arched an eyebrow but said nothing, leading the way back toward the rendezvous point.
_____________
Antonin Dolohov knelt on the cold stone floor of the dimly lit chamber, his head bowed low in submission. The air around him was heavy, charged with the presence of the Dark Lord, who stood before him in eerie silence. The flickering torches along the walls cast elongated shadows, making Voldemort’s serpentine features seem even more unnatural.
“You have news for me, Dolohov?” Voldemort’s voice was quiet, but it carried a dangerous edge.
Dolohov swallowed hard. “My Lord, I went to visit the Carrows’ estate this evening. When I arrived…” He hesitated, not wanting to be the bearer of bad news.
Voldemort’s crimson eyes narrowed. “Speak.”
“The house was destroyed, burned to the ground. But it was not an accident.” Dolohov dared a glance upward. “There was a rune scorched into what remained of the front door—an ‘E.’ It was the only thing that survived the fire.”
A deep silence settled over the chamber. The Death Eaters who stood along the walls shifted uneasily, sensing the storm of rage building within their master.
Voldemort slowly stepped forward, his expression darkening. “Evelyn McCrae.”
The name was spoken with venom. His long fingers curled into a fist before relaxing again. He turned away slightly, pacing with calculated precision, his robes sweeping across the stone floor.
“How many?” Voldemort asked, his voice deathly calm.
Dolohov lowered his head further. “At least three safe houses, my Lord. Perhaps more. The Carrows, the Macnairs, the Averys… all have been hit.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. Then, in a sudden flash of fury, Voldemort’s wand slashed through the air, sending a burst of dark magic into the nearest wall, shattering the stone. Dust and debris fell to the floor, but no one dared to move.
“She thinks herself untouchable,” Voldemort hissed, his gaze locked on the broken wall as if seeing Evelyn’s face within the cracks.
Dolohov took a careful breath. “My Lord, it seems… she is targeting the weaker bases first. The ones with less protection. If this continues, she and her allies will move on to more important locations.”
Voldemort turned sharply, his eyes gleaming with hatred. “And we will be ready for them.”
A cruel smile ghosted across his lips. “They are foolish, thinking they can strike from the shadows without consequence. Evelyn McCrae has made herself known, and she will regret it.”
He looked around at his gathered Death Eaters, his gaze lingering on those closest to him. “Find the pattern in their attacks. Predict their next move. I want them walking into a trap.”
The room filled with murmurs of assent, but Voldemort was already lost in thought, his mind working through the possibilities.
He would not let this go unpunished. Evelyn had drawn his attention, and now she would suffer for it.
Chapter 88: Riddle
Chapter Text
Lucius Malfoy moved through the dark corridors of the manor with a practiced grace, his polished boots barely making a sound against the cold stone floor. His wand rested in his hand, gripped tightly as if he needed the feel of it to steady himself. At his side, Bellatrix Lestrange walked with an air of barely contained excitement, her dark eyes glinting with something akin to glee.
They were both heading toward the chamber where the Dark Lord waited.
Lucius was composed, his sharp features unreadable, but beneath the surface, tension coiled in his chest like a serpent ready to strike. He knew the risk of bringing a plan before their master—especially when failure was not an option. Bellatrix, on the other hand, seemed to thrive in these moments. Her anticipation was palpable, the corners of her lips twitching with the ghost of a smile.
As they reached the heavy doors, they opened without a sound, as if the room itself sensed their presence. Inside, Voldemort stood with his back to them, his long, skeletal fingers tracing the spines of books stacked haphazardly on a table. The room was dim, lit only by flickering candlelight, casting long shadows across the stone walls.
Lucius dropped to one knee immediately, bowing his head low. “My Lord.”
Bellatrix followed suit, though her posture was looser, almost eager. “Master.”
Voldemort did not turn immediately. He continued his slow movements, fingers skimming the books as though their presence was merely an afterthought. The silence stretched unbearably before he finally spoke.
“You have something to tell me.” His voice was quiet, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.
Lucius lifted his head slightly. “We have been studying the pattern of McCrae’s attacks, my Lord. She is methodical, targeting the least protected locations first, building momentum before she moves to the stronger bases.”
Bellatrix let out a breathless laugh. “She thinks she’s clever, but she’s predictable.”
Voldemort finally turned to face them, his expression unreadable. “Go on.”
Lucius straightened just a fraction. “Based on the locations she has struck and the level of protection they held, we have determined her next likely target.”
He withdrew a map from the inside of his robe and placed it on the table before them. With a flick of his wand, the parchment spread out, glowing faintly as certain locations pulsed with dark energy.
“This estate,” Lucius said, pointing to a marked manor on the outskirts of Bristol. “The Yaxley property. It is lightly guarded, with only a few wards in place. Given that she has struck properties of similar strength, this is the next logical target.”
Bellatrix leaned forward, tracing the map with a gloved finger. “She’s playing war like a game of chess,” she murmured, eyes gleaming. “Picking off the pawns before she reaches the knights and rooks.”
Voldemort studied the map for a long moment. His gaze flicked from the pulsing locations to Lucius and Bellatrix, his mind clearly weighing their reasoning.
“And how do you intend to use this knowledge?” he asked, his voice deceptively soft.
Lucius met his gaze evenly. “We set a trap, my Lord. Let her believe this is another easy target—no additional defenses, nothing out of place. But when she arrives, she will find herself surrounded before she even realizes the danger.”
Bellatrix’s lips curled into a delighted smirk. “We could set the wards to allow her entrance but prevent her from leaving. Box her in like a little rat.”
Lucius nodded. “Once she is inside, we close the net. We can have a dozen of our own waiting—perhaps even more, if you command it. We do not give her the chance to escape.”
Voldemort was silent for a moment, his fingers steepled together in thought. Then, he slowly began to smile—a cold, cruel expression that sent a chill through the room.
“A trap, then,” he mused, his voice almost amused. “Let her walk into our hands.”
Bellatrix practically vibrated with anticipation. “I would very much like to see the look on her face when she realizes what’s happened.”
Voldemort’s gaze darkened. “Evelyn McCrae has been a thorn in my side for too long. She is reckless—powerful, but reckless. She does not yet understand the price of waging war against me.”
Lucius inclined his head. “She will soon, my Lord.”
Voldemort studied the map once more before nodding. “Do it. Prepare the estate. But do not let her suspect a thing. I want her to believe she is in control until the moment she is not.”
Bellatrix grinned. “Oh, I do love a good trap.”
Lucius allowed himself the smallest breath of relief. He had brought forth a plan, and the Dark Lord had accepted it. Now, all that remained was execution.
And if everything went as planned, Evelyn McCrae would not make it out alive.
______________
Draco paced back and forth outside the seventh-floor corridor, his mind racing. He hadn’t been sure if she’d be here, but he took the chance anyway, walking past the blank stretch of wall three times with the same thought in his head.
I need to find Evelyn.
A door materialized, and he stepped through without hesitation. The Room of Requirement had shaped itself into something cozy tonight—a fire crackling in the hearth, a large couch in the center, bookshelves lining the walls. But Evelyn was the only thing Draco focused on. She sat curled in one of the armchairs, legs tucked beneath her, a book open in her lap.
She looked up the moment he entered, brows furrowing. “Draco?”
“We need to talk.” His voice was urgent, lower than usual. He shut the door behind him and cast a few privacy charms before turning back to face her.
Evelyn’s eyes sharpened. “What’s wrong?”
Draco swallowed hard. He had spent the entire weekend debating whether or not to tell her, but in the end, there was no choice. This wasn’t just about self-preservation anymore. It was about loyalty—to her, to their friends, to everything they had been working toward.
“I was at home this weekend,” he started. “I went back to see my mother. She’s been sick, nothing serious, but… while I was there, I overheard my father talking.”
Evelyn straightened, closing her book with a quiet snap. “Go on.”
Draco took a breath. “He was speaking with Bellatrix. They know about the attacks.”
Evelyn didn’t flinch. “Of course they do.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Draco pressed. “They know the pattern. They’re expecting you to hit the Yaxley estate next. They’ve set a trap.”
Evelyn went still. “How big?”
Draco exhaled. “Big enough that you wouldn’t make it out alive.”
Silence hung between them for a long moment. Evelyn’s expression was unreadable, but Draco could see the gears turning in her mind, the rapid calculations of what this meant.
Finally, she stood. “We need to change plans.”
Draco nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
Evelyn flicked her wand, sending her Patronus—a silver wolf—into the air. It streaked through the wall, carrying a message to the others. Within minutes, the Room of Requirement shifted again, expanding as the rest of the group arrived.
Harry was the first through the door, his green eyes scanning Evelyn’s face for any sign of what was going on. “What is it?”
Evelyn turned to the room, now filled with their inner circle—Harry, Pansy, Theo, Blaise, Daphne, Fred, George, Luna, Neville, Ginny, Sirius, and Snape.
“We’re not hitting the Yaxley house,” she announced. “It’s a trap.”
Murmurs spread through the group, but no one questioned her.
“They know the pattern of our attacks,” Draco explained. “They’re waiting for you.”
Theo swore under his breath. Fred and George exchanged a glance before Fred smirked slightly. “Well, that’s unfortunate. Good thing we don’t play by their rules.”
Harry crossed his arms. “So what’s the plan now?”
Evelyn’s lips curled into something almost dangerous. “We go bigger.”
The room fell silent.
“We’re going to the Riddle House.”
The reaction was immediate. Pansy gaped at her. “You mean Voldemort’s house?”
“The very same,” Evelyn said calmly. “We know he’s at Malfoy Manor right now. He’s not there. It’s the perfect time to strike at the very foundation of his past.”
Snape’s expression was unreadable, but Sirius was the first to speak up. “You’re mad,” he said, though not with disapproval. “Completely insane.”
Evelyn shrugged. “Maybe. But if we’re going to do this, we might as well make a statement.”
Luna tilted her head. “Symbolism is powerful.”
Harry exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You do realize that the Riddle House isn’t some abandoned shack. There could still be Death Eaters stationed there.”
“Then we take them out,” Blaise said simply.
Neville, who had been quiet so far, finally spoke. “We’re going to burn it all down, aren’t we?”
Evelyn met his gaze. “We’re going to burn it to the ground.”
The room went quiet again, but this time, there was no uncertainty—only the slow, dawning realization that this was happening.
Sirius let out a breath. “Well, if we’re doing this, we need a solid plan.”
Evelyn nodded. “We leave Friday night.”
The Room of Requirement was tense with anticipation. The air crackled with quiet energy, every person in the room focused, waiting for Evelyn to speak. The long table in the center of the room was covered with maps, notes, and bits of parchment marked with strategies. The attack on the Riddle House had to be executed perfectly.
Evelyn stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, her gaze sweeping over the assembled group. “This is the biggest attack we’ve planned so far,” she began, her voice steady. “Voldemort might not be there, but this is still his house. It’s going to be heavily warded, possibly even trapped. We need to be smart.”
Harry nodded. “We should assume that some of the Death Eaters might still use it as a meeting place. There’s no guarantee that it’ll be empty.”
“Which is why we’re preparing for a fight,” Theo added. “If anyone is there, we take them out quickly and quietly. No prolonged duels. Hit hard, hit fast.”
Sirius leaned over the table, his expression serious. “We need to make sure we aren’t walking into a trap ourselves. The Death Eaters set up one for us already—who’s to say they haven’t done the same here?”
“That’s why we’re using diversion tactics,” Evelyn said, tapping her wand against a section of the map. “We’ll split into three groups. Group One will set off wards at the base of the hill leading to the house. Nothing too obvious, just enough to make anyone inside think they’re being attacked from a different direction.”
“That’ll be me, Daphne, and Neville,” Ginny said, looking at her teammates.
Evelyn nodded. “Group Two will handle protective enchantments and counter-curses. If there are any wards in place, we’ll break them and make sure our escape route is clear.”
“That’ll be me, Pansy, Blaise, and Luna,” Theo confirmed.
“And Group Three will go inside,” Harry said. “That’s Evelyn, me, Sirius, and Snape.”
“Lovely,” Snape said dryly. “Surrounded by Gryffindors and a reckless Slytherin.”
Sirius smirked. “You’ll survive.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes but continued. “We get in, clear the place, and then destroy it. No lingering. No unnecessary risks. This is about making a statement, not getting ourselves killed.”
Pansy bit her lip. “And if Voldemort finds out?”
“He already knows I’m behind the attacks,” Evelyn said simply. “The rune I left behind made sure of that. The point is to keep him off balance. If he’s constantly trying to figure out where we’ll strike next, he can’t focus his forces properly.”
Fred grinned. “Then let’s make this one count.”
The meeting stretched on for another hour as every detail was finalized. Spells were assigned, escape routes mapped, and everyone double-checked their gear. By the time they left the Room of Requirement, the sun was beginning to set.
As night fell, the group gathered near the entrance of the castle. The halls were quiet, most students in their common rooms or already asleep. Evelyn took a deep breath, glancing around at her friends. They had done this before, but tonight felt different.
“Everyone ready?” she whispered.
A series of nods followed.
Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak from his bag, draping it over himself and Evelyn. Sirius and Snape used Disillusionment Charms, while the others followed carefully behind, keeping to the shadows.
They moved in silence, slipping through the corridors undetected. Once they reached the main doors, Blaise murmured a quick unlocking spell, and the heavy wooden doors creaked open just enough for them to slip through.
The moment they were outside, the cool night air hit them. The sky was clear, the stars bright above them. Evelyn glanced at Sirius, who gave her a nod before transforming into Padfoot. He trotted ahead, his dark fur blending seamlessly with the shadows.
The group made their way to the Forbidden Forest, where a set of portkeys waited for them.
Evelyn turned to everyone. “This is the point of no return. Once we go, there’s no coming back until the job is done.”
No one hesitated.
She nodded and activated the Portkey.
A rush of wind, a pull behind the navel, and then…
They were gone.
The group landed in a clearing just beyond the overgrown hedges surrounding the Riddle House. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, and the moon cast eerie shadows over the decaying manor. The house stood tall and foreboding, its once-grand architecture now rotting with time.
Evelyn straightened, her wand already drawn, scanning the area. “Everyone in position,” she murmured.
Ginny, Neville, and Daphne broke off first, moving toward the tree line to set off the diversionary spells. Theo led his group in the opposite direction, ready to dismantle any protective wards surrounding the house.
Evelyn, Harry, Sirius, and Snape crouched behind a crumbling stone wall, waiting. They had to give the others a few minutes to work before they moved in.
Harry’s breath was steady, but Evelyn could see the tension in his jaw. “You alright?” she whispered.
He nodded. “Just thinking about what we might find inside.”
Sirius glanced at them. “No hesitation. If there are Death Eaters inside, we don’t give them the chance to alert anyone.”
Snape’s expression was unreadable. “If there are protections, they won’t be simple ones. The Dark Lord’s former home may not be his main base, but it’s still significant.”
A faint explosion sounded from the other side of the property—Ginny’s group setting off the first round of spells. A second blast followed moments later.
Evelyn inhaled sharply. “That’s our cue.”
With practiced ease, the four of them darted toward the house. The front doors were locked, but Evelyn wasted no time, flicking her wand in a sharp, precise motion. The wood splintered apart, and the door swung open with a loud creak.
They slipped inside, wands raised. The air inside was stale, thick with the scent of mold and decay. Dust clung to every surface, and cobwebs draped over the remnants of once-opulent furniture.
Harry and Evelyn took the left side of the house, while Sirius and Snape moved right.
The house was eerily silent. Too silent.
Evelyn’s grip on her wand tightened. “Something’s not right.”
A spell shot out from the darkness.
“Protego!” Harry deflected the curse just in time, sending it crashing into an old wooden cabinet.
Shadows moved in the corners of the room, and suddenly, figures emerged—four Death Eaters, their masks gleaming in the dim light.
“Well, well,” one of them sneered. “Look who decided to pay a visit.”
Evelyn didn’t waste time on pleasantries. She flicked her wand and sent a blast of blue fire straight at the nearest Death Eater. He dodged, but barely, his robes catching at the edges.
Harry was already moving, stunning one attacker before dodging a jet of green light aimed at his head. Sirius and Snape engaged the other two, their dueling styles starkly different—Sirius quick and aggressive, Snape precise and calculating.
Evelyn squared off against the Death Eater closest to her. He threw a Cutting Curse, which she deflected easily before retaliating with a Blasting Curse that sent him crashing into the wall.
She barely had time to register the next attack before Harry grabbed her wrist and yanked her aside, a Killing Curse whizzing past where she had just stood.
“Thanks,” she breathed.
Harry grinned. “Anytime.”
A few feet away, Sirius had just disarmed his opponent, sending the man’s wand flying across the room. Snape, meanwhile, had the last Death Eater pinned against the wall, his wand pressed to the man’s throat.
“Kill them,” Snape said simply.
Evelyn didn’t hesitate. She flicked her wand, and a jet of green light struck the man in the chest. He crumpled instantly.
Harry followed suit, ending the second Death Eater with a swift, decisive movement.
Silence filled the house once more.
Sirius exhaled. “We need to move.”
Evelyn nodded and flicked her wand. Blue flames ignited across the room, catching onto the rotting furniture and dry wooden floors. Within seconds, the fire spread, consuming the house in an inferno.
Before they left, she turned toward the doorway and pressed her wand against the charred wood, carving another rune into the surface—a large, unmistakable E .
As the flames roared behind them, they ran.
By the time they reached the clearing, the others were already there. Theo’s group had successfully broken the wards, and Ginny’s team had drawn attention away long enough for the mission to be executed without interference.
They all turned to watch as the Riddle House burned, the flames licking at the sky, the silhouette of the E still visible against the fire’s glow.
Pansy let out a slow breath. “That was big.”
Blaise smirked. “That was insane .”
Evelyn turned to the group. “Let’s get back before we overstay our welcome.”
Without another word, they activated their Portkeys and disappeared into the night.
Chapter 89: Mulciber
Chapter Text
The group landed back in the Room of Requirement, the familiar walls closing around them, warm and inviting after the night’s chaos. The room had adjusted itself for their return, the space now resembling a massive common room with plush couches, blankets, and a roaring fireplace. Several large beds were pushed against one wall, enough for everyone to collapse into when exhaustion finally won.
Sirius and Snape had already peeled away, heading straight to their respective rooms—Sirius to Grimmauld Place, and Snape to the dungeons.
But the rest of them? They weren’t ready to be alone.
Evelyn let out a breath and turned to face the group. “Alright,” she said, voice firm despite the exhaustion in her bones. “No one has to talk if they don’t want to, but we stay together tonight.”
No one argued.
Pansy was the first to move, beelining for the couch and sinking into the cushions like she was trying to disappear inside them. Theo sat beside her, one arm draped over the back of the couch, though he didn’t say anything. Ginny and Daphne curled up on one of the oversized armchairs, whispering between themselves, while Blaise stretched out on the rug in front of the fireplace, arms behind his head.
Harry, still standing, rubbed a hand over his face. “That was…” He trailed off.
Neville, looking unusually pale, finished for him. “That was the most reckless thing we’ve ever done.”
“Maybe,” Blaise mused. “But damn, was it effective.”
No one laughed, though. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind the raw, jittery edge of reality.
Evelyn took a deep breath. “We hit the Riddle House. We killed four Death Eaters. We burned it to the ground. Voldemort knows it was us.”
Silence.
Luna, who had been quiet up until now, spoke in a voice that was soft but sure. “And yet, we’re all still here.”
Evelyn met her gaze, and for the first time that night, she let herself breathe.
They settled in as best they could. Most of them weren’t ready for sleep yet, so they grabbed blankets and sprawled out on the floor, talking quietly.
At one point, Theo murmured, “We should ward our wands against tracking.”
“They can’t trace the magic?” Ginny asked, shifting against Daphne’s shoulder.
“Not easily,” Theo admitted, “but if they’re determined enough, they’ll try.”
“I’ll handle it,” Evelyn said. “Tomorrow, we’ll do the spellwork.”
Eventually, people started dozing off. Neville and Luna had curled up together near the fireplace, Ginny had pulled Daphne onto one of the beds, and Theo had passed out where he sat, head tilted against the couch. Blaise snored quietly on the rug.
Pansy, still awake, looked at Evelyn. “I keep thinking about last time,” she admitted. “The Carrows’ house.”
Evelyn understood what she meant. Pansy had killed her second man that night, and even though she hadn’t hesitated, it had still shaken her. Tonight had been different. Quieter. More detached.
“You did what you had to do,” Evelyn told her.
Pansy nodded, but she didn’t look convinced. “I just… I don’t want it to get easier.”
Evelyn sat down next to her, voice low. “It won’t. It shouldn’t.”
That seemed to settle something in Pansy, at least for now. She pulled her blanket tighter around herself and leaned against Evelyn’s shoulder. “You’re staying up, aren’t you?”
Evelyn gave a wry smile. “You know me too well.”
“Wake me if anything happens,” Pansy mumbled before her breathing evened out.
Evelyn stayed awake a little longer, watching the fire flicker and listening to the steady rhythm of everyone’s breaths. The world outside would be shifting soon, the Dark Lord scrambling to respond.
But for now, they were safe.
And that was enough.
________________
The ruins of the Riddle House smoldered in the cold morning air, the faint scent of burnt wood and flesh lingering as the Dark Lord stood amidst the wreckage. The house—his house—had been reduced to little more than charred rubble, the grand staircase collapsed, the dining hall little more than ashes.
His crimson eyes scanned the destruction, his face impassive, though the air around him seemed to ripple with restrained fury. Four of his followers had perished in the flames—loyal servants reduced to nothing, their lives snuffed out like candlelight in the wake of Evelyn McCrae and her pathetic band of rebels.
Dolohov stood a few feet away, his head bowed, awaiting instruction. Beside him, Bellatrix and Lucius Malfoy lingered, silent and stiff, knowing better than to speak before they were addressed.
Voldemort bent down slowly, running his long fingers over the one thing that had survived the flames.
A rune.
Carved into the remnants of the front door, deep enough to remain untouched by the fire. A simple, elegant E .
His grip tightened around his wand.
Evelyn McCrae.
The girl was making a statement. She wasn’t just attacking his followers—she was attacking him . And she wanted him to know it.
A slow, cold rage settled in his chest.
For months, he had dismissed her as little more than an inconvenience—an anomaly. He had known she was dangerous, yes, but he had not seen her as an immediate threat.
That was a mistake.
One he would not make again.
“She is growing bolder,” Lucius murmured cautiously, his tone carefully measured. “She is reckless, my Lord, but precise. This was not a random attack.”
“No,” Voldemort agreed, his voice deceptively soft. “It was not.”
Bellatrix, who had been trembling with barely concealed rage, stepped forward. “She must be dealt with, my Lord. Allow me to—”
Voldemort silenced her with a glance. “And how would you propose we do that, Bella? Run after her blindly, as we did before? Allow her to dictate the game?”
Bellatrix immediately lowered her gaze, chastened.
Voldemort straightened, his expression unreadable. “No. We will not act out of impulse.” He turned his attention back to Lucius. “You said you had a plan, Lucius. I suggest you speak before I decide that your worth is as fleeting as your ability to anticipate an enemy.”
Lucius paled slightly but bowed his head. “Yes, my Lord.”
He cast a brief glance at Bellatrix before continuing. “We underestimated her before. We assumed she would strike where it was most convenient—where she would be met with the least resistance. But she is not predictable in the way we believed.” He gestured to the ruins. “This was not a calculated step in a larger plan. This was a direct challenge.”
Voldemort said nothing, waiting.
Lucius swallowed. “She is moving quickly. Too quickly. She is not trying to weaken us before striking. She is already striking . Which means she must believe she has the advantage.”
Bellatrix let out a scoff but did not interrupt this time.
Lucius continued, his voice growing more confident. “She is making herself a target, my Lord. She wants you to come after her.” His lips curved into a thin smirk. “Which is precisely why we should not.”
Voldemort’s gaze darkened slightly, considering.
“She expects retaliation,” Lucius said. “She expects you to come after her with full force. But if we do not react the way she believes we will, we gain the upper hand.”
Bellatrix’s eyes flashed. “Then what do you suggest? That we let her continue?”
Lucius shook his head. “Of course not. But instead of meeting her in battle where she chooses, we set the trap ourselves .” He took a careful step forward. “We have people inside Hogwarts. People who can get close to her. Who can feed us information. We use them. We study her. We let her believe she is still in control.”
“And then,” Voldemort murmured, his voice a mere whisper, “we take everything from her.”
A slow, sinister smile spread across his lips.
The room filled with an oppressive silence, thick with the promise of retribution.
Bellatrix was grinning now, her excitement barely contained. “We will crush her, my Lord. She will beg for mercy before the end.”
Voldemort turned back to the rune, tracing it once more with the tip of his wand.
“Yes,” he said softly. “She will.”
With a flick of his wrist, the rune burst into flames.
_____________
The crisp autumn air was cool against Evelyn’s skin as she walked down the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade, her hand clasped tightly in Harry’s. The village was alive with students enjoying their Saturday away from the castle—bundled in scarves, laughing, ducking into shops to escape the chill. It was peaceful, a welcome contrast to the chaos of the past few weeks.
Evelyn glanced to her right, where Ron and Pansy walked side by side. Ron had his hands shoved in his pockets, his ears already tinged red from the cold, while Pansy was speaking animatedly about something, gesturing with one hand while holding onto Ron’s arm with the other.
“I still don’t understand why the best restaurant in this village is called The Rusty Broomstick ,” Pansy was saying, nose slightly scrunched. “Couldn’t they have chosen a less…disease-ridden name?”
Ron huffed a laugh. “It’s not actually rusty, you know.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It’s got the best steak and kidney pie in the village,” Evelyn added. “And the best chips.”
“That remains to be seen,” Pansy said, though she didn’t argue further as they reached the restaurant.
The Rusty Broomstick was warm and lively, packed with students and a few villagers enjoying their afternoon. They managed to find a booth near the fireplace, and as soon as they settled in, Evelyn sighed, leaning back against the cushioned seat.
“This is nice,” she murmured, looking at Harry.
He squeezed her hand under the table. “Yeah. It is.”
It had been a long time since any of them had a moment to just be normal. No planning, no fighting, no looking over their shoulders.
When the food arrived, conversation flowed easily. Ron and Pansy fell into their usual bickering—something that had started early in their relationship and, to Evelyn’s amusement, had only gotten worse as they grew closer.
“I’m just saying,” Pansy argued, “that there is no logical reason why someone would willingly eat something called black pudding .”
Ron gaped at her. “It’s a classic breakfast food! You can’t just hate it on principle.”
“It’s blood , Ron.”
“Well—yeah. But it tastes good.”
Pansy gave him an unimpressed look before turning to Evelyn and Harry. “Back me up here.”
Evelyn smirked. “I’m going to stay out of this one.”
Harry grinned, nudging her. “Coward.”
Evelyn elbowed him lightly before taking a sip of her butterbeer, enjoying the way the warmth spread through her. Across from her, Ron and Pansy had moved on to their next argument—something about whether treacle tart or sticky toffee pudding was the superior dessert—and Evelyn let herself relax, basking in the simplicity of the moment.
Monday morning arrived far too quickly, and with it, a grueling week of advanced coursework. Evelyn groaned as she rolled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The weekend had been a rare moment of peace, but now they were back to the reality of their seventh-year studies.
As she made her way down to breakfast, the Great Hall was already abuzz with conversation. Piles of toast, eggs, and bacon lined the tables, but the real sight was the students hunched over rolls of parchment, frantically scribbling as they tried to finish last-minute assignments.
“Still not done with your Transfiguration essay?” Blaise smirked as he slid onto the bench beside Evelyn.
Evelyn sighed, shoving a bite of toast into her mouth before responding. “McGonagall wants three feet on the implications of partial transformations. I got carried away and now it’s six.”
“Of course it is,” Blaise said dryly. “Show-off.”
Across the table, Pansy yawned into her teacup, looking less than pleased with the start of the new week. “I still say they should ease us into things, not hit us with three essays and a practical exam first thing Monday morning.”
“You’d think they would,” Theo agreed, flipping through his Potions notes, “but apparently, mastery-level work means suffering .”
Evelyn smirked. “We knew what we were signing up for.”
Theo scoffed. “Did we? Because I don’t recall them telling us we’d have two major Transfiguration projects due before November.”
“Speaking of which,” Hermione piped up from the Gryffindor table, glancing over, “McGonagall’s demonstrating full Animagus transformations today. We’re supposed to be able to start practicing shifting parts of ourselves by the end of the term.”
“Finally,” Harry muttered. “I thought she was going to make us wait until next year.”
Evelyn hummed in agreement. It was one thing to study the theory behind becoming an Animagus, but another to actually do it. The entire concept fascinated her—transformation at will, the ability to merge human consciousness with animal instincts. She was determined to master it before the year was out.
But first, there was Ancient Runes.
⸻
The rest of the week was a blur of classes, homework, and endless studying. Charms was focused on silent casting , a skill that required precise wand control. Defense Against the Dark Arts pushed them further into non-verbal dueling, while Herbology had them working with highly venomous plants that could and would bite if given the chance.
Even the library was packed each evening, students bent over textbooks, quills scratching furiously against parchment. Evelyn found herself in a constant cycle of writing essays, practicing spells, and attempting to get at least some sleep before doing it all over again.
By Friday night, she collapsed onto the common room sofa, exhaling loudly.
“I think my brain is broken,” she muttered.
Pansy flopped down beside her. “Same.”
Theo smirked. “You two are pathetic.”
Evelyn threw a pillow at him.
Despite the exhaustion, despite the sheer weight of their studies, Evelyn felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time.
A sense of normalcy .
______________
The Room of Requirement had once again reshaped itself to fit their needs. The cozy lounge-like atmosphere from their last gathering had vanished, replaced by something far more tactical. A large, enchanted map of Britain hovered over a wooden table at the center of the room, glowing pinpoints marking known Death Eater strongholds. Around the table, the gang stood in grim concentration, their expressions hardened with purpose.
Evelyn, arms crossed, studied the map intently. The attack on the Riddle House had sent a clear message, but it had also put the Death Eaters on high alert. If they had any advantage before, it was gone now.
“Their defenses will be reinforced by now,” Hermione pointed out, arms folded tightly across her chest. “They’ll expect us to go for the next weakest base—but at this point, there isn’t one.”
Ron frowned, eyes darting between the glowing markers. “So what do we do? Just…pick one and hope for the best?”
“No,” Harry said firmly, shaking his head. “We need a strategy.“
The room fell silent. Everyone knew how close they had come to disaster the last time. The Death Eaters weren’t stupid. They had underestimated Evelyn and her group once . They wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Evelyn tapped her fingers against her arm, deep in thought. “We need to look at how they’re reinforcing their strongholds. If they’re using wards, there has to be a pattern. They can’t just be throwing the same protections on every house—it would weaken the enchantments if they were stretched too thin.”
“Agreed,” Theo said, stepping closer to the table. He pulled out his wand and tapped the map. “Most of these locations already had protections before we started. But now, their wards will be layered. That means we either need to break them—”
“—Or bypass them entirely,” Blaise finished, his sharp eyes glinting.
Evelyn nodded. “Exactly.”
Pansy, who had been quiet up until now, leaned in. “Then we need to figure out which house has the worst defenses specifically against us . If they’re adapting, they’re preparing for how we fight. We need to hit them in a way they don’t expect.”
She was right. The Death Eaters would be fortifying their wards against brute magical force, against the kind of explosive destruction they had brought to the Riddle House. But that didn’t mean every stronghold was protected in the same way.
Hermione glanced at the map, her brow furrowed. “If we could get intel on what kinds of wards they’re using, we’d know how to work around them. But it’s not like they’re just telling people their security plans.”
“They don’t have to,” Draco cut in suddenly. His voice was quieter than usual, but there was an edge to it. “I know how my father thinks. If he’s involved in reinforcing these wards—and he is —then he’s doing it the same way he always has. He relies on structured, layered enchantments. Defensive first, then offensive, then entrapment spells. If we know where the defenses start , we can figure out what comes next.”
Evan nodded, interest sparking in his eyes. “And if we know what’s coming, we can counter it before we’re stuck in it.”
Evelyn exhaled slowly, considering. “Alright. Let’s start breaking it down.”
She flicked her wand, and the floating map expanded, shifting to show the individual properties marked in glowing red. They had a dozen possible targets, but they needed one .
“I say we go after Mulciber’s estate,” Theo suggested, pointing at a marker near the western coast. “It’s not as large as the others, and it was used as a secondary base during the last war. If they think we’re trying to eliminate the biggest threats first, they won’t expect us to hit a less prominent location.”
Draco frowned slightly. “That’s assuming they still consider Mulciber’s estate secondary. If they’ve moved resources there since our last attack, it could be more fortified than we realize.”
“That’s why we send a scout first,” Evelyn said. “We don’t go in blind this time. No surprises.”
Harry was already nodding. “I’ll do it. I have the Cloak, I can get close without being seen.”
Evelyn hesitated for a second before nodding. Harry was the best choice for scouting—his Invisibility Cloak made him nearly undetectable.
“Fine,” she said. “But you don’t engage. You observe . The second you see something we need to know, you get out. Understood?”
Harry smirked slightly. “You sound like Sirius.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Evelyn shot back.
Ron crossed his arms. “So, assuming Harry doesn’t get killed doing his sneaky mission, what’s the actual plan?”
Evelyn turned back to the map. “We split into two groups. The first goes in as the main force, while the second acts as backup and provides cover. No direct confrontation unless necessary. Our goal isn’t just to destroy the estate—it’s to gather information. We need to know why Mulciber’s estate is still in use and what they’re hiding there.”
Pansy tilted her head. “And if we find something useful?”
Evelyn’s eyes darkened. “Then we take it.”
The discussion in the Room of Requirement stretched on as the gang broke down every possible angle of the attack. Unlike their previous missions, this one wasn’t about simply wiping a Death Eater base off the map—it was about information. If Voldemort and his inner circle were taking steps to outmaneuver them, Evelyn and her team had to stay one step ahead.
“We need to know what they’re hiding at Mulciber’s estate,” Evelyn continued. “It’s not just a question of whether it’s fortified—it’s why it’s still operational. We know Voldemort isn’t there, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t important.”
Hermione, who had been scribbling notes furiously, tapped her quill against the parchment. “If they do have something important there, it might be under heavy protection spells beyond just the wards. We should be prepared for magical traps.”
“Then we bring counter-curses,” Theo said simply. “I’ll handle breaking the wards once we’re inside.”
“Evan and I can handle any combat we run into,” Blaise added. “We’re fast enough to clear a path if things go wrong.”
“We’re not getting into another drawn-out battle if we can help it,” Evelyn warned. “Our goal is to hit them before they even know we’re there.”
Harry, still looking at the map, nodded. “The best way to do that is to keep the groups small. The bigger the team, the more likely someone will get caught.”
“So, two teams again?” Ron asked. “How are we splitting up?”
Evelyn tapped her fingers against the table, considering.
“Team One will be the infiltration group,” she decided. “Harry, Theo, Hermione, and I will go in first. We’ll be the ones breaking through the defenses and getting into the estate. Our job is to figure out what’s inside and extract any useful information.”
Harry nodded in approval. He was quick, Theo could break the wards, and Hermione had the best knowledge of magical traps.
“Team Two is the support group,” Evelyn continued. “Blaise, Evan, Ron, and Pansy—you’ll stay outside, covering us and keeping an eye on the perimeter. If anything goes wrong, you get us out. No heroics, no breaking formation. If we say retreat, we retreat .”
Pansy’s lips curled in amusement. “And when have we ever broken formation?”
Evelyn gave her a flat look.
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. We’ll be good.”
Draco, who had been silent for most of the discussion, finally spoke. “I still think you’re making a mistake by targeting Mulciber’s house.”
Everyone turned to look at him.
“What do you mean?” Evelyn asked.
Draco exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I know how these people think. If they know you’re coming for them, they’ll double down on their protections. But Mulciber isn’t the type to set up defensive traps—he’s the type to prepare an ambush. If you’re expecting complicated wards, you might be walking into something much worse.”
A cold silence settled over the group as everyone considered his words.
Evelyn stared at the map, her mind working quickly. If Draco was right, then this wasn’t just another Death Eater base—it was a trap .
“Then we turn it against them,” she said finally. “If they’re setting up an ambush, we make them think it’s working . We let them believe we’re falling into their trap—until it’s too late for them to stop us.”
Blaise smirked. “I like the sound of that.”
Theo arched an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”
Evelyn’s lips curled into a smirk. “We give them a show.”
⸻
For the next two hours, the gang worked through every detail of the plan, adjusting for every possible outcome.
Theo, Hermione, and Evelyn worked on the counter-charms they would need to bypass the defenses, analyzing past Death Eater fortifications to predict what Mulciber might have used.
Harry and Ron went over battle formations, ensuring the second team knew how to provide cover without engaging in unnecessary fights.
Pansy and Blaise worked through possible escape routes, mapping the terrain around Mulciber’s estate to determine the fastest way out in case things went sideways.
“Alright,” Evelyn said after what felt like an eternity. “Let’s go over the plan one last time.”
She waved her wand, and the map shifted, glowing markers indicating each of their positions.
“Team One goes in first. Harry, Theo, Hermione, and I will break through the outer defenses and make our way inside. No fighting unless absolutely necessary. We find out what they’re hiding, grab anything useful, and get out.
“Team Two—Blaise, Evan, Ron, and Pansy—stay outside. You cover the exits, keep an eye on the wards, and provide backup if we need it. If anything looks off , you send up a signal.
“If Draco’s right, and they’re planning an ambush, we let them think they’re winning. We bait them into overextending, then take them out before they realize what’s happening. We control the battlefield—not them.”
Everyone nodded, expressions set with determination.
“This is the biggest risk we’ve taken so far,” Hermione said. “Are we sure we’re ready for this?”
There was a moment of silence before Harry spoke. “We don’t have a choice.” His green eyes burned with certainty. “We’ve already made ourselves a target. If we stop now, it’ll give them the advantage. We have to keep going.”
Evelyn met his gaze, then looked around at the rest of the group.
Pansy, her jaw set with quiet determination.
Ron, his usual bravado tempered by something more serious.
Blaise and Evan, both radiating confidence.
Theo, calm and composed.
Hermione, the sharpest mind in the room, already calculating their odds.
And Draco—still hesitant, but standing with them nonetheless.
Evelyn inhaled deeply. “Then it’s settled. We move tomorrow night.”
As the meeting wrapped up, there was no chatter, no nervous laughter—just quiet resolve. Each of them knew what was at stake.
Tomorrow, they would strike at the heart of the enemy once again.
_____________
The air was crisp and biting as the gang stood just outside the wards surrounding Mulciber’s estate, concealed by Disillusionment Charms and the cover of darkness. The house loomed in the distance, its towering silhouette barely visible against the night sky.
Evelyn crouched low, her sharp gaze scanning the perimeter. They had been watching for the past hour, tracking the movement of the guards—Death Eaters stationed at key entry points, likely expecting an attack.
“They’re waiting for us,” Theo murmured, his wand already in hand. “Draco was right. This isn’t just a fortified house—it’s a trap .”
“Good,” Evelyn whispered back. “Let them think we’re walking straight into it.”
Harry, crouched beside her, nodded. “Stick to the plan. We let them think they have the upper hand.”
From their position, the house appeared eerily still, but the gang wasn’t fooled. They had faced enough Death Eaters to know that silence meant danger .
Evelyn flicked her wand, signaling the others. Blaise, Evan, Pansy, and Ron fanned out to their designated spots around the perimeter, ready to provide cover if needed.
Hermione and Theo stepped forward, their eyes locked on the magical defenses surrounding the property. Layers of enchantments flickered in the air, a web of protective spells designed to alert the Death Eaters inside the moment anyone tried to break in.
“Give me thirty seconds,” Theo muttered as he pulled out a small dagger etched with runes, pressing the tip against the invisible barrier. The moment the blade made contact, the air shimmered with magic.
Hermione joined him, tracing her wand along the edge of the wards. “It’s a combination of blood magic and anti-Apparition wards,” she whispered. “But there’s a weak point just ahead.”
Evelyn nodded. “Get us through. Quickly.”
Theo muttered an incantation, the runes on his dagger glowing faintly. Hermione added her own spell, unraveling the barrier thread by thread. The magic resisted at first, pulsing against their intrusion, but after a moment, there was a soft crack —the wards flickered, then collapsed just enough for them to slip through.
“Go,” Evelyn ordered.
She, Harry, Hermione, and Theo darted forward, moving like shadows across the yard. The moment they reached the side of the house, Evelyn flicked her wand, casting a silent Homenum Revelio .
There were at least six people inside, maybe more.
She turned to Harry, mouthing, Two upstairs. Four downstairs.
Harry gave a small nod, understanding immediately.
Hermione pressed her ear against the wall, listening. “They’re waiting,” she murmured. “No movement. It’s like they want us to come inside.”
Evelyn smirked. “Then let’s not keep them waiting.”
She raised her wand and, with a whispered spell, the front door exploded inward.
The second they crossed the threshold, green and red jets of light shot toward them from the shadows.
Evelyn and Harry threw up shield charms in unison, deflecting the curses as Hermione and Theo dived for cover.
“ Incarcerous! ” Hermione shouted, sending ropes flying toward the nearest Death Eater, but he dodged, countering with a slicing hex.
Evelyn ducked beneath a curse, rolling to the side before flicking her wand upward. The Death Eater who had been aiming at her was suddenly yanked off his feet, his body slamming into the ceiling with a sickening crack . He dropped like a stone, unmoving.
Harry was already engaged with another opponent, dodging and weaving between the flashing curses. The green glow of the Killing Curse barely missed his shoulder as he retaliated with a silent Expulso , blasting his attacker backward into a bookshelf.
Theo, moving with surprising agility, ducked behind a fallen chair before sending a Stupefy straight into another Death Eater’s chest. The man crumpled instantly.
The last Death Eater standing sneered as he raised his wand, a cruel smile stretching across his face.
“You think you’re so clever, don’t you, little girl?” he taunted, his voice sharp and mocking. “Running around, playing war. The Dark Lord knows about you now. He’s watching.”
Evelyn’s expression didn’t change, but something dark flickered in her eyes. “Good,” she said coldly.
Before he could utter another word, she flicked her wrist.
Diffindo.
The spell slashed across his chest, sending him staggering backward with a pained grunt. His hand clutched at the wound as blood seeped through his robes. He tried to counter, but Evelyn was faster—her next spell sent him crashing into the far wall. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.
“Move,” she ordered, stepping over the fallen bodies without a second glance.
Harry, Hermione, and Theo followed close behind, sweeping through the house in formation.
“Two more upstairs,” Theo reminded them.
Harry nodded. “Let’s finish this.”
The staircase creaked beneath their hurried steps as they ascended. The hallway was dark, lit only by the glow of a single flickering lantern. At the end of the corridor, two figures emerged from a room, their wands already raised.
One of them, a tall man with a jagged scar running down his face, smirked. “We’ve been expecting you.”
The other, a woman with dark, tangled hair, let out a low chuckle. “Mulciber sends his regards.”
Then they attacked.
A barrage of spells shot down the hall. Harry and Theo split off to the sides, dodging and returning fire, while Evelyn charged straight ahead, her wand slicing through the air with lethal precision.
The woman aimed a Cruciatus Curse at Evelyn, but she deflected it with a powerful Protego . Before the Death Eater could cast again, Evelyn flicked her wand— Petrificus Totalus .
The woman froze mid-motion, her body snapping rigid before she toppled to the ground, immobilized.
Meanwhile, Harry had engaged the scarred man in a vicious duel, their spells colliding in bursts of light.
Harry gritted his teeth as the scarred Death Eater hurled a Blasting Curse straight at him. He barely managed to throw up a shield in time—the force of the explosion sent him skidding backward. The hallway shook, dust and splinters filling the air.
“Hold still, boy !” the Death Eater snarled, advancing with his wand raised.
Harry’s eyes darkened. He sidestepped the next curse and retaliated with a spell Snape had drilled into him.
“Flamma Constringe!”
Fire coiled around the Death Eater’s arms like a living snake, tightening with each movement. He screamed, struggling as the enchanted flames scorched his skin.
Evelyn darted forward before he could break free, her wand flashing. Stupefy.
The man dropped instantly.
She turned to Harry, chest rising and falling quickly. “You good?”
He nodded, exhaling sharply. “Yeah. Let’s finish this.”
Theo and Hermione had secured the rest of the second floor, leaving only one locked door at the very end of the hall. A faint glow seeped from underneath, illuminating the dusty floorboards.
Evelyn gestured silently. Harry stepped to one side, wand raised, while Theo positioned himself on the other. Hermione stood behind them, ready.
On Evelyn’s signal, Theo blasted the door open.
Inside, a lone figure sat in a chair, hands bound behind their back. A hood covered their face.
A trap.
Evelyn’s instincts screamed at her to move. She threw up a Protego Totalum just as the walls erupted with magic—dark curses flaring to life, ricocheting around the room.
“DOWN!” she shouted.
The gang dove for cover as lethal spells tore through the air. A sickly green curse narrowly missed Hermione’s head. Theo swore, rolling behind an overturned table.
Harry, reacting on instinct, cast a powerful Reducto . The walls cracked under the force, sending debris flying. The curses faltered for a split second—just enough time for Evelyn to act.
She lunged forward, tearing the hood off the prisoner.
A young boy—no older than sixteen—blinked up at her in terror. His robes bore the Mulciber family crest.
He was bait.
Evelyn’s grip tightened on her wand. “Who else is here?” she demanded.
The boy trembled. “I—I don’t—”
A sudden explosion rocked the house.
They had run out of time.
“We have to go— now !” Hermione shouted over the chaos.
Evelyn cursed under her breath. “Get everyone out!”
Harry grabbed Theo’s arm and started toward the staircase. Hermione followed, guiding the boy they had just freed.
Evelyn turned, flicking her wand. Incendio Maxima.
Fire roared to life, licking up the walls, consuming everything in its path. The Death Eaters would return to nothing but ashes.
She sprinted after the others, the flames chasing at her heels.
Outside, Blaise, Ron, Pansy, and Evan were already engaged in battle. Reinforcements had arrived.
Death Eaters Apparated onto the grounds, wands flashing in the darkness.
“MOVE!” Blaise shouted, deflecting a curse with a fierce slash of his wand.
Evelyn barely had time to process before she was ducking under a jet of green light.
Another Killing Curse. Too close.
Harry was at her side in an instant, casting a rapid series of defensive spells to push their attackers back.
Theo and Hermione helped the boy toward the treeline, covering him as Ron sent a Bombarda straight into one of the enemy’s chests. The Death Eater crumpled, unmoving.
Evelyn turned to Harry. “We can’t win this fight. Get everyone to the Portkey.”
He nodded. “GO!”
They sprinted toward the meeting point, dodging spells as more reinforcements Apparated onto the battlefield.
The Portkey—a rusted goblet hidden beneath a tree—glowed with faint blue magic.
One by one, they grabbed onto it.
A final Killing Curse streaked towards them—
Then they were gone.
They landed hard on the floor of the Room of Requirement, panting, bruised, but alive .
Luna, Neville, and Ginny were already waiting, wands drawn, ready to summon Snape if needed.
Evelyn pushed herself up, her limbs aching. “Everyone okay?”
Harry was already checking Hermione, who nodded, breathless but unharmed. Theo groaned, rubbing his ribs. “Nothing broken.”
Ron, however, was glaring at the young Mulciber boy, still shaking from the ordeal.
“What the hell were you doing there?” he demanded.
The boy looked at them all, eyes wide with something between terror and awe.
“…You really are fighting him,” he whispered.
Evelyn exhaled sharply. “Yeah. We are.”
Ginny, Luna, and Neville slipped out of the Room of Requirement, heading down the corridors toward the dungeons. It was late—past curfew—but they knew exactly where to find him.
Snape was still awake when they arrived, sitting in his office with a candle burning low on his desk. He didn’t look surprised to see them.
“Where are they?” he asked immediately.
Ginny took a breath. “Room of Requirement.”
Snape stood, his robes billowing as he moved past them. “Did anyone die?”
“No, but it was close.”
His expression darkened. “Of course it was.”
Without another word, he swept from the room, his stride purposeful as he made his way to the seventh floor.
The door to the Room of Requirement swung open with a creak, and Snape stepped inside. His eyes flicked over the group, taking in the signs of battle—torn robes, bruises, blood.
“Idiots,” he muttered, shutting the door behind him. “I assume your latest brilliant plan didn’t go as expected.”
Evelyn didn’t rise to the bait. “It was a trap.”
Snape’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a sneer. “And yet, you walked right into it. How shocking.”
Pansy groaned. “Can we skip the lecture?”
Snape ignored her, turning to Harry instead. “Potter.”
Harry met his gaze, standing firm. “We fought our way out.”
Snape studied him, then shifted his focus to the Mulciber boy. His expression sharpened. “Who is this?”
The boy stiffened under Snape’s scrutiny. “M-Matthew Mulciber.”
Snape’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t react beyond that. “Another loose end you’ve collected?”
Evelyn crossed her arms. “He’s not a threat.”
“That remains to be seen.” Snape’s dark eyes flicked back to the group. “I assume you’ve realized by now that you can’t continue like this. You’ve lost the element of surprise. Voldemort knows you are attacking his followers.”
Evelyn clenched her jaw. “So what do we do?”
Snape’s gaze was unreadable. “You stop playing war and start winning it.”
_________________
Evelyn lay awake in the Room of Requirement long after the others had fallen asleep. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting flickering shadows across the room, and the only sounds were the occasional deep breaths of her friends around her.
Her body ached from the night’s fight, her muscles stiff and bruised, but it wasn’t the pain that kept her awake. It was the weight of it all. The war. The risks. The choices she had made and the ones she hadn’t yet dared to.
She exhaled slowly, letting her eyes slip shut, and for a moment, she just focused on the steady rise and fall of her breathing.
Then, the air around her shifted.
A pulse of energy rolled through the room, something ancient, something powerful, and suddenly, Evelyn knew she was no longer alone.
Her eyes snapped open, and there, standing at the foot of her bed, was her .
Lady Magic.
She was as breathtaking as ever, her presence ethereal, her gown flowing like liquid starlight. Her golden eyes shimmered as she gazed down at Evelyn, an unreadable expression on her face.
“You are troubled,” Lady Magic said softly, her voice lilting like wind chimes in a summer breeze.
Evelyn sat up, the blanket pooling in her lap. She wasn’t surprised by the visit—she had felt the pull of magic growing restless within her for days now. But still, she hesitated before answering.
“…I don’t know what to do.”
Lady Magic tilted her head, stepping closer. “You have been striking at shadows, Evelyn. Picking apart the pieces of the dark, but never striking at the heart of it. Why?”
Evelyn swallowed. She had known this question was coming. “Because it’s too dangerous,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Voldemort—he’s… different. More powerful than any of his followers. If we go after him directly, someone will die .”
Lady Magic regarded her for a long moment before sitting at the edge of the bed, her presence neither warm nor cold, but something else entirely—something infinite.
“You fear loss,” she murmured.
Evelyn clenched her jaw. “Of course I do.”
Lady Magic studied her, then exhaled softly. “And yet, loss is inevitable in war.”
Evelyn looked away. She knew that. She had always known that. But knowing and accepting were two entirely different things.
“I don’t want to be the reason someone I love dies,” she admitted. “I don’t want to make the wrong choice.”
There was a silence between them, stretching long enough that Evelyn finally forced herself to look back at the goddess beside her.
Lady Magic’s golden eyes gleamed. “And if you do nothing? If you hesitate too long?”
Evelyn’s stomach twisted. She knew the answer to that, too.
If she did nothing—if she let her fear stop her—Voldemort would win. More people would die. People she loved.
Lady Magic reached out then, the tips of her fingers brushing lightly against Evelyn’s forehead. A rush of warmth spread through her, not overwhelming, but steady, like the embrace of something ancient and unwavering.
“You were chosen for a reason, Evelyn McCrae,” Lady Magic murmured. “Not to linger in fear. Not to doubt your own strength. You have the power to end this war. But you must believe it.”
Evelyn’s breath hitched. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”
Lady Magic smiled—soft, but knowing. “No one ever is.”
The warmth lingered as the goddess stood, her gaze never leaving Evelyn’s.
“You do not fight alone,” Lady Magic reminded her. “And you are far stronger than you think.”
And then, just like that, she was gone.
Evelyn sat there for a long time, staring at the empty space where Lady Magic had been.
Then, slowly— steadily —she exhaled, and for the first time in weeks, she felt sure .
Chapter 90: October
Notes:
hey guys!! we’re at chapter 90, oh my god. never did i think this story would get so far but im so glad it has.
here’s a short one for you all <3
Chapter Text
October rolled around, bringing cooler air and golden leaves scattered across the Hogwarts grounds. The castle was alive with the buzz of students preparing for their first round of mastery assessments, and even Evelyn and the rest of the gang—who had been so focused on their secret war—were starting to feel the weight of their coursework.
Evelyn, who had chosen to master Transfiguration and Ancient Runes, found herself buried in advanced spell theory and complex rune combinations, constantly switching between essay-writing and practical work. Meanwhile, Harry, Hermione, and the others were just as swamped. Even Theo, who always acted like he had everything under control, had been seen scowling over a thick Potions textbook.
“I swear,” Blaise groaned one afternoon in the library, rubbing his temples, “if I have to analyze one more historical rune sequence, I might just start setting my essays on fire.”
“You could always drop the subject,” Pansy smirked, twirling her quill between her fingers.
“And disappoint my dear mother? Not a chance,” Blaise replied, rolling his eyes.
Evelyn looked up from her own notes and sighed. “I think we all need a break. Let’s put the war planning on hold for a little bit, at least until we get through the first round of mastery evaluations.”
There was a collective nod of agreement. They had been pushing themselves relentlessly—not just with school, but with attacking Death Eater strongholds. As much as they hated slowing down, exhaustion wasn’t going to help them win this war.
It was Ginny, ever the one to bring some excitement into their lives, who swooped in with the perfect distraction.
“You’re all invited to a Halloween party!” she announced at dinner, dropping a stack of hand-written invitations onto the table.
“Halloween party?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
Ginny beamed. “Yes! Gryffindor’s throwing it, but I’m inviting practically everyone—Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, even some Slytherins. It’s going to be huge.”
“You’re inviting Slytherins?” Theo asked dryly.
Ginny smirked. “Yes, Theo. And you’re one of them.”
Blaise snatched one of the invitations and scanned it. “Costumes required. Food, music, and maybe a few surprises. Hosted by the legendary Ginny Weasley.” He raised an eyebrow. “Legendary?”
“That’s what the first-years call me,” she said airily.
“They do not,” Hermione muttered, but she was smiling.
Evelyn flipped her invitation over and looked at Ginny. “Why do I have a note at the bottom telling me to start planning this thing?”
“Because you’re good at organizing events, and I want this to be the best party Hogwarts has ever seen,” Ginny said simply, before adding with a grin, “And you owe me.”
Evelyn narrowed her eyes. “For what?”
“For that time I snuck into Hogsmeade with you in fourth year and didn’t rat you out.”
Evelyn sighed dramatically but couldn’t help but smile. “Fine, I’ll help. But if I hear one complaint from anyone, I’m hexing you first.”
Ginny clapped her hands together. “Perfect. We’ve got three weeks to make this the best night of the year!”
The group seemed to relax a little at the prospect of a party. For the first time in weeks, they had something to look forward to that didn’t involve war or danger. Even Harry, who had been more tense than usual, looked like he might actually enjoy himself.
Little did any of them know, however, that elsewhere in the world, Voldemort was planning his next move.
_____________
Voldemort sat alone in the dimly lit study of Malfoy Manor, his long fingers tapping idly against the armrest of his chair. A fire crackled in the ornate fireplace, casting flickering shadows along the dark wooden walls, but the warmth did little to soothe the storm in his mind. The recent attacks on Death Eater strongholds were not just a nuisance—they were an insult. An open challenge. And worst of all, they had come from a single girl.
Evelyn McCrae.
His lips curled into something between a sneer and a smirk as he considered her. She was clever, powerful even, but she was also young. Reckless. Overconfident. And yet, she had managed to evade him at every turn. Her attacks had been precise, methodical, aimed at his forces where they were weakest. And the rune—her signature, an arrogant mark left behind as if daring him to retaliate.
And he would. But he had learned long ago that power meant nothing without control, without patience. His Death Eaters wanted action. They whispered of vengeance, of striking back. Fools. A reckless counterattack would only serve to strengthen her resolve. No, he would not meet her head-on. He would unravel her, piece by piece, until she had nowhere left to turn.
He turned his attention to the documents spread before him—parchment and old records gathered from every possible source. Evelyn’s past was remarkably well-hidden. Almost too well-hidden. There were no traces of her before Hogwarts, no wizarding lineage that connected her to any known bloodline. It was as if she had appeared from thin air, fully formed.
Impossible.
And so he had cast his net wider. And after weeks of searching, he had finally found something useful. A single, insignificant record buried among muggle reports.
McCrae.
His fingers tightened around the parchment as he read. A muggle couple, dead under unusual circumstances when their daughter was still a child. Evelyn had been placed in an orphanage. But she had not stayed. She had vanished, slipped through the cracks of the system, and yet somehow ended up in the wizarding world, completely untraceable.
Interesting.
Voldemort let the parchment drift onto the desk, leaning back in his chair. It was clear now—someone had gone to great lengths to erase Evelyn McCrae’s history. Someone had wanted to keep her hidden. That only made him more curious.
He had no way of knowing where she lived now, but her past? That, he could touch. And if he could not strike at her directly, he would remind her that nothing she cared for could ever remain untouched.
With a slow, deliberate motion, he reached for his wand.
Within seconds, he was gone.
The night air was bitterly cold as Voldemort apparated to a remote, forgotten corner of Scotland. The wind whipped through the overgrown grass, rattling the skeletal remains of trees that stood like sentinels in the darkness. Before him, bathed in the silver light of the moon, lay the ruins of the McCrae house.
Or what was left of it.
The structure had long since collapsed, reduced to little more than a husk of crumbling stone and decaying wood. Time and neglect had stripped it of any sign that it had once been a home, leaving only a hollow, abandoned shell.
Voldemort stepped forward, his presence alone enough to silence the rustling wind. He walked through the wreckage with slow, measured steps, his crimson gaze sweeping over the remains with a detached curiosity. This was where Evelyn McCrae had come from. A broken house, a forgotten tragedy. And yet, she had risen from the ashes, daring to challenge him.
A smirk pulled at the corners of his lips.
Foolish girl.
As he moved past the remnants of what might have once been a garden, he saw them.
Two gravestones.
They stood apart from the house, simple and unadorned, the names barely visible beneath years of weathering. He approached, reading the carved letters with mild amusement. These were her parents. The ones who had brought her into the world only to leave her behind.
Who had buried them? Who had cared enough to mark their resting place?
It didn’t matter.
Voldemort raised his wand, the tip glowing with cold, unfeeling light. Without a word, he flicked his wrist.
The first gravestone shattered, the stone exploding into dust with a violent crack. The second followed a moment later, reduced to nothing but rubble. He did not stop there. With another flick of his wand, fire erupted in the air, swirling hungrily before crashing down upon the ground. Flames roared to life, devouring the remaining shards of stone, turning them into nothing but ash.
Let her know.
Let her see how meaningless it all was. How easily everything she thought she had, everything she thought untouchable, could be erased.
When the fire finally died, leaving only blackened earth behind, Voldemort turned away without a second glance.
The next move in this war would be his.
_______________
Evelyn sat cross-legged on the floor of the Room of Requirement, a book on advanced warding open in her lap. Her eyes skimmed the page, but she wasn’t absorbing the words. Not really. A strange feeling had settled over her all day—something restless, uneasy. She couldn’t quite explain it, but it felt like something was wrong.
She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple. Maybe she was just exhausted. Between Mastery classes, war planning, and trying to maintain some semblance of normality at Hogwarts, she barely had time to breathe. Even though the gang had decided to take a step back from planning attacks, the weight of everything still loomed over her.
A sudden, familiar chill washed over the room. The flames in the lanterns flickered violently before stabilizing, casting long, shifting shadows along the walls. Evelyn’s breath hitched as she slowly looked up.
Lady Magic stood before her.
Ethereal as always, her form shimmered faintly in the dim light. Her robes seemed to shift like liquid gold, her presence both overwhelming and comforting at once. Evelyn’s heart clenched at the sight—Lady Magic didn’t appear without reason.
Something had happened.
Evelyn scrambled to her feet. “What is it?” she asked, her voice sharper than she intended. “What’s wrong?”
Lady Magic regarded her with an unreadable expression. “He has moved against you,” she said simply.
Evelyn’s stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”
“You have shaken him, Evelyn.” Lady Magic’s voice was calm, almost soft. “Voldemort does not take humiliation lightly. He has begun searching for ways to break you.”
Evelyn swallowed hard. “How?”
Lady Magic tilted her head slightly, golden eyes darkening. “He sought out your past.”
A chill ran down Evelyn’s spine.
“Your parents,” Lady Magic continued. “He discovered their resting place.”
Evelyn stilled. “I—I didn’t even know they had a resting place.”
“That is because I gave them one,” Lady Magic said. “I created their graves long ago, when I placed you into this world. It was necessary for your story to be believable—for there to be a place that marked their end.”
Evelyn’s chest tightened. “And he—”
“Destroyed them,” Lady Magic finished.
Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Evelyn’s hands curled into fists at her sides. She hadn’t even known about those graves, but that didn’t make the weight of this any less crushing.
Voldemort had gone out of his way to desecrate the only place that acknowledged her parents’ existence.
She shouldn’t care.
She had never known them. She had spent her entire life alone, without a family, without a past. But the idea of him standing over their graves, erasing them as if they had never mattered—
Her magic flared. She wondered how her real parents were doing, back in the muggle world. The world she had left. The loving, kind parents she had left when she got sucked into a fucking book.
The flames in the lanterns flared with her, stretching unnaturally high before settling.
Lady Magic stepped closer, reaching out. “This is what he does, Evelyn,” she said gently. “He takes. He erases. He wants you to feel helpless, as if you are nothing but a shadow in his wake.”
Evelyn forced in a slow, shaky breath. “I’m not.”
Lady Magic smiled, something almost proud in her gaze. “No, you are not.”
Evelyn’s mind whirled, emotions battling for control. Part of her wanted to scream, to let her magic lash out and rip through something, anything. But another part of her—stronger, steadier—refused to let Voldemort win.
Let him think this was a victory.
She would make sure it was his mistake.
Evelyn lifted her chin. “What else do you know?”
Lady Magic’s smile deepened. “That you are ready for what comes next.”
Evelyn didn’t return to her dormitory that night. Instead, she sat in the Room of Requirement long after Lady Magic had disappeared, her mind racing. She wanted to scream, to hex something, to storm out of the castle and find Voldemort herself. But she couldn’t—not yet.
Destroying her parents’ graves was an insult, a way for Voldemort to say, I see you. I know who you are now. But if he thought he could rattle her, he was wrong.
She needed to act.
By the time the first hints of dawn filtered through the enchanted windows of the Room of Requirement, Evelyn had a plan forming in her mind. It wasn’t fully fleshed out yet, but she knew one thing for certain—she wasn’t going to let Voldemort dictate the pace of this war.
With renewed determination, she left the Room of Requirement and made her way down to breakfast. The Great Hall was already filling with students, some bleary-eyed and yawning while others chattered excitedly about the upcoming Halloween party. The stark contrast between normal school life and the war she was fighting in secret made her stomach twist, but she pushed it aside.
She spotted her friends immediately. Harry, Ron, and Pansy were sitting together, talking quietly, while Theo and Blaise were arguing over a page in The Daily Prophet.
She slid into her usual seat beside Harry, who gave her a concerned look. “Where were you last night?” he asked, voice low.
Evelyn hesitated, glancing around before casting a quick Muffliato charm. “Lady Magic visited me again.”
The entire group stilled.
“What did she say?” Pansy asked, eyes narrowing.
Evelyn clenched her jaw, then forced herself to speak the words as evenly as possible. “Voldemort found my parents’ graves. And he destroyed them.”
Silence.
Ron looked furious. “What the bloody hell—”
Harry’s hands clenched around his fork, knuckles white. “He’s trying to get to you,” he said darkly.
Evelyn nodded. “Yeah. And it’s not going to work.”
Blaise exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “He’s getting desperate.”
“No,” Theo corrected. “He’s getting smart. He knows she’s a threat.”
Evelyn swallowed, shoving away the wave of emotions threatening to rise again. “It doesn’t change anything,” she said firmly. “We were going to take a break from planning attacks for a bit, but now? Now we need to pick up the pace.”
Pansy tilted her head. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
Evelyn met her gaze. “I’m fine.” It wasn’t entirely true, but it would be.
Pansy studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Alright. So what’s next?”
Evelyn exhaled, looking around at her friends—her family. “We plan. And we make sure the next move is ours.”
Chapter 91: Halloween Horror
Chapter Text
Ginny was relentless.
Evelyn had barely gotten through lunch before the redhead dragged her away from the Great Hall, insisting that they had serious party planning to do. Evelyn had tried to argue—there were far more important things to focus on than a Halloween party—but Ginny shut her down immediately.
“We’re taking a break from war planning, remember?” Ginny had said, arms crossed. “And this party is part of that. So stop being a broody war general for five minutes and help me make this the best Halloween Hogwarts has ever seen.”
Which was how Evelyn found herself sitting in the Gryffindor common room that evening, parchment spread across the table in front of her as Ginny paced excitedly. The fire crackled in the background, casting flickering shadows along the walls, while other Gryffindors lounged around, completely unaware that one of the most dangerous witches in the castle was currently debating table placement with their prefect.
“So,” Ginny said, tapping her quill against her chin. “We’ve got the basics covered—pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes, and butterbeer from the kitchens. I’m still working on getting some Firewhisky, but I think Fred and George can sneak some in.”
Evelyn smirked. “I’d be disappointed if they didn’t.”
Ginny grinned before scribbling something down. “Now, decorations. I was thinking floating jack-o’-lanterns, but we could also enchant some skeletons to dance around. Maybe some fake ghosts to pop out and scare people?”
Evelyn raised a brow. “You do realize we live in a castle full of real ghosts, right?”
Ginny waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, but Nearly Headless Nick is more dramatic than scary, and Peeves is just annoying. I want something properly spooky.”
Evelyn hummed, considering. “We could charm some suits of armor to randomly move and follow people around the room.”
Ginny’s eyes lit up. “Brilliant.” She scribbled it down. “Alright, next—music. We need something that fits the theme but also keeps people dancing.”
Evelyn thought for a moment. “The Weird Sisters have a few songs that would work. And maybe some charmed instruments playing eerie background music between sets?”
“Oooh, I like that,” Ginny said, nodding. “Now, costumes—”
Evelyn groaned. “We have to dress up?”
Ginny gave her a flat look. “Of course we do. It’s Halloween.”
“I don’t even know what I’d go as.”
Ginny smirked. “Well, you are one of the most feared witches in the country right now. You could just go as yourself.”
Evelyn shot her a look. “Hilarious.”
“Fine,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “But you are dressing up, and I’ll personally hex you if you show up in normal robes.”
Evelyn sighed but relented. If it made Ginny happy—and gave everyone a much-needed break from the war—then fine. “Alright. But if I have to suffer through this, so do the boys.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Ginny said, grinning wickedly. “I’ve already got plans for them.”
The next evening, the Room of Requirement was buzzing with conversation. Everyone had sprawled across the various couches and chairs, parchment and snacks scattered across the room as Ginny took charge of what she called “The Great Costume Discussion.”
“I still don’t see why we have to plan this,” Theo muttered, lounging against one of the armchairs. “Can’t we just show up in whatever we want?”
“No,” Ginny said, giving him a pointed look. “This is a proper Halloween party, and I refuse to let any of you show up in half-arsed costumes.”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Pansy said, smirking. “Some of you could use the fashion guidance.”
Ron groaned. “I don’t see what’s wrong with just throwing on a mask and calling it a day.”
“Because that’s boring,” Ginny said. “Now, let’s go down the list. Evelyn, since you’re the only one who hasn’t said anything yet—what are you wearing?”
Evelyn sighed, arms crossed. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”
“Perfect,” Ginny said, grinning. “That means I get to pick for you.”
Evelyn narrowed her eyes. “Absolutely not.”
“Too late, already decided,” Ginny said breezily. “I’m thinking something dark and dramatic, maybe a powerful sorceress look.”
Blaise smirked. “So… literally just what she wears every day?”
That earned a few chuckles, and Evelyn rolled her eyes. “If I have to dress up, I’m choosing my own costume.”
“Fine,” Ginny relented. “But it better be good.”
“Wait, what are you going as?” Theo asked.
Ginny grinned. “I was thinking a vampire. Classic, elegant, and I get to wear a ridiculous cape.”
“Nice,” Evan said. “I think I’ll go as a pirate.”
“You just want an excuse to wear an eyepatch,” Pansy said.
“Obviously,” Evan said, grinning.
“What about you, Harry?” Ginny asked.
Harry, who had been quiet until now, shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe something simple, like a Quidditch player?”
“That’s lazy,” Daphne said.
“You literally are a Quidditch player,” Theo added.
“Fine,” Harry said. “Then what should I go as?”
Ginny tapped her chin. “Oh! You should go as a knight!”
Harry blinked. “A knight ?”
“Yeah! You already have the hero complex for it,” Ginny teased.
Pansy snickered. “I can already picture him running around in armor, all noble and self-sacrificing.”
“I do not have a hero complex,” Harry muttered, but Evelyn shot him a knowing look.
“I think it suits you,” she said, smirking.
“Great,” Ginny said, clapping her hands. “Now, what about you, Pansy?”
Pansy smirked. “I was thinking a dark fairy. Elegant, mysterious, and slightly terrifying.”
“Ooh, love that,” Daphne said. “I might go for a witch look, but like, a glamorous witch.”
“I’ll be going as a devil,” Blaise said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself.
“Shocking,” Theo deadpanned.
“What about you, Theo?” Ginny asked.
Theo shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe a vampire too?”
“You cannot copy my idea,” Ginny said, looking scandalized.
Theo sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll be a werewolf.”
“Better,” Ginny said, nodding in approval. “And Ron?”
Ron sighed. “I’ll just wear whatever Pansy tells me to.”
That got a round of laughter, and Pansy smirked. “Smart man.”
With the costumes decided, the group spent the next hour making plans to gather what they needed, charmed fabric and illusion spells included. And for the first time in a while, the war felt like a distant thought.
______________
The week leading up to the party was a whirlwind of activity, both in and out of class. With their mastery courses piling on the workload and Halloween preparations taking over their free time, the gang found themselves caught between exhaustion and excitement.
By Monday morning, it became painfully clear that balancing school and party planning was going to be a challenge.
“I swear,” Evelyn muttered as she slumped into her seat in Ancient Runes, “if I have to decipher one more Viking curse, I’m going to become a Viking curse.”
Theo snorted. “I’d pay to see that.”
Their professor, Bathsheba Babbling, assigned a research essay on runic warding systems—due Friday. A groan rippled through the class.
“Brilliant,” Evelyn muttered under her breath. “Because I definitely didn’t have enough to do already.”
Meanwhile, in Transfiguration, McGonagall spent the entire lesson drilling them on human transfiguration.
“If any of you botch these spells,” she said, sharp eyes scanning the room, “you will spend your Halloween weekend in the hospital wing rather than at any parties.”
Evelyn caught Harry’s gaze from across the room and smirked. “No pressure.”
Harry sighed. “We are so doomed.”
Between classes, Ginny, Pansy, and Daphne took charge of making sure everyone had their costumes ready.
“I don’t trust any of you to actually put in the effort,” Ginny declared at lunch, giving Ron, Theo, and Evan a pointed look.
“Harsh,” Evan muttered, shoving a bite of pie into his mouth.
“You literally admitted yesterday that you were going to ‘wing it’ last minute,” Pansy said dryly.
Evan shrugged. “Still harsh.”
By Tuesday night, the Gryffindor and Slytherin common rooms were filled with students charming their costumes.
“I hate this,” Ron groaned as Hermione helped him with a fitting spell.
“You’re the one who agreed to go as a werewolf,” Hermione reminded him. “It requires effort.”
“It requires suffering ,” Ron corrected.
Meanwhile, Evelyn was finishing the final details of her costume. She had, in the end, taken Ginny’s advice—choosing an elaborate dark sorceress ensemble. Her robes were charmed to shift between deep purple and black, and the silver embroidery on the sleeves shimmered like constellations.
“Alright, fine ,” Ginny admitted, watching Evelyn test the effects of her magically altered cloak. “You did okay .”
Evelyn smirked. “Just okay?”
Ginny grinned. “Fine. It’s fantastic. Happy?”
Even the ever-organized Hermione was starting to show signs of stress, muttering under her breath about inefficient spell theory as she scribbled furiously in her notes.
By the time classes ended that evening, the group collectively collapsed in the Room of Requirement, abandoning their studies for the night.
“We should probably go over strategy for our next mission,” Evan started.
Pansy immediately threw a cushion at him. “No. Absolutely not. Break time .”
Even Evelyn didn’t argue. “For once, I agree.”
Thursday: The Final Countdown
The party was only a day away, and Hogwarts was buzzing with excitement.
“The whole school is talking about this,” Ginny said proudly at breakfast. “I’ve even heard some Ravenclaws plotting how to sneak in if they don’t get invited.”
“You do realize we invited the entire school?” Daphne pointed out.
Ginny shrugged. “They don’t know that.”
By afternoon, students had started decorating the Gryffindor common room, transforming it into a grand, haunted ballroom. Floating jack-o’-lanterns, enchanted cobwebs, and eerie green flames flickered in the torches.
“This might actually be fun ,” Blaise admitted as he helped charm a few ghostly figures to drift around the room.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Ginny quipped.
The only downside was their coursework. Despite the party looming, their professors weren’t showing any mercy.
“You’d think they’d ease up considering it’s Halloween weekend,” Ron muttered, glaring at the essay McGonagall had assigned.
“You’d think wrong,” Hermione said, already halfway through hers.
Still, as night fell and the last of the decorations were finalized, the excitement finally outweighed the stress.
“Tomorrow,” Evelyn said, standing with the others in the Room of Requirement. “We forget about everything else and just enjoy the night.”
A murmur of agreement spread through the group.
“For once,” Harry added, leaning back against the couch, “I think we actually deserve it.”
________________
The Gryffindor common room had been completely transformed for the Halloween party. The usual red and gold décor was hidden beneath layers of enchantments, turning the space into a grand, haunted ballroom. Dark velvet drapes covered the windows, giving the illusion of a never-ending midnight sky, while enchanted jack-o’-lanterns floated lazily near the ceiling, casting flickering orange and green light across the room. The air smelled of pumpkin spice, warm cider, and the faintest hint of something sweet—likely thanks to the Honeydukes treats scattered across the tables.
Music played from an enchanted gramophone in the corner, a mix of upbeat wizarding tunes and eerie, atmospheric instrumentals. Students from every house were already deep into the festivities, dressed in elaborate costumes, laughing, and moving to the music.
Evelyn stood near the fireplace, surveying the scene with an amused but cautious expression.
“You look like you’re expecting something to explode,” Pansy commented as she handed Evelyn a goblet of butterbeer.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if something did explode,” Evelyn muttered, taking a sip.
“Relax,” Ginny chimed in, appearing beside them in her elaborate vampire costume. “You helped plan this party. At least try to enjoy it.”
Evelyn nodded, though the nagging feeling in the back of her mind refused to disappear.
As the night went on, the energy in the room grew even more lively. A large group had gathered in one corner to play a rowdy game of Never Have I Ever , while others were deep into Truth or Dare .
“You never learned how to ride a broom?” Blaise asked incredulously, staring at Theo, who had just taken a sip of his drink during Never Have I Ever .
Theo rolled his eyes. “I can stay on a broom. I just never cared enough to learn any tricks or play Quidditch.”
“That’s a disgrace,” Ginny said dramatically, shaking her head. “As a former Quidditch Captain, I officially declare you unworthy.”
“Oh no, how will I ever recover?” Theo deadpanned.
On the other side of the room, Ron was bright red, having just been dared to serenade McGonagall the next time he saw her. Hermione was half-laughing, half-scolding, while Evan and Daphne were in a heated debate about whether Evan should accept his dare to steal a pastry from the kitchens without using magic.
Despite the fun, Evelyn still couldn’t shake the tension coiling in her chest. Something felt off .
As the clock struck eleven, the floor beneath them trembled.
It was subtle at first, barely noticeable over the music and chatter, but then it happened again. The castle shook . This time, goblets rattled, decorations swayed, and a few students stumbled. The laughter and music stopped .
“What was that?” someone asked.
The castle shook again— harder . Bottles toppled off the makeshift bar, and a few books fell from the shelves. A sharp gust of magic crackled through the air, and suddenly, the door to the common room burst open.
Headmistress McGonagall stood in the entrance, her face pale but composed, her wand already drawn.
“Everyone stay inside the common room,” she commanded, her voice sharp and urgent. “Do not leave.”
The room fell into stunned silence.
Evelyn’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. She turned toward the nearest window, pushing past a few students. The curtains were still enchanted to show an endless night sky, but with a quick flick of her wand, she dispelled the illusion.
What she saw made her blood freeze .
Just beyond the castle’s ward line, standing in the eerie glow of the Forbidden Forest, was a horde of dark figures. Hooded figures. Death Eaters.
And at the very front, flanked by his most loyal followers, stood Voldemort.
The Dark Lord raised his wand. A surge of crimson energy slammed against the invisible wards surrounding Hogwarts. The castle shook again.
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed. They’re trying to break in.
She knew something was going to happen tonight.
With a flick of her wrist, she blasted the window open. A gust of cold air rushed into the common room, making the flames in the fireplace flicker violently.
All eyes turned to her.
“Evelyn, what are you doing?” Hermione asked sharply.
Evelyn turned back to face the room, her expression deadly serious. “Voldemort and his Death Eaters are at the ward line. They’re trying to get in.”
A stunned silence followed her words.
“ What?! ”
The room erupted into chaos. Students gasped, some shrank back in fear, while others reached for their wands instinctively. Panic spread quickly, but Evelyn refused to let it consume the room.
“Enough!” she snapped, her voice cutting through the noise. “I need everyone to listen .”
The sheer authority in her tone silenced them.
“Right now, we don’t know if the wards will hold. But if they don’t—” She looked around the room, eyes meeting the familiar faces of the DA, of her friends, of her family . “—we have to be ready to fight.”
Harry stepped forward, standing beside her. “She’s right. We’ve been training for this. We can hold our ground.”
Pansy was next to move, followed closely by Ron, Theo, Daphne, Blaise, and Evan. “You don’t even need to ask,” Pansy said, twirling her wand between her fingers. “We’re in.”
Neville, Ginny, and Luna exchanged glances before nodding. More and more students followed suit, the fear in their expressions hardening into determination.
McGonagall, who had been watching the exchange, finally spoke. “The professors are already on their way to reinforce the wards, but if they fail…” She hesitated, then nodded. “Do what you must. But do not throw your lives away.”
Evelyn gave her a sharp nod before turning back to the window.
Outside, Voldemort raised his wand again.
Another wave of dark magic slammed into the wards—
—And with a deafening crack , the invisible barrier shattered .
The battle had begun.
The moment the wards shattered, a pulse of dark magic rippled through the air, making the very stones of the castle vibrate. The Hogwarts grounds, which had once been calm beneath the starlit sky, were now flooded with eerie, flickering lights as curses and hexes shot back and forth between the Death Eaters and the professors already rushing to defend the school.
Evelyn wasted no time.
She turned back to the group of students, her eyes blazing with purpose. “Everyone who’s willing to fight— follow me .”
There was no hesitation.
Harry was the first to step forward, his wand already drawn. “Let’s go.”
Pansy and Ron flanked Evelyn on either side, while Theo, Daphne, Blaise, and Evan quickly fell into place behind them. The members of Dumbledore’s Army—the ones who had trained for this exact moment—steeled themselves and prepared for battle.
Evelyn’s wand flicked upward, summoning a powerful Cushioning Charm beneath the common room window. Without a second thought, she jumped.
The air rushed past her as she descended, but she landed lightly on the grass below, rolling into a crouch before rising smoothly to her feet. One by one, the others followed, leaping out of the window and landing safely with the help of her magic.
As soon as the last student touched the ground, Evelyn raised her wand and sent a bright blue flare into the sky—a signal to the professors that reinforcements were coming.
Then, without another word, she sprinted toward the battle.
The moment they reached the courtyard, the fight was already in full swing. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout were at the front lines, their wands flashing in rapid succession as they held off an onslaught of masked Death Eaters.
Hagrid, standing like an immovable giant, swung a massive club at a group of enemies, sending them flying like ragdolls.
From the shadows of the Forbidden Forest, several Acromantulas skittered into the fray, their monstrous legs carrying them toward the castle, but before they could reach the school, a booming “Confringo!” echoed through the night, and the lead spider exploded into pieces.
Evelyn whipped around to see Ginny standing on one of the upper staircases, wand pointed at the battlefield, her face grim.
She wasn’t the only one.
More students had joined the fight, their wands raised, their faces set with determination.
Evelyn’s heart pounded, but there was no time to hesitate.
This is it.
She turned to the gang. “No mercy,” she said. “We take down as many of them as we can. Watch each other’s backs— and don’t die. ”
With that, she launched herself into battle.
The first Death Eater she encountered barely had time to react before she disarmed him with a swift Expelliarmus, his wand flying into the darkness. She followed it up with a Stupefy, knocking him unconscious before turning to the next attacker.
Behind her, Harry was locked in a fast-paced duel with another Death Eater, dodging a jet of green light before retaliating with a Sectumsempra that sent his opponent sprawling.
Ron was battling two at once, deflecting curses and countering with powerful knockback jinxes, while Pansy fought alongside Theo, their movements perfectly synchronized as they outmaneuvered their opponents.
Daphne, graceful and deadly, sent a well-aimed Reducto at a cluster of enemies, blasting them off their feet.
The courtyard had turned into a war zone.
Screams, spells, and the clash of magic filled the air.
A familiar, high-pitched laugh rang through the chaos.
Evelyn turned sharply, her breath catching in her throat.
Voldemort stood near the entrance of the castle, his crimson eyes scanning the battlefield with a cruel sort of amusement.
She barely had time to react before he raised his wand—
A blast of pure, dark magic shot toward her.
Evelyn didn’t think—she just moved .
She dodged at the last second, the spell missing her by inches and obliterating the stone fountain behind her.
Before she could recover, another Death Eater lunged at her from the side.
She twisted, bringing her wand up just in time to block his attack. Their wands clashed in a shower of sparks as the force of his spell nearly knocked her off her feet.
“Not bad,” the masked man sneered. “But you’re out of your league, little girl.”
Evelyn’s eyes darkened.
“Let’s test that theory.”
She stepped forward, magic surging through her veins, and unleashed a rapid succession of spells—Diffindo, Confringo, Bombarda—forcing the Death Eater back with each strike.
Then, before he could recover, she flicked her wrist sharply—“Incarcerous!”
Thick ropes shot from her wand, wrapping tightly around him and sending him crashing to the ground, struggling against the magical bindings.
She turned, breathing hard, scanning the battlefield.
The Death Eaters were losing .
Badly.
Bodies littered the courtyard—unconscious or worse—and the surviving Death Eaters were beginning to realize that they were outnumbered.
Voldemort’s expression twisted with fury as he watched his forces fall.
Evelyn caught his eye.
For the briefest moment, they simply stared at each other.
“Retreat!” Voldemort snarled.
The Death Eaters still standing wasted no time. They disapparated with loud, cracking sounds, leaving only the fallen behind.
And just like that—
The battle was over .
Evelyn didn’t move. She stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest, her fingers gripping her wand so tightly her knuckles were white.
The realization hit her all at once.
They had won .
Voldemort had lost more than half his forces in a single night.
This was a turning point.
The tide of the war had shifted .
Harry stepped up beside her, his breathing still ragged from the fight. “We did it,” he murmured, his voice laced with disbelief.
Evelyn exhaled slowly.
“Yes,” she said. “We did.”
The first true victory was theirs.
Silence fell over the battlefield like a heavy fog. The only sounds were the crackling of fading spells and the ragged breathing of those who had fought. The air still smelled of burning stone and singed grass, a stark reminder of the chaos that had unfolded mere moments ago.
Evelyn stood amidst it all, her wand still gripped tightly in her hand. The adrenaline that had kept her moving was beginning to fade, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion that settled into her muscles. But she forced herself to stay upright, to assess —to process .
Bodies littered the ground. Some Death Eaters lay motionless, while others groaned in pain, bound by magical restraints. Hogwarts students and professors moved through the wreckage, checking on their fallen, making sure none of their own had been lost.
And miraculously— none had been .
Evelyn let out a slow breath, relief washing over her.
McGonagall was already taking charge, her expression sharp and unreadable as she barked out orders. “Madam Pomfrey, tend to the wounded—anyone still conscious, make yourselves useful and assist her. Professors, secure the prisoners until the Aurors arrive.”
Harry was at Evelyn’s side in an instant. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Her voice was steady, though her hands were still trembling slightly. “You?”
He gave her a small, tired grin. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Around them, the rest of the gang regrouped. Ron was leaning against Pansy, a fresh gash on his arm but otherwise unharmed. Theo and Daphne stood nearby, quietly whispering between themselves as they observed the field. Blaise and Evan were already tending to the wounded, helping lift students who had taken minor injuries.
Hogwarts had fought—and Hogwarts had won.
But Evelyn knew better than to celebrate just yet.
Because Voldemort had retreated , not been defeated .
And that meant he’d be back.
She turned her gaze toward the distant treeline, where the last remnants of the battle still lingered.
Voldemort had underestimated them tonight. He had come expecting to crush them, to prove his dominance. Instead, he had lost half his forces, and his army was in shambles.
Evelyn knew what that meant.
He would be furious.
He would strike back .
And next time, he wouldn’t make the same mistake.
McGonagall’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “Evelyn.”
She turned, standing at attention as the headmistress approached. The older woman’s face was unreadable, but her eyes were sharp, filled with both calculation and something that might have been respect.
“That was reckless,” McGonagall said.
Evelyn squared her shoulders. “It was necessary.”
McGonagall exhaled slowly. “Perhaps.” She glanced around at the battlefield, then back at Evelyn. “Regardless, you saved lives tonight.”
A pause.
Then, quietly, “ Thank you. ”
Evelyn nodded once. “Anytime.”
McGonagall studied her for a moment longer, then turned back to the rest of the gathered students. “All of you—return to your dormitories immediately. The castle is on high alert, and I do not want anyone wandering around unescorted.”
There was a collective murmur of agreement as students began to move, some helping the injured, others simply trying to process what had just happened.
Evelyn, however, didn’t move.
She still felt uneasy.
The battle had ended almost too quickly. Yes, they had won, but something didn’t sit right with her.
As if something was missing .
As if they had missed something.
She glanced at Harry, who seemed to be thinking the same thing.
“This isn’t over,” he muttered.
“No,” Evelyn agreed. “It’s not.”
And deep down, she knew—This was only the beginning.
Chapter 92: Hogwarts 2.0
Chapter Text
The morning after the attack, Hogwarts was eerily silent.
For the first time in recent memory, there was no rush of students heading to breakfast, no casual chatter filling the corridors, no footsteps hurrying toward classrooms. Instead, the castle itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting—watching—as its inhabitants began the slow process of recovery.
Classes had been officially canceled for the week. In the Great Hall, McGonagall had made the announcement over a subdued breakfast, explaining that the staff and any willing students would be assisting in repairing the castle and strengthening its defenses. She made it clear that no one was obligated to help, but nearly every student in the hall had immediately volunteered.
It wasn’t just about fixing the damage—it was about taking back their home .
Evelyn stood outside the castle, surveying the destruction. The battle hadn’t left Hogwarts in ruins, but there was noticeable damage—scorched stone, shattered windows, deep cracks in the walls from stray spells. The wards had held for a long time, but their eventual collapse had left visible fractures in the very foundation of the castle’s defenses.
Professor Flitwick had taken charge of the ward restoration, working with the older students and any available staff to reinforce the protective magic around the grounds. Runestones were placed strategically along the outer perimeter, glowing faintly as layers of defensive enchantments settled into place.
Evelyn, along with Theo, Blaise, and Daphne, had been assigned to assist in fortifying the main entrance. Their task was simple— strengthen the physical barriers while the professors worked on the magical ones .
“You’d think after a thousand years, they’d have figured out how to make these walls spell-proof,” Theo muttered as he inspected a deep gash in the stone.
Evelyn snorted. “You’d think after a thousand years, people would’ve learned to stop attacking a school .”
Blaise smirked. “You’re assuming people have common sense. That’s your first mistake.”
Despite the joking, there was a heaviness in the air as they worked. Every stone they replaced, every crack they repaired, was a reminder of what had happened. A reminder that this wasn’t just their school anymore—it was a battlefield .
Harry, Ron, and Pansy were helping repair the Gryffindor common room, which had suffered minor damage when Evelyn had blasted the window open. Though the hole had been magically sealed shortly after the battle, the wall around it had weakened, and several of the enchanted tapestries had been destroyed.
“Honestly, Evelyn,” Pansy grumbled as she examined the damage, “couldn’t you have opened the window like a normal person?”
“I didn’t exactly have time for subtlety,” Evelyn shot back, passing by with a crate of supplies.
Ron smirked. “At least she made an entrance.”
Harry, who had been using Reparo on one of the shattered tables, shook his head. “Let’s just be glad that was the worst damage the common room took. If the Death Eaters had gotten inside…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
Because everyone knew what could have happened.
Pansy exhaled sharply, tossing her wand from hand to hand as if she were debating what to say. Then, in an uncharacteristically soft voice, she muttered, “Well… they didn’t. And that’s what matters.”
For once, no one had a sarcastic response.
By the third day, the Great Hall had transformed into something resembling a command center.
The long house tables had been rearranged to accommodate the repair efforts. Professors gathered in one corner, strategizing ways to improve the castle’s defenses. The DA and other student volunteers took up another area, organizing shifts for repair work. House elves zipped around at alarming speeds, assisting wherever they could.
Maps of the castle and surrounding grounds were spread across the tables, marked with areas that needed fortification. Discussions of new warding techniques filled the air, with students and staff alike contributing ideas.
Even Snape, who had spent the previous night in his quarters nursing a headache, had eventually joined the efforts, though he seemed thoroughly displeased by the amount of noise in the room.
Evelyn sat near the head of the Slytherin table, arms crossed as she listened to Flitwick and McGonagall discuss the updated security measures.
“…with layered protections, we should be able to detect any external tampering before the wards break,” Flitwick was saying, tracing his wand over the map. “However, I suggest integrating an early-warning system—perhaps something tied into the castle’s existing magic?”
“Would it work with the Room of Requirement?” Evelyn asked. “That place reacts to need—maybe we can enchant it to alert us if there’s a breach.”
McGonagall looked intrigued. “That is… not a bad idea.”
Snape, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. “It would require a delicate balance. The castle is already infused with powerful magic—introducing an additional enchantment of that scale could cause unintended effects.”
“I can test it,” Evelyn offered. “If it works, we’ll have an early warning system. If it doesn’t, we’ll find another way.”
McGonagall considered her for a long moment before nodding. “Very well. But proceed with caution.”
Evelyn gave a sharp nod in response.
Because if there was one thing she had learned in the past week, it was that caution was necessary .
Voldemort would not be making the same mistake twice.
And if they wanted to survive the next attack—
They needed to be ready.
_________________
As the days stretched on, Hogwarts slowly began to feel like itself again.
With classes canceled, students threw themselves into the repair efforts. Some, like Evelyn and the rest of the gang, spent hours reinforcing the castle’s defenses. Others helped with smaller tasks—cleaning up debris, tending to the students and staff who had suffered minor injuries, and assisting the house elves in restoring the Great Hall and other common areas.
But even with the repairs well underway, a certain unease lingered in the air.
Everyone knew that this was only a temporary reprieve.
Voldemort had attacked once. He would attack again.
⸻
Two days after the battle, Evelyn found herself standing in the Room of Requirement, wand in hand.
She had been given full permission to experiment with the castle’s magic—within reason—and with Theo, Hermione, and Blaise assisting her, they had spent the past few hours attempting to integrate a warning system into the Room’s natural enchantments.
“If this works,” Hermione muttered, pacing as she read from an old tome on castle enchantments, “then we should be able to create a link between the Room and the wards. It won’t make the wards stronger , but it will allow us to detect any fluctuations.”
Theo, who had been examining the runes they had etched onto the floor, exhaled sharply. “You say that like it’s a simple thing to do.”
“Nothing worthwhile is ever simple,” Blaise said dryly. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here in the first place.”
Evelyn ignored them, focusing on the spellwork. The idea was simple—if Hogwarts’ defenses were breached, the Room of Requirement would react immediately, alerting them before the wards fully collapsed. It wouldn’t stop an attack, but it would buy them time .
She took a deep breath, steadied her wand, and murmured, “Praesidium Revelare.”
The runes on the floor glowed bright gold before sinking into the stone, disappearing as if they had never been there at all. For a long, tense moment, nothing happened.
The walls shimmered, just briefly, before settling once more.
Evelyn’s breath caught. “It worked.”
Theo let out a low whistle. “I’ll be damned.”
Hermione was already scribbling furiously in her notes. “We’ll need to test it further, but if the magic holds, this could be huge .”
Blaise smirked. “Congratulations, McCrae. You might’ve just saved our skins.”
Evelyn didn’t smile.
Because she knew this was only the beginning.
⸻
On the fourth day after the battle, McGonagall summoned the prefects, DA leaders, and key students to her office.
Evelyn arrived to find the room already packed—Harry, Ron, Hermione, Pansy, Theo, Blaise, Daphne, and several others from different houses were already seated. McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and several other professors stood at the front of the room, their expressions grim.
“As you all know,” McGonagall began, “we have made great progress in restoring the castle. However, that does not mean we are safe.”
She glanced at Flitwick, who stepped forward. “The new wards are stronger than before, but no defense is perfect. We must prepare for the next attack.”
The room was silent.
Then Pansy folded her arms. “So, what’s the plan?”
McGonagall’s lips pressed into a thin line. “For now, we continue fortifying the castle. However, we also need to discuss what happens if another attack occurs.”
“If?” Theo echoed. “You mean when .”
McGonagall hesitated, but nodded. “Yes. When.”
Snape stepped forward then, arms crossed. “We need a clear division of responsibilities. In the event of another attack, we cannot afford chaos.”
Evelyn leaned forward. “You want us to organize the students?”
“Yes.”
A murmur spread through the room.
Harry exchanged glances with Ron and Hermione before nodding. “Alright. Then let’s figure out how we’re going to do this.”
By the end of the meeting, they had formed a plan:
• Professors would lead the main defenses.
• DA members and other skilled students would provide backup and protect younger students.
• Prefects would be responsible for evacuation if needed.
• The Room of Requirement would serve as a safe haven for anyone unable to fight.
It wasn’t perfect.
But it was something .
And for now—that was enough.
By the time the weekend arrived, Hogwarts was nearly fully repaired.
The wards were stronger than ever, the castle itself had been restored, and while the tension still remained, there was an undeniable sense of accomplishment.
They had survived.
They had fought back .
And now, they were ready for whatever came next.
Evelyn stood at the top of the Astronomy Tower that night, looking out over the castle grounds. She could still see the faint shimmer of the newly strengthened wards, a reminder of just how close they had come to losing everything.
Harry joined her a moment later, standing quietly at her side.
“Do you think he’ll try again soon?” he asked.
Evelyn exhaled slowly. “I don’t know. But when he does…” She tightened her grip on the railing. “We’ll be ready.”
Harry nodded, determination in his eyes. “Yeah. We will.”
The battle had been won.
But the war was far from over.
The following Monday, classes were officially set to resume. Professors had spent the weekend finalizing lesson plans, and most students were ready—if not eager—to return to some semblance of normalcy.
But despite the outward efforts to restore routine, the castle felt different.
Whispers still lingered in the corridors. The attack had shaken everyone , and though Hogwarts had fought back hard , the reality that Voldemort had made it this far wasn’t lost on anyone.
Even first-years, who normally had little understanding of the war beyond what their older siblings told them, looked wary as they shuffled between lessons.
And for Evelyn, Harry, and the rest of the gang, there was no real returning to normal .
Monday morning saw the Great Hall full once more, but the energy was muted.
Students sat in closer groups than usual, their voices hushed. The usual chatter about Quidditch and upcoming Hogsmeade weekends had been replaced with serious discussions about defensive spells, dueling techniques, and speculation on what Voldemort’s next move would be.
At the Slytherin table, Evelyn sat between Pansy and Theo, listening as Blaise flipped through The Daily Prophet with a frown.
“They’re still reporting on the attack,” he murmured, scanning the front page. “The Ministry is calling it a ‘freak magical disturbance.’”
Pansy snorted. “A freak magical disturbance ? That’s the best lie they could come up with?”
Theo shook his head. “The Ministry doesn’t want to admit that You-Know-Who managed to breach Hogwarts’ defenses. It would make them look weak.”
“Because they are weak,” Evelyn muttered.
Blaise folded the paper and set it down, glancing toward the Gryffindor table. “Your boyfriend looks exhausted.”
Evelyn followed his gaze.
Harry was seated with Ron and Hermione, but he looked drained. His food sat mostly untouched, and from the way his shoulders slumped, it was obvious he hadn’t slept well.
Not that she had either.
None of them had.
Pansy nudged her. “Go talk to him.”
Evelyn hesitated. She wasn’t normally one for public displays of affection—especially not in the middle of the Great Hall—but the concern outweighed her pride.
With a sigh, she stood, making her way over to the Gryffindor table.
Harry barely looked up when Evelyn slid onto the bench beside him.
“Eat something,” she said quietly.
He blinked at her, then down at his plate as if just now realizing it was there. “Not hungry.”
“You’re not going to be much help to anyone if you collapse from exhaustion.”
Ron, seated across from them, nodded in agreement. “She’s right, mate. You look like hell.”
Hermione nudged a plate of toast toward Harry. “Just eat something .”
After a long pause, Harry finally picked up a slice of toast and took a small bite.
Evelyn exhaled. Progress.
She lowered her voice. “McGonagall still wants to meet with us after dinner, yeah?”
Harry nodded. “She’s got something planned. Something big .”
Evelyn exchanged a glance with Ron and Hermione.
It wasn’t surprising. After what had happened on Halloween, McGonagall would have to take action. The only question was—what was she planning?
And more importantly —would it be enough?
Lessons that day felt off .
Professors taught as if nothing had happened, but the students weren’t fooled. The tension was thick in every classroom.
In Transfiguration , McGonagall kept the lesson strictly academic, but her sharp glances toward the windows didn’t go unnoticed.
In Charms , Flitwick had them practicing complex shield charms—likely not part of the original curriculum.
Evelyn wasn’t the only one picking up on it.
As she sat in Ancient Runes, absently translating a particularly difficult passage, Theo leaned over.
“You feel it too, right?” he murmured.
Evelyn didn’t pretend not to understand. She nodded.
“Something’s coming,” Theo continued. “Something worse .”
Evelyn tightened her grip on her quill.
She had a feeling he was right.
⸻
By the time dinner rolled around, the tension had only worsened.
Evelyn, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Pansy, Theo, Blaise, Daphne, and a handful of others made their way to McGonagall’s office just after the meal, finding the Headmistress waiting with Snape and Flitwick.
“You wanted to see us?” Harry said.
McGonagall nodded. “Yes. Sit.”
They obeyed, settling into the various chairs around the room.
McGonagall took a deep breath before speaking.
“I won’t waste time. We cannot afford another attack like the one on Halloween.”
No one argued.
She glanced at Snape, who stepped forward, arms crossed. “We have begun discussions with the Order of the Phoenix about reinforcing Hogwarts’ protections. However, that is not enough. If the Dark Lord wishes to strike again, he will find a way.”
Flitwick cleared his throat. “Which is why we must be ready .”
Evelyn exchanged a look with Harry.
“We’re already ready,” Ron said.
McGonagall’s gaze sharpened. “Are you?”
No one responded.
She nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
Evelyn frowned. “What are you suggesting?”
McGonagall’s expression was grim. “We need to train you. Properly.”
Harry straightened. “We already—”
“I am not talking about your usual training, Mr. Potter.”
Snape’s dark eyes scanned the room. “If you truly want to fight, then it is time to prepare for war .”
The words sent a chill through the room.
McGonagall folded her hands. “No more holding back. No more hesitation. If Voldemort attacks again, we fight .”
A heavy silence followed.
Then Evelyn exhaled. “Alright,” she said. “When do we start?”
McGonagall’s lips thinned.
“Tomorrow.”
__________________
Tuesday morning, as students filtered into the Great Hall for breakfast, something felt… different .
For one, the staff table was full—every professor was present, which was rare outside of feasts. Secondly, McGonagall, who normally remained seated while students ate, was already standing.
Her stern expression made it clear that this wasn’t a normal morning.
The usual chatter died down as more students took notice. The moment the last few stragglers entered, McGonagall tapped her wand against the podium.
Boom.
The sound echoed through the hall, silencing everyone .
Evelyn sat with the rest of the gang at the Slytherin table, watching as McGonagall’s gaze swept over the students.
“We are at war.”
The words were blunt, carrying across the room with no hesitation.
Some younger students shifted uncomfortably. Others—mostly those who had fought alongside the DA—nodded grimly.
McGonagall continued.
“This castle has been attacked. And though we fought them off, make no mistake—this will not be the last time. You-Know-Who will return.”
A hush fell over the room.
Evelyn could see the first-years trembling at the Hufflepuff table, their faces pale.
But McGonagall did not soften.
“We are Hogwarts ,” she said firmly. “This school has stood for over a thousand years, and I refuse to let it fall. But that means we must prepare .”
She took a step forward.
“As of today, every student will be trained in combat.”
Murmurs broke out immediately.
McGonagall didn’t wait for the noise to settle.
“This is not a suggestion,” she continued. “This is mandatory .”
She flicked her wand, and a timetable appeared above the four house tables.
“First to third-years will train in the Great Hall on Mondays and Tuesdays,” she announced. “Fourth and fifth-years will train Wednesdays and Thursdays. Fifth to seventh-years will train Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays.”
Evelyn frowned. “Three days a week for us?” she murmured.
“Technically, it’s two,” Theo pointed out. “Fridays and Sundays. Saturdays are still Hogsmeade weekends—when they happen.”
“Right,” Evelyn muttered. “Small mercy.”
McGonagall raised her voice once more.
“When there is a Hogsmeade weekend, students will be excused from training. But otherwise, you will report to the Great Hall at eight sharp.”
More whispers broke out.
Evelyn watched as the Ravenclaws immediately began debating strategies, while the Gryffindors looked eager for the challenge. The Hufflepuffs seemed determined, though some of the younger ones looked terrified.
McGonagall let the murmurs linger for only a moment before delivering her final blow.
“This training is not about house,” she said. “It is not about rivalry. It is about survival.”
A weight settled over the room.
McGonagall straightened. “First to third-years, remain in the Great Hall after breakfast. Your training begins today.”
By the time breakfast ended, the older students were dismissed while the younger years stayed behind.
Evelyn, Harry, and the rest of their friends lingered near the doors, watching curiously.
At the staff table, Flitwick, Snape, Hagrid, and several other professors stepped forward.
McGonagall clapped her hands for attention. “First through third-years—find a partner! We begin with basic defense.”
The younger students hesitated for only a moment before scrambling into pairs.
“Shield charms, I bet,” Hermione murmured, watching as Flitwick began demonstrating.
“Yeah, but strong ones,” Ron added. “They’ll need more than Protego in a real fight.”
Evelyn frowned, watching a small second-year Ravenclaw attempt the charm. Her hands shook as she raised her wand.
“Some of them look scared stiff,” Theo muttered.
“They should be,” Blaise said. “This isn’t a game.”
Evelyn exhaled. The worst part of all this was knowing that some of these kids were probably going to be fighting for their lives before the year was over.
She tightened her grip on her wand.
This was just the beginning.
And it was going to get a lot worse before it got better.
By the time Wednesday rolled around, Hogwarts had fully shifted into training mode .
First through third-years had spent the last two days learning basic defensive spells, and while some had struggled, others had adapted frighteningly fast.
Now, it was time for the fourth and fifth-years.
Evelyn and the rest of the gang sat at their usual table during breakfast, watching as students from those years chattered nervously.
“They’re in for a wake-up call,” Ron muttered, stabbing his eggs with his fork.
Pansy hummed. “Some of them are already overconfident.”
Evelyn followed her gaze and saw a group of fourth-year Gryffindors at the far table, laughing and practicing mock duels with their wands.
“They won’t be laughing after McGonagall’s done with them,” Blaise said dryly.
Across from them, Hermione sighed. “They should be taking this seriously .”
“They will ,” Theo said. “Give them an hour.”
Sure enough, as soon as breakfast ended and the older students were dismissed, the fourth and fifth-years got their first taste of reality.
The moment McGonagall stepped to the front of the room, the atmosphere shifted.
She didn’t bother with a speech this time—there was no need. Instead, she simply lifted her wand.
“Defense is your foundation ,” she announced. “Without it, you will die .”
A murmur rippled through the students.
Evelyn watched from the doorway, arms crossed, as McGonagall flicked her wand. She had decided to sit in on all the lessons, many of the DA students secretly glad for this as they knew how skilled Evelyn was.
A suit of armor exploded at the back of the room.
Gasps echoed around the hall as the metal pieces clattered across the floor.
“ That ,” McGonagall said calmly, “was a simple Blasting Curse.”
No one spoke.
“Shield charms will not always be enough,” she continued. “Your reflexes, instincts, and adaptability will determine whether you live or fall.”
She pointed to Flitwick, who stepped forward.
“We begin with counter-curses .”
From the doorway, Evelyn saw a few students go pale .
For the next several hours, the fourth and fifth-years were thrown into one of the hardest lessons of their lives.
McGonagall wasn’t kind . She let Flitwick and Snape push them hard —stunning spells were fired without warning, students were forced to dodge, and any sign of hesitation resulted in immediate correction.
The Gryffindors took it with determined grit. The Ravenclaws struggled but adapted. The Hufflepuffs pushed through with sheer will.
⸻
By the time Friday arrived, the entire castle was buzzing.
Now, it was the sixth and seventh-years’ turn.
Evelyn stood beside Harry, wand at her side, as students from all four houses gathered in the Great Hall.
This wasn’t like the younger years.
These students were older . Stronger. And most of them had already fought Death Eaters.
McGonagall knew it too.
When she stepped forward this time, she didn’t bother with theatrics.
“You are not here to learn ,” she said simply. “You are here to prepare .”
Silence.
Evelyn tightened her grip on her wand.
McGonagall’s sharp eyes swept across the room. “Pair up,” she commanded.
There was a scramble .
Evelyn was already moving. “Harry?”
He nodded. “Always.”
Around them, the others quickly partnered off—Ron with Blaise, Hermione with Theo, Pansy with Daphne.
McGonagall didn’t wait.
“Begin.”
Instantly, the dueling began.
The Great Hall exploded with magic .
Harry moved first, firing a Stunner. Evelyn countered without hesitation, twisting her wand and launching a silent Expelliarmus .
Harry dodged—barely.
Evelyn smirked. “Sloppy.”
“Yeah?” Harry grinned. “We’ll see.”
He vanished .
Evelyn’s heart jumped—Disillusionment Charm.
She spun, wand raised—too slow.
A spell shot toward her— Protego!
The shield shattered.
“Damn it,” she muttered, leaping back.
Harry reappeared with a grin. “Point for me?”
Evelyn huffed but grinned back. “We’ll see about that.”
Around them, the rest of the seventh-years were engaged in equally fierce duels.
Pansy had Theo pinned against the wall, her wand sparking with blue flames.
Draco and Blaise were engaged in an intense back-and-forth, neither gaining the upper hand.
And Ron? Ron was laughing as he dodged every one of Hermione’s spells, much to her frustration. Apparently they’d all swapped partners.
“You’re gonna have to try harder than that, ‘Mione!”
“Oh, I will —”
BOOM!
A dueling pair behind them hit the wall.
McGonagall barely flinched.
“AGAIN!” she ordered.
And so, they fought.
_______________
On Monday morning, the students entered the Great Hall for breakfast—only to freeze at the entrance.
The four long house tables were gone.
Instead, dozens of round tables were scattered across the hall, each seating between five and fifteen people.
For a long moment, there was silence.
Then, murmurs exploded throughout the crowd.
“What happened to the tables?”
“Where’s our house table?”
“Are we allowed to sit anywhere?”
At the front of the room, McGonagall stood beside the staff table, her sharp eyes scanning the students. She raised a hand—and the hall fell silent.
“Given recent events,” she began, “we are implementing a permanent change to Hogwarts’ seating arrangements.”
She gestured to the circular tables.
“There will be no more division by house. In war, there is no ‘Gryffindor’ or ‘Slytherin’—no ‘Ravenclaw’ or ‘Hufflepuff.’ There is only us.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“If any of you believe your house defines your worth in this fight, you are wrong.”
A hush settled over the hall.
McGonagall’s voice softened slightly. “From today onward, you may sit where you like.”
A slow wave of realization swept through the crowd.
No more separation. No more barriers between the houses.
This was Hogwarts, standing as one.
Then—applause erupted.
It started as a few hesitant claps—then turned into cheers.
Even the pureblood Slytherins—those who had grown up believing house unity mattered—looked relieved .
Evelyn watched it all with wide eyes.
This… she thought, feeling an odd sense of warmth settle in her chest. This is what Hogwarts was meant to be.
It took less than a second for the gang to react.
Harry grabbed Evelyn’s wrist. “We’re taking the closest table.”
She laughed. “You’re so competitive.”
“ Move! ” Theo shouted at the others.
The group bolted forward, pushing past confused students as they raced toward the front of the hall.
Blaise slid into a seat. “ Mine! ”
Ron practically threw himself into a chair.
Pansy barely made it before Hermione, shoving her into another seat.
By the time the rest of the students had processed what was happening, their table—the one closest to the staff table—was completely taken.
Draco grinned. “We win.”
Some students scowled at them—particularly a group of seventh-year Ravenclaws who had clearly been planning on taking the best spot.
“Well,” Daphne said cheerfully, “that was fun.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes but smiled. “You’re all ridiculous .”
“But we got the best table,” Harry pointed out.
“…Fair enough.”
The atmosphere of the Great Hall shifted almost immediately.
Students who had never spoken before were suddenly sitting together.
A group of first-year Hufflepuffs were chatting happily with a second-year Slytherin.
A few Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were comparing notes on dueling strategies.
Even Malcolm Baddock —one of the more elitist Slytherins—had ended up sitting with a group of Hufflepuffs and looked shockingly comfortable .
“It’s weird,” Theo murmured, watching the scene. “But… nice .”
Evelyn nodded.
This wasn’t just about seating. It was about breaking barriers that had existed for centuries.
For the first time, Hogwarts felt like one school—not four separate factions.
⸻
The rest of the week settled into a new routine.
Training continued, with students working harder than ever.
Every spare moment was spent practicing dueling, warding, and battlefield strategy.
At the same time, their regular studies continued.
Evelyn was only taking Transfiguration and Ancient Runes, which meant she had more time to help out during training sessions.
She also began assisting Flitwick in Charms.
“You have a natural talent for this,” Flitwick told her one afternoon as she corrected a third-year’s grip on their wand. “I daresay you’d make an excellent teacher.”
Evelyn flushed. “I just… want to help.”
“And that,” Flitwick said warmly, “is why you will .”
⸻
Meanwhile, the rest of the gang struggled to balance training and mastery work.
“I swear,” Ron groaned one evening, “if I have to write one more essay, I’m going to throw myself out a window.”
Pansy smirked. “Please do.”
Harry chuckled. “You’re handling it better than Theo . He cursed his Ancient Runes book today.”
Theo scowled. “It deserved it.”
The entire group laughed.
Despite the stress, there was a new energy at Hogwarts.
A feeling of unity.
A feeling of purpose.
And for the first time in a long while, it felt like hope was returning to the castle.
________________
The changes in the Great Hall were only the beginning.
Over the next few days, the entire castle seemed to shift.
With training sessions taking priority, classes became more flexible. Professors focused less on essays and theory, instead emphasizing practical magic—particularly dueling, healing, and warding.
Even subjects that weren’t traditionally combative had been adjusted.
Herbology now included lessons on poisonous plants and their antidotes.
Potions focused on battlefield brews—stimulants, healing potions, and explosives.
History of Magic? Well… Binns was still droning about goblin rebellions, but most students had simply started skipping that class.
McGonagall didn’t even punish them for it.
She knew that learning how to survive was more important than memorizing dates.
By Friday, it was the older students’ turn to train in the Great Hall.
Fifth, sixth, and seventh years had three full days of intensive combat training.
Evelyn stood at the front, watching as McGonagall and Flitwick demonstrated a series of advanced dueling techniques.
“Watch closely,” Flitwick called, flicking his wand.
A nonverbal Stupefy blasted forward—only for McGonagall to twist her wand, absorbing the spell into the air.
A murmur rippled through the students.
“That,” McGonagall said coolly, “is called a Ward Absorption Charm. In battle, you must always be thinking one step ahead.”
Evelyn and Harry exchanged a look.
This wasn’t like their D.A. meetings—this was real combat training.
Serious. Dangerous.
And long overdue.
By midday, the students had split into pairs, practicing their spellwork.
Evelyn faced off against Theo, who looked frustrated.
“I can’t get the shield up fast enough,” he muttered.
Evelyn tilted her head. “You’re overthinking it. Stop trying to cast the spell perfectly —just focus on getting it out.”
Theo sighed, then flicked his wand.
“Protego!”
A shimmering shield sprang up— faster this time.
Evelyn smiled. “Better.”
Nearby, Pansy and Blaise were dueling.
“Merlin, Pansy, not so aggressive! ” Blaise yelped as he barely dodged a Blasting Curse.
Pansy grinned. “No mercy.”
Ron, meanwhile, had just been hit with a stinging hex from Hermione.
“Bloody hell, ‘Mione!” he groaned, rubbing his arm. “We’re practicing , not trying to kill each other .”
Hermione huffed. “If you blocked properly, it wouldn’t have hit you.”
The entire session was chaotic—but effective.
By the end of the day, students were sweaty, sore, and exhausted.
But for the first time, they were starting to feel like fighters.
⸻
That evening, the gang collapsed onto their usual table in the Great Hall.
“Remind me,” Draco groaned, “why we signed up for this?”
Harry chuckled. “Because we have no choice?”
Theo slumped in his chair. “Everything hurts .”
“You’ll be fine,” Evelyn said, though she wasn’t exactly disagreeing.
Her arms ached from casting so many spells.
Pansy, sitting beside her, gave a thoughtful hum. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”
“What is?” Blaise asked.
“This… whole thing.” She gestured around the room. “A few years ago, none of us would’ve even spoken to each other.”
Ron snorted. “A few years ago, you’d have hexed me for breathing near you .”
Pansy grinned. “You were annoying.”
Harry laughed. “He still is.”
Ron threw a piece of bread at Harry’s head.
Evelyn shook her head fondly, but Pansy had a point.
Chapter 93: Imperio Continens
Chapter Text
The air in the dimly lit chamber was thick with tension.
Voldemort sat on his throne-like chair, long fingers tapping against the armrest. The silence was suffocating.
Before him, the remaining Death Eaters stood rigidly, their faces carefully blank—though fear radiated from each of them.
And for good reason.
The attack on Hogwarts had been an utter failure.
Not only had they been repelled, but nearly half of his followers had been slaughtered by a bunch of schoolchildren.
Children.
The mere thought made his blood boil.
He had underestimated them.
Underestimated Evelyn McCrae.
That mistake would not be made again.
His red eyes flickered across the room, watching as Bellatrix shifted uneasily under his gaze.
She had led the attack.
She had failed him.
He could feel the fear rolling off her in waves, though she desperately tried to mask it with her usual devotion.
Voldemort let the silence stretch for a long, agonizing moment.
Then, in a voice dangerously soft, he spoke.
“Tell me,” he said, each word dripping with venom, “ how did a group of untrained students manage to defeat my finest warriors?”
No one dared to speak.
His grip on his wand tightened.
Bellatrix stepped forward, bowing deeply. “My Lord—”
“ Crucio .”
She collapsed, a piercing scream shattering the silence as she writhed on the floor.
Voldemort watched impassively, his expression cold.
The spell lasted only a few seconds—long enough to make his point—before he finally lifted his wand.
Bellatrix gasped for breath, trembling.
Voldemort leaned forward, his voice like ice.
“I will not tolerate failure.”
The Death Eaters stiffened, their fear palpable.
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to think. Anger was a powerful tool, but only when controlled. If Hogwarts had become stronger, then he would simply have to be smarter. More precise.
His mistake had been attacking them directly . So instead, he would attack them from the inside. And he knew exactly where to begin.
He turned his gaze to Lucius Malfoy, who stood near the back, tense and expectant.
Voldemort’s lips curled into something that might have been a smile—but there was no warmth in it.
“Lucius,” he murmured. “It is time we reminded Hogwarts why they should fear us.”
Lucius swallowed. “Yes, my Lord.”
Voldemort’s fingers tightened around his wand. They would suffer for this.
And next time, there would be no escape.
_______________
Draco Malfoy had never been more terrified in his life.
He had been summoned.
Summoned by Voldemort himself.
The moment he arrived at Malfoy Manor, his father had barely looked at him, only instructing him to follow a servant down the long, dark corridors of his childhood home.
Draco’s breath was shallow, his heart pounding against his ribs as he was led into the drawing room.
The chill in the air was suffocating.
At the far end of the room, seated in an ornate chair, was Lord Voldemort.
His crimson eyes gleamed in the dim candlelight as he studied Draco like a predator sizing up its prey.
Draco fell to his knees immediately, bowing his head.
“My Lord,” he said, forcing his voice to remain steady.
Voldemort did not speak for a long moment.
Then, his voice silky and smooth, he said, “Rise, Draco.”
Draco obeyed, though his legs felt like lead beneath him.
The Dark Lord’s gaze raked over him, unreadable.
“You are loyal to your family, are you not?” Voldemort asked.
Draco nodded instantly. “Of course, my Lord.”
Voldemort’s lips curled into something almost amused.
“Good.”
Before Draco could react, Voldemort raised his wand.
“ Imperio continens . ”
A wave of calm washed over him, his mind suddenly feeling light, like floating on air.
The fear, the anxiety—all of it vanished.
Voldemort’s voice echoed inside his skull, soft and commanding.
You will return to Hogwarts.
You will watch Evelyn McCrae closely.
Everything she does. Every word she speaks. You will report it to me.
And you will tell no one.
The words wrapped around him like chains, binding him.
Draco did not resist.
Did not want to resist.
The moment Voldemort lowered his wand, Draco straightened, his face blank.
The Dark Lord smiled faintly, pleased.
“Go,” he ordered.
Draco turned on his heel and left, mind completely empty.
Draco was different.
It wasn’t something obvious—he still spoke to people, still attended meals, still hovered around his usual Slytherin crowd.
But he was quieter. More detached. Evelyn noticed. It wasn’t hard—she’d spent years watching people, reading their emotions, their tells.
Draco wasn’t cracking jokes with Theo and Blaise like he usually did.
He didn’t even seem irritated when Pansy scolded him for being too quiet at breakfast.
It was unlike him.
She caught him staring at her a few times over the next couple of days—always when he thought she wasn’t looking.
It made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, but she shoved the feeling aside.
He was probably just distracted. His mother had been sick, after all. Maybe something was wrong at home.
Evelyn knew better than to push when someone didn’t want to talk, so she left it alone.
For now.
_______________
The Room of Requirement had outdone itself tonight.
A large, circular couch took up the center of the room, draped with plush blankets and colorful pillows. Soft fairy lights hung from the ceiling, casting the space in a warm golden glow. A table piled high with snacks—everything from Honeydukes chocolates to a fresh fruit platter—stood off to the side, alongside a bottle of elf-made wine that Ginny had somehow smuggled in.
Evelyn grinned as she stepped inside, taking in the sight of Hermione, Pansy, Daphne, Ginny, and Luna already sprawled out on the cushions, chatting and laughing.
“Finally!” Pansy huffed, waving her over. “We were about to start without you.”
“As if you’d dare,” Evelyn teased, settling onto the couch between Hermione and Daphne.
Ginny raised her glass. “To a night without the boys!”
“To a night without chaos, ” Hermione amended, rolling her eyes fondly.
Everyone clinked their glasses together, and just like that, the night began.
The conversation flowed easily. They started with Hogwarts gossip, discussing everything from McGonagall’s latest transfiguration challenge to Theo’s rather obvious crush on a certain Ravenclaw girl.
“I give it a week before he does something tragically embarrassing, ” Pansy declared.
“Oh, without a doubt,” Ginny smirked. “You should’ve seen him in Charms today. Nearly hexed himself trying to impress her.”
Luna tilted her head. “I think it’s sweet. Theo doesn’t let himself be vulnerable very often.”
Evelyn snorted. “That’s a very kind way of saying he’s a mess .”
The girls all laughed, and as the conversation naturally shifted, Hermione cleared her throat and reached for her bag.
“I actually… have something to share.”
She pulled out a letter, the parchment crisp and neatly folded.
“Krum again?” Pansy guessed, eyebrow raised.
Hermione nodded, looking a bit flustered.
“He’s moving to London next week,” she said, “and he’s invited me to spend a few days at his house over Christmas.”
That got a reaction.
“ You’re going to stay with Krum? ” Daphne gasped.
“Well… maybe,” Hermione admitted. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Ginny grinned. “Why not? It sounds like fun!“
Hermione fiddled with the edge of the letter. “I just… I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”
“Oh, come on, Hermione,” Pansy said, exasperated. “The man has been obsessed with you since fourth year. Just go.”
Luna nodded sagely. “It’s always good to explore new places.”
Evelyn nudged her. “Besides, it’s not like he’s proposing. It’s just a few days.”
Hermione sighed, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “I’ll think about it.”
Pansy rolled her eyes but let the subject drop.
The night continued with games and gossip, their laughter filling the room.
At some point, Ginny pulled out a pack of enchanted tarot cards, and they took turns reading each other’s futures—some predictions more ominous than others.
Daphne’s reading suggested a dramatic shift in her personal life.
Luna’s cards hinted at an unexpected revelation.
Hermione’s suggested travel.
When it was Evelyn’s turn, she hesitated before drawing a card.
The card she pulled was The Tower.
The room went quiet.
“That’s… not a great one,” Ginny muttered.
Evelyn studied the card. The illustration showed a crumbling tower, lightning striking as people fell from it.
Change. Destruction. Upheaval.
She shoved the uneasy feeling away.
“It’s just a game,” she said, forcing a smile.
But deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming.
After a late night in the Room of Requirement, the next morning arrived far too quickly. Training was set to resume, and despite their exhaustion, Evelyn and the rest of the gang gathered in the Room of Requirement once more.
The room had shifted again—tonight, it had transformed into a vast training hall, enchanted dummies stationed along one side, each magically reinforced to withstand powerful spells. At the center, a large wooden table was filled with parchment, maps, and tactical notes, detailing potential Death Eater bases they had yet to target.
Evelyn stood at the edge of the table, scanning the information while the others debated.
“We took out their last stronghold near Hogsmeade, so they’ll have relocated further south,” Theo was saying, tapping his wand against a marked map.
“Which means,” Hermione added, “they’ll have more protective enchantments in place this time. We can’t just go in blind.”
Pansy scoffed. “Since when do we ever?”
Evelyn listened carefully, but her attention kept drifting.
Across the room, Draco sat apart from the rest, shoulders tense, silent.
He had been off ever since he returned to school—more withdrawn, more on edge.
She had chalked it up to stress, maybe even something going on at home, but now…
Now, she wasn’t so sure.
He wasn’t just distracted. He was different.
The way he moved. The way he reacted. The way his eyes flickered nervously every time someone mentioned their plans.
Her stomach twisted.
Something was wrong.
As the meeting continued, Evelyn made up her mind.
When the conversation lulled, she turned to Draco.
“Come with me,” she said, her voice firm.
Draco blinked, glancing up at her in surprise. “What?”
She crossed her arms. “You’ve been acting strange for weeks, and I’m done ignoring it. We need to talk. Now .”
The room fell silent.
Everyone was watching them now.
Draco opened his mouth—to protest, to make an excuse—but Evelyn’s stare was unwavering.
After a long pause, he sighed and pushed himself up from his seat. “Fine.”
She led him out of the Room of Requirement and through the corridors, keeping a steady pace as they walked in silence.
It wasn’t until they reached an empty hallway near the hospital wing that she stopped and turned to face him.
“Draco,” she said carefully, “ what’s going on? ”
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, looking… lost.
“I don’t—”
His words cut off abruptly as his knees suddenly buckled.
“Draco!”
Evelyn lunged forward, catching him before he hit the ground. His breathing was shallow, his body shaking.
Something was very, very wrong.
Without a second thought, she pulled out her wand and cast a quick diagnosis spell—and froze when she saw the results.
There was dark magic wrapped around him, threading through his mind like invisible chains.
Her blood ran cold.
“Madam Pomfrey,” she whispered.
She didn’t waste another second.
With a sharp flick of her wand, she levitated Draco’s unconscious form and sprinted towards the hospital wing, her heart pounding the entire way.
Evelyn burst into the hospital wing, Draco’s unconscious body still hovering in the air beside her.
Madam Pomfrey, who had been tending to a second-year with a potion burn, whipped around at the sudden entrance.
“Miss McCrae—what on earth—?”
“It’s Draco,” Evelyn interrupted, lowering him gently onto one of the hospital beds. “Something’s wrong with him.”
Pomfrey’s expression shifted instantly from shock to focus.
She moved swiftly, her wand already glowing faintly as she muttered diagnostic spells under her breath.
Evelyn stood frozen, her hands clenched into fists as she watched anxiously.
Seconds passed. Then minutes.
With each spell Madam Pomfrey cast, Evelyn felt her stomach twist tighter.
Something was wrong. She knew it.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Pomfrey let out a sharp inhale and lowered her wand.
Her face was grim.
“Miss McCrae,” she said slowly, turning to face her.
Evelyn swallowed hard. “What is it?”
Madam Pomfrey hesitated. Then, with a sigh, she sat down on the edge of the bed.
“He’s under the Imperius Curse,” she said. “A very strong one.”
Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat.
The Imperius Curse.
A curse that could control every thought, every action.
Her mind reeled.
Who would’ve—?
No. That was a stupid question.
She already knew .
Voldemort.
Evelyn staggered backward, her head spinning.
Madam Pomfrey didn’t seem to notice her reaction—she was too busy running more tests on Draco.
“He’s been under it for weeks , at least,” she continued. “I can see signs of resistance—his mind is fighting back, but the spell is too deeply embedded.” She shook her head. “This isn’t a standard Imperius Curse. It’s… something stronger. Darker .”
Evelyn barely heard her.
Her thoughts were racing too fast.
Draco had been spying on them.
Not by choice, but still.
Every meeting. Every battle plan. Every secret .
Had he told Voldemort everything?
Her chest tightened.
But more than that—
Draco had been suffering.
Alone. Controlled. Trapped in his own mind, unable to fight back.
And she hadn’t noticed.
Guilt crashed over her like a tidal wave.
“We need to break it,” she said firmly, snapping back to reality.
Madam Pomfrey sighed heavily, shaking her head.
“I can’t,” she admitted. “This is beyond standard counter-curses. I’ve already tried.”
Evelyn’s stomach dropped.
“You mean…” she trailed off, dread creeping into her voice.
“There’s no easy fix,” Pomfrey confirmed, standing up. “The magic keeping him under control is too powerful. We need something stronger .”
Evelyn clenched her jaw. Then they’d find something stronger. She wouldn’t let Voldemort win.
Not this time. Not with Draco. Not again.
_______________
Evelyn didn’t sleep that night.
She sat beside Draco’s bed in the hospital wing, watching his peacefully unconscious face, her mind running over every possibility.
Madam Pomfrey had assured her he was physically fine—just magically exhausted from the prolonged curse. But Evelyn wasn’t reassured.
Because Draco wasn’t fine .
He’d been trapped in his own mind, forced to obey Voldemort’s will for weeks .
And no one had noticed.
She hadn’t noticed.
By the time the first light of dawn streamed through the high hospital wing windows, she had made up her mind.
They were breaking the curse.
Even if it meant tearing through every book in the library, experimenting with every counter-curse known to wizardkind, and tearing apart the Room of Requirement to find a way.
She would not let Voldemort win.
She had wasted enough time.
Evelyn burst into the Room of Requirement later that morning, her cloak billowing behind her.
The gang was already there, waiting for her.
Harry, Hermione, Pansy, Theo, Blaise, Daphne, Ginny, Luna, Ron, and Evan—all sitting around the large enchanted table, books and maps sprawled out before them.
They had been strategizing for their next attack.
But as soon as she stormed in, everyone fell silent.
They could see it on her face. Something was wrong . Harry stood immediately, his concern clear.
“Evelyn—what—?”
“It’s Draco.” Her voice was flat, but the exhaustion bled through.
The room tensed.
“What about him?” Theo asked, frowning.
Evelyn took a slow, deep breath. Then she dropped the truth on them like a bomb.
“He’s been under the Imperius Curse,” she said bluntly. “For weeks . Probably since the start of November. Voldemort put him under it.”
Silence.
The shock was instant.
Hermione gasped.
Pansy shot to her feet, her face going white as a sheet.
“WHAT?!”
Evelyn nodded grimly.
“Madam Pomfrey confirmed it last night,” she said. “He’s been spying on us. Not on purpose, obviously, but—”
She didn’t need to finish the sentence.
The horror in the room was palpable.
Ron ran a hand through his hair, looking horrified . “Bloody hell ,” he muttered.
Harry’s expression was thunderous, his jaw tight with rage.
Hermione looked like she was about to be sick.
Pansy shook her head violently, backing away from the table like she had been physically struck.
“No,” she said sharply, shaking her head again. “No. That’s—that’s not possible .”
Evelyn looked at her sympathetically.
“I wish it weren’t,” she admitted. “But he is . He’s in the hospital wing right now. Pomfrey couldn’t break it.”
Pansy looked stricken.
Her usual sharp, witty demeanor was gone, replaced with genuine, raw devastation.
She sank down into a chair, breathing hard.
“No wonder he was acting weird,” Blaise murmured, his expression dark. “He wasn’t himself .”
Daphne crossed her arms tightly, looking sick.
“Has he told Voldemort anything?” she asked.
Evelyn hesitated.
“…We don’t know,” she admitted. “But we have to assume he has. Anything we’ve discussed around him—Voldemort probably knows.”
The room sank into silence again.
For a moment, no one said anything.
Then Pansy stood up abruptly, her face hardening.
“Well,” she said, her voice cold with fury, “then we break the curse.”
Evelyn nodded firmly.
“That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
_________________
The Room of Requirement had transformed into an enormous study hall, lined with towering bookshelves filled with every book on dark magic and counter-curses imaginable.
Stacks of heavy tomes were piled high on the table as the gang frantically searched for a way to break Draco’s curse.
“Imperius isn’t like the Cruciatus,” Hermione murmured, flipping through Advanced Dark Magic Countermeasures . “It doesn’t physically harm someone, but it seeps so deeply into their mind that breaking it requires immense magical force.”
Theo scowled, his eyes flicking across the page of Cursed Minds & Enchanted Wills .
“We could try a standard Finite Incantatem,” he suggested. “But if Pomfrey already tried that, I doubt it’ll work.”
“It won’t,” Hermione confirmed. “Imperius is layered. The stronger the caster, the stronger the hold.”
“So it’s not just about breaking a spell,” Blaise muttered. “It’s about breaking into Draco’s mind .”
Evelyn clenched her jaw.
That was the problem.
Breaking a regular Imperius Curse was one thing—but this wasn’t a normal Imperius Curse.
This was Voldemort’s Imperius Curse.
Meaning it was stronger, deeper, more insidious than anything they had dealt with before.
“If we don’t break it soon, it could become permanent,” Hermione added, looking worried. “Long-term Imperius can permanently alter a person’s mind.”
Pansy visibly tensed, gripping the table so hard her knuckles turned white.
“Then we fix it ,” she snapped. “There has to be a way.”
Hours passed.
Books piled up.
The Room of Requirement seemed to sense their desperation, providing an endless supply of counter-curse books, medical texts, and ancient magical theories.
But nothing was strong enough to break Voldemort’s hold.
Evelyn felt the pressure mounting, her mind racing through every possible option.
Draco was trapped, and they were running out of time.
“What if…” Theo started, hesitating. “What if we don’t just counter it? What if we try to override it?”
Evelyn glanced up.
Theo tapped the page of a book titled Mind Magic & Enchantments .
“There’s a theory here,” he said, pointing to a passage. “It suggests that strong emotions—like love, rage, or fear—can override magical control.”
Harry frowned.
“You mean, like how I threw off the Imperius in fourth year?”
Theo nodded.
“Exactly. Some people naturally resist Imperius because their mind fights back . But if someone else—someone powerful enough —channels their magic into Draco, we might be able to push Voldemort’s influence out.”
Silence fell over the room.
It was a dangerous idea.
Mind magic was unstable, and if done wrong , they could shatter Draco’s mind completely.
But it was the only thing that made sense.
Evelyn’s eyes met Theo’s.
“…I’ll do it,” she said.
“Wait—” Hermione looked alarmed. “Evelyn, that’s—”
“I have more raw magic than most,” Evelyn cut her off. “If anyone can overpower Voldemort’s control, it’s me.”
The room fell silent again.
Then Pansy nodded sharply.
“Then we do it now .”
The Hospital Wing was eerily quiet when they arrived. The soft glow of enchanted lanterns cast long shadows across the room, and the faint scent of antiseptic potions lingered in the air.
Draco lay motionless on the hospital bed, his breathing steady but unnaturally even—too controlled. The Imperius Curse was still in full effect.
Evelyn clenched her jaw.
Not for long.
Madam Pomfrey had already given them permission to try—after all, there was nothing she could do. She stood near the entrance, watchful but wary, prepared to intervene if something went wrong.
The gang surrounded Draco’s bed, tension thick in the air.
“Okay,” Evelyn exhaled, steadying herself. “Let’s do this.”
Theo had spent the last hour modifying the mind-magic spell, fine-tuning the incantation to push out foreign control rather than dominate the mind itself.
Theoretically, it should work.
Practically?
No one knew what would happen.
Evelyn lifted her wand.
“Legilimens.”
The moment the spell hit Draco, Evelyn felt herself being pulled inward, her consciousness dragged into his mindscape—
The world shifted.
Evelyn stumbled onto cold stone.
She was in a dimly lit corridor, the walls lined with shadowed mirrors that reflected nothing but darkness.
Draco stood at the very end, frozen in place, his face blank—empty—eyes glazed over like he wasn’t really there .
And standing behind him —
A towering, black shadow, tendrils of dark energy wrapped tight around his body like puppet strings.
Voldemort’s control.
Evelyn’s pulse pounded.
Draco wasn’t just being controlled—he was being held prisoner in his own mind.
Evelyn gritted her teeth.
Not anymore.
She marched forward, wand raised.
With a sharp flick, she slashed her hand through the air, sending a wave of raw energy at the dark tendrils—
The shadow recoiled, hissing.
Draco’s body jerked, but the strings held firm.
Evelyn snarled.
“Oh, you do not get to take him,” she growled, summoning another burst of magic.
CRACK.
The first of the tendrils snapped.
Draco gasped, his body convulsing.
Another tendril broke.
Then another.
Evelyn pushed forward, pouring every ounce of her power into severing the hold Voldemort had on him.
The shadow let out an inhuman screech, writhing violently—
Then it ripped away, vanishing into the dark.
Draco collapsed forward, and Evelyn caught him just before he hit the ground.
“Draco,” she shook him, her voice urgent. “Wake up.”
His eyes flickered. The world snapped back into reality.
Evelyn gasped, jerking back into her own body.
Draco was thrashing, his limbs trembling violently as his mind fought its way back to control.
Madam Pomfrey rushed forward, wand glowing as she scanned him.
Then Draco’s eyes fluttered open.
He gasped sharply, inhaling like it was the first breath he’d taken in weeks .
Confusion flickered across his face—then panic.
“Draco?” Evelyn’s voice wavered, stepping forward.
Draco’s breathing hitched.
His hand clenched the bedsheets so tightly his knuckles went white.
“…What the fuck just happened?” he rasped.
Silence.
Then Evelyn exhaled, her heart still pounding.
“You were under Imperius,” she said. “A strong one. Voldemort’s.”
Draco’s face drained of color.
“…I—”
Then, before anyone could stop him, he bolted upright and stumbled out of the bed—
He barely made it three steps before he collapsed to the floor, his legs too weak to hold him.
Blaise caught him just in time, gripping his shoulders.
“Easy,” Blaise muttered. “You’ve been out of control for weeks, Malfoy. Take a second.”
Draco’s breathing was ragged, his hands shaking uncontrollably.
Evelyn knelt beside him.
“You’re safe,” she murmured. “You’re free.”
Draco swallowed hard.
He grabbed her wrist—his grip tight—and whispered, voice barely above a breath:
“…How much did I tell him?”
Evelyn froze.
The entire room went dead silent.
Because that—that was the real question, wasn’t it? What had Draco told Voldemort?
And what did that mean for them now ?
A heavy silence filled the Hospital Wing. Everyone’s minds were racing, but no one spoke—not yet.
Draco’s grip on Evelyn’s wrist tightened, his fingers digging into her skin as he stared at her—pale, shaken, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.
“…What did I tell him?” he repeated, his voice hoarse.
Evelyn hesitated.
Draco wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly why that was the first question on everyone’s minds.
How much did Voldemort learn?
Theo was the first to speak.
“We don’t know yet,” he admitted. “We’ll have to check.”
Draco swallowed hard.
Evelyn glanced at Madam Pomfrey. “Can he handle Legilimency?”
Madam Pomfrey hesitated. “He’s weak, but… if it’s necessary, then yes. Just be careful.”
Evelyn nodded, then turned back to Draco.
“You need to let me in.”
Draco tensed.
Evelyn didn’t blame him—no one liked having their mind invaded—but this was about more than just his comfort.
It was about their entire resistance effort.
If Voldemort had pulled information from Draco’s head—if he knew anything about their plans—then they were all in serious trouble.
Draco exhaled sharply.
“Fine,” he muttered, shifting so he was sitting upright against the bed frame. “Do it.”
Evelyn lifted her wand.
She was gentle with it this time—Draco had been through enough. She let the spell settle in slowly, her magic dipping into his mind like ink spreading through water.
And then—she saw it.
Flashes of darkness, of whispers—shadows moving through his consciousness.
The feeling of something slithering through his thoughts, twisting them, forcing compliance—
But when she searched for specifics—for actual information Voldemort might have pulled from him —
…There was nothing.
No memories of their real plans. No direct details about their operations.
Just vague recollections— conversations overheard but never truly understood , things Draco had seen but hadn’t been included in.
It hit Evelyn all at once.
We stopped including him.
They had seen his change in behavior and had instinctively pulled away—just enough to make sure he wasn’t directly involved in anything major.
And that had saved them.
Evelyn pulled back, the connection snapping.
Draco’s eyes fluttered open, his face tight with exhaustion.
“Well?” he rasped.
Evelyn exhaled, relief crashing over her in waves.
“You didn’t tell him anything.”
A collective exhale filled the room.
Draco slumped back against the bed, closing his eyes. “Thank fuck.”
Blaise let out a sharp laugh, clapping Draco on the shoulder. “Guess you’re not a complete liability, then.”
Draco didn’t even argue—just let out a tired, wheezing breath that might have been a laugh.
Pansy sat down beside him, her hand resting lightly on his knee. “You’re okay,” she murmured. “You’re safe.”
Draco nodded faintly.
Then his expression hardened.
“He’s going to know,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “Voldemort. He’ll know the Imperius is broken.”
Evelyn’s stomach twisted.
Draco wasn’t wrong.
Voldemort would realize—soon, if not immediately—that Draco was no longer under his control.
And that meant, “He’ll expect you to report back,” Theo finished grimly.
Draco nodded. Silence.
Then Evelyn straightened.
“Then we use it,” she said firmly.
Draco blinked at her. “…What?”
Evelyn looked at the gang, her mind already working ten steps ahead.
“Voldemort expects Draco to give him information,” she explained. “So let’s give him some. But on our terms.”
Theo’s eyes sharpened. “You’re saying we feed him information.”
“Exactly.”
A slow, dangerous smirk spread across Blaise’s face. “Oh, I like this.”
Draco, however, still looked skeptical.
“And what if he figures it out?” he challenged.
Evelyn met his gaze without flinching.
“He won’t.”
Silence stretched between them.
“…You’re insane,” Draco muttered.
Evelyn grinned.
“You’re welcome.”
_______________
The Hospital Wing remained quiet after Evelyn’s declaration, but the shift in the air was undeniable. They weren’t just reacting anymore.
They were planning.
Theo leaned forward, his expression calculating. “Alright, say we do use Draco as a double agent. What exactly are we feeding him?”
“False leads,” Evelyn answered without hesitation. “Misinformation. Things that seem important but lead nowhere.”
“Or things that’ll lure Voldemort into traps,” Blaise added, a slow smirk forming.
Pansy, still seated close to Draco, looked uncertain. “This is dangerous .”
“Of course it’s dangerous,” Theo muttered. “Everything we do is dangerous.”
Pansy shot him a glare, but her fingers twitched slightly where they rested against Draco’s knee. She wasn’t wrong to worry—Draco had already spent weeks under Voldemort’s direct control. If they weren’t careful, he could end up back there.
Draco himself was quiet, his jaw tight.
Evelyn watched him closely. “Are you in?”
Draco exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Do I really have a choice?”
“Yes,” Evelyn said.
That made him pause.
She meant it.
They could leave him out of it—find a way to make it look like he was still Imperiused without actually putting him in danger. But that wasn’t their best option.
The best option was him.
Draco knew how Voldemort thought, knew what he expected. He could make this plan believable in a way that none of them could.
Draco was silent for a long moment.
Then he sighed sharply.
“Fine,” he muttered. “I’m in.”
A collective breath of relief passed through the room.
But Evelyn wasn’t done yet.
She turned to Theo. “How long do we have before Voldemort realizes?”
Theo grimaced. “A day? Maybe less.”
That wasn’t much time.
Evelyn’s mind worked fast. “Then we need to make sure that by the time he checks in, Draco has something to report.”
“Something that won’t raise suspicion,” Pansy added, still watching Draco carefully.
Daphne, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up. “We could give him just enough truth to be convincing,” she suggested. “Let Voldemort think we’re still making plans, but only feed him the surface-level stuff.”
Evelyn nodded. “Exactly.”
Draco exhaled through his nose. “Right. So what am I telling him?”
The gang relocated to the Room of Requirement. They couldn’t risk discussing this in the open—not where someone might overhear.
As soon as the door sealed behind them, Evelyn paced in front of the fireplace, thinking.
“We need something real enough to convince him,” she said, half to herself. “But we cannot risk giving him anything useful.”
Blaise leaned against the table, arms crossed. “What if we let him think we’re planning another attack?”
“A small one,” Daphne clarified. “Something that sounds urgent but isn’t.”
Pansy frowned. “That’s a gamble. If Voldemort thinks we’re making a move, he might interfere himself .”
“We don’t have to actually follow through,” Theo said. “We just have to make him believe we will.”
Evelyn nodded slowly. “We could set up a fake meeting point. Somewhere we want him to send people.”
They all considered that.
Then Draco spoke up.
“There’s an old chapel in the Forbidden Forest,” he said, voice clipped. “It’s abandoned. Mostly in ruins. No one really goes there.”
The group stilled.
That was perfect.
“Could you convince Voldemort that we’re meeting there?” Evelyn asked.
Draco nodded. “Easily. I’d just need to be subtle about it.”
Theo exhaled. “Then that’s the move. We let him think we’re gathering there, and when he sends his people…”
“…we wipe them out ,” Evelyn finished.
A grim, determined silence settled over the group.
This was dangerous.
But it was necessary .
They had spent too long playing defense. It was time to strike back.
And Voldemort had just given them the perfect opening.
Chapter 94: Malfoy
Chapter Text
Once the plan was decided, the gang wasted no time putting it into action.
Draco needed to report to Voldemort soon—so they had to make sure their deception was airtight.
Evelyn turned to Theo first. “We need to set up false trails. Make it look like we’ve been planning this for a while.”
Theo nodded. “I can alter a few of our past meeting logs—make it look like this chapel was on our radar.”
“Good,” Evelyn said, already moving on to Blaise. “You and Daphne need to spread just enough whispers. We need people thinking something’s happening without making it obvious.”
Daphne smirked. “We can handle that.”
Evelyn’s gaze flicked to Pansy. “You’re the best at covering our tracks. We need to make sure that when Voldemort’s spies start looking, all they find is what we want them to.”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”
Evelyn finally turned to Draco. He was still pale—still processing everything—but his hands were steady. His jaw was set.
“You ready for this?” she asked.
Draco took a breath. Then he nodded. “Yeah.”
Evelyn studied him for a moment longer, then clapped her hands together.
“Alright. Let’s get to work.”
A few hours later, Draco stepped out of the castle and made his way toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
He needed to get far enough away that no one could overhear.
His heart pounded, but his expression remained neutral. He had spent years perfecting that skill—hiding his fear, his anger, his doubts.
And now, it was the only thing keeping him safe.
Once he reached a secluded spot, he pulled out his wand.
He hesitated.
Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he pressed his fingers to his Dark Mark and called his master.
The pain was instant—sharp and burning.
But Draco didn’t flinch.
A moment later, Voldemort’s voice slithered into his mind.
“Report.”
Draco swallowed his nerves and began.
“They’re planning something,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “A meeting in the Forbidden Forest. An old chapel in the ruins.”
“When?”
Draco forced himself to sound reluctant, like he wasn’t sure if he should be sharing this. “This weekend.”
Another pause.
Draco could feel Voldemort thinking. Calculating.
“Good work, Draco.”
The words sent a shiver down his spine. He hated this. But he forced himself to stay in character.
“Thank you, my Lord.”
The connection broke.
Draco staggered back, gripping a tree to steady himself. His hands were shaking. But he had done it. Now, all they could do was wait.
________________
The night was cold, the sky heavy with dark clouds that blocked out the stars. The ruins of the old shack stood in eerie silence, half-crumbling stone walls casting long shadows in the moonlight. It had been abandoned for centuries, left to rot in the depths of the Forbidden Forest. Tonight, however, it was anything but empty.
A group of Death Eaters moved swiftly through the trees, their black robes blending into the darkness. They moved with purpose, wands gripped tightly in their hands, their faces hidden behind masks. They had come with one objective—to eliminate Evelyn McCrae.
Bellatrix Lestrange was at the front, her lips curled into a wicked smile. She could practically taste the excitement in the air, the thrill of the hunt sending a shiver down her spine. Lucius Malfoy followed closely behind, his jaw set in determination, though there was a trace of unease in his sharp features. Their Lord had sent them with a clear mission: rid the world of the girl who had been meddling in his affairs for far too long.
They reached the shack’s entrance, the decayed wooden doors hanging loosely on rusted hinges. Bellatrix raised a hand, signaling the others to stop. She stepped forward, pressing her fingers to the old wood, her wand at the ready. The moment she pushed the door open, she felt it—an unsettling stillness, a presence lurking just out of sight.
Then, before she could react, the first spell struck.
A blast of blue light shot from the darkness, slamming into the nearest Death Eater and sending him flying backward into a broken pillar. His body crumpled instantly, motionless. Chaos erupted.
The trap had been set perfectly. From the shadows of the ruined chapel, Evelyn and her gang launched a relentless ambush. The Death Eaters barely had time to register what was happening before curses flew through the air like a violent storm. Blaise and Theo worked together, moving in sync as they cast a barrage of spells that forced the enemy to scatter. Pansy and Daphne took strategic positions behind fallen debris, aiming precise hexes at their opponents.
Evelyn moved like a phantom, quick and calculated. She had been waiting for this moment, and she refused to let Voldemort’s forces gain the upper hand. She focused on Bellatrix first, knowing she was the most dangerous. Their wands clashed in a fierce duel, sparks flying between them as they exchanged powerful blows. Bellatrix’s laughter rang out, maniacal and sharp, but Evelyn didn’t let it shake her. She dodged a vicious slashing curse and retaliated with a forceful blast of raw magic that sent Bellatrix hurtling backward, slamming into the stone wall with a sickening crack.
Lucius wasn’t faring any better. Theo had taken him on, using clever feints and unpredictable spellwork to throw him off. The older Malfoy was skilled, but he had underestimated his opponent. A well-aimed blasting curse from Daphne hit him square in the chest, knocking him off his feet and sending his wand flying from his grasp. Before he could recover, Blaise delivered a stunning spell that left him sprawled on the cold ground, unmoving.
The remaining Death Eaters fought desperately, but they were outmatched. Within minutes, two more had fallen, their bodies lifeless on the floor. The remaining four, including Bellatrix and Lucius, were left groaning and injured, struggling to lift their wands.
Evelyn stepped forward, breathing heavily as she surveyed the scene. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her face unreadable. This was a victory—but it wasn’t over.
She locked eyes with Bellatrix, who glared at her with pure hatred, blood trickling from her temple. “You’ll regret this, little girl,” Bellatrix spat, her voice hoarse but still full of venom.
Evelyn tilted her head, a cold smirk ghosting her lips. “I doubt it.”
With a flick of her wand, she sent the surviving Death Eaters back to Voldemort—broken, defeated, and humiliated.
The fight was over. But the war was far from won.
________________
The atmosphere at Hogwarts shifted in the weeks leading up to Christmas. Normally, December was a time for last-minute essays, reviewing lessons before the holidays, and an overwhelming excitement for the upcoming break. This year, however, everything was different. The attack on the castle had left a lasting impact on the students and staff alike, and the urgency to prepare for what lay ahead took precedence over everything else.
McGonagall had made it clear: Hogwarts would not be caught unprepared again. Training sessions in the Great Hall became the primary focus, pushing regular lessons to the side. The structured schedule remained in place—first to third years trained on Mondays and Tuesdays, fourth and fifth years on Wednesdays and Thursdays, and sixth and seventh years from Friday through Sunday. But as Christmas grew nearer, the intensity of the sessions increased.
It was no longer just about learning how to defend themselves. Now, they were being taught to fight.
Professors Flitwick and McGonagall worked closely together, splitting the students into smaller groups for more personalized training. Flitwick’s dueling expertise made him a key instructor, while McGonagall ensured that everyone learned how to handle themselves in high-pressure situations. Even Snape had been roped into the effort, teaching more advanced defensive spellwork to the older students, though his patience was as thin as ever.
For the seventh years, the training felt more like battle preparation than simple defense lessons. Evelyn and the rest of the gang worked tirelessly, often staying behind after scheduled sessions to continue practicing on their own. The Room of Requirement had essentially become their war room, the walls covered in maps, strategic plans, and records of known Death Eater movements. They knew Voldemort was gathering his forces again, and they needed to be ready.
Despite the looming threat, there was still a sense of camaraderie within the castle. The new circular table arrangement in the Great Hall had done wonders in breaking down house barriers, and students who once barely interacted now trained together as equals. There was laughter between duels, shared moments of triumph when someone successfully cast a particularly difficult spell, and an unspoken understanding that they were all in this together.
Christmas decorations slowly began to appear around the castle, a reminder that despite the war, Hogwarts was still home. The Great Hall was adorned with enchanted snowflakes that drifted lazily from the ceiling, the massive Christmas trees were put up by Hagrid, and the scent of warm butterbeer filled the air in between training sessions. The war might have been their priority, but for now, the students were holding onto what little normalcy they had left.
With training dominating their schedules and the weight of war pressing down on them, Harry and Evelyn hadn’t had much time for themselves. So when Harry suggested they take a day off to go to Hogsmeade and get some Christmas shopping done, Evelyn immediately agreed.
The village was covered in a thick layer of snow, the rooftops dusted with white and the streets lined with glowing lanterns. Hogsmeade was always picturesque in the winter, but this year, it felt even more magical. The war had changed a lot of things, but it hadn’t taken away the warmth of the holidays.
They started their day at Honeydukes, where Harry picked up a ridiculous amount of chocolate frogs—both for himself and as gifts. Evelyn laughed as she watched him try to decide between peppermint toads and sugar quills.
“You do realize you’re shopping like Ron, right?” she teased, arms folded as she leaned against a nearby shelf.
Harry grinned. “What’s wrong with that? Food makes the best gift.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, letting him carry on as she browsed for her own gifts. She picked up a few things for the gang—a selection of Pansy’s favorite chocolates, some of Luna’s beloved Fizzing Whizzbees, and a stash of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans that she was sure Theo would regret eating.
From there, they wandered into Zonko’s, where they stocked up on prank supplies for Fred and George. The shop wasn’t quite the same as their joke shop in Diagon Alley, but Harry still found a few items he was sure the twins would love.
After an hour or so of shopping, they decided to take a break at The Three Broomsticks. The pub was packed with Hogwarts students, all of them eager for warmth and a butterbeer. They found a table near the back, where the glow of the fireplace made the whole room feel cozy despite the chill outside.
Evelyn wrapped her hands around the warm tankard and took a sip, sighing as the familiar, sweet taste filled her mouth. Across from her, Harry watched her with a small smile.
“What?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Harry shook his head. “Nothing. Just… nice to finally have a day where we don’t have to think about fighting.”
Evelyn hummed in agreement, though a part of her couldn’t fully relax. There was always a lingering awareness, a feeling that things were only calm for now. But she wasn’t going to let that ruin today.
They spent another hour just talking, the conversation light and easy. They discussed Christmas plans, both agreeing that they wanted a quiet few weeks at home. But when Harry mentioned Sirius hosting Christmas Day at Grimmauld Place, Evelyn knew they couldn’t say no.
“Sirius is trying,” Harry said, his fingers tracing the rim of his tankard. “He’s still lonely in that house. I think it would mean a lot if we spent the day there.”
Evelyn nodded. “Then we’ll go. It’ll be good to see everyone anyway.”
Harry smiled, relieved. “We should probably warn him that we’re terrible at gift shopping, though.”
Evelyn laughed. “Speak for yourself, Potter.”
They stayed at the pub for a while longer before heading back out into the cold, their arms full of shopping bags and their hearts just a little lighter than before.
⸻
The Room of Requirement was warm, the fire crackling softly in the hearth as the gang gathered once again. The space had adjusted to their needs, providing them with a large round table covered in parchment, maps, and old books. The walls were lined with shelves full of useful spells and tactical guides, many of which Hermione had practically memorized by now.
Evelyn sat at the head of the table, arms crossed as she surveyed the group. Pansy, Daphne, and Theo were murmuring about something near the fireplace, while Blaise, Evan, and Ron were engaged in a quiet but intense discussion over their map of known Death Eater locations. Hermione had her nose buried in a book, and Harry was sharpening his wand movements absentmindedly with small flicks of his wrist.
They had all grown into this—this war, this constant strategizing. But things were different now. Voldemort was recovering from his losses. Their last strike had crippled him, but it hadn’t been enough to stop him.
“We need a new target,” Evelyn said, voice steady but firm. “Something big.”
Pansy looked up. “How big are we talking?”
“Something that’ll hurt him, slow him down,” Harry added. “He’s rebuilding too quickly.”
Ron leaned over the map and tapped a marked location with his finger. “Malfoy Manor?”
The room went silent for a beat. Even Draco, who had been sitting quietly for most of the meeting, stiffened.
“That’s dangerous,” Hermione said, frowning. “Lucius is still recovering, but he’s not defenseless. And we don’t know how many Death Eaters are hiding there.”
Draco scoffed. “More than you’d like to think.” His voice was quiet but sure. “Even if we take out a few, the house itself is warded like hell. You wouldn’t be able to get in and out without someone noticing.”
Evelyn studied him carefully. He had been more himself since they had broken the Imperius Curse, but there were still moments where he seemed distant, lost in thought. She wasn’t sure how much of it was lingering magic and how much was the trauma of knowing he had been used like that.
“We don’t need to get inside,” Blaise pointed out. “We could destroy it from the outside. Take down the wards, force them out into the open.”
“It’s a bold move,” Theo muttered. “And bold moves get people killed.”
The room fell silent again. No one wanted to say it, but they all knew that each attack, each plan, was a gamble. One wrong move, and they could lose someone.
Evelyn exhaled slowly, considering their options.
“Not Malfoy Manor,” she decided. “Not yet.”
Ron let out a breath of relief, but Draco’s expression was unreadable.
“What about the base in Cornwall?” Daphne suggested. “It’s smaller, but it’s a recruitment hub. If we hit it, we cut off one of Voldemort’s supply chains.”
Evelyn exchanged a look with Harry. “That could work,” she admitted. “If we take out their recruiters, we stop them from bringing in fresh blood.”
Harry nodded. “Then that’s our next target.”
The gang spent the next few hours finalizing their plan. By the time they left the Room of Requirement, it was nearly midnight, and exhaustion was starting to settle in. But there was something else, too—a quiet, determined energy.
The war wasn’t over. Not yet. But they weren’t going to let Voldemort gain the upper hand again.
_____________
Draco sat on the couch in the room of requirement, his hands clasped together so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. His usual arrogance, the mask he wore around most people, was gone. Instead, he looked genuinely troubled—torn between duty and something far more personal.
Evelyn and Harry sat across from him, watching him carefully. Neither of them spoke, giving him the space to gather his thoughts. It was a rare thing for Draco to admit when something was truly bothering him, and Evelyn wasn’t about to rush him.
After a long silence, he finally spoke.
“I know we need to hit Malfoy Manor eventually,” he said, voice low. “But…” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t want to destroy my home. I just want to get the Death Eaters out of it.”
Evelyn leaned forward slightly. “You’re worried about your mother.”
Draco’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “She’s not one of them. She never has been. She doesn’t follow the Dark Lord—she never even wanted me involved in any of this.” He hesitated, his fingers twitching. “She’s scared of my father.”
Harry frowned. “Scared?”
Draco let out a bitter laugh. “You think Lucius Malfoy is a doting husband? He’s only ever cared about himself and his status. My mother… she plays her role, but she’s terrified of what he might do if she ever tried to leave.”
Evelyn and Harry exchanged a glance. This was new information, and it changed things. If Narcissa Malfoy was afraid of her own husband, that meant she wasn’t necessarily their enemy. It also meant that if they attacked Malfoy Manor without a plan, they could end up hurting someone who didn’t deserve it.
“I want my father in Azkaban,” Draco admitted. “I want him out of my life. But I need to make sure my mother is safe before we do anything.” He met Evelyn’s eyes, something desperate in his expression. “Can you help me?”
Evelyn didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”
Draco let out a breath of relief, but Harry was still frowning. “We’ll have to be careful,” he said. “If your father finds out you’re planning to take your mother away from him, he won’t just let it happen.”
Draco nodded. “I know. That’s why I need help. I don’t know how to do this on my own.”
Evelyn tapped her fingers against the armrest, thinking. “We have time. The Cornwall base is our next target, not Malfoy Manor. That gives us time to figure out how to get your mother out before we move on the Manor.”
Draco nodded again, looking slightly less tense.
“And,” Evelyn added, “I can speak to Lady Magic. See if she can help.”
Draco’s brows furrowed. He still didn’t fully understand Evelyn’s connection to Lady Magic, but at this point, he was willing to take any advantage they could get.
“What do you think she can do?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Evelyn admitted. “But she’s powerful. If there’s a way to protect your mother, she’ll know it.”
Draco exhaled slowly. “Alright. Then that’s our plan.”
Evelyn glanced at Harry, who gave a small nod. “We’ll get her out, Draco. You have my word.”
For the first time that evening, Draco’s shoulders relaxed, just a little.
Later that night, Evelyn sat cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom, surrounded by flickering candles. The air was thick with magic, humming softly in the back of her mind as she closed her eyes and focused. She had only called on Lady Magic a handful of times before, and each time had been unpredictable—sometimes immediate, sometimes slow, sometimes overwhelming. Tonight, she needed clarity.
The flames of the candles wavered, stretching unnaturally as a presence filled the room. A shiver ran down Evelyn’s spine as the familiar warmth of magic wrapped around her like an unseen cloak. Then, a voice, ancient and resonant, echoed in her mind.
“You call upon me, my child. Welcome to my realm.”
Evelyn opened her eyes. The room had darkened, the space around her feeling impossibly vast, as if she were no longer within the walls of her bedroom but in some endless expanse of magic itself.
“I need your help,” she said, her voice steady. “There’s someone I need to protect. Someone who is trapped in a dangerous home, afraid to leave. I need to get her out safely.”
A moment of silence. Then, Lady Magic spoke again, her voice thoughtful.
“Narcissa Malfoy.”
Evelyn wasn’t surprised that Lady Magic already knew.
“Yes.”
The air shifted around her, like the rustling of unseen wings. “Her blood ties her to that house, to Lucius, to the wards that keep her contained. You cannot simply take her—she must be unbound first. She is too ill to live without a magical anchor at the moment.”
Evelyn frowned. “How do I do that?”
“A Severing Ritual. It will require Narcissa’s consent and an exchange of magic. You must break the blood ties that bind her to the Malfoy estate and anchor her to a new home, a safe one.”
Evelyn exhaled, considering. “Can I do it alone?”
“No. You will need a second anchor. Someone who can offer her protection, a new family bond to replace the old.”
Evelyn’s thoughts immediately went to Draco. He was her son, after all, magically speaking. If anyone could be an anchor for his mother, it was him.
“Draco,” she murmured. “He can do it.”
“Yes. But be warned—this will sever her from the Malfoy bloodline’s magic permanently. Once done, she will never be able to return to Malfoy Manor, nor claim its protection. She will be vulnerable until she is properly anchored elsewhere.”
That didn’t matter. Once Narcissa was safe, Evelyn would make sure she had all the protection she needed.
“What do I need for the ritual?”
“A willing sacrifice of blood from both mother and son. A powerful protective space. And time—it must be done before the next full moon.”
Evelyn nodded, determination settling in her bones. “Thank you.”
The presence in the room faded, the warmth withdrawing like the tide receding from shore. The candles flickered back to normal, and Evelyn let out a slow breath, already forming a plan.
Tomorrow, she would tell Draco everything.
The next morning, Evelyn found Draco in the Slytherin common room, sitting by the fire with a book in his hands. He wasn’t reading, though—his eyes were fixed on the flames, his mind clearly elsewhere. She didn’t hesitate as she walked over, nudging his arm.
“Come on,” she said quietly. “We need to talk. In private.”
Draco blinked, startled out of his thoughts, and nodded. Without a word, he followed her out of the common room and up several flights of stairs until they reached the Room of Requirement. The moment they stepped inside, the space shifted to resemble a cozy sitting room with deep emerald-green couches and a roaring fireplace.
Evelyn turned to face him. “I spoke to Lady Magic last night.”
Draco’s brows furrowed, and he straightened slightly. “About what?”
“Narcissa. About getting her away from Malfoy Manor before we attack it.”
Draco inhaled sharply, shoulders tensing. “And? What did she say?”
“There’s a way,” Evelyn said carefully. “But it’s not as simple as just sneaking her out. The manor has blood wards in place that keep her tied to the house, to your father. She can’t leave freely—not without consequences.”
Draco’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. “I should have known,” he muttered. “Father wouldn’t have let her go that easily.”
Evelyn stepped closer. “We can break the blood tie, Draco. There’s a ritual—a Severing Ritual. It’ll cut her connection to Malfoy Manor for good. But she’ll need an anchor, something to bind her to safety afterward.”
Draco hesitated, staring at her as though trying to read between her words. “An anchor?”
“You,” Evelyn said simply. “You’re her son. She’s too weak right now, with her being ill, that she can’t heal without a magical anchor. You can offer her a new magical connection, a new place of safety. But it has to be done before the next full moon.”
Draco swallowed hard, looking away as emotions flickered across his face—fear, uncertainty, hope. “And you’re sure this will work?”
“Yes. But it means she can never go back to Malfoy Manor. She’ll be completely cut off from its protection and magic.”
Draco let out a slow breath, nodding. “That doesn’t matter. As long as she’s safe.”
Evelyn gave him a small smile. “Then we’ll do it. We’ll get her out before we attack the Cornwall base. That way, we don’t risk anything.”
Draco exhaled sharply, a mix of relief and nerves evident in his posture. “Alright. Tell me what I have to do.”
Evelyn sat down on the couch, motioning for him to do the same. “We’ll need to convince Narcissa first. She has to be willing.”
Draco nodded. “She will be.”
“Good,” Evelyn said. “Then we need to find a safe place for her to stay. She can’t come back to Hogwarts, and Grimmauld Place is out of the question with the Order keeping an eye on it. We’ll have to talk to Sirius—see if there’s another safe house available.”
Draco nodded again, his mind already working through the possibilities. “I’ll write to her today. I can’t say too much, in case the letter is intercepted, but I’ll let her know we have a plan.”
Evelyn squeezed his arm. “We’ll get her out, Draco. I promise.”
He met her gaze, and for the first time in weeks, she saw real hope in his expression.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
Evelyn just smiled. “You’re my brother. We protect our own.”
Draco let out a shaky breath, then nodded. “Let’s do this.”
_________________
A few days later, Draco received a letter from Narcissa. It was short, carefully worded, but the meaning was clear. She was ready.
Evelyn, Draco, and Harry met in the Room of Requirement to finalize the details. The space had reshaped itself into their war room , with maps and notes spread across a large wooden table in the center. The walls flickered with torchlight, casting shadows across their faces.
“She didn’t say much,” Draco admitted, reading over the letter again. “But the way she phrased things… She understands what I meant. She’s willing.”
“That’s good,” Harry said. “The sooner we do this, the better. We don’t know how much Voldemort suspects.”
Evelyn nodded, already running through the plan in her head. “We’ll need to do the ritual somewhere safe. Somewhere away from any possible spies.”
Draco rubbed his temples. “The Manor is warded to hell and back. We can’t just walk in and take her.”
“We don’t need to,” Evelyn countered. “We can do it from the outside. The Severing Ritual is powerful enough to break through internal blood magic if done properly. But we’ll need to be close.”
“How close?” Harry asked.
“Just beyond the wards,” Evelyn said. “If we can get Narcissa to a window or the edge of the property, it’ll be enough.”
Draco exhaled slowly. “That’s still dangerous. If my father or any of the Death Eaters realize what’s happening…”
“They won’t,” Evelyn said firmly. “We’ll have backup. Theo, Blaise, and Daphne can be stationed nearby in case anything goes wrong. But we have to move quickly.”
Draco nodded. “Then we do it before the full moon.”
Evelyn looked at Harry. “Sirius wrote back. He has a safe house in the countryside—an old Black family estate that hasn’t been used in decades. It’s unplottable, and only he knows where it is. Narcissa can go there.”
Draco’s expression softened for the first time that evening. “That’s… perfect. She’ll be safe.”
Harry hesitated, then added, “You can go with her, Draco. If you want.”
Draco blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?”
Harry shifted on his feet. “She’s your mother. If you want to make sure she’s alright—if you need a few days away from here—you should go with her. We’ll handle things while you’re gone.”
Draco’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. He looked between them, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I—” He stopped, exhaling sharply. “I’ll think about it. Right now, let’s focus on getting her out.”
Evelyn nodded. “Agreed. We move in two days.”
Draco took another deep breath, then straightened. “Then let’s get to work.”
Two days later, the air was thick with tension as Evelyn, Draco, and Harry stood just outside the wards of Malfoy Manor. The rest of their group—Theo, Blaise, and Daphne—were stationed a little farther back in case of trouble. The wind was bitterly cold, rustling the dead leaves around their feet as the towering silhouette of the manor loomed in the distance.
Draco clenched his fists. “She should be by the window any moment now.”
Evelyn pulled out her wand and took a steadying breath. The Severing Ritual wasn’t something she had done before, but she’d researched every possible variation. Lady Magic had offered little guidance beyond a cryptic reassurance that it was possible, but Evelyn trusted her instincts.
“There.” Harry pointed up. A faint flicker of movement was visible in one of the upper windows. Narcissa. She raised a delicate hand and pressed it to the glass. A signal.
Evelyn raised her wand and began to chant in Latin, her voice low and steady. The tip of her wand glowed with a golden light, the magic weaving into the air like threads of silk. The ritual was delicate—it needed to break Narcissa’s magical ties to Malfoy Manor without alerting Lucius or the Death Eaters inside.
Draco was tense beside her, his eyes locked on his mother’s silhouette.
The light around Evelyn’s wand intensified, spiraling upward toward the manor like a beacon. The wards shimmered in response, resisting the spell at first, but she pushed harder, pouring her magic into it. The golden threads latched onto Narcissa’s magical core, untangling it from the web that tied her to the house.
A sudden pulse of energy rippled through the air. The wards flared—then dimmed.
“It’s done,” Evelyn whispered.
Draco barely hesitated. He raised his own wand and cast a silent summoning spell. Inside, Narcissa pressed her hands together, then turned from the window. A few moments later, she emerged from the front door, walking briskly toward them.
Harry immediately raised his wand to cast a Disillusionment Charm over her as she reached them, shielding her from sight. “We have to move,” he murmured. “Now.”
But just as they turned to leave, the front doors of Malfoy Manor slammed open.
A furious shout rang out.
“Stop them!”
Lucius.
Evelyn swore under her breath as robed figures poured out of the manor.
“Run!” she shouted.
Theo, Blaise, and Daphne sprinted forward to cover their retreat. Spells erupted in the darkness, red and green jets of light streaking through the trees. Draco grabbed his mother’s arm, guiding her quickly through the underbrush as Harry cast defensive shields around them.
Evelyn turned, wand raised, blocking a curse from one of the advancing Death Eaters. “We don’t have time for this!” she shouted to Harry.
“Then we make time!”
A jet of purple light shot toward Draco and Narcissa. Evelyn deflected it with a sharp flick of her wand before retaliating with a Stupefy, sending one of the attackers crashing into the ground.
Theo and Blaise were holding their own, dueling against two Death Eaters at once. Daphne had already taken down one, her icy blue eyes alight with determination.
“Go!” Theo barked at them. “We’ll hold them off!”
Evelyn hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Be careful.”
She turned and ran after Draco and Narcissa, who were nearly at the apparition point. Harry was at her side, casting defensive spells as curses whizzed past them.
Lucius’s enraged voice echoed through the night. “You’re making a mistake, Draco!”
Draco didn’t look back.
⸻
They reappeared outside the Black family safe house, their breaths coming in sharp gasps. Narcissa stumbled slightly, and Draco immediately steadied her.
Evelyn lowered her wand but didn’t relax. “Are you alright?”
Narcissa nodded, though she looked shaken. “Yes. Thank you.”
Draco exhaled, his hands shaking slightly. “It’s over.”
Harry glanced back toward the sky. “Not yet.”
Chapter 95: Rachel
Chapter Text
The week had started just like any other, with the usual training sessions in the Great Hall and the gang working tirelessly to improve their combat skills. Evelyn was focused, as always, but she had started noticing that Harry wasn’t quite himself. He still showed up for training, still joined in on their discussions, but something was… off. He wasn’t as engaged, often zoning out, and while he used to always seek out Evelyn first in the room, now he barely seemed to notice her presence.
But she brushed it off. Everyone was exhausted, and the war was weighing on them all. Harry had a lot on his shoulders, and she figured he just needed space.
It wasn’t until a few days before the Christmas holidays that everything came crashing down.
Evelyn had been walking through the courtyard with Hermione and Pansy, laughing about something unimportant, when Pansy abruptly stopped in her tracks.
“Uh… Evelyn?” she said carefully, her usual snark completely absent.
Evelyn turned, only to follow Pansy’s gaze across the courtyard. And then her entire world tilted.
Harry was standing near the stone benches, lips pressed against another girl’s. Her back was pushed up against a nearby pillar and Harry’s hands were on her waist, his thumb rubbing circles into her hips over her school skirt and robes.
Evelyn felt everything in her chest tighten, her lungs suddenly unable to draw breath. The blood rushed in her ears, drowning out whatever Hermione had just said.
No. No, that wasn’t right. That wasn’t real.
Harry wouldn’t—
But there he was. Holding another girl. Kissing her.
The next thing she knew, her feet were moving—away. She spun on her heel, bolting in the opposite direction before either of her friends could stop her. She didn’t want to hear their voices. Didn’t want them to ask if she was okay because she wasn’t. She couldn’t be.
She barely registered Hermione chasing after her, calling her name.
She didn’t stop running until she was in the Slytherin dorms, slamming the door to her room shut.
_______________
Evelyn sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the floor, her breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. It felt like her entire body had gone numb, like she was detached from herself, floating somewhere above the room.
Harry had kissed another girl.
Harry—her Harry—had kissed someone else.
It didn’t make sense. None of it did. They had been fine, hadn’t they? He had still smiled at her yesterday, still reached for her hand in passing, still—
A knock at the door jolted her out of her spiraling thoughts.
“Evelyn, let me in,” Hermione’s voice came through, gentle but firm.
Evelyn didn’t answer. She didn’t know how.
There was a pause before the door creaked open anyway, and Hermione stepped inside, looking worried but determined.
“Oh, Evie,” she murmured, closing the door behind her and sitting beside Evelyn on the bed. She hesitated for only a second before wrapping an arm around Evelyn’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”
Evelyn exhaled shakily and let herself lean into Hermione’s side. “I don’t—” Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard. “I don’t understand.”
Hermione squeezed her tighter. “Neither do I. But we’re going to figure it out, okay?”
Evelyn nodded weakly, but she wasn’t sure she believed it.
⸻
Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor common room, Pansy Parkinson was doing her best not to hex Ron Weasley into oblivion.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” she snapped, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she glared at Ron, who looked just as confused as she was.
“I don’t know!” Ron shot back, throwing his hands up. “You think I’d let him do this if I knew? He hasn’t said a bloody word about any other girl! He was fine yesterday.”
Pansy narrowed her eyes at him, searching his face for any sign of dishonesty, but he looked genuinely baffled. She huffed, pacing furiously in front of the fireplace.
“He didn’t even tell me he was having doubts,” Ron continued, raking a hand through his hair. “And I know Harry, he wouldn’t—” He stopped, looking frustrated. “He wouldn’t do this to Evelyn. Not like this.”
Pansy pursed her lips, her anger shifting into something more thoughtful. “Something isn’t right,” she said slowly. “Even if he was an idiot and fell for someone else, he wouldn’t just forget about Evelyn. But the way he looked at her after—”
She shook her head. “It’s like he didn’t even care that she saw.”
Ron’s expression darkened. “I’m going to talk to him.”
Pansy nodded. “Good. And I’ll be keeping an eye on him too.”
They both knew one thing for certain: something was very, very wrong with Harry Potter.
________________
Ron and Hermione sat on the couch near the fireplace, both tense as they waited for Harry to return. Hermione had barely spoken since leaving Evelyn, but her silence spoke volumes. Ron, on the other hand, was fidgeting restlessly, his frustration growing by the minute.
When Harry finally stepped into the common room, his expression was oddly blank. His green eyes were distant, as if he were somewhere else entirely. The moment he saw them waiting, he hesitated, then sighed and walked over.
“Alright, what’s this about?” he asked, crossing his arms.
Ron stood immediately, anger simmering beneath the surface. “Don’t act dumb, Harry. You know exactly what this is about.”
Harry blinked at him, genuinely confused. “No, I don’t.”
Hermione inhaled sharply. “You kissed another girl, Harry,” she said quietly, watching him closely. “In front of Evelyn.”
Something flickered in Harry’s expression, but it was gone too quickly for them to read. He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to recall the event. “Oh. That.”
Hermione’s stomach twisted. That. As if it were nothing.
Ron took a step forward. “That’s all you have to say? ‘Oh, that?’ What the hell is wrong with you?”
Harry’s brows furrowed. “Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”
“Because you’re dating Evelyn!” Ron exploded, his ears turning red. “Have you lost your mind?”
Harry hesitated again, looking vaguely perplexed. “I don’t—” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think I love her anymore.”
Hermione’s breath caught.
Ron looked like he had been slapped. “What?”
Harry ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I just… I feel different, okay? And I don’t know why you two are so mad. It’s my life, isn’t it?”
Something wasn’t right.
Hermione gritted her teeth, trying to keep her emotions in check. This wasn’t just Harry being an idiot—something about the way he was speaking, the way he was acting… it felt wrong.
“You don’t think you love Evelyn anymore?” she repeated carefully. “Harry, do you even remember how long you’ve been together?”
Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. His face twisted slightly, as if the answer was just out of reach. “A few months?”
Ron swore under his breath. “Bloody hell, Harry, it’s been years.”
Harry flinched, looking genuinely startled.
Hermione exchanged a sharp glance with Ron. This wasn’t just some random kiss. This was something else.
“Harry,” she said gently, keeping her voice steady. “Do you remember what happened this summer? With Evelyn? With all of us?”
Harry frowned. “Yeah. Of course.” But his hesitation was obvious.
Ron’s jaw clenched. “Tell us, then.”
Harry blinked, looking increasingly agitated. “I—” He faltered. “Why are you both interrogating me? I kissed someone else. I don’t love Evelyn anymore. It happens.”
No, it didn’t. Not like this.
Ron grabbed Hermione’s arm and pulled her aside, lowering his voice. “Something’s off. You see it too, right?”
Hermione nodded, heart pounding. “Yes. We need to figure out what’s happened to him.”
Both turned back to Harry, who was now staring at them with an almost impatient expression, as if waiting for them to move on.
Ron forced his anger down. “Fine. If that’s what you want, you do what you want. But you’re coming to the Burrow for Christmas.”
Harry frowned again. “I was going to spend it with—” He hesitated.
With who?
Even he didn’t seem to know the answer.
Ron took advantage of his confusion. “Mum’ll have our heads if you don’t come,” he said smoothly. “And you know Sirius is going to want to see you.”
At the mention of Sirius, Harry’s gaze flickered again, but the uncertainty remained. After a long pause, he finally sighed.
“Alright. I’ll go to the Burrow.”
Ron and Hermione shared a look. This wasn’t over.
Something had happened to Harry Potter.
And they were going to find out what.
The atmosphere was tense as the gang gathered in the Room of Requirement, minus both Harry and Evelyn. Hermione, Ron, Pansy, Daphne, Draco, Theo, Blaise, Evan, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Fred, and George sat around their usual table, deep in thought.
Evelyn hadn’t left the Slytherin dormitory all morning. Daphne had checked on her before coming here, and while she was clearly devastated, she had made it clear she wasn’t ready to face the group yet.
Fred drummed his fingers on the table impatiently. “So, when do we get to beat him up?”
George nodded. “Yeah, I vote we at least hex him a little.”
Ron sighed, rubbing his face. “Trust me, I want to, but something’s wrong with him.”
Pansy raised a sharp eyebrow. “You mean, besides the fact that he’s a cheating bastard?”
Hermione, though still furious with Harry, shook her head. “No. Ron’s right. We confronted him last night, and he—” she hesitated, trying to find the right words. “He didn’t seem like himself. He barely even remembered Evelyn.”
There was a stunned silence.
“He what?” Theo asked, eyes narrowing.
Ron crossed his arms. “We asked him how long he and Evelyn had been together. He said ‘a few months.’”
“That idiot,” Pansy hissed, hands clenching into fists.
“No, don’t you see?” Hermione said quickly. “They’ve been together for years. But Harry… he didn’t even realize he was getting it wrong. It was like—like something was missing from his memory.”
Evan leaned forward, eyes sharp. “You think someone’s tampered with his mind?”
“Something like that,” Ron muttered.
Daphne’s voice was quiet but firm. “That would explain why he’s acting like this. If his memories have been altered, he wouldn’t even realize anything was wrong.”
Fred groaned. “Brilliant. As if this war wasn’t already a bloody nightmare.”
George sighed. “We’ve got Imperius Curses flying around left and right, and now we have to add memory tampering to the list?”
Blaise, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke. “Alright. What’s our plan?”
All eyes turned to him.
Hermione took a deep breath. “First, we need to make sure Evelyn’s okay.”
“I’ll handle that,” Pansy said immediately.
“Second,” Hermione continued, “we need to figure out what’s happened to Harry. If someone’s altered his mind, we have to find out who did it—and why.”
Ron’s jaw tightened. “And we need to tell Sirius. He has to know something’s up with Harry.”
Fred grinned, though there was no humor in it. “And if this mystery girl had anything to do with it, we pay her a little visit.”
George nodded. “Maybe accidentally spill some Weasleys’ Wildfire Whiz-Bangs on her.”
Evan smirked. “Or some Veritaserum.”
Theo leaned back, thoughtful. “We need to move carefully. If this is Voldemort’s doing, he’s playing a long game. And if Harry’s compromised, we cannot let him in on our plans until we know the full extent of what’s happened to him.”
There was a heavy silence as the realization sank in.
Harry Potter—their leader, their friend—could no longer be trusted.
And that meant they were on their own.
__________________
The Hogwarts Express was abuzz with excitement as students boarded the train, eager to head home for the Christmas holidays. Snow flurried outside the windows, clinging to the panes as the gang settled into their usual compartment.
Evelyn sat between Pansy and Hermione, her hands folded in her lap as she stared out the window. She could hear Fred and George joking with Blaise and Theo, could feel Daphne and Evan casting her concerned glances, but none of it quite reached her.
Because across the corridor, Harry was walking hand in hand with her.
Rachel.
Pansy had heard her gloating to her friends that she was dating Harry Potter and had done some digging. She found out her name was Rachel Wren, sixth-year Ravenclaw.
Evelyn’s stomach twisted as she saw the way Rachel leaned into him, her laughter soft and adoring, her fingers brushing against his as though they had been together for years. As though Evelyn had never existed in his life at all.
Pansy noticed her stiff posture and leaned in, her voice low and sharp. “Do you want me to hex him? I’ll do it right now.”
Evelyn gave her a tired look. “No, Pansy.”
Pansy’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t push.
The train jerked forward, and soon they were speeding out of Hogsmeade, the castle disappearing into the distance. Evelyn kept her gaze fixed on the frost-covered countryside, willing herself to ignore the ache in her chest.
She could feel everyone’s eyes on her, could sense the anger simmering in the air. Even Ron, who was usually the most reluctant to involve himself in emotional drama, looked ready to punch something.
The tension in the compartment was unbearable.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” Evelyn muttered, pushing herself up before anyone could stop her.
She walked quickly down the corridor, the rhythmic clatter of the train filling her ears. She needed to be alone, to breathe—
But just as she turned the corner, she froze.
The door to the lavatory opened, and out stepped Harry.
His shirt collar was slightly rumpled, his tie loosened, his hair messier than usual.
And then Rachel stepped out right behind him.
Evelyn’s breath caught.
Rachel’s lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed, and—Merlin help her—there were hickeys trailing down her neck.
Harry’s own neck bore the same marks, peeking out from beneath his shirt.
Evelyn’s stomach twisted violently.
Neither of them noticed her at first. Rachel was giggling as she fixed her skirt, while Harry smirked at something she whispered.
And then his gaze flicked up—straight into Evelyn’s.
His smile faded, confusion flashing across his face.
But Evelyn didn’t wait.
She spun on her heel and walked away as fast as she could, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. The train corridor blurred around her, her ears ringing.
She didn’t stop until she reached the compartment, where she slammed the door shut behind her.
Pansy, mid-conversation with Blaise, looked up sharply. “Evelyn?”
Evelyn forced herself to breathe. Forced herself to stay upright.
Then she met Pansy’s eyes, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I need a drink.”
Fred and George exchanged a look the moment Evelyn sat back down, her expression unreadable. The tension in the compartment was suffocating, thick with unspoken emotions.
Without saying a word, the twins stood up.
“Where are you two going?” Daphne asked suspiciously, eyeing them both.
“On a noble quest,” Fred declared.
“To do our civic duty,” George added.
“To provide relief in a time of great need,” Fred finished, already halfway out the door.
Pansy rolled her eyes, but there was the barest hint of a smirk. “Just don’t take too long.”
The twins disappeared down the corridor, slipping through the train with practiced ease. It didn’t take long for them to track down a few friends—mostly seventh-years—who were more than willing to part with a few bottles of Firewhisky and some homemade concoctions they had smuggled on board.
When they returned to the compartment, Fred held up a bottle like a trophy. “We return victorious.”
Evelyn didn’t hesitate. She reached for the Firewhisky and uncorked it with ease, taking a deep gulp before passing it to Pansy.
The liquid burned its way down her throat, but the sensation was welcome. Anything to drown out the image of Harry and Rachel pressed up against each other.
Pansy took a swig as well, barely flinching at the taste. The rest of the group hesitated, exchanging glances before taking smaller, more cautious sips. Most of them, though, chose to stay sober—someone had to make sure Evelyn and Pansy didn’t do anything too reckless.
The journey continued, the alcohol taking the edge off Evelyn’s emotions but doing little to silence the ache in her chest. Laughter occasionally rang out, but it never quite reached her the way it used to. She felt disconnected, almost like she was watching herself from the outside.
By the time the train began to slow, approaching King’s Cross Station, Evelyn was still nursing the Firewhisky bottle, her head resting against the window.
Theo was the first to stand, reaching for Pansy’s bag before offering a hand to Evelyn. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
Evelyn blinked up at him before sighing and taking his hand. The train came to a stop, and the group filed out onto the platform, where families were already waiting.
Ron gave her a quick squeeze on the shoulder. “We’ll visit, alright? You’re not getting rid of us that easily.”
Hermione nodded, her eyes filled with concern. “Just take it easy, okay?”
Evelyn didn’t have the energy to say much, so she just nodded.
As the group dispersed, Theo led the way through the station, one hand firmly on Pansy’s shoulder while keeping an eye on Evelyn. They stepped through the barrier into the Muggle world, where Evelyn quickly hailed a cab.
The ride to her apartment was quiet, the weight of the day settling over them.
By the time they reached her flat, Evelyn barely had the energy to kick off her shoes before collapsing onto the couch.
Theo exchanged a glance with Pansy. “I’ll stay for a bit,” he said, pulling off his coat.
Pansy nodded. “Good. We’ll set up a schedule. She’s not spending the holidays alone.”
Evelyn barely registered their words, her mind foggy from the alcohol and exhaustion.
All she knew was that she was finally home.
And that, for the first time in years, it didn’t feel like one.
_______________
The first few days of the holidays passed in a blur. Evelyn barely left her apartment, and her friends made sure she never had to be alone for too long.
Pansy stayed the first night, both of them curled up on the couch under a blanket, a bottle of wine sitting half-empty on the coffee table. They didn’t talk about Harry. They didn’t talk about her. Instead, they watched films—Muggle ones, for Evelyn’s sake.
The next morning, Theo arrived with breakfast, rolling his eyes at the sight of them still in their pajamas.
“You two look pathetic,” he muttered, setting down a bag filled with croissants and hot chocolate.
Pansy didn’t even argue, just reached for a croissant and took a slow bite. Evelyn offered a weak smirk. “You love us anyway.”
Theo exhaled, sitting down on the armrest of the couch. “Unfortunately.”
Throughout the day, more of their friends stopped by. Hermione brought books—“for distraction,” she said—but she mostly sat with Evelyn in comfortable silence, the warmth of her presence enough.
Ron showed up later with Fred and George, who did their best to make her laugh.
“If it helps,” Fred started, lounging dramatically on her couch, “we’ve decided to ruin Harry’s life in small but meaningful ways.”
“Nothing dangerous,” George clarified. “Just minor inconveniences. Tripping jinxes, disappearing ink, maybe a few trick sweets—”
“—he won’t even know it’s us.”
Evelyn managed a real smile at that. “That’s actually kind of sweet.”
“We’re very thoughtful that way,” Fred said with a wink.
By the time they left, Evelyn felt… not better, exactly. But lighter.
The days continued in the same way. Different friends at different times, keeping her occupied, making sure she ate, forcing her outside for brief walks when she got too lost in her head.
She still woke up with that hollow ache in her chest. But at least she wasn’t facing it alone.
______________
Harry had never felt this way before. It was like Rachel was a magnet, pulling him in with a force he couldn’t resist. Every time she smiled at him, every time she touched his hand, he felt weightless—like nothing else in the world mattered. He barely even thought about Evelyn. It was strange, really. He knew they had been close. He knew they had a history. But whenever he tried to focus on it, his thoughts would blur, slipping away like water through his fingers.
He didn’t fight it.
The Burrow was as warm and welcoming as always, but Harry hardly noticed the way Mrs. Weasley fussed over him or how Mr. Weasley kept trying to engage him in Muggle talk. He only really paid attention when Rachel wrote to him, sending him sweet little notes with hearts drawn in the corners. His heart would race every time he unfolded a letter, like he was a schoolboy with his first crush.
Rachel. Rachel. Rachel.
His thoughts revolved around her like she was the center of his universe.
When Ron, Fred, and George slipped out one afternoon, muttering something about needing to go into town, Harry barely noticed. Instead, he spent time with Bill and Charlie, listening to their stories about their work—Bill at Gringotts, Charlie with dragons.
Charlie was the first to comment on how oddly Harry was acting.
“So, what’s going on with you?” he asked casually over a game of chess, moving his knight forward.
“What do you mean?” Harry frowned, not looking up.
“You’ve been acting strange,” Bill added, leaning back in his chair. “Ron’s barely spoken to you, and you don’t seem to care. And when was the last time you mentioned Evelyn?”
The name stirred something in Harry’s mind, but he quickly pushed it away. “Evelyn’s just a friend,” he said dismissively, focusing on the board. “Rachel’s… she’s amazing.”
Charlie and Bill exchanged looks.
“Right,” Charlie muttered, clearly unconvinced. “If you say so.”
Both of them dropped it.
⸻
Ron sat cross-legged on Fred and George’s bedroom floor, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Ginny sat next to him, chewing on her bottom lip. Fred and George sprawled on their beds, mirroring each other with identical frowns.
“Something’s wrong with him,” Ron said bluntly.
Ginny scoffed. “Obviously.”
“It’s like he doesn’t even remember Evelyn properly,” Fred added, tossing a small ball of parchment in the air. “One minute, they were joined at the hip, the next he’s obsessed with this Rachel girl.”
“There’s only one explanation,” George said grimly.
Ron looked at him sharply. “What?”
“Aliens,” George deadpanned.
Ron threw the nearest pillow at him. “Not funny.”
Ginny groaned. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s something. Love potion? Mind control? Memory alteration?”
Ron shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a love potion. He’s too obsessed. It’s not just attraction—it’s like he’s been completely rewritten.”
The thought sent a cold chill down his spine.
Fred and George exchanged a look.
“We could test for potions,” Fred mused. “We know a few tricks to counteract them.”
“And if it’s a spell?” Ginny asked.
George shrugged. “We keep digging. Harry’s been hit with enough spells in his life; we’ll find a way to undo it.”
Ron nodded, determination settling in his gut. Whatever was happening to Harry, they would fix it.
The Burrow was quiet that night, the only sounds coming from the crackling fireplace and the faint rustling of the wind outside. Ron, Fred, and George sat at the kitchen table, waiting. The plan was simple—Harry was going to come downstairs for a cup of tea before bed, just like he did every night, and they would slip the love potion tester into his cup. If his hair glowed red, even for a moment, it meant he wasn’t under the influence of a potion. If nothing happened… well, they’d have to start looking for ways to override love potions.
Fred kept his wand concealed under the table, ready to cast a distraction if needed, while George held the tiny vial of the testing solution between his fingers. Ron tapped his foot anxiously.
“This better work,” he muttered.
“Oh, it’ll work,” George whispered back. “The real question is what it’ll tell us.”
They didn’t have to wait long. Footsteps creaked on the stairs, and a moment later, Harry walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He barely spared them a glance as he grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured himself some tea.
“Hey, mate,” Fred said, keeping his voice casual. “Bit late, isn’t it?”
Harry shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Ron swallowed, watching as George subtly flicked a pinch of the potion tester into Harry’s tea while he reached for the sugar. The powder dissolved instantly, leaving no trace.
Harry stirred his tea absently and took a sip.
For a single second—so quick it could have been missed—his hair shimmered a dull, barely-there red. Then, just as fast, it faded back to its usual messy black.
Fred and George shared a glance.
Ron’s stomach twisted. “Well, that’s that, then.”
“No love potion,” George confirmed, voice oddly grim.
Fred exhaled slowly. “Which means whatever’s wrong with him… it’s not a simple fix.”
Ron clenched his fists. The thought of Harry willingly throwing away his relationship with Evelyn for some random girl was impossible. Someone had done this to him—but how?
Harry drained his mug and set it in the sink. He still seemed completely oblivious to their scrutiny. “Night,” he mumbled, disappearing back upstairs.
As soon as he was gone, Ron turned to the twins. “So, what now?”
Fred leaned back in his chair, frowning. “We go back to square one.”
George nodded. “And we figure out who the hell Rachel really is.”
_______________
The flat was quiet after Fred left, the only sound coming from the occasional creak of the old floorboards and the faint hum of the city beyond the windows. George had settled into one of the spare rooms, and Evelyn had gone to her own bed, but sleep didn’t come easily. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, her mind an endless loop of doubts, memories, and the ever-present ache of heartbreak.
At around 2 a.m., she gave up. Throwing back the covers, she padded barefoot into the kitchen, flicking on the dim overhead light as she set about making a cup of tea. The rhythmic motions of boiling water, spooning out tea leaves, and stirring helped, if only a little.
She wasn’t alone for long.
A door creaked open, and a moment later, George appeared in the doorway, looking sleep-rumpled but alert. “Knew I heard you up,” he said, voice still thick with sleep. He leaned against the counter, watching as she poured the steaming water into her mug.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Evelyn admitted, keeping her eyes on the swirling liquid.
George hummed in understanding, rubbing a hand over his face. “Can’t say I blame you.”
Evelyn let out a humorless laugh. “I don’t know why I thought it’d be easier after a few days. Every time I start to feel a bit normal, I remember that Harry is off somewhere, snogging Rachel like I never existed.” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “And maybe that’s the truth. Maybe I really didn’t mean as much to him as I thought. Maybe I wasn’t—”
George stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “Evelyn.”
She ignored him, continuing to ramble. “Maybe I wasn’t enough. Maybe I never was, and I was just—”
Before she could finish, George kissed her.
It wasn’t slow, wasn’t hesitant—just firm enough to shut her up, to pull her out of her downward spiral of thoughts.
By the time he pulled away, Evelyn was staring at him, wide-eyed. George looked just as shocked as she felt. “Sorry,” he muttered quickly, running a hand through his hair. “I— I shouldn’t have done that. You’re not—”
“I don’t care,” she interrupted, voice quiet but steady.
George hesitated. “Evelyn, you’re not in a good place right now.”
“I know,” she admitted. “But I don’t care. I don’t want to think, I don’t want to feel—I just want to do something that makes me forget.”
A long silence stretched between them. Then, carefully, she reached for him, fingers curling around his wrist.
George searched her face, his blue eyes dark in the dim light. “Are you sure?”
Evelyn didn’t answer with words. Instead, she kissed him again.
And this time, he didn’t stop her.
Evelyn wasn’t sure when they made it back to her room. One moment, she was standing in the dim kitchen, kissing George like her life depended on it, and the next, they were stumbling through the doorway, hands tangled in each other’s clothes.
Her back hit the mattress first, George hovering over her, his breath uneven as he stared down at her. His fingers traced her jaw, hesitant for just a second. “Last chance,” he murmured, searching her eyes for any sign of doubt.
But Evelyn wasn’t second-guessing this.
She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down to her.
Everything else faded away.
For the first time in days, Evelyn wasn’t thinking about Harry. She wasn’t thinking about Rachel, or the way she’d felt like her world had shattered when she saw them together. She wasn’t thinking about how much it hurt to feel unwanted.
Because right now, George was here. He was warm, solid, and real. And he wanted her.
That was enough.
⸻
The first thing Evelyn noticed when she woke up was warmth.
A strong arm was draped over her waist, and someone’s breath ghosted against the back of her neck. It took her a moment to piece everything together, her still-sleepy mind replaying the events of last night. The kisses, the heat, the way George had whispered her name like it was the only thing that mattered.
She swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how tangled up they were beneath the sheets.
Shit.
Carefully, she shifted onto her side to look at him. George was still asleep, his hair a mess of red against the pillow, his freckles standing out against his skin in the early morning light. He looked peaceful.
For a second, Evelyn let herself admire him.
Then reality crashed down on her.
What the hell had she done?
Her heart clenched as she thought about Harry—about how not even a week ago, she’d imagined spending Christmas curled up beside him.
Now, she was waking up in bed with one of his best friends.
Guilt twisted in her stomach, but at the same time, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.
She’d needed this.
And maybe, just maybe, so had George.
A low groan interrupted her thoughts as George shifted, his arm tightening around her waist before his eyes blinked open sleepily. He looked at her for a moment, his gaze soft.
“Morning,” he murmured. His voice was husky from sleep, and it sent an uninvited shiver down her spine.
“Morning,” she whispered back.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, George sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “So… do we talk about last night?”
Evelyn hesitated.
She wasn’t ready to unpack whatever this was. Not yet.
Instead, she gave him a small, tired smile. “Do you want breakfast?”
George huffed a quiet laugh, but he didn’t push. “Yeah. Breakfast sounds good.”
They both knew this conversation wasn’t over.
But for now, neither of them were ready to face what came next.
George left just after breakfast, throwing on his coat and muttering something about how Fred was probably waiting to talk to him. Evelyn walked him to the door, unsure of what to say.
“So,” George said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You okay?”
Evelyn hesitated. Last night had been… complicated. A distraction, mostly. But despite the confusion twisting in her stomach, she didn’t regret it. She just wasn’t sure what it meant.
“I’m fine,” she said eventually, offering him a small, genuine smile. “Thanks, George.”
He seemed to understand what she meant. With a nod, he reached out, giving her hand a quick squeeze before stepping out into the cold.
“Try not to miss me too much,” he called over his shoulder, flashing her a grin as he walked away.
Evelyn let out a soft laugh, shaking her head as she closed the door behind him.
Ginny arrived about an hour later, her arms full of blankets, snacks, and a small, wrapped gift that she plopped onto Evelyn’s coffee table the moment she walked in.
“Right,” she announced, dropping onto the couch. “You need cheering up, and since it’s Christmas Eve, I decided that means we’re watching every Christmas film I could find in the Burrow.”
Evelyn raised a brow, taking in the stack of VHS tapes. “Every film?”
Ginny smirked. “Every film.”
And so they did.
For hours, they curled up on the couch, wrapped in blankets as they made their way through Home Alone, The Muppet Christmas Carol, and Miracle on 34th Street. Ginny insisted on making hot chocolate halfway through, and by the time the third film ended, Evelyn was feeling warmer than she had in days.
It was nice.
For the first time since Harry had shattered her heart, she wasn’t thinking about him. She wasn’t picturing him with Rachel, wasn’t obsessing over what had happened between them.
She was just here, with Ginny, watching stupid Christmas films and drinking hot chocolate.
Normal.
It almost felt normal.
⸻
As the credits of their final film rolled, Ginny stretched and turned to Evelyn.
“So,” she said, “where are you spending Christmas tomorrow?”
Evelyn hesitated.
Truthfully, she hadn’t planned anything. The idea of spending the day alone didn’t bother her too much—she’d spent plenty of Christmases that way before—but she knew if she admitted that, Ginny would be horrified.
“I was just going to have a quiet one,” she admitted.
Ginny’s face fell. “Alone?”
Evelyn shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”
“Well, I mind,” Ginny said firmly. “There’s no way we’re letting you sit in this house by yourself. The gang’s going to come visit at some point, I promise.”
Evelyn felt something warm bloom in her chest.
She’d never had people who cared like this before. Never had friends who made sure she wasn’t left behind.
“Thanks, Ginny,” she said softly.
Ginny grinned. “Anytime.”
Chapter 96: Binding of the Mind
Chapter Text
Evelyn woke to an eerie silence.
No chatter, no rustling of wrapping paper, no smell of breakfast cooking in the air.
Just quiet.
For a long moment, she stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling. Christmas had never meant much to her—not really. It wasn’t like she had childhood memories of cozy mornings by the fire or a house filled with warmth and laughter. Most years, it had been just another day.
She supposed this one wouldn’t be much different.
Still, she forced herself to get up, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders as she padded into the living room. The small tree in the corner twinkled softly, the only real sign of the holiday in her otherwise ordinary apartment. A few wrapped presents sat beneath it, the ones her friends had sent over the last few weeks.
She wasn’t alone. Not really.
Even if it felt that way sometimes.
Her friends came in waves throughout the day.
Theo and Pansy were the first, dropping by in the morning with a bottle of expensive elf-made wine and a thick, beautifully wrapped book that Evelyn suspected was one of Theo’s own. They didn’t stay long—both had family obligations—but Pansy made her promise to let them know if she needed anything before pulling her into a rare hug.
Daphne and Blaise arrived next, bringing homemade biscuits and a set of enchanted earrings that changed colors depending on the wearer’s mood. “Practical,” Daphne had said with a smirk as Evelyn rolled her eyes but still put them on.
Hermione stopped by in the afternoon with a carefully wrapped package and a long hug, squeezing Evelyn’s shoulders before saying, “We miss you, you know.”
“I miss you too,” Evelyn admitted, and for the first time, she truly meant it.
Fred, Ron, and Ginny arrived together, carrying a ridiculous assortment of gifts and making themselves at home the second they stepped through the door. Fred handed her a Weasley jumper—emerald green, with a large silver E stitched into the front—before ruffling her hair and flopping onto the couch.
“You’re one of us now, like it or not,” he announced.
Evelyn swallowed past the lump in her throat and managed a smirk. “Unfortunately.”
Ginny elbowed her. “You love us.”
She did. More than she could say.
By the time evening rolled around, Evelyn was alone again.
It wasn’t bad. The visits had helped, and for once, she didn’t feel like she was drowning in the weight of everything. She curled up on the couch with a book, letting the quiet settle around her like a familiar friend.
Then, just after ten, there was a knock at the door.
She already knew who it was before she opened it.
George stood on the other side, a lopsided grin on his face and a bag full of leftovers in his hands.
“Mum insisted I bring you some food,” he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “And, you know, I figured I’d make sure you weren’t having a completely miserable Christmas.”
Evelyn snorted, closing the door behind him. “How thoughtful.”
They settled at the kitchen table, eating straight from the containers as George told her all about the chaos at the Burrow—Bill and Charlie getting into a drinking contest, Percy nearly hexing Fred after yet another prank, Ginny and Ron bickering over something stupid.
It sounded nice. Messy and loud, but nice.
After a while, the conversation shifted.
“So,” George said, leaning back in his chair. “About the other night.”
Evelyn tensed slightly. “What about it?”
George studied her for a moment, then shrugged. “Just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page. I meant what I said—I’m not looking for anything serious. I know you’re still dealing with all this Harry crap, and the last thing you need is another thing to worry about.”
Evelyn exhaled, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “Yeah. I feel the same.”
He raised a brow. “You sure?”
She nodded. “I don’t regret it. And honestly… I could use the distraction.”
A smirk tugged at George’s lips. “That so?”
Evelyn arched a brow, a slow smirk of her own forming. “Yeah.”
He pushed his chair back, standing up. “Well then,” he said, offering her a hand, “let’s get you distracted.”
She took it.
The night was cold, the kind that seeped into the walls and made everything feel just a little bit quieter. Evelyn and George had barely made it to her room before his hands were on her again, warm and steady, his mouth trailing along her neck like he had something to prove.
There was no love in it, no whispered confessions or tender touches—just heat, just something sharp and consuming, something that made it easier for Evelyn to forget everything else.
She let herself get lost in it. Get lost in the way his fingers grabbed her hips, or her thighs. The way his tongue moved against her, bringing her closer and closer with every touch. She let herself get lost in the way she had to grab the sheets to steady herself, the way the headboard rattled and the way she absolutely did not regret having sex with George.
⸻
The next morning, she woke to the soft glow of the enchanted clock on her bedside table.
George was still there, sprawled out on his stomach, half-covered by the sheets, one arm dangling off the bed. He looked entirely at ease, his red hair a mess, his breathing slow and even.
For a moment, Evelyn just watched him, her mind oddly blank. Then, with a sigh, she shifted, sitting up and running a hand through her hair.
George stirred, cracking one eye open. “Morning, gorgeous.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Don’t call me that.”
He just grinned. “Alright, beautiful.”
She smacked his shoulder, and he laughed, stretching before rolling onto his back. “So, was that a one-time thing, or do you plan on using me for stress relief again?”
Evelyn hesitated for only a second.
“I don’t know yet,” she admitted, voice even.
George hummed, considering. “Well, the offer stands.”
She arched a brow. “How generous of you.”
He smirked. “I try.”
There was no awkwardness between them, no tension—just something easy, something uncomplicated.
It was exactly what she needed.
Evelyn glanced at the clock. “You should probably go before your family starts wondering where you are.”
George groaned, throwing an arm over his face. “Do I have to?”
“Unless you want Fred tracking you down and demanding details, yes.”
That was enough to get him moving. He sat up, running a hand through his hair before finding his shirt somewhere in the mess of sheets.
As he pulled it over his head, he shot her a look. “You gonna be alright today?”
Evelyn shrugged. “I survived yesterday, didn’t I?”
George studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. But if you need another distraction…” He smirked. “You know where to find me.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.
A few minutes later, George was gone, leaving nothing behind but a lingering warmth in the sheets and a strange, hollow sort of quiet.
Evelyn exhaled slowly, running a hand through her hair before finally dragging herself out of bed.
There was still a whole new day ahead of her.
And she had no idea what she was supposed to do with it.
_______________
Christmas at the Burrow was always a loud, chaotic affair, but this year, Ron could barely enjoy it. Not with Harry acting like… well, like someone who wasn’t Harry.
From the moment Ron had woken up that morning, Harry hadn’t shut up about Rachel.
“She got me this amazing gift,” he had said at breakfast, grinning like an idiot. “She knew exactly what I wanted.”
Molly had smiled warmly, happy to see Harry happy despite the hole in her heart that evelyn usually occupied, but Ron had just exchanged a look with Ginny and the twins. It wasn’t normal. Not for Harry. He barely even remembered what he’d gotten Evelyn last year, and now he was acting like some love-struck schoolboy over a girl they still barely knew?
And it didn’t stop there.
During presents, Harry had spent more time talking about what Rachel had given him than actually opening his own gifts. During Christmas dinner, he’d barely spoken to anyone unless it was about her.
“She’s just… she gets me, you know?” Harry had said at one point, pushing his potatoes around his plate. “It’s like we have this connection I never had with anyone else.”
Ron had clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to punch him.
So, when it was finally time for Ron to leave the Burrow for a bit and visit Evelyn, he practically leapt at the chance.
⸻
Ron had expected Evelyn to look a little better when he saw her, but if anything, she looked worse than the last time he’d visited. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was pulled into a loose bun, like she hadn’t bothered to properly get ready all day.
Still, she put on a small smile when she let him in.
“Merry Christmas,” she said, voice a little quieter than usual.
“You too,” Ron replied, stepping inside and holding up a small bag of gifts. “Brought you something.”
Evelyn snorted. “If it’s another stupid joke present from the twins—”
“It’s not,” Ron interrupted quickly, though he did grin. “Well, okay, one of them is. But the rest are actually decent.”
Evelyn took the bag, peeking inside before rolling her eyes. “I don’t need three boxes of Honeydukes chocolate, Ron.”
“That’s a lie, and you know it,” he said, flopping onto her couch.
She sat down beside him, pulling out one of the chocolate boxes and unwrapping it.
For a moment, they just sat in comfortable silence, eating. Then, Evelyn sighed.
“He’s still with her, isn’t he?”
Ron hesitated, but lying wouldn’t help.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “Won’t stop talking about her, either.”
Evelyn stared at the floor, her jaw tightening. “Right.”
Ron glanced at her, shifting awkwardly. “We’re still trying to figure out what’s going on with him. We tested him for a love potion already, but it came back negative.”
Evelyn blinked, looking up at him. “You did?”
“Yeah,” Ron said, running a hand through his hair. “Ginny and the twins are determined to get to the bottom of it. We don’t think it’s normal either.”
Evelyn let out a slow breath, nodding. “Thanks.”
Ron gave her a small smile. “You’re not alone in this, you know.”
Evelyn met his eyes, and for the first time that night, her expression softened.
“I know.”
⸻
Ron was in a much better mood when he got home, even with Harry still acting weird.
Sirius and Remus had arrived not long after he got back, and as soon as he saw them, he dragged them out the back and explained what was going on. Sirius looked like he might explode but Remus — ever the logical one — understood wanting to get to the bottom of it.
For the rest of the night, they spent the evening playing ridiculous drinking games with the twins while Molly pretended not to notice. Even Percy had loosened up after a few rounds of firewhisky.
For a few hours, everything felt normal again.
Harry was still wrapped up in his own world, but Ron didn’t let it bother him. At least, not tonight.
Tonight was about his family. About Christmas.
And he wasn’t going to let Harry’s bizarre behavior ruin that.
_______________
Evelyn had always been the type to throw parties, and after spending most of Christmas wallowing in self-pity, she decided she needed a distraction. And what better way to distract herself than by surrounding herself with friends, alcohol, and loud music?
By the time New Year’s Eve rolled around, her apartment was packed with her usual group—minus Ron and Ginny, who were stuck babysitting Harry at the Burrow. Though Evelyn tried not to think too hard about why her friends weren’t here.
Fred and George had brought an alarming amount of firewhisky, Pansy had somehow charmed the entire flat to have a built-in music system, and Blaise had found himself a comfortable spot on the couch, watching the chaos unfold with his usual smirk.
Evelyn wasn’t exactly in the mood to party, but she was trying.
She danced with Theo and Daphne for a bit, let Evan drag her into a drinking contest (which she lost spectacularly), and even laughed when Pansy tried to get Blaise to loosen up and dance, only for him to disappear halfway through the song.
The alcohol was helping. At least, it was until midnight hit.
Everyone was cheering, toasting, and clinking glasses, but Evelyn barely heard it over the ringing in her ears.
Because midnight meant a new year.
And a new year meant Harry was starting it with someone else.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and downed the rest of her drink, feeling the burn as she turned away from the crowd.
She needed air.
The party eventually died down, and people started heading home, leaving behind a mess of half-empty glasses and discarded coats.
Fred had been the last to leave, drunkenly saluting her before apparating away, leaving only Evelyn and George behind.
She had been about to tell him to leave too, but instead, she found herself leaning against the kitchen counter, gripping the edge as she kissed him.
It was rushed and messy, fueled more by alcohol and frustration than anything else, but neither of them seemed to care. He lifted her onto the counter and she wrapped her legs around his back, pulling him closer.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Evelyn knew this probably wasn’t the healthiest way to deal with her emotions.
She also didn’t care.
She just needed to feel something other than heartbreak. And George was more than willing to help with that.
_______________
Harry had never been happier.
Everything about Rachel felt perfect—like she had always been meant to be a part of his life, even if he couldn’t quite remember when she had arrived. He spent every waking moment that he could with her, talking, laughing, kissing. The world seemed brighter when she was around, as if nothing else mattered but the way her hand felt in his, the way she smiled at him, the way her touch sent warmth through his veins.
The only problem was that no one else seemed to be happy about it.
Harry sat at the kitchen table, absentmindedly stirring his tea as the voices around him blurred into background noise. It wasn’t until Bill nudged his arm that he realized someone had been speaking to him.
“Sorry, what?” he asked, blinking.
His eldest brother figure sighed. “I said, what’s the plan for today? Are you staying here, or running off again?”
Harry scowled. “I’m not ‘running off.’”
Bill exchanged a look with Charlie, who raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Right. Because spending every second with your new girlfriend instead of your family is completely normal.”
“She’s important to me,” Harry defended.
“So was Evelyn,” Charlie shot back, his voice sharp but not unkind.
Harry felt something in his chest tighten at the mention of her name, but the feeling passed as quickly as it had come.
Evelyn.
There was something familiar about that name. Something important.
But no matter how hard he tried to grasp at it, it slipped through his fingers like smoke.
He shook his head. It didn’t matter.
Rachel was what mattered now.
“I don’t know what you lot have against her,” he muttered, pushing away from the table. “But I don’t care. I’m going to see her.”
Before anyone could stop him, he was already out the door.
Rachel’s hand was warm in his as they strolled through the nearly empty streets, snowflakes drifting lazily through the air.
“You know,” she mused, glancing up at him with a playful smile, “your friends really don’t like me.”
Harry frowned. “That’s not true.”
She laughed. “Oh, come on. I see the way they look at me. Like I’ve stolen you away from them.”
Harry hesitated, because… wasn’t that what had happened?
Hadn’t he willingly left them behind? Chosen Rachel over them?
A flicker of doubt wormed its way into his mind, but then Rachel was tugging him closer, her lips brushing against his in a way that made everything else disappear.
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “As long as we have each other, nothing else matters.”
And just like that, the doubt was gone.
The tension in the house was suffocating.
Ron barely spoke to him. The twins watched him with unreadable expressions. Ginny wouldn’t even look at him.
Even Hermione, who had always been the one to give him the benefit of the doubt, looked worried every time their eyes met.
It was driving him insane.
“Alright, what is it?” he snapped one evening as he stormed into the twins’ room, where Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George were gathered.
The four of them exchanged glances before Ron sighed. “Mate, we’re worried about you.”
Harry scoffed. “Worried about me? What for?”
“Because you’re acting weird,” Ginny said bluntly, crossing her arms. “Like, really weird.”
“Excuse me for being happy for once,” he shot back.
“That’s not what this is,” Fred said, leaning forward. “You’re obsessed with this girl, Harry. It’s not normal.”
Harry clenched his jaw. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ron ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “Then explain it to us. Explain why you suddenly don’t care about Evelyn. Why you don’t even seem to remember her half the time.”
Evelyn. That name again.
It made something twist in his chest, something uncomfortable and foreign.
But Rachel had told him not to worry about it. Evelyn wasn’t important anymore. Rachel was.
“Look, I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Harry said, his voice tight. “I love Rachel. That’s all that matters.”
George scoffed. “You’ve known her for, what, three weeks?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does, actually,” Ginny said, her brown eyes sharp with concern. “Because this isn’t you, Harry.”
Harry gritted his teeth, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “I’m done with this conversation.”
And without another word, he turned and walked out, ignoring the voices calling after him.
He didn’t need their approval.
He didn’t need anyone but Rachel.
Rachel was curled up against his side on the sofa in her house, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his arm.
“Tell me something,” she murmured.
Harry glanced down at her. “What?”
“If you could leave everything behind and start over, just the two of us, would you?”
Harry hesitated. “Leave everything?”
She nodded. “No war. No Hogwarts. No expectations. Just us.”
Something deep inside him screamed that it was wrong. That this wasn’t who he was.
But when she looked up at him with those bright, hypnotic eyes, all of his doubts melted away.
“Yes,” he said, his voice unwavering.
Rachel smiled. “Good.”
And as the clock struck midnight, as she kissed him softly and whispered sweet nothings in his ear, Harry Potter had never been more certain that he was exactly where he was meant to be.
_________________
Evelyn paced the length of her living room, arms crossed tightly, as the rest of the group watched her from where they were gathered around the room. Every seat was taken, and some of them—Fred, George, Ron, and Theo—had resorted to sitting on the floor. The tension in the air was thick, heavier than it had been in weeks.
“We need to do something,” Evelyn finally said, breaking the silence. “This isn’t just Harry being stupid or impulsive. Something is wrong with him.”
Hermione nodded immediately, but Pansy exhaled and leaned back against the couch. “Are we sure about that? I mean, I agree that he’s been acting like an idiot, but… what if he’s just moved on?”
“No,” Evelyn said firmly, shaking her head. “He doesn’t just forget people. He doesn’t throw away years of friendships over a girl none of us even knew existed before this.” She turned to Ron, Hermione, and the twins. “You’ve been living with him. Tell me honestly—has he acted remotely like himself since this started?”
Ron frowned. “No,” he admitted. “At first, I thought it was just him being all… lovesick. But it’s not just that. It’s like he barely remembers things that should matter to him. And when we asked him about you, Evie, he seemed confused. Like he didn’t even know who you were for a second.”
Evelyn’s stomach twisted, but she pushed forward. “That’s not normal.”
“It’s not,” Hermione agreed. “And I’ve been trying to think of any logical explanation, but none of it makes sense.”
“Unless…” George shifted where he sat, exchanging a look with Fred. “Well, unless a certain someone made him feel this way.”
The room went silent.
“What do you mean?” Daphne asked slowly.
Fred sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “We didn’t want to say anything until we were sure, but we ran a test on Harry a few days ago. A love potion test.”
Evelyn’s breath caught, but before she could react, George shook his head. “It came back negative. There’s no love potion in his system.”
For a second, no one spoke. Then Blaise muttered, “Shit.”
“A spell, then?” Theo suggested. “Something that’s messing with his memory or emotions?”
“It could be,” Hermione said, eyes sharp with thought. “There are a number of ways to manipulate emotions with magic. Enchantments, compulsion charms, even certain types of dark magic.”
“But we don’t know that it’s magic,” Daphne pointed out.
“Well, what else could it be?” Ron demanded.
The room fell silent again. No one had an answer.
Evelyn took a breath, steadying herself. “Then we need to find one. We need to figure out who this Rachel girl is, what she’s done to him, and how we fix it.”
Fred cracked his knuckles. “Sounds like a job for some good old-fashioned investigating.”
George grinned. “Oh, you know we love a bit of mischief.”
Evan smirked. “I say we start by tracking this girl down.”
Hermione nodded. “Agreed. If we can learn more about her, we might be able to piece together what’s going on.”
Pansy crossed her arms. “And if she is behind this, then what?”
Evelyn’s expression hardened. “Then we stop her.”
No one argued.
Because whether they wanted to admit it or not, they all knew—something was very, very wrong with Harry Potter. And they weren’t going to sit back and let it continue.
_______________
A couple of nights later, Evelyn found herself pressed against George again, the familiar rush of heat and desperation between them. It wasn’t about love, and it never had been—it was about release, about escaping for a little while. George understood that just as well as she did.
Afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, the room silent except for their slowed breathing. Evelyn stared at the ceiling, her mind already pulling her back to reality—to Harry, to whatever had happened to him, to the fight ahead.
George propped himself up on one elbow, watching her. “You’re thinking about him again.”
She turned her head toward him, exhaling. “Yeah.”
He nodded, as if he’d expected nothing else. “You gonna keep trying to fix him?”
“Of course.” She met his gaze, determined. “I’m not giving up on him.”
George studied her for a long moment before sighing and flopping back onto the mattress. “Then we should probably stop this, yeah?”
Evelyn hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. We should.”
A smirk tugged at his lips. “Shame. You’re a good shag.”
She rolled her eyes, elbowing him lightly. “And you’re an idiot.”
George chuckled before sobering slightly. “I meant it, you know. I don’t regret this.”
Evelyn turned onto her side, propping her head on her hand. “Neither do I. Now, go off and find yourself a girlfriend.”
George just leaned his head back and laughed again.
It hadn’t been love, nowhere near, but it had been something—a way to stay afloat when she’d felt like she was drowning. And for that, she was grateful.
_________________
The return to Hogwarts after the holidays was, as always, a mix of chaos and routine. Snow still blanketed the grounds, and the Great Hall was filled with warm, golden light as students streamed in for breakfast on the first morning back. Evelyn sat with her usual group at their usual table, stirring her tea absentmindedly as she listened to Pansy complain about having to wake up early again.
Despite the normalcy of their surroundings, tension simmered beneath the surface. Everyone in their group was still keeping a close eye on Harry—and, more importantly, on Rachel.
“She’s watching us,” Daphne murmured as she leaned in slightly, her gaze flicking toward the table across the hall.
Evelyn followed her line of sight and found Rachel sitting close to Harry, her hand resting lightly on his arm as she whispered something in his ear. The sight made Evelyn’s stomach churn. Harry barely acknowledged his friends anymore, spending nearly every waking moment with Rachel. The worst part was that he looked… happy.
Or at least, he looked like he thought he was happy.
“She’s been watching us for days,” Blaise muttered. “Ever since we started getting suspicious.”
“She knows we’re onto her,” Theo said, voice low.
Evelyn exhaled, setting down her teacup with more force than necessary. “Then we need to figure this out before she realizes how close we are.”
The others nodded, and as they all got up to head to their first classes of the term, Evelyn caught one last glance at Harry. He hadn’t even looked in her direction once.
This wasn’t him. And she wasn’t going to stop until she got him back.
Later that evening, Evelyn found herself in the Room of Requirement, pacing in front of the large fireplace. She had come here to clear her mind, but it was proving impossible. Every thought kept circling back to Harry, to Rachel, to the way he had barely looked at her all day. She’d accepted that he wasn’t acting like himself, but the longer this went on, the more frustrated she became.
The door suddenly slammed open, and Blaise and Draco rushed in, both looking winded as if they had just sprinted across the castle.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Blaise panted, doubling over with his hands on his knees.
Draco, slightly less out of breath, stalked toward Evelyn. “We know what’s wrong with Harry.”
Evelyn’s heart skipped a beat. “Tell me.”
Blaise straightened, running a hand through his hair. “It’s Rachel. Or rather, it’s her mother.”
Evelyn frowned. “Her mother?”
Draco nodded sharply. “We did some digging. Rachel’s father left her mother when she was a child—but not before her mother used a spell on him. A mind-altering spell. Forced him to fall in love with her and have a child together until he eventually broke free and ran for it.”
Evelyn stiffened. “You’re saying—”
“That Rachel learned the same spell,” Blaise finished grimly.
Draco clenched his jaw. “Think about it, Evelyn. Rachel grew up obsessed with Harry. Her mother was obsessed with him. And when Harry ended up with you, she backed off—for a while. But now? Now she’s got him wrapped around her finger, and he acts like you don’t exist.”
Evelyn felt cold all over. She gripped the back of a chair to steady herself, trying to breathe through the rush of emotions threatening to overtake her. “So she’s done the same thing to Harry,” she whispered.
Draco crossed his arms. “That’s what we think. It makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Evelyn swallowed hard, her mind racing. It did make sense. Every moment of Harry’s bizarre behavior suddenly clicked into place.
Blaise looked between them. “So, what do we do about it?”
Evelyn straightened. There was only one answer to that.
“We break the spell.”
Draco scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Right. Because breaking an advanced mind-altering spell is so easy.”
Evelyn shot him a sharp look. “It doesn’t matter if it’s difficult. We’re doing it.”
Blaise frowned. “Do we even know how to break it? Her father eventually broke out of it, but that could have taken years.”
Evelyn exhaled slowly, trying to think. “We need more information. If her mother used this spell, then there has to be some kind of record of it.”
Draco nodded. “The library. If it’s Dark Magic, it won’t be in the regular section, but the Restricted Section might have something.”
Blaise smirked. “I do love a good rule-breaking session.”
Evelyn didn’t smile. “This isn’t a joke, Blaise. We need to act fast. Who knows what else Rachel could be making him do?”
Draco sighed. “Fine. But we need to be careful. If she realizes we’re onto her, she might tighten her hold on him.”
Blaise cracked his knuckles. “Then we better get moving.”
Evelyn nodded, determination settling in her chest. She didn’t care how long it took, or how difficult it was. She was getting Harry back.
⸻
Deep within the shadows of an ancient manor, Voldemort sat in his high-backed chair, fingers steepled as he listened to the hushed voices around him.
Lucius Malfoy stood near the fireplace, his posture rigid, while Bellatrix Lestrange leaned against the wall, a manic glint in her eyes.
“She’ll come for her,” Bellatrix whispered, almost singing the words. “She won’t be able to help herself.”
Lucius inclined his head. “Evelyn McCrae is many things, my Lord, but she is predictable. If we take the Lovegood girl, she will come.”
Voldemort allowed a thin smile to curl his lips. “And when she does,” he murmured, “we will be ready.”
His red eyes gleamed in the dim light. Soon, the girl would come to him. And when she did, she would not leave alive.
_______________
Later that night, Evelyn, Draco, and Blaise met in the dimly lit corridors outside the library. The castle was quiet, the only sounds being the occasional shifting of portraits and the distant creaks of the old stone walls.
Draco held up a small piece of parchment. “I swiped this from Pince’s desk earlier. It’s a list of restricted books that have been checked out in the past fifty years.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “And how did you get that?”
Draco smirked. “I have my ways.”
Blaise grinned. “You mean Theo stole it for you.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Details.” He handed the list to Evelyn. “There’s one book that stands out—Binding of the Mind: Curses and Charms of Influence. Someone checked it out about 20 years ago.”
Evelyn’s stomach twisted. “Let me guess—Rachel’s mother?”
Draco nodded. “Cassandra Wren. She checked it out in her seventh year.”
Blaise whistled. “So she’s been dabbling in mind magic since Hogwarts. That means she’s had years to perfect it.”
Evelyn exhaled sharply. “Then we need that book.”
Draco glanced at the heavy iron gates of the Restricted Section. “And we’re breaking in how, exactly?”
Blaise smirked, pulling a thin, silver hairpin from his pocket. “I have a way.”
Evelyn stared at him. “Are you seriously about to pick a magical lock?”
Blaise waggled the hairpin between his fingers with a smug grin. “I have a variety of skills, McCrae. Picking locks just happens to be one of them.”
Draco folded his arms, unimpressed. “It’s a magical lock, Zabini. You can’t just pick it like some common muggle door.”
Blaise gave him a look before crouching in front of the gate, slipping the pin into the keyhole. “Have a little faith.”
Evelyn and Draco exchanged a doubtful glance, but before either of them could say anything, Blaise twisted the pin in one sharp motion. There was a barely audible click, and the lock unlatched.
Draco’s jaw dropped. “How—”
Blaise smirked. “Theo and I figured out that if you disrupt the magic’s binding with a precise non-magical tool, the wards don’t register it as an actual attack. It’s like slipping in through the backdoor while the house thinks you’re still outside.”
Evelyn snorted. “You sound like a thief.”
“I prefer opportunist.” Blaise pushed the door open, motioning for them to follow.
They slipped inside, the dim candlelight flickering across endless rows of dust-covered tomes. The air smelled of parchment, aged ink, and faint traces of preservation charms.
Draco pulled out his wand. “Alright, let’s find Binding of the Mind before Filch shows up.”
They split up, moving carefully between the towering shelves. Evelyn ran her fingers over the spines of books as she searched. Many of the titles were unsettling—Maledictions of the Mind, The Art of Bewitchment, Hexes That Whisper.
After a few tense minutes, Blaise let out a triumphant whisper. “Got it.”
Evelyn and Draco hurried over as he pulled a thick, leather-bound tome from the shelf. The title was embossed in deep red, almost like dried blood.
Evelyn took the book from Blaise and flipped through the pages, scanning for anything about the spell Cassandra Wren might have used. Her breath caught as she landed on a section titled Eternal Devotion: The Curse of Unbreakable Affection.
Draco read over her shoulder. “That sounds disturbingly relevant.”
Evelyn’s fingers tightened on the page. “It’s not a love potion. It’s a curse.”
Blaise frowned. “Meaning?”
She swallowed hard. “Meaning it’s not something that fades over time. If Rachel used this on Harry, then it won’t wear off. It has to be broken.”
Draco’s expression darkened. “And how do we do that?”
Evelyn’s eyes darted down to the instructions. The blood drained from her face. “It says… breaking the curse could result in serious mental damage if not done carefully.”
Blaise exhaled sharply. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”
Draco clenched his fists. “Then we have to find a way to break it without hurting him. Because if we don’t, Harry’s mind is going to be locked to Rachel forever.”
Evelyn shut the book with a determined look. “Then we’d better get to work.”
_________________
The Gryffindor common room was alive with warmth and laughter, but Harry hardly noticed. He sat curled up in one of the plush armchairs, Rachel leaning against his side, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on the back of his hand. The fire crackled in the hearth, filling the room with a golden glow.
Everything felt… right. At least, it should have.
Harry glanced down at Rachel, who smiled up at him with that sweet, adoring look she always had. He squeezed her hand, but something in his gut twisted uncomfortably. A vague, nagging feeling sat in his chest, like he had forgotten something important. Or someone.
“Harry?” Rachel’s voice was soft, pulling him back. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” he answered automatically, but his voice didn’t sound convincing.
Rachel tilted her head, studying him with concern. “You’ve been distracted lately.”
“I’m fine,” he repeated, but even as he said it, his stomach churned.
Rachel didn’t press further, instead shifting to rest her head against his shoulder. She felt warm, familiar. But the more Harry sat there, the heavier the unease became, pressing against his ribs.
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “I think I need some air.”
Rachel blinked up at him. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“No,” he said quickly. “I just… I just need to walk for a bit.”
She hesitated but nodded. “Alright. Don’t stay out too long.”
Harry forced a smile, then got up and slipped out of the common room.
The corridors were mostly empty at this hour, just a few students here and there making their way back to their dorms. Harry didn’t have a destination in mind, only the overwhelming urge to move. His feet carried him down the staircases, past the Great Hall, and out into the crisp winter night.
The Quidditch pitch loomed in the distance, silent and untouched beneath the pale glow of the moon. He stepped onto the field, the familiar scent of grass and cold air filling his lungs. He walked slowly at first, dragging his fingers along the wooden railing of the stands, then picked up pace, letting his feet carry him in lazy circles around the pitch.
It helped, a little. The movement, the openness. But the feeling still gnawed at him.
What is wrong with me?
His mind flitted to Rachel—her soft kisses, the way she laughed, the warmth of her hand in his. He loved her. Didn’t he?
Then why did it feel like something was missing?
Harry stopped walking, staring up at the goalposts. His heartbeat was steady, his breath even. But something inside of him wasn’t steady. There was a hole—one he couldn’t explain.
A memory flickered at the edge of his thoughts. A different night. A different feeling.
Laughter. A voice, teasing but warm.
He squeezed his eyes shut. The memory was gone before he could grasp it.
Harry exhaled sharply and turned back toward the castle. His body felt restless, his nerves buzzing as he walked back inside. His feet moved on their own, guiding him through the corridors, up staircases, down winding hallways.
Then he stopped.
The Room of Requirement stood before him, the familiar stretch of blank wall waiting.
Before he could question why he was here, he paced back and forth three times, the door appearing in front of him. He pushed it open and stepped inside.
And froze.
The room had transformed into something entirely unexpected. A vast, frozen lake stretched before him, illuminated by floating lanterns. A gentle snowfall drifted from the ceiling, casting a soft, silvery haze over the scene. Wooden benches lined the edges, and in the middle of the ice was an abandoned pair of skates.
A strange sense of déjà vu washed over him.
Harry took a few cautious steps forward, his breath forming soft clouds in the cold air. He didn’t understand why this place felt familiar, but his chest tightened as he gazed at the scene. He sat down on one of the benches, his hands resting on his knees.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours.
But the longer he stayed, the more something inside him shifted. Then, like a dam breaking, the memories flooded in.
Laughter echoing across the ice.
A warm hand clasped in his as he stumbled forward, trying to balance.
Bright eyes meeting his, full of affection.
A girl.
Not Rachel.
Evelyn.
His body jolted as the images played out in his mind. He knew this place. This wasn’t just any ice rink—this was their place. Their date.
Evelyn’s voice whispered through his memories. The way she had teased him about his awful balance, the way she had laughed when he nearly fell, the way she had looked at him.
More memories came, crashing over him in waves.
Evelyn, curled up beside him in the common room, reading a book while he played with her fingers. Evelyn, standing by his side, fierce and unwavering, always supporting him. Evelyn, kissing him—Merlin, the way she kissed him—like he was the only person in the world.
His chest tightened, panic clawing its way up his throat.
What have I done?
His vision blurred. He could barely breathe. His body felt wrong, like he wasn’t in control of himself.
And then—
The memory of him kissing Rachel.
But this time, he saw it differently. He saw the way Evelyn had looked at him when she saw. The hurt, the devastation in her eyes.
The weight of it crushed him.
“No,” Harry gasped, stumbling to his feet. He felt weak, his head spinning.
What have I done?
The Room of Requirement blurred around him as he forced himself toward the door. His legs felt like lead, his heart hammering wildly.
His feet carried him out into the corridor, down the staircases, past the Great Hall. He wasn’t thinking anymore—just moving, desperately, toward one place.
The entrance to the Slytherin common room.
He knocked, hard, his vision swaying.
The stone door slid open, and the last thing he saw was Theo’s shocked face before his body gave out beneath him.
He barely managed to choke out one word before everything went dark.
“…Evelyn.”
Theo barely had time to react before Harry’s body crumpled forward. Instinctively, he caught him, his arms struggling to support Harry’s full weight as he sagged against him.
“What the hell—?” Theo staggered back, adjusting his grip. Harry was out cold, his breathing ragged, his face unnaturally pale.
“Who is it?” Blaise’s voice came from deeper inside the common room. He and Daphne were seated by the fire, a game of chess abandoned between them.
Theo barely had the presence of mind to respond. “It’s Harry.”
Daphne shot to her feet. “What?”
The entrance was still open, and the cold air from the corridor seeped into the common room as Theo struggled to pull Harry inside. Blaise rushed over to help, looping one of Harry’s arms over his shoulder.
“He just collapsed,” Theo said, guiding Harry toward one of the empty sofas. His hands were trembling slightly as he eased Harry down. “He said Evelyn’s name before he fainted.”
Daphne let out a sharp breath. “Get Evelyn. Now.”
Theo didn’t waste a second. He turned and ran toward the staircase leading to the girls’ dorms, taking the steps two at a time. He barely paused before banging on Evelyn’s door.
“Evelyn! Open up!”
A muffled groan came from inside, followed by footsteps. A moment later, the door swung open, revealing a very tired and very annoyed Evelyn.
“Theo, what the fu—?”
“It’s Harry,” Theo interrupted, his voice urgent. “He’s here. He collapsed.”
Evelyn’s exhaustion vanished instantly. “What?”
Theo didn’t need to say anything else. Evelyn shoved past him, practically sprinting down the stairs.
By the time she reached the common room, Blaise had managed to prop Harry up slightly, but he was still out cold. His breathing was steady, but his face remained pale, his brows furrowed as if he was in pain.
Evelyn dropped to her knees beside the sofa, her heart hammering. “What happened?”
“He knocked on the entrance,” Theo said. “The second I opened it, he just—” He gestured at Harry’s unconscious form. “Dropped.”
Evelyn reached forward hesitantly, her fingers brushing against Harry’s wrist. His pulse was erratic, but he wasn’t feverish.
Daphne crouched beside her. “We should wake him up.”
Evelyn nodded. “Harry,” she said softly, pressing her hand against his shoulder. “Come on, wake up.”
He didn’t stir.
Evelyn swallowed. She shook him lightly. “Harry, it’s me.”
A small noise left his throat. His eyes squeezed shut, his breathing shallow.
“Evelyn?”
His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but it sent a shock through her.
“I’m here,” she said quickly. “I’m right here.”
His eyelids fluttered, and slowly—painfully—he forced them open. His green eyes met hers, dazed and unfocused at first, but then—
Recognition.
And then, panic.
Harry shot upright, gasping for breath, his entire body trembling. Evelyn barely had time to react before his hands shot out, gripping her arms, his fingers digging in desperately.
“I remember,” he choked out, his voice shaking. “Evelyn—I remember everything.”
Evelyn felt the world tilt.
Harry’s grip tightened as he stared at her, his eyes wild. “The ice rink—I saw it—I remember—” His words tumbled out, frantic. “I love you—I’ve always loved you—I don’t know what happened—why I—” His breath hitched. “I kissed Rachel. I kissed Rachel.”
The anguish in his voice was almost unbearable.
Evelyn’s chest ached. “Harry—”
“I hurt you,” he whispered. “I hurt you.”
His hands trembled against her arms. His entire body looked like it was on the verge of collapsing again, but he wouldn’t let go.
Evelyn swallowed past the lump in her throat. “You weren’t yourself,” she said quietly.
Harry shook his head violently. “I should have known.” His eyes were glassy, raw with emotion. “I should have felt it. But I didn’t, and I—” His breath shuddered. “I ruined everything.”
Evelyn exhaled shakily, her fingers hesitating before reaching up to cup his face. He stilled under her touch, his breath uneven.
“You didn’t ruin everything,” she whispered.
Harry looked at her, desperate. “How can you say that?”
Because he was here. Because he remembered.
Because, despite everything, she still loved him.
Tears burned at the edges of her vision, but she blinked them away. “We’ll fix this,” she said softly. “Together.”
Harry let out a shuddering breath, his forehead dropping against hers. His fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeves, holding on as if she was the only thing keeping him steady.
Evelyn closed her eyes and held him back.
No matter what had happened—no matter what had been done to him—
She wasn’t letting him go again.
Theo and Blaise wasted no time helping Harry to his feet, supporting him between them. He was still trembling, barely able to stand, and Evelyn’s stomach twisted as she saw how much effort it took for him to remain conscious.
Draco stepped forward. “We need to get him out of here,” he said firmly. “The common room isn’t safe if Rachel finds out what’s happening.”
Evelyn nodded. “The Room of Requirement.”
Without hesitation, they started moving, Theo and Blaise practically carrying Harry as they left the Slytherin common room and made their way through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts. Evelyn walked ahead, keeping an eye out for anyone who might see them, while Draco kept glancing over his shoulder, wary of every shadow.
When they reached the seventh floor, Evelyn paced three times in front of the blank stretch of wall, focusing on what they needed. A moment later, a door appeared, and she pushed it open, revealing exactly what she had hoped for—a private, cozy hospital room.
The walls were lined with bookshelves and soft lighting, a large four-poster bed at the center, draped in warm blankets. There was a fireplace at one end of the room, casting a golden glow over the space, and a table with various healing potions laid out.
“Get him to the bed,” Evelyn said, rushing forward.
Theo and Blaise carefully lowered Harry onto the mattress. He let out a quiet groan, his eyes fluttering shut, but he didn’t pass out again.
“I’ll get Snape,” Daphne announced. She turned on her heel and disappeared out the door.
“I’ll get the others,” Pansy added, already heading off. “They need to know.”
That left the four of them with Harry, who was still pale and trembling as he lay back against the pillows. His breathing was shallow, his eyelids flickering, and Evelyn had never seen him look this weak before.
She pulled a chair up beside the bed and reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re safe now,” she whispered, but she wasn’t sure if he could even hear her.
Theo grabbed one of the potions from the bedside table and passed it to Blaise. “This should help,” he said. “It’s a basic restorative draught. He needs strength after breaking the curse on his own.”
Blaise uncorked the bottle and leaned over Harry. “Come on, mate, drink up,” he urged, carefully tipping the vial against Harry’s lips.
Harry groaned slightly but swallowed the potion, his throat working slowly.
Evelyn clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to cry. This was her Harry—the real Harry—back where he belonged. And he had fought through it alone.
Draco crossed his arms, his expression unusually solemn. “I can’t believe he managed to break it on his own. If Rachel used the same magic her mother did on her father, then it wasn’t just some cheap love potion. It was dark magic. Harry should’ve needed outside help.”
“He’s always been stubborn,” Theo muttered, shaking his head. “If anyone could fight through something like this, it would be him.”
They didn’t have long to dwell on it before the door swung open again, and Snape strode in, his robes billowing behind him. Daphne was right on his heels, looking slightly out of breath.
Snape’s sharp gaze swept the room before landing on Harry. In an instant, he was beside the bed, pulling out his wand. “Explain,” he demanded, though his tone lacked its usual bite.
“He broke the spell,” Evelyn said, still gripping Harry’s hand. “It was all him.”
Snape pressed his lips together and began waving his wand over Harry’s body, his expression darkening with each diagnostic spell. The room was silent, save for the occasional flicker of flames from the fireplace.
After a moment, Snape exhaled sharply through his nose. “His magic is depleted. More so than I would have expected, even under these circumstances.” He lowered his wand and glanced at Evelyn. “He won’t be able to use magic for at least a few days. Possibly longer.”
Evelyn’s grip on Harry’s hand tightened. “But he’ll recover, right?”
Snape nodded. “Yes. But he needs rest. And I assume none of you want to risk sending him back to his dormitory.”
“He stays here,” Evelyn said firmly.
Snape studied her for a long moment before giving a curt nod. “Very well. I’ll inform Professor McGonagall of the situation. And the Aurors need to be alerted—Rachel must be taken into custody at once.”
Draco scoffed. “I’d love to see her try to talk her way out of this one.”
Snape turned to leave, but not before fixing Evelyn with a measured look. “Make sure he doesn’t exert himself. The last thing we need is him worsening his condition with reckless behavior.”
Evelyn barely acknowledged him as he left. Her eyes were locked on Harry, silently willing him to wake up and look at her the way he used to—the way he was supposed to.
And for the first time in weeks, she finally had hope.
________________
Harry stirred, his brow furrowing slightly before his eyelids fluttered open. His vision was blurry at first, but the soft glow of candlelight and the familiar warmth of a hand wrapped around his grounded him.
His gaze landed on Evelyn. She was sitting beside him, her head resting on their intertwined hands, her eyes closed. She looked exhausted, but even in her sleep, her grip on him never loosened.
Harry swallowed, his throat dry. He shifted slightly, and the movement must have woken her because she inhaled sharply, blinking her eyes open.
“Harry?” Her voice was hoarse with sleep, but the relief in it was unmistakable.
Harry licked his lips, trying to speak. His voice was weaker than he expected, but the words came out anyway. “Evelyn… I—” His throat tightened as the memories hit him all over again. Everything came rushing back—the curse, Rachel, the way he had treated Evelyn, the hurt in her eyes when he kissed someone else.
His heart clenched painfully, and his grip on her hand tightened. “I am so, so sorry.”
Evelyn just stared at him for a moment, eyes searching his face like she needed to make sure he was really here. Then, before he could say anything else, she exhaled a shaky breath and leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his.
“You absolute idiot,” she murmured.
Harry let out a weak chuckle, the sound rough but real. “Yeah. I really am.”
Evelyn leaned back slightly, looking him over with a mix of fondness and exasperation. “You scared the hell out of me, you know that?”
“I know,” Harry admitted. “I can’t even imagine what these past few weeks have been like for you.” He swallowed hard. “Evelyn, I didn’t—I would never—”
She shook her head. “I know, Harry. I know it wasn’t really you.”
Harry let out a slow breath. He still felt drained, like all the energy had been sucked out of him, but the weight on his chest felt lighter now.
“Tell me everything,” he said. “What happened while I was—” He hesitated, unable to even say the words.
Evelyn squeezed his hand. “The others are at breakfast right now, but they’ll be back soon. We can go over everything then. For now, just… just rest, okay?”
Harry looked at her, at the way her eyes softened as she brushed a stray piece of hair from his forehead. He didn’t deserve her, not after everything, but she was here. She was still here.
“Stay with me?” he asked softly.
Evelyn smiled, nodding as she settled back into her chair, her fingers never leaving his. “Always.”
A while later, the door to the Room of Requirement creaked open, and Harry turned his head just in time to see the rest of his friends file in. Ron and Hermione were leading the way, both looking relieved and slightly apprehensive. Fred and George followed, their usual grins replaced with something softer, and Ginny, Neville, and Luna came in just behind them.
Theo, Blaise, Draco, Pansy, and Daphne entered last, and Harry felt an odd sort of warmth settle in his chest. They had all been here. They had all stayed by his side.
“You’re awake,” Ron said, dropping into the chair next to Evelyn. His voice was casual, but Harry could see the tension in his shoulders.
“Yeah,” Harry said, glancing at Evelyn before looking back at the others. “And I know something was wrong with me, but I need to hear the full story.”
Hermione nodded, her expression serious. “It started when we got back from the holidays. You were different, Harry. You were still… you, but you weren’t acting like yourself. You were obsessed with Rachel in a way that didn’t make sense.”
“At first, we thought you were just lovesick,” Ginny added, crossing her arms. “Which was annoying, but not unheard of.”
Ron made a face. “Yeah, mate, you wouldn’t shut up about her.”
Harry grimaced. “Right.”
“But then we started thinking something was off,” Theo cut in, leaning against the wall. “You weren’t just infatuated—you were acting like she was the only thing that mattered.”
Pansy scoffed. “And you were being a right prat about it too, if we’re being honest.”
Harry rubbed his temples, guilt sinking into his bones. “Yeah, I think I remember that part.”
“Fred and I tested you for love potions,” George said. “The result was negative, but we knew something was still wrong.”
Blaise crossed his arms. “Draco and I did some digging. Turns out, Rachel’s mum pulled the same stunt with her dad. She used a mind-altering spell to make him fall in love with her. It wore off eventually, and he left, but Rachel grew up being told she was supposed to be with you. When you and Evelyn got together, she backed off, but clearly, she found another way.”
Draco frowned. “We think she used the same spell on you. It wasn’t a love potion—those are temporary and detectable. This was deeper.”
“A compulsion,” Daphne supplied. “Something designed to rewire the way you think about her.”
Harry let out a slow breath, trying to process it all. “So, she used magic to make me feel like I was in love with her?”
“Yeah,” Evelyn murmured, her voice soft. “And it worked.”
Harry felt like he might be sick. He looked around the room at his friends, at the people who had stood by him even when he had treated them horribly.
“How did I break it?” he asked.
“You remembered us,” Draco said simply.
“You remembered Evelyn,” Pansy corrected, arching a brow.
Harry swallowed hard, the weight of it all pressing down on him. “I—I hurt all of you. I hurt her.” He looked at Evelyn, his stomach twisting. “I’m so sorry.”
Evelyn met his gaze, her eyes full of understanding. “You weren’t in control, Harry. We know that now.”
“But still—”
“Enough,” Ron cut him off. “You broke out of it on your own. That’s what matters.”
Hermione nodded. “And Rachel is being arrested. McGonagall and the Aurors are handling it now.”
Harry exhaled, feeling exhaustion settle into his bones again. He had a lot to process, but one thing was clear—he had the best friends in the world.
And he would never take them for granted again.
Chapter 97: If? Alright, when.
Chapter Text
The Great Hall had been transformed once again into a training ground. The tables had been pushed against the walls, leaving a vast open space for dueling, spellwork, and tactical exercises. The enchanted ceiling reflected a pale winter sky, wisps of cloud shifting lazily above them.
Harry stood at the front of the group, his wand in hand, watching as everyone paired off to practice. It had been nearly two weeks since he had broken free from Rachel’s curse, and he was finally back to full strength. More importantly, he and Evelyn were back to normal.
She stood across from him, arms crossed, a smirk playing at her lips. “You ready to prove you’re actually recovered, Potter?”
Harry rolled his eyes at her teasing use of his last name. “I’ve been ready. Question is—are you ready?”
Before Evelyn could respond, McGonagall clapped her hands loudly. “Alright, let’s get going! Everyone pick a partner, defensive spells only to start.”
Around them, pairs formed quickly. Hermione was facing off against Neville, Ron was with Daphne, and the twins had decided to take on Draco and Blaise together, much to their opponents’ irritation.
Harry and Evelyn took their places, both raising their wands. The familiar thrill of a duel buzzed in Harry’s veins as Evelyn made the first move.
“Expelliarmus!” she called, sending a precise, powerful disarming charm his way.
Harry dodged with ease, countering with a quick Protego before stepping forward. “Come on, you can do better than that.”
Evelyn narrowed her eyes, flicking her wand sharply. “Stupefy!”
Harry sidestepped the red jet of light and sent a Rictusempra back at her. Evelyn twisted out of the way, her movements fluid and controlled. The two of them continued their duel, each testing the other, pushing faster and harder with every spell.
Around them, the rest of the group was deep in their own practice. Ginny was dueling Pansy with surprising ferocity, while Luna had charmed several floating objects to act as obstacles for her opponent, which had Theo muttering curses under his breath as he tried to get around them.
After several minutes, Harry and Evelyn were both breathless, grinning at each other.
“I think that’s enough,” she said, lowering her wand.
Harry mirrored her stance. “You’re just saying that because you knew I was about to win.”
Evelyn scoffed. “Keep telling yourself that.”
They were interrupted by Fred and George, who had finished their match and were watching the chaos unfold. “Alright, lovebirds,” Fred called, “since you two are done flirting with spellwork, why don’t you help us set up the next round?”
Evelyn rolled her eyes but nudged Harry playfully. “Come on, lovebird, let’s get to work.”
Harry shook his head fondly as they joined the others. Training was back in full force, and things finally felt right again.
_______________
The morning sun was bright against the snow-covered grounds as students bundled up in cloaks and scarves made their way toward Hogsmeade. Harry stood at the gates with Evelyn, watching as their friends disappeared into the crowd.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go with them?” Harry asked, glancing toward the group ahead. Ron, Hermione, and the others were already deep in conversation, likely about Zonko’s or the Three Broomsticks.
Evelyn looped her arm through his. “Nope. I’d rather spend the day with you.”
Harry grinned. “Alright, then. Let’s go.”
They wandered down the main street of Hogsmeade, hand in hand, the winter air crisp and refreshing. Unlike their last visit, which had been clouded by tension, today felt normal. No mind control, no secrecy—just them.
Their first stop was Honeydukes, where Evelyn picked out an assortment of chocolates while Harry stocked up on Fizzing Whizzbees and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. She made a face when he grabbed a box of cockroach clusters.
“Why do you do this to yourself?” she asked, eyeing them in distaste.
Harry smirked. “You never know, they could be good.”
“I highly doubt that.”
They strolled through the village, stopping by Scrivenshaft’s when Evelyn needed more ink, and then browsing Dervish & Banges, where Harry found a new set of Quidditch gloves. Eventually, they made their way to Madam Puddifoot’s, the cozy tea shop that was decorated obnoxiously in pink and frills.
Evelyn raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure you want to go in here?”
Harry hesitated. “We don’t have to—”
But she was already pulling him inside, laughing at his discomfort. “Come on, Potter. Let’s be disgustingly romantic for once.”
The tea shop was just as overly sweet as he remembered, but with Evelyn, it was different. They sat by the window, sipping tea and laughing over the exaggerated displays of affection around them. At one point, Evelyn leaned in and murmured, “Think we should start feeding each other cake?”
Harry choked on his tea. “Absolutely not.”
They spent hours together, moving from one place to another, until the sky began to darken. When they met back up with their friends outside The Three Broomsticks, Harry was feeling lighter than he had in weeks.
That was, until he saw the looks on their faces.
Ron, Hermione, Theo, and the others were clustered together, tension rolling off them in waves. Pansy was pacing, arms crossed tightly, while Neville looked pale and worried.
Harry’s stomach dropped. “What’s wrong?”
Hermione turned to them, her expression stricken.
“It’s Luna,” she said. “She’s missing.”
The group hurried back to the castle, their footsteps crunching against the snow-covered grounds as they made their way inside. The usual warmth of Hogwarts’ entrance hall did little to chase away the cold dread settling in their stomachs. No one spoke as they climbed the stairs, moving quickly toward the seventh floor.
When they reached the stretch of blank wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, Theo was the first to pace in front of it, his expression tense.
The door appeared within seconds, and they rushed inside. The Room of Requirement had transformed into a dimly lit space with plush chairs and a large table in the center, maps of Hogwarts and its surroundings already laid out, as if the room knew exactly what they needed.
Evelyn barely had time to take a seat before Hermione, visibly shaking, broke the silence.
“We need to think logically about this,” she said, but her voice wavered. “When was the last time anyone saw Luna?”
“She was with us in Hogsmeade,” Neville said, his voice tight. He looked the most distraught out of all of them. “We split up for a bit. She said she wanted to look at some jewelry shop—I didn’t think anything of it. When I went back to find her, she was just… gone.”
Pansy swore under her breath. “Who else was around? Did you see anything suspicious?”
Neville shook his head. “The village was crowded. It could’ve been anyone.”
Harry, who had been staring at the maps, exhaled sharply. “No, it couldn’t have been just anyone,” he said. “Whoever took her knew what they were doing. There weren’t any screams, no sign of a struggle. This wasn’t random.”
Evelyn met his gaze. “Then that means this was planned.”
“Exactly,” Draco muttered. His hands were clenched into fists. “And we all know who would be behind something like this.”
The room fell into silence as everyone exchanged knowing looks.
Voldemort.
“I don’t understand,” Ron said, frowning. “Why would he take Luna? She’s not part of the Order, she’s not a fighter—”
“She’s Evelyn’s friend,” Theo cut in. His expression was dark. “That’s reason enough.”
Evelyn felt something ice-cold settle in her chest. Voldemort was making a move against her. It was no coincidence that it was Luna who had been taken.
“It’s a trap,” she said quietly. “He’s using her to lure me in.”
Fred swore under his breath. “Then what do we do?”
Hermione was already thinking through possibilities. “If it’s Voldemort, then the Ministry will be useless—”
“When aren’t they?” Blaise muttered.
“We don’t have time to wait for them to act,” Hermione continued. “We have to figure out where he’s keeping her, and we have to do it fast.”
Harry, who had been silent for too long, finally spoke.
“We’re getting her back,” he said. His voice was firm, unshakable. “Whatever it takes.”
Evelyn nodded, determination settling in her bones. “Agreed.”
Now, they just had to figure out how.
The room was silent for a beat as everyone processed the weight of what they were about to do. They all knew the risks. Voldemort wouldn’t take Luna just to keep her hostage—he would use her as bait. The moment they stepped into his trap, they’d be in danger. But not going wasn’t an option.
Theo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, if we’re doing this, we need to be smart about it.”
“Agreed,” Blaise said. “We can’t just run in blindly.”
Harry looked around at the group. “First things first, we need to figure out where Voldemort is keeping her. He won’t just have her anywhere—it’ll be somewhere he has control.”
Draco leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “I might have an idea.”
All eyes turned to him.
Draco hesitated for a moment before speaking. “My father was summoned to a meeting the night before we left for Christmas break. He didn’t say much, but I overheard him mentioning something about a new safe house.” His jaw tightened. “If that’s where they’re keeping Luna, then it won’t just be Voldemort there—it’ll be Death Eaters too.”
“Do you know where it is?” Hermione asked.
Draco shook his head. “Not exactly, but I know how we can find out.”
Everyone waited for him to continue.
“I still have access to the Malfoy Manor wards,” he said. “If my father has been there recently, there might be a trace of where he went.”
Pansy frowned. “How would that help?”
Draco glanced at her. “Because if I can pick up any lingering magical signatures, we might be able to trace them back to their source.”
Hermione’s eyes lit up in understanding. “That’s brilliant—it’s just like tracking a Portkey’s residual energy!”
Blaise crossed his arms. “Okay, so let’s say we find out where she is. What’s the plan after that?”
Evelyn met his gaze. “We go in and get her out.”
Ron scoffed. “That’s not much of a plan.”
“It’s all we have right now,” Harry said. “Once we know where she is, we can figure out the details.”
George, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke up. “I don’t like this,” he admitted. “We’re walking straight into whatever Voldemort has planned.”
Fred nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I hate to say it, but this is screaming trap.”
Evelyn clenched her fists. “It is a trap. But we can’t just leave Luna.”
Neville, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly straightened. “She wouldn’t leave us,” he said simply. “So we’re not leaving her.”
That settled it.
Hermione pulled out a spare piece of parchment and started scribbling notes. “Draco, you’ll have to check the wards as soon as possible. If we can get a location by tomorrow, we can start planning a way in.”
Harry nodded. “Once we know where she is, we’ll need to figure out the security. Voldemort won’t leave her unguarded.”
Evelyn exhaled. “We’ll handle it. We have to.”
The group exchanged glances. They were in this together. No matter the risk.
The next morning, the tension was thick in the air. Everyone was on edge, waiting for Draco to report back. Breakfast was a blur—most of them barely touched their food, their thoughts too preoccupied with what lay ahead. Evelyn barely registered the conversations around her as she pushed her eggs around her plate, glancing at Draco every few minutes.
Draco, for his part, looked calm, but Evelyn knew him well enough by now to recognize the slight stiffness in his posture. He had spent the night working on tracking the magical signatures left behind in the Malfoy Manor wards, and now, they were waiting for him to tell them what he had found.
Finally, as breakfast came to an end, Draco gave a subtle nod to Evelyn. It was time.
The group made their way back to the Room of Requirement, and the moment the door sealed shut behind them, all eyes turned to Draco.
“Well?” Harry prompted, his voice tight with urgency.
Draco took a deep breath. “I found it.”
A ripple of unease passed through the group.
“Where?” Hermione asked.
Draco hesitated, then exhaled sharply. “A manor in Wiltshire. Not Malfoy Manor—another one. It’s an old property my family used to own, but it was abandoned decades ago. My father must have restored it in secret.”
Evelyn frowned. “And you’re sure she’s there?”
Draco nodded. “The magical trace I followed leads directly to that location. And there was something else.”
“What?” Ron asked.
Draco’s expression darkened. “There were multiple traces. Death Eaters have been going in and out of that place for the past few days. This isn’t just some safe house. It’s being used.”
The room went silent.
Harry clenched his fists. “Then we don’t have time to waste.”
Neville shifted in his seat. “What’s the plan, then?”
Hermione chewed on her lip. “If Voldemort is keeping Luna there, then he’s expecting us to come after her. We need to find a way in without walking right into his trap.”
Fred crossed his arms. “We’re gonna need a proper infiltration plan.”
Blaise hummed in thought. “We need to know the layout of the place first. Draco, do you remember anything about it?”
Draco exhaled. “Barely. I was young the last time I saw it. But I do know there’s an old servant’s entrance at the back. If it hasn’t been sealed, it could be our way in.”
Pansy tilted her head. “And if it has been sealed?”
“Then we make our own entrance,” Evelyn said, her voice firm.
There was a murmur of agreement.
Harry looked around the room. “We’re doing this. We’re getting her back. But we have to be smart about it. We’ll go in at night, and we’ll go in prepared.”
Hermione nodded. “We need to gather everything we might need—Potions, spellwork, anything that could give us an advantage.”
Theo sighed. “Sounds like we have a long day ahead of us.”
Evelyn met Harry’s gaze. “We’ll be ready.”
Harry nodded. “We have to be.”
_________________
The next few days were spent preparing, every moment consumed by planning and gathering the necessary supplies for their rescue mission. The Room of Requirement became their war room—tables covered in maps, stacks of books, and potion ingredients. Everyone had a role, and no one wasted any time.
Hermione, Theo, and Daphne pored over books, looking for any spells that could be useful for infiltration, defense, and countering possible traps. Hermione had even pulled out her copy of Hogwarts: A History in case there was any reference to the old manor Draco had mentioned.
“I’ve been going through defensive enchantments,” Daphne muttered, flipping through an old, leather-bound book. “If we know what kinds of wards are likely on the property, we can work around them instead of just barging in.”
Theo tapped his fingers against the table. “We should assume they’ll have anti-Apparition wards, at the very least. Probably something to prevent Disillusionment spells, too.”
Hermione nodded. “And we need to be prepared for Dark Magic.” She paused before adding grimly, “This is Voldemort we’re dealing with.”
Across the room, Draco and Blaise sketched out a rough layout of the manor, based on what Draco could remember.
“There’s an entrance here,” Draco said, pointing to the back of the house. “If it hasn’t been sealed, it’ll be our best shot. If not—”
“We make our own entrance,” Blaise finished with a smirk. “Got it.”
Pansy and Ron sat nearby, taking notes on potential escape routes.
“We need a plan for getting out fast once we have Luna,” Ron said.
Pansy hummed in agreement. “And a backup plan for if something goes wrong.”
Ron raised an eyebrow. “If?”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Fine. When.”
Fred and George took over potion-making, raiding their stock from the joke shop and brewing what they could in the Room of Requirement.
“We’ve got a couple of bottles of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder,” Fred said, shaking one vial.
“Some Skiving Snackboxes—though I don’t think pretending to vomit will help much here,” George added.
Fred grinned. “Unless we need a quick distraction.”
Meanwhile, Evelyn and Harry practiced spells. They weren’t just going in as a rescue team—they had to be prepared for a fight.
Harry stood opposite Evelyn, his wand raised. “Expelliarmus!”
She dodged, raising a shield before countering with Stupefy. Harry deflected it, sending a jinx back her way.
After nearly an hour of practice, both of them were breathless.
“We need to be ready for anything,” Harry muttered.
Evelyn nodded. “We will be.”
By the third day, everyone was on edge. The plan was as solid as it could be, but the reality of what they were about to do was setting in.
That evening, they gathered in the Room of Requirement one last time.
Harry looked around at his friends. “Tomorrow night, we get Luna back.”
There were no jokes, no hesitation. Just a room full of determined faces.
Evelyn clenched her fists. “Let’s do this.”
The Room had transformed into something warm and comfortable—a dimly lit space with a roaring fireplace, a large bed draped in soft blankets, and a quiet stillness that made the outside world feel miles away. Harry and Evelyn sat together on the edge of the bed, their fingers loosely intertwined.
Harry had insisted she stay the night, not wanting to be apart from her after everything that had happened. The weight of tomorrow loomed over them, but for now, they had a moment to themselves.
Evelyn exhaled slowly, staring down at their joined hands. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she said, her voice careful.
Harry immediately turned to her, concern flashing across his face. “What is it?”
Evelyn hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to ruin this fragile peace between them, but she knew she had to tell him. If they were going to move forward, there couldn’t be secrets between them.
“When you were under Rachel’s spell…” She took a deep breath. “I slept with George.”
She felt Harry’s hand twitch in hers, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t speak right away either, just looked at her with those sharp green eyes, waiting for her to continue.
Evelyn forced herself to hold his gaze. “I wasn’t trying to replace you. I—I missed you so much, and I was angry and hurting and…” She swallowed. “It wasn’t about love. It was about distraction. He knew that. And I ended it as soon as I decided to get over myself and fight for you.”
Harry was quiet for a long moment. His face was unreadable, but when he finally spoke, his voice was steady. “Did you think I’d be mad?”
Evelyn frowned. “Wouldn’t you be?”
Harry shook his head. “No. I mean… I don’t love the idea of it, obviously, but I get it. I wasn’t me. You were hurting, and you needed someone.” He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t blame you, Evie. Not even a little.”
Relief crashed over her, but there was still guilt lingering in her chest. “You were still my boyfriend, though.”
Harry gave her a small, sad smile. “I wasn’t. Not really. Rachel took that from us.” He squeezed her hand. “I hate that you felt like you had to go through all of that alone. I hate that I wasn’t there. But I am here now.”
Evelyn’s throat tightened. “You are.”
Harry leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. “I love you,” he murmured. “That hasn’t changed. It never will.”
Evelyn closed her eyes, letting herself sink into his warmth. “I love you too.”
They sat like that for a long time, holding onto each other in the quiet of the Room of Requirement, letting the past settle between them without letting it pull them apart.
__________________
The Room of Requirement was silent except for the crackling fire in the hearth. Everyone sat around the large wooden table, a detailed map of Wiltshire spread out before them. They had spent days preparing for this moment—training, gathering intel, and coming up with every possible scenario. But now, there was no more time to plan. It was time to act.
Evelyn stood at the head of the table, scanning the determined faces of her friends. Harry was beside her, gripping his wand tightly. Across from them, Draco pointed at the map, outlining their best entry point. Theo and Daphne double-checked the supplies, while Fred and George murmured about what explosive distractions they could bring.
Hermione tapped her wand on the map, her voice steady. “It’s the Wiltshire manor. We’ve confirmed it. That’s where they’re keeping Luna.”
Draco’s jaw was clenched. “My father’s estate is heavily warded. If we trip even one, we’re done for.”
Ron let out a frustrated sigh. “So how do we get in, then?”
Draco exhaled. “The wards recognize me. If I get close enough, I can create a temporary opening.”
“Once we’re inside,” Blaise added, “we’ll have to be quick. Lucius isn’t an idiot—he’ll have guards.”
Fred grinned. “That’s where we come in.”
Evelyn turned to Draco. “Are you sure you can do this?”
Draco nodded. “We don’t have another option.”
Harry met Evelyn’s eyes. “Then we do this tonight.”
A heavy silence filled the room. They all understood the risks—if this went wrong, they weren’t just looking at detention. They were facing Death Eaters.
But Luna was their friend.
And they were getting her back.
The night was bitterly cold, the sky pitch black as the group arrived outside the vast Wiltshire estate. A heavy mist clung to the ground, swirling around the towering iron gates.
Cloaked under Disillusionment Charms, they moved quickly, their steps silent on the frost-covered grass.
Draco led the way, his wand gripped tightly. He paused in front of a section of the wrought-iron fence, pressing his hand against the metal. The air shimmered faintly as the wards responded to his presence.
“Give me a second,” he muttered, voice low.
Evelyn held her breath as Draco whispered an incantation. The wards flickered, then a small opening appeared in the fence.
“We’re in,” he said.
One by one, they slipped through.
The estate was eerily quiet as they moved toward the back entrance. The air felt heavy, thick with lingering Dark magic.
Theo nudged Blaise. “How many guards do you think?”
Blaise’s expression was grim. “At least four patrolling the grounds. More inside.”
They reached the servant’s entrance, and Hermione quickly disabled the locking charms. The door creaked open, revealing a darkened hallway.
Harry whispered, “Stick together.”
Moving swiftly, they navigated the grand corridors. Ornate paintings lined the walls, their subjects watching with sharp, unblinking eyes. The scent of old parchment and candle wax filled the air.
Finally, they reached the lower levels—the dungeons.
“She’ll be down here,” Daphne whispered.
They reached a heavy wooden door at the end of the corridor. Evelyn stepped forward, pointing her wand at the lock.
“Alohomora.”
The lock clicked, and the door swung open.
Luna sat inside, wrists bound with enchanted ropes. Her face was pale, but when she saw them, she smiled dreamily. “Oh, good. I was hoping it would be you lot.”
Neville rushed forward, kneeling beside her. “Are you okay?”
Luna nodded. “They wanted to use me as bait. It worked quite well, don’t you think?”
Hermione moved to her side, quickly undoing the ropes.
But then a deafening alarm shattered the silence.
“Bloody hell,” Theo hissed.
Draco cursed. “We need to move!”
The heavy sound of boots echoed through the halls.
“Go, go, go!” Ron shouted.
They sprinted back the way they came. Spells flew past them as masked figures emerged from the shadows.
Fred and George hurled Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, plunging the corridor into blackness.
Just as they reached the entrance, a stunning spell hit Pansy square in the shoulder, sending her crashing into the stone wall.
“Pansy!” Evelyn skidded to a stop, grabbing her wrist.
“I’m fine,” she gritted out. But Evelyn could see the unnatural angle of her arm. It was broken.
Theo turned back to cover them, but a Death Eater slashed his wand through the air—
A streak of silver light tore through his leg.
Theo cried out, stumbling.
“Shit,” Blaise swore, catching him before he hit the ground.
Evelyn and Harry hauled Pansy to her feet while Blaise and Daphne supported Theo.
“Keep moving!” Hermione shouted.
They burst through the side entrance just as another hex exploded behind them.
Lucius Malfoy’s voice rang through the air.
“FIND THEM!”
But it was too late.
With one last push, they Disapparated.
They landed outside Hogwarts, breathless and shaking.
Luna was grinning, completely unbothered. “That was quite the adventure.”
Pansy groaned, clutching her broken arm. “Yeah. Fantastic.”
Theo winced, blood soaking through his trousers. “Remind me never to break into a Death Eater’s house again.”
Harry let out a shaky laugh, turning to Evelyn. “We did it.”
They had saved Luna.
Chapter 98: She’d be proud of you
Summary:
ahhhh my babies!!!
Chapter Text
The atmosphere at Hogwarts had shifted drastically in the days following Luna’s rescue. The castle was alive with an urgency that had never been there before. McGonagall had wasted no time in making sure that every student was as prepared as they could be for what was to come.
The Great Hall had fully transformed into a war training ground. Long tables had been pushed to the sides to create an open space where students could practice spellwork. Dueling dummies stood along the walls, charmed to fight back with unpredictable attacks. Every morning and afternoon, the hall filled with students eager—and sometimes nervous—to learn how to defend themselves.
McGonagall had introduced a new structure. Now, seventh years were invited to sit in on first- through third-year lessons to help them. It was a clever move—having older students reinforce their own skills by teaching the younger ones. It also ensured that, if Hogwarts were ever truly under attack, every student, no matter their year, would at least have some defensive knowledge.
Evelyn found herself partnered with Theo and Daphne most of the time. The three of them had naturally slipped into leadership roles, guiding the younger Slytherins while also keeping a careful eye on their own training.
Pansy, despite her broken arm, was still determined to participate. Though she couldn’t use her wand properly, she spent most of her time coaching others, shouting instructions and corrections from the sidelines.
Blaise and Draco, meanwhile, had taken a special interest in strategy lessons. They spent hours in the corner of the hall, going over McGonagall’s battlefield scenarios, mapping out potential plans of attack and defense.
And then, of course, there was Harry.
Harry had thrown himself into training more than anyone. He had healed quickly after breaking Rachel’s curse, and now it seemed as though he was making up for lost time. He was dueling anyone and everyone, testing himself, pushing his limits. Evelyn could see the determination in his eyes—the need to be ready for whatever came next.
Sometimes, she worried about him.
Other times, she admired him more than ever.
“Alright, everyone, listen up!” McGonagall’s voice rang through the hall. “Today, we will focus on counter-curses. If you do not have a partner yet, find one now!”
Evelyn turned to Theo, smirking. “Shall we?”
He sighed. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
She grinned. “Absolutely.”
The dueling pairs spread out across the Great Hall, wands at the ready. Evelyn squared off against Theo, who looked less than thrilled at the idea of being her opponent.
“You’re going easy on me,” Evelyn accused as she deflected his half-hearted Disarming Charm.
“I’m going smart on you,” Theo corrected. “There’s a difference.”
She rolled her eyes and sent a Stinging Hex at him, forcing him to dodge. “You’re holding back.”
Theo huffed, straightening up. “Fine. But when you’re flat on your back, remember you asked for it.”
The next spell came fast—too fast. Evelyn barely blocked it in time, her shield charm shimmering in the air before dissolving. Theo had picked up speed, forcing her to keep up. Their duel turned into a fast-paced exchange of spells, both of them testing each other’s reflexes.
Out of the corner of her eye, Evelyn caught a glimpse of Harry dueling Draco. Harry had always been quick on his feet, but now he was relentless. His movements were sharper, his spells landing with more force.
Draco had to work harder than ever to keep up. He parried Harry’s attacks with gritted teeth, refusing to back down.
The duels continued for nearly an hour before McGonagall finally called for a break. Students broke apart, panting and shaking their arms out from the exertion.
Evelyn made her way over to Harry, who was drinking from a conjured water flask. His forehead was damp with sweat, his breathing slightly uneven.
“You were going hard on Draco,” she commented.
Harry wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “He told me not to hold back.”
Evelyn raised a brow. “And you listened?”
Harry smiled faintly. “Maybe I needed to let off some steam.”
She didn’t push. She knew him well enough to know that he had a lot on his mind.
McGonagall was speaking again, announcing the end of training for the day. The students began filtering out of the Great Hall, some heading to the library, others straight to their common rooms to collapse from exhaustion.
Evelyn, however, had somewhere else to be.
The next Hogsmeade weekend arrived faster than expected.
While most of the students took the opportunity to visit the village, Harry had a different plan. With the help of the Marauder’s Map, he slipped away unnoticed, making his way to the Shrieking Shack where a hidden passage led him beyond Hogwarts’ wards. From there, he Apparated directly to Grimmauld Place.
Sirius was waiting for him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a grin. “Thought you’d never show up.”
Harry smirked. “Had to make sure no one saw me leave.”
Remus entered the kitchen behind Sirius, setting down a tray of tea. “You made it sound urgent in your letter. What’s on your mind?”
Harry hesitated only a second before speaking. “I want the Potter family engagement ring.”
Sirius straightened, his grin fading slightly. “You’re serious?”
Harry met his gaze. “Yeah.”
Remus looked between them, then sat down. “You’re planning on proposing to Evelyn before the war gets worse.”
Harry nodded. “I love her. I don’t want to wait until everything’s over. What if something happens? What if—”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” Sirius interrupted firmly. “But I get it.”
There was a beat of silence before Sirius pulled something from his pocket. A small, silver ring rested in the center of his palm, a delicate band with a deep blue sapphire.
“Lily gave it to me to clean for her a few days before—” His voice caught for a moment, but he pushed through. “She never got it back. I kept it.”
Harry reached out, taking the ring carefully. It was cool to the touch, the weight of it settling in his palm.
“She’d be proud of you,” Remus said softly.
Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and pocketed the ring.
Sirius clapped a hand on his shoulder. “When’s the big moment?”
Harry smirked. “Haven’t figured that out yet. Just… soon.”
Sirius grinned. “Well, you better make it good, kid.”
⸻
Back at Hogwarts, the gang gathered in the Room of Requirement. A massive table had appeared in the center of the room, covered in maps and parchment.
“We need to think bigger,” Daphne said, tapping her wand against the table. “Defending ourselves isn’t enough. We need a way to hit back.”
Draco leaned forward. “Are you suggesting we attack Voldemort’s forces first again?”
“Not exactly,” Blaise said. “But we need a new strategy.”
Harry, freshly returned from Grimmauld Place, took a seat beside Evelyn. He hadn’t told anyone about the ring yet. That moment would come later.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s figure this out.”
They spent hours mapping out possibilities. Finding weak spots in Voldemort’s network. Identifying places they could disrupt his plans without endangering civilians. It was a long discussion, full of debates and strategies.
By the time they finished, exhaustion had settled over the group.
Pansy stretched, yawning. “If we keep talking, I’m going to pass out right here.”
Evelyn smirked. “Then it’s a good thing we planned for a sleepover.”
The Room of Requirement shifted, morphing into a cozier space. Plush bedding appeared on the floor, enchanted fairy lights twinkling overhead.
The group spent the rest of the night unwinding.
Blaise and Theo pulled out a deck of exploding snap. Daphne and Pansy were trying to teach Hermione how to braid hair. Fred and George were, unsurprisingly, passing around some mysterious Weasley products they swore weren’t dangerous.
Harry just sat back, watching Evelyn laugh with Pansy, the ring in his pocket feeling heavier than ever.
As the night carried on, the stress of war planning melted away, replaced by the warmth of camaraderie. The Room of Requirement had transformed into a sprawling lounge, its soft rugs and overstuffed cushions creating a relaxed atmosphere.
“Alright,” Fred announced, standing on a conjured stool. “Since we’re all here, I think it’s time for some real entertainment.”
George grinned. “Couldn’t agree more, dear brother. May I present—our very own late-night truth or dare!”
A groan rippled through the group, but no one made a move to leave.
“I’ll go first,” Ginny said, smirking. “Blaise, truth or dare?”
Blaise, sprawled lazily on a pile of pillows, arched a brow. “Dare, obviously.”
Ginny grinned. “I dare you to let Theo put makeup on you.”
Laughter erupted, and Theo immediately grabbed his wand. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”
Blaise tried to protest, but before he knew it, his face was charmed into flawless eyeliner, glittery silver eyeshadow, and deep red lipstick.
Draco snorted. “You look absolutely stunning, Zabini.”
“Shut up,” Blaise muttered, rubbing his face, only to find the magic wouldn’t smudge.
The game carried on, each round bringing more outrageous dares and embarrassing truths. Ginny turned bright red when asked about her biggest crush in Hogwarts (she muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Neville”), and Pansy had to stand on the table and dramatically recite one of Gilderoy Lockhart’s poems from Magical Me .
Harry, sitting beside Evelyn, felt lighter than he had in weeks. Watching everyone laugh, teasing each other, pretending—just for one night—that they were normal teenagers.
As the game wound down, Evelyn leaned closer to him. “You seem quiet,” she murmured.
Harry turned his gaze to her, his heart pounding for an entirely different reason now. “Just thinking about how much I love this,” he admitted. “How much I love you.”
Evelyn’s teasing smirk softened. “Me too.”
He reached for her hand, squeezing gently. Soon.
The next morning, after a few hours of restless sleep, the group found themselves gathered around the table once more. Only this time, they weren’t just throwing out ideas—they were forming a real strategy.
“We’ve hit Death Eater strongholds before,” Theo said, pointing to a marked section on the map. “But what if we start hitting their recruitment centers?”
“Small attacks,” Hermione agreed, “to disrupt their efforts without drawing too much attention.”
Daphne leaned forward. “We have connections. We can get information before the Order does.”
Harry nodded. “We’re not just fighting to survive anymore. We’re fighting to win.”
There was a shift in the room. Determination settled into their bones.
________________
February came and went in a rush of training, strategizing, and exhaustion. There was hardly a moment to breathe between sparring sessions in the Great Hall, late-night meetings in the Room of Requirement, and the constant worry that Voldemort was gaining more power with each passing day.
The seventh years had all but abandoned their mastery coursework. At first, some professors protested, but after seeing the progress they were making in battle preparation, even McGonagall had relented. This wasn’t just about grades anymore—it was about survival.
Evelyn spent hours refining spells with Theo and Hermione, who were developing an entirely new series of defensive charms. Blaise and Daphne worked on battle formations, using books from the restricted section to create tactics that blended magic with traditional strategy. Pansy, despite her broken arm, sat in on every session, her sharp mind catching weaknesses in their plans.
Harry and Evelyn sparred together more often than not, falling back into the rhythm they had perfected over the years. Their movements were instinctive, effortless—a testament to how much they had grown since they first started training together in secret.
But even with all their efforts, an uneasy feeling hung over them like a storm cloud.
Because no matter how strong they got, Voldemort wasn’t slowing down either.
And soon, the war would truly begin.
⸻
Evelyn had been dreaming of the battlefield when the world around her shifted.
The darkened sky of her mind cleared, the cold sting of battle replaced with a warm, pulsing energy. She stood in an endless expanse of golden light, and before her, the familiar ethereal form of Lady Magic materialized.
Evelyn immediately stiffened. The last time Lady Magic had appeared to her, it had been with a warning.
This time, it wasn’t any different.
“He is growing stronger.”
Evelyn swallowed hard. “We know. We’re trying—”
“You do not have much time.” Lady Magic’s voice was layered, as though it belonged to thousands of beings at once. “You have tipped the balance, child. You are the key, but the war will take more from you than you are prepared to give.”
A cold feeling spread through Evelyn’s chest. “What does that mean?”
Lady Magic simply tilted her head, eyes swirling with galaxies. “You must keep going. You must not falter.”
Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat. “What am I meant to do?”
“You already know.”
The golden light swirled, growing brighter and brighter until it was blinding—
And then Evelyn woke up.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she sat up in bed, sweat dampening the back of her neck.
She had known this was coming. She had known from the moment she chose this path.
But the weight of it still settled on her shoulders like lead.
She had to keep going. No matter what it cost her.
⸻
After weeks of tension, the Hogsmeade trip was supposed to be a break.
A chance to relax.
A chance to be normal.
Evelyn, Harry, and the rest of the group spent the first half of the day wandering the village, stopping by Honeydukes to stock up on chocolate, and visiting Zonko’s to let the twins cause their usual havoc. The streets were packed with students, their laughter echoing off the snow-covered buildings.
For the first time in a long time, it felt like they could breathe.
Harry kept Evelyn close, his fingers interlaced with hers as they walked. He had been watching her carefully ever since she told him about Lady Magic’s visit, sensing the weight of it even when she didn’t say a word.
“Alright,” Theo announced as they made their way toward the Three Broomsticks, “I think we deserve some butterbeer.”
“Agreed,” Blaise said. “Maybe even firewhiskey if Rosmerta’s feeling generous.”
Pansy rolled her eyes but didn’t argue as they stepped inside, shaking the snow from their cloaks.
The warmth of the pub wrapped around them, the smell of butterbeer and roasted nuts filling the air. Evelyn leaned into Harry as they found a table, allowing herself, just for a moment, to relax.
A scream tore through the air outside.
The sound of shattering glass.
A second later, the door to the Three Broomsticks burst open.
“Death Eaters!” someone yelled.
And just like that, everything descended into chaos.
Evelyn didn’t hesitate.
Before the Death Eaters could even step inside, she was already moving.
“Protego Maxima!” she shouted, throwing up a barrier between the students inside and the attackers.
The spell collided with the first wave of curses, sending sparks flying.
The gang was already springing into action—Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed out first, their wands at the ready, while Blaise and Theo flanked Evelyn, covering her sides.
The streets of Hogsmeade were filled with dueling witches and wizards. Aurors had already started fighting back, but it was clear that the Death Eaters were stronger than before. Faster.
More prepared.
They must have been training.
A bolt of green light shot toward Evelyn, and she barely dodged it in time.
Bellatrix Lestrange stood across from her, a wicked grin on her face.
“Little McCrae,” she crooned, twirling her wand. “Finally ready to play?”
Evelyn clenched her jaw. “I’m done playing.”
Bellatrix laughed, sending a flurry of curses her way. Evelyn countered them with ease, her body moving on instinct. She wasn’t the same witch she had been months ago.
She was stronger now.
Faster.
Better.
But so was Bellatrix.
The duel raged on, their spells colliding in flashes of blinding light. Around them, the rest of the gang was fighting just as fiercely—Draco and Theo had taken on two Death Eaters at once, while Harry was locked in combat with a masked figure. Hermione was shielding a group of younger students, barking orders as she went.
And then Evelyn saw it.
Bellatrix was distracted.
For just a moment.
Evelyn didn’t think.
She just acted.
“Avada Kedavra!”
The words left her lips before she could second-guess them. The spell struck Bellatrix square in the chest. The manic grin on her face froze.
And then—She crumpled.
For a moment, everything was silent.
And then the Death Eaters started retreating.
One by one, they Disapparated, their leader gone.
Evelyn stood there, her wand still raised, her breath coming in short gasps.
Bellatrix Lestrange was dead.
But there was no time to process it.
The battle was over, but the aftermath had just begun.
Hogsmeade was in ruins.
Smoke curled from shattered windows, the cobbled streets were littered with debris, and the snow was stained red. The once-lively village, which had been filled with laughter and warmth just hours before, now stood in eerie silence.
The Death Eaters had fled, but their impact lingered.
Evelyn lowered her wand slowly, her heart still hammering in her chest. She could still see Bellatrix’s body lying lifeless on the ground, the image burned into her mind.
She had done that.
She had killed her.
She had killed Bellatrix Lestrange. And she’d never been happier about death.
Harry was at her side in an instant, his hand on her arm. “Evelyn—”
“I’m fine.” Her voice was steady, but she wasn’t sure how. Wasn’t sure how she wasn’t screaming with joy.
The sound of hurried footsteps pulled her back to the present.
Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall had arrived, along with a handful of other professors. The older woman immediately began directing injured students toward The Three Broomsticks, which had been transformed into a makeshift hospital.
Evelyn turned to check on her friends.
Pansy was cradling her still-healing arm, looking pale but determined. Theo was leaning against Blaise, blood dripping from the deep cut on his leg. Hermione was tending to a first-year, her hands shaking as she pressed a cloth against their wound. Harry was watching her, his green eyes filled with something unreadable.
She wanted to say something.
But she didn’t know what.
Instead, she turned away, forcing herself to focus on the tasks at hand.
There would be time for emotions later.
Right now, there was still work to do.
By the time they returned to the castle, exhaustion was settling into Evelyn’s bones.
They had spent hours in The Three Broomsticks, helping Madam Pomfrey patch up wounds and making sure no one had been left behind. The damage to Hogsmeade was worse than anyone had expected—half the village was in shambles, and a handful of students had been rushed to St. Mungo’s with life-threatening injuries.
It had been a victory.
But it hadn’t come without cost.
Now, as she stepped into the Great Hall with the others, she could feel the weight of every eye on them. News of the battle had spread fast. Students whispered in hushed voices, casting nervous glances toward Evelyn and the rest of the group.
She ignored them, heading straight for their new usual table, where Pansy, Theo, Blaise, Luna and Daphne were already sitting.
Harry and the others joined them a moment later.
No one spoke.
Not at first.
“You killed her.”
It was Draco who broke the silence. His voice was quiet, but there was no judgment in it.
Evelyn met his gaze. “Yes.”
A pause.
Then Draco nodded. “Good.”
And just like that, the tension snapped.
Pansy exhaled, rolling her shoulders as if she had been carrying a weight of her own. Theo leaned back, wincing slightly as he adjusted his injured leg. Hermione let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
And Harry—he just reached for Evelyn’s hand beneath the table, giving it a small squeeze.
They had won this battle.
But the war was far from over.
______________
Harry’s dreams had been mercifully quiet since he broke free of Rachel’s spell, but tonight was different. It started with a strange, disorienting pull, like he was being yanked forward through time and space. He found himself in a dimly lit room, the flickering glow of torches casting long shadows against the stone walls. At first, everything was hazy, as if he was seeing the world through rippling water. But then, the scene sharpened into terrifying clarity.
A man was kneeling on the ground, trembling. His silver hair was thinning, his face lined with deep wrinkles, and his hands were clasped in front of him in a plea. Gregorovitch. Harry had seen him before, though only in passing mentions—he was another wandmaker, not as famous as Ollivander but still skilled. And now he was cowering before Voldemort.
Harry’s scar burned, but he didn’t wake up. He was locked in place, forced to watch as Voldemort circled the elderly man like a predator stalking its prey.
“You had it,” Voldemort hissed. His voice was deceptively soft, but Harry could feel the barely restrained rage beneath it. “You had the wand, and you lost it.”
“My Lord,” Gregorovitch rasped, his accent thick, his voice shaking. “It was stolen. Many years ago.”
Voldemort’s red eyes narrowed. “Who?”
Gregorovitch whimpered. “I—I do not know his name. He was a boy, young—blond, laughing. He—”
The air crackled with dark energy, and Gregorovitch screamed, his entire body convulsing as Voldemort’s wand slashed through the air. The old man crumpled onto the stone floor, his cries echoing through the room.
Harry felt bile rise in his throat. He knew what was coming. Voldemort had no patience for failure.
“Where is he now?” Voldemort asked coolly.
“I—I do not know,” Gregorovitch sobbed. “I swear it!”
Voldemort didn’t ask again. He raised his wand, and Harry barely had time to brace himself before the sickening flash of green light filled his vision. Gregorovitch slumped forward, lifeless.
Harry woke with a start, gasping for breath. His scar was throbbing, though not as intensely as before. He forced himself to sit up, shoving his sweaty hair away from his forehead. His heart pounded furiously.
He needed to tell Evelyn. Now.
Chapter 99: The Elder Wand
Chapter Text
Harry barely took the time to throw on his robes before rushing out of the dormitory. The castle was quiet in the early morning hours, only the occasional flicker of torchlight guiding his way. His mind was racing, piecing together what he had seen—Voldemort was after the Elder Wand. That meant… he was looking for unbeatable power.
Evelyn needed to know.
He reached the Slytherin common room entrance and knocked firmly, not caring about the time. After a few moments, the wall slid open, and a very disheveled Theo Nott squinted at him.
“What the hell, Potter?” Theo grumbled.
“I need Evelyn,” Harry said breathlessly. “It’s important.”
Theo groaned but stepped aside, letting Harry slip inside. The Slytherin common room was dimly lit, the greenish glow from the lake above casting eerie shadows. He spotted Evelyn curled up on a couch in the corner, a book resting on her lap. She looked up at him, immediately noticing the tension in his stance.
“Harry?” she asked, sitting up straighter.
He didn’t answer right away, just moved toward her and sat down, taking her hands in his. They were warm, grounding him.
“I had a dream,” he said, voice low. “About Voldemort. He’s looking for a wandmaker—Gregorovitch. He’s trying to find the Elder Wand.”
Evelyn inhaled sharply. “The Elder Wand?”
Harry nodded. “Gregorovitch had it, but it was stolen years ago. Voldemort killed him after he couldn’t tell him who took it.”
Evelyn’s grip on his hands tightened. She exhaled slowly, as if steeling herself. “I never told you all the full story, did I?”
Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the original timeline—the way things happened before we changed everything.”
Realization dawned on him. Evelyn had always been careful with what she revealed about the future, only telling them what was necessary at the time. But now… now they were in uncharted territory. Voldemort was still after the Elder Wand, just like before apparently, but their actions had already altered so much.
Evelyn stood. “We need to get everyone. The whole group. They need to hear this.”
Harry nodded, standing with her. “Let’s go.”
Within an hour, the entire group was gathered in the Room of Requirement. The space had adjusted itself to fit them all comfortably, a large circular arrangement of chairs set around a central table. Candles floated overhead, casting a warm but serious glow.
Everyone was there—Hermione, Ron, Theo, Pansy, Draco, Blaise, Daphne, Evan, the twins, Ginny, Neville, and Luna. Most of them looked confused, some still groggy from being woken up so early.
“What’s this about?” Fred asked, rubbing his eyes.
Evelyn stood at the front of the room, her arms crossed. She took a deep breath before she began.
“I never told you the full timeline of how things originally happened this year,” she said. “But I think it’s time you all knew.”
The room was silent, the weight of her words settling over them.
“In the original timeline, the Order of the Phoenix came to get Harry from Privet Drive,” she started. “On the way to the Burrow, they were ambushed by Death Eaters. Mad-Eye Moody died.”
Murmurs of shock rippled through the group. Ron visibly paled, while Ginny clenched her fists.
“Then came Bill and Fleur’s wedding,” Evelyn continued. “Death Eaters attacked, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione had to go on the run. They spent months hunting down Horcruxes.”
“They didn’t stay at Hogwarts?” Blaise asked, brows furrowed.
Evelyn shook her head. “No. They were out there, barely surviving. Dumbledore had ordered them to go when he died. Eventually, they found their way to Luna’s father, Xenophilius Lovegood, who told them about the Deathly Hallows.”
Luna tilted her head. “Daddy?”
Evelyn nodded. “But he betrayed them. He called the Death Eaters, hoping that turning Harry in would get you back from Malfoy Manor.”
Luna blinked, surprised, but didn’t seem upset. “That makes sense.”
Evelyn pressed on. “They were captured. They ended up in Malfoy Manor, locked in the dungeons. Dobby came to save you. He got you all out. But he—he didn’t make it.”
Silence fell over the group.
“He died protecting you, Harry” she whispered. “And you buried him by the sea, with a proper grave and everything.”
Hermione wiped at her eyes, while Ron looked down at the table, jaw clenched.
“The war escalated after that,” Evelyn continued, her voice steadier. “One by one, the Horcruxes were destroyed. Then the Battle of Hogwarts happened.”
She hesitated.
“A lot of people died.”
Draco’s face was unreadable. “Who?”
Evelyn swallowed. “Fred.”
A sharp inhale from George.
“Lupin. Tonks.”
Ron let out a quiet curse.
“Colin Creevey.”
Ginny blinked rapidly.
Evelyn shook her head. “But we’ve changed things. We’ve made different choices. And now… Voldemort’s still after the Elder Wand.”
A heavy silence filled the room as everyone absorbed the information.
“So,” Harry finally said, “what do we do now?”
Evelyn looked at him. “We stop him. We don’t let him get the wand.”
Determined nods passed around the group.
“Then we start planning,” Hermione said, pulling out parchment. “Now.”
The atmosphere in the Room of Requirement shifted immediately. The weight of Evelyn’s revelations had settled over them like a thick fog, but instead of fear, it fueled their determination.
Hermione unfurled a long sheet of parchment across the table, smoothing it down with both hands. “If Voldemort’s looking for the Elder Wand, then we need to figure out where it is before he does.”
“He thinks Gregorovitch had it,” Harry said, rubbing his forehead. “But it was stolen from him years ago.”
Draco, who had remained unusually quiet throughout Evelyn’s explanation, spoke up. “The wand was stolen by Grindelwald.”
A ripple of understanding passed through the group.
“The same Grindelwald who Dumbledore defeated?” Ron asked.
“The very same,” Evelyn confirmed. “Which means…”
“The Elder Wand was Dumbledore’s,” Harry finished.
Silence.
“Bloody hell,” Fred muttered.
“That means it’s in—” Hermione’s voice caught. “It’s with him. Wherever he is.”
A few people cursed under their breath.
Theo crossed his arms. “So, what, we just find Dumbledore and ask him if we can borrow the most powerful wand in existence?”
“That’s exactly what Voldemort is going to do,” Evelyn said bluntly. “If he hasn’t already.”
The weight of her words settled over them. It was a grim reality. If they hesitated, Voldemort would soon be in possession of the Elder Wand.
“We can’t let that happen,” Neville said firmly. “We’ve got to stop him.”
Evan frowned. “But how? No one’s seen Dumbledore in ages. There are only rumors that he moved back into his childhood home in Godric’s Hollow.”
That question lingered in the air.
“The wand belongs to the wizard who defeats its previous owner,” Hermione said. “Which means… it doesn’t matter if we get to it first. If Voldemort defeats Dumbledore, it’s his.”
Harry clenched his jaw. “Then we make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair. “If the war wasn’t super real before, it is now.”
The group fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts.
Finally, Luna spoke, her voice light yet unwavering. “We can do this. We’re strong enough.”
It was a simple statement, but it carried more weight than anything said before. One by one, everyone nodded in agreement.
“Then we start preparing,” Hermione said, dipping her quill in ink. “We’ll need a plan.”
For the next few hours, the Room of Requirement was alive with discussion, debate, and planning. They mapped out Hogwarts, discussed their options, and prepared for the inevitable confrontation.
By the time the meeting ended, exhaustion had settled over them, but there was also a renewed sense of purpose.
As they made their way out of the Room of Requirement, Harry caught Evelyn’s hand, pulling her aside.
“Are you okay?” he asked, voice quiet.
She exhaled, her fingers lacing with his. “I don’t know. It feels… different, saying it all out loud.”
He nodded. “I get that.”
Evelyn squeezed his hand. “But I meant what I said. We’re going to stop him.”
Harry looked at her, at the fierce determination in her eyes, and he knew—no matter what happened next, they would face it together.
_________________
The days following their meeting in the Room of Requirement were some of the busiest they’d ever had. With Voldemort closing in on the Elder Wand, their focus shifted from general preparation to forming a solid plan to find Dumbledore before the Dark Lord did.
Hermione, Luna, and Theo took charge of gathering information on Dumbledore’s possible whereabouts.
“There are a few old records of the Dumbledore family in Godric’s Hollow,” Hermione explained one evening in the library, spreading out an assortment of parchment and books. “His mother, Kendra, moved there with his younger siblings after an incident in their original home.”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t exactly leave a trail,” Theo said, frowning. “If he is back there, it’s not like he’s putting out a welcome mat.”
“We could send a letter,” Luna suggested, tilting her head. “If he’s there, he might answer.”
“Or we’d just be alerting him that people are looking for him,” Blaise pointed out.
Evelyn sighed. “We need more than speculation. We need actual proof he’s there before we waste time trying to track him down.”
“I might have a way to confirm it,” Hermione admitted hesitantly. “But it would require going to Bathilda Bagshot.”
Silence.
Harry tensed at the name, after hearing her part from the original timeline. “She’s still alive?”
“Barely,” Hermione said. “But if anyone in Godric’s Hollow knows where Dumbledore is, it would be her.”
Draco exhaled. “And if she’s been compromised, we’re walking into a Death Eater trap.”
Evan shrugged. “Sounds about right for us.”
“Do we have a better option?” Evelyn asked.
No one had an answer to that.
Meanwhile, training intensifies as McGonagall continued the Great Hall training sessions. The professors had started to involve seventh years in the younger students’ lessons, giving them more leadership in preparation for what was to come.
Evelyn, Harry, and their core group were constantly moving between teaching, training, and planning.
“You lot don’t sleep, do you?” Ginny teased one afternoon as she watched Evelyn duel Theo in the Great Hall.
“Not if we want to win this war,” Evelyn panted, blocking Theo’s hex and retaliating with a well-aimed Expelliarmus.
Harry, watching from the sidelines, frowned. “You should rest.”
“So should you,” Evelyn shot back.
Harry shook his head fondly. Touche.
_________________
The Room of Requirement was quieter than usual. The gang was gathered around their usual conjured table, parchment and books spread out between them.
“So we’re in agreement,” Harry said, running a hand through his hair. “Dumbledore won’t just give us the Elder Wand. We have to take it.”
Evelyn exhaled, crossing her arms. “He’s not stupid, though. If he’s kept it hidden all this time, it won’t be easy to get.”
“Which is why we need a solid plan,” Theo said, leaning back in his chair. “We have two weeks until Easter break. That gives us time to prepare.”
Draco tapped his fingers on the table. “And we’re certain he’s in Godric’s Hollow?”
“Yes,” Hermione confirmed. “Bathilda Bagshot let it slip that she still gets visits from ‘a polite old man with half-moon glasses.’ That’s Dumbledore.”
“Alright, so we know where he is,” Blaise said. “Now the question is: how do we do this?”
“We have to be discreet,” Luna added. “If Voldemort finds out we’re going after the Elder Wand, he’ll go after it too.”
Evan nodded. “We also can’t go in there wands blazing. This isn’t a battle.”
“No,” Harry agreed. “It’s a heist.”
The group exchanged glances.
“A heist,” Pansy mused, tapping her chin. “Well, that sounds fun.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “This is serious, Pansy.”
“I am serious,” Pansy said. “If we’re going to do this, we need to be creative. We’ll have to get in and out without being noticed.”
“We could use Polyjuice,” Daphne suggested. “One of us could disguise as someone he’d trust enough to let inside.”
“Who?” Evelyn asked.
Silence.
“McGonagall,” Theo said finally.
Draco made a face. “Are you insane? He knows McGonagall. If we mess up even slightly, he’ll know something’s wrong.”
“What about someone who wouldn’t normally be suspicious?” Ginny suggested.
They all turned to Luna.
Luna blinked. “Me?”
“You’re eccentric enough that if you randomly turned up at his door, he wouldn’t think much of it,” Evan said.
Luna tilted her head. “That’s true.”
“Alright,” Hermione said. “Step one: Luna gets inside.”
“Step two?” Ron prompted.
“That’s what we need to figure out.”
“Okay,” Evelyn said, leaning over the table, “once Luna’s inside, what’s next?”
“Where do we think he’s keeping the wand?” Neville asked.
Harry frowned. “If it were me, I’d keep it close. Either on me or somewhere only I could access.”
“That makes it difficult,” Theo muttered. “If it’s on him, we’ll have to distract him long enough to get it.”
“Or,” Daphne added, “Luna finds out where it is and then we create a distraction.”
Luna looked thoughtful. “I could pretend I’m there to interview him for The Quibbler.”
“That could work,” Hermione said, nodding. “If you ask the right questions, you might get him to reveal something.”
“And if he won’t?” Ron asked.
Evelyn smirked. “We force him to.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “And how do you plan to force Dumbledore to do anything?”
“Not by dueling him,” she admitted. “But there are other ways.”
Blaise chuckled. “I assume you mean trickery, not torture?”
“Obviously.”
Harry leaned forward. “Okay. So Luna gets inside and finds out where the wand is. If it’s on Dumbledore, we distract him. If it’s hidden, we break in and take it.”
“Distraction ideas?” Pansy asked.
“The Resurrection Stone,” Evelyn said immediately.
Everyone turned to her.
“If Dumbledore wants it—and I know he does—he won’t ignore it if it’s used,” she explained. “If someone casts a spell to make it seem like the dead are trying to communicate, he’ll go to lengths to get it.”
“That’s dark,” Ginny muttered.
“Effective,” Evan countered.
“We need a backup plan,” Theo said. “What if he doesn’t react?”
“Then we resort to plan B,” Harry said grimly.
Draco sighed. “Which is?”
Harry hesitated, then said, “We duel him.”
The table fell silent.
“We can’t beat Dumbledore,” Blaise pointed out.
“No,” Evelyn agreed, “but we can overwhelm him. If it’s all of us against him, we have a chance.”
Hermione frowned. “I don’t like that plan.”
“I don’t either,” Harry admitted, “but if it’s the only way—”
“We’ll figure it out when the time comes,” Evelyn said, cutting him off. “For now, we stick to the original plan: Luna gets inside, she finds the wand, and we take it without a fight.”
“Two weeks,” Theo murmured. “Plenty of time to prepare.”
Harry nodded. “Then let’s prepare.”
⸻
Evelyn had barely stepped into the Slytherin common room when she was met with a wall of hushed voices and tense stares.
“Finally,” Pansy muttered, grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward the fireplace.
“What now?” Evelyn asked, exasperated.
Pansy gestured toward a group of younger students huddled near the far corner of the room. Two third-years—one of whom was crying—were being comforted by a few older students, while another group stood nearby, clearly not on their side.
Evelyn sighed. “What happened?”
Theo, who had also been dragged into this, crossed his arms. “Apparently, Matthew Mulciber - the young one from the Mulciber house - has been harassing the younger students again.”
Evelyn’s eyes darkened. “Again?”
Blaise leaned against the mantle, looking bored. “He’s been running his mouth about ‘true Slytherins’ and how some people don’t belong here.”
She clenched her jaw. “What did he say?”
“That they should ‘go back to whatever mudblood hole they crawled out of,’” Pansy supplied darkly.
Evelyn turned sharply, scanning the room. “Where is he?”
A hush fell.
Someone muttered, “Dormitory.”
Without another word, Evelyn strode across the room and up the stairs, the others hurrying after her. When she reached Mulciber’s door, she didn’t bother knocking—she simply kicked it open.
Mulciber barely had time to sit up before Evelyn was on him, grabbing the front of his robes and slamming him against the headboard.
“You absolute prick,” she snarled.
“What the hell—”
“Shut up,” she snapped, tightening her grip. “You think you can bully younger students and get away with it?”
Mulciber sneered. “They’re weak.”
Evelyn punched him. Hard.
The others sucked in a breath as Mulciber’s head snapped to the side, blood already dripping from his nose.
“You don’t decide who belongs here,” she said, voice deathly quiet. “I do.”
His sneer faltered.
“If I hear you so much as look at them the wrong way,” she continued, “you will regret it.”
A flicker of fear crossed his face, but he masked it quickly. “You can’t—”
Evelyn drew her wand and pressed it to his throat.
“Try me.”
Silence.
“This house is a safe space. This house is understanding and caring to those within it. This house does not sink to the prejudiced level that others do. Understood?” she asked.
Mulciber hesitated—then nodded.
“Good.” She released him and stepped back. “Clean yourself up.”
Then, without another glance, she turned and left.
As soon as they were out of the dormitory, Pansy smirked. “You’re terrifying.”
Evelyn rolled her shoulders. “I have to be.”
Draco chuckled. “Mulciber’s never going to cross you again.”
“Damn right he won’t.”
Blaise clapped her on the back. “Alright, My Queen. What’s next?”
Evelyn smirked.
“A sleepover.”
______________
Evelyn stretched out on her bed, watching as Pansy, Daphne, Luna, Ginny, and Hermione took over the dormitory with blankets, snacks, and a whole collection of stolen butterbeer bottles.
“This,” Pansy declared, settling onto a pile of cushions, “is exactly what we needed.”
Daphne smirked. “A break from planning a heist?”
Ginny popped the cap off her butterbeer. “A break from everything.”
Evelyn glanced toward the enchanted window, where the fake night sky glittered above the Hogwarts grounds. “How long do you think the boys will last before they try something?”
Hermione huffed. “I bet Ron’s already planning something ridiculous.”
“They wouldn’t dare,” Pansy said lazily, stretching her legs out.
Evelyn arched a brow. “Wouldn’t they?”
As if on cue, a sudden bang echoed from outside the dormitory, followed by a shriek of laughter.
Daphne groaned. “They would.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “What do you think it is?”
“Whatever it is,” Evelyn muttered, “it’s not going to end well for them.”
A moment later, the dormitory door burst open, revealing a very smug-looking Theo, followed by Blaise, Draco, Ron, Neville, Evan, and, of course, Harry—who had the decency to look sheepish.
“Evening, ladies,” Theo greeted, smirking.
Evelyn sat up. “No. Get out.”
Ron grinned. “Not a chance.”
Before anyone could react, a cloud of glitter exploded into the air, coating everything in a fine layer of shimmering silver.
Pansy screamed.
Ginny choked on her drink.
Hermione, looking horrified, shook out her now-sparkling hair.
Evelyn just blinked. “You absolute idiots.”
Draco, wiping glitter from his eyes after being caught in the crossfire, scowled. “Theo, what the hell? I didn’t sign up for this too!”
“Relax,” Theo said, grinning. “It’s washable.”
“That’s not the point!” Hermione snapped.
Blaise laughed. “You have to admit—it’s a solid start.”
Evelyn exchanged glances with Pansy and Daphne before smirking. “Oh, you think this is over?”
Harry groaned. “Evelyn—”
“No, no, Potter,” Pansy purred, standing up. “You started this.”
Daphne tossed her glitter-covered hair over her shoulder. “Which means we’re ending it.”
Theo looked almost concerned. “What does that mean?”
Evelyn’s smirk widened. “It means… run.”
The boys bolted.
The Gryffindor dormitory was already in chaos when the boys arrived, scrambling inside and slamming the door shut behind them.
“That,” Ron panted, “was brilliant.”
Neville shook glitter from his hair. “I think they’re actually going to kill us.”
“They wouldn’t dare,” Theo scoffed.
But just as he spoke, a series of louder, ominous pops echoed through the room.
“…That didn’t sound good,” Draco muttered.
Evan, who had been standing near the fireplace, yelped as his robes suddenly turned a violent shade of pink.
“What the—”
Draco snorted. “What is that?”
Blaise, looking down, cursed. “My robes—”
They were all turning pink.
A very bright, very neon pink.
“OH HELL NO,” Theo shouted, suddenly levitating.
Ron was next, arms flailing as he hovered two feet off the ground.
“What is happening?!” Draco yelped, his feet leaving the floor.
The door open, revealing a very smug Pansy, Daphne, Ginny, Luna, Hermione, and Evelyn—all standing there, wands raised.
Evelyn leaned against the doorframe. “You really thought you could prank us?”
Harry, still on the ground, sighed. “I told you this would happen.”
“Did you, though?” Theo grumbled, still hovering.
Evelyn smirked. “We charmed the dorm. Everything you touch turns pink, and everyone who enters levitates for exactly thirty minutes.”
Blaise scowled. “This is cruel and unusual punishment.”
“Should’ve thought of that before dumping glitter in our dorm,” Daphne said sweetly.
Neville sighed, still floating. “I knew this was a bad idea.”
Draco crossed his arms. “Alright. Truce?”
Evelyn tilted her head. “Hmm… nah.”
Theo groaned. “Oh, come on!”
Evelyn grinned. “Sweet dreams, boys.”
With that, the girls shut the door—leaving the boys suspended in the air, glowing pink, with zero way to fight back.
The prank war had officially begun.
____________________
The next morning, the Gryffindor common room was a disaster. There was pink dye everywhere—on the furniture, on the floors, and most importantly, still on some of the boys. The levitation charm had finally worn off in the middle of the night, resulting in a series of thuds as bodies hit the floor at random intervals.
Harry rubbed his temples as he sat on the arm of a couch, watching Theo try (and fail) to scrub the last traces of pink from his robes.
“This is never coming out,” Theo muttered darkly.
Blaise groaned. “They’re evil.”
“You started it,” Neville pointed out, stretching his sore limbs.
Draco, looking thoroughly displeased, ran a hand through his hair. “I’m going to kill Pansy.”
Ron grinned. “Yeah, good luck with that.”
Before anyone could respond, the portrait hole swung open, and Ginny waltzed inside, followed by Pansy, Daphne, and Hermione—all looking very pleased with themselves.
Pansy stopped short, taking in the scene. “Oh. Wow.”
Ginny smirked. “You lot look great.”
“You’re all horrible people,” Blaise grumbled.
Hermione shrugged. “You deserved it.”
Evelyn followed in behind them, looking far too satisfied. She crossed her arms, glancing at Theo’s still-pink robes. “So… are we done?”
Theo sighed. “Fine. Truce.”
Evelyn smirked. “Good choice.”
Draco, still fuming, folded his arms. “I still say we should’ve fought back.”
“Oh, please,” Pansy snorted. “You floated for an hour.”
Harry shook his head, standing. “Alright, enough. We’ve got bigger things to deal with.”
The laughter faded, and Evelyn nodded. “He’s right. Let’s go.”
The Great Hall had been transformed into a full-fledged training ground. McGonagall had expanded the space with magic, setting up various dueling areas, shield charm stations, and even obstacle courses designed to hone agility.
Students of all years were hard at work—first through third-years practicing simple defensive spells, while the older students moved through more advanced techniques.
Evelyn spotted McGonagall at the front, demonstrating a particularly complex counter-curse to a group of seventh-years.
“She’s really stepped up,” Hermione murmured.
“She always does,” Harry replied.
Evelyn, however, wasn’t paying attention to McGonagall. She had noticed a cluster of Slytherins standing off to the side, whispering amongst themselves.
Pansy followed her gaze. “That’s not good.”
“What’s going on?” Harry asked, frowning.
Evelyn sighed. “Slytherin politics.”
She broke away from the group, striding toward the group of whispering Slytherins. As she approached, the conversation abruptly stopped, and the students turned to face her.
“What’s this about?” Evelyn asked, crossing her arms.
A boy named Callum Avery stepped forward—one of the more vocal Slytherins who had yet to pick a side. “Some of us have been talking.”
Evelyn raised a brow. “Oh?”
“You’re leading us,” Callum continued, “but you’re spending all your time with them.”
Evelyn felt a flicker of irritation but kept her expression neutral. “And?”
A girl named Selina Greengrass, Daphne’s cousin, spoke up next. “You say you’re the Queen of Slytherin, but you don’t act like it. You act like you’re part of their house.”
There was a murmur of agreement.
Evelyn exhaled slowly. “Is that what you all think?”
Callum crossed his arms. “It’s what we know.”
She studied the group. Some looked unsure, but others were definitely leaning toward Callum’s side.
Fine. If they wanted a reminder of why she was in charge, she’d give them one.
Evelyn stepped forward, lowering her voice. “You know why I don’t tolerate this kind of division?”
Callum frowned slightly. “Because you—”
“Because it makes us weak.” Evelyn’s tone was sharp. “Because that’s what the Dark Lord wants—Slytherin against the rest of the school. He wants us to be isolated.”
Selina shifted uncomfortably. “We’re not saying we should isolate—”
“But you are.” Evelyn’s voice cut through the group. “You want me to pick between my house and my friends. But I won’t. Because if we want to survive, we have to stand together. And that includes all of Hogwarts.”
Silence.
Evelyn let the tension settle before stepping even closer to Callum.
“Now, let me make something very clear,” she said quietly. “If any of you have a problem with the way I lead, you’re welcome to challenge me.”
Callum hesitated.
“Go on,” Evelyn pressed, voice like steel. “Challenge me.”
Callum held her gaze for a long moment—then looked away.
Evelyn smirked. “That’s what I thought.”
She turned on her heel. “Now, if you’re done wasting my time, we’ve got a war to prepare for.”
The group slowly dispersed, and Pansy whistled lowly as Evelyn returned. “That was hot.”
Daphne laughed. “You handled that brilliantly.”
Harry smirked. “No one challenges you and gets away with it.”
Evelyn smirked right back. “Exactly.”
With that, they turned back to their training, the divide in Slytherin house shifting just a little more in her favor.
_____________________
After training, the gang retreated to the Room of Requirement. Evelyn leaned forward, eyes locked on the map. “Alright. We’ve got two weeks until Easter break. We need a solid plan.”
“We still don’t know for sure that Dumbledore has the Elder Wand,” Theo pointed out. He had one leg propped up on a chair, his injury from the Wiltshire Manor raid still healing.
“He does,” Harry said confidently. “It makes sense. He was the last one to have it in the original timeline. Even if things have changed, there’s no way he would’ve just left something that powerful unprotected.”
Blaise tapped his fingers against the table. “Right, but how do we get it? Even if he’s retired, he’s still bloody Dumbledore.”
Ron frowned at the projection. “Godric’s Hollow isn’t exactly swarming with people, so sneaking in shouldn’t be too hard.”
“But getting inside his house will be,” Hermione interjected. “The place is probably warded to hell and back.”
“We need information,” Evelyn said. “Before we break in, we need to figure out exactly what we’re dealing with.”
“Agreed,” Harry said. “We should start by going there under the Invisibility Cloak—scope it out, see if there are any obvious defenses.”
Theo crossed his arms. “And if there are?”
“Then we plan accordingly,” Daphne said.
Pansy tapped the map. “If we do go in, we need an escape plan. No matter what, we can’t be caught.”
Draco leaned back in his chair, looking at Harry. “So, what’s the goal here? We steal the wand and then what? Hide it?”
“No,” Evelyn said firmly. “We destroy it.”
Silence fell over the room.
“Destroy it?” Neville repeated.
Evelyn nodded. “The Elder Wand is dangerous. It’s not just powerful—it’s a symbol. People kill for it. If we take it and someone finds out, we’ll become targets.”
Harry ran a hand through his hair. “She’s right. We don’t need it to fight Voldemort—we’ve been doing fine without it.”
“And there’s no guarantee it would even work properly for us,” Hermione added. “It changes allegiance based on who overpowers the previous owner. If we take it without Dumbledore knowing, it might not even recognize us as its new master.”
Theo exhaled. “Alright. So, we steal it and destroy it.”
Ron looked at Hermione. “Can we destroy it?”
Hermione bit her lip. “We’d need Fiendfyre. Or Basilisk venom.”
Everyone turned to Harry.
“…What?” he asked.
“Don’t you still have some Basilisk venom left?” Daphne asked.
Harry blinked. “Oh. Yeah. In the Chamber.”
Evelyn smirked. “Perfect. Once we get the wand, we destroy it there.”
Blaise exhaled, shaking his head. “We’re actually doing this.”
Pansy grinned. “Hell yes, we are.”
Evelyn sat back, crossing her arms. “Alright. Two weeks. We do recon first, then execute the plan over Easter break. No mistakes.”
The gang exchanged determined nods.
They were ready.
Two nights later, under the cover of darkness, the group gathered in the Room of Requirement, dressed in black and armed with Disillusionment Charms. The Invisibility Cloak was draped over Harry, Evelyn, and Theo—the three of them chosen for this mission due to their stealth and quick reflexes.
The plan was simple: sneak into Godric’s Hollow, find Dumbledore’s house, and scope out the security measures. No confrontation. No breaking in. Just observation.
Before they left, Hermione cast a Muffliato charm around them. “One last reminder,” she whispered. “We do not engage. If anything goes wrong, you Apparate back immediately.”
Evelyn nodded. “Got it. Let’s go.”
With a silent flick of their wands, they Disapparated.
They landed in the middle of the quiet village, the cobblestone streets slick with recent rain. A soft mist clung to the air, swirling around the old-fashioned houses and the eerie remains of the Potter cottage in the distance. The only sounds were the occasional hoot of an owl and the rustling of trees in the wind.
Evelyn adjusted the Invisibility Cloak so it covered them completely. “Stay close,” she murmured.
The three of them moved carefully, slipping through the empty streets like ghosts. It didn’t take long to find their target. Dumbledore’s childhood home was exactly where Evelyn remembered it from her knowledge of the original timeline.
It was a modest stone cottage, overgrown with ivy, sitting at the very edge of the village. The windows were dark, and the air around it felt… off. Like something ancient lingered beneath the surface.
Theo frowned. “That place reeks of magic.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah. It’s definitely warded.”
Evelyn carefully pulled out her wand and cast Homenum Revelio. A pulse of soft golden light rippled outward—confirming what she suspected. “No one inside,” she whispered.
“But that doesn’t mean there aren’t protections,” Theo muttered.
Harry nodded. “Let’s test the perimeter.”
They moved in a slow, careful arc around the cottage, analyzing every inch. The first thing they noticed was the lack of any obvious traps—no glowing rune circles, no visible enchantments. But that didn’t mean the house wasn’t heavily protected.
Theo ran a hand through the air near the fence. A faint shimmer flickered. “Wards. Strong ones.”
Harry frowned. “Can you tell what kind?”
“Some are standard—anti-Apparition, anti-intruder—but there’s something deeper woven into them. Ancient magic, maybe.”
Evelyn exhaled. “Dumbledore wouldn’t just rely on basic protections. There’s got to be layers to this.”
Harry tapped his wand against his palm, deep in thought. “If we cross that barrier unprepared, we could set off alarms or worse.”
Theo glanced around. “We need a way to disable them.”
Evelyn bit her lip. “We could use a ward-disrupting charm, but Dumbledore probably has failsafes against that.”
“We’ll need to study the magic first,” Theo said. “Break it down layer by layer.”
Harry nodded. “Then that’s our next step.”
Evelyn took one last look at the house. It seemed quiet. Ordinary. But they all knew better.
Before they disapparated back to Hogwarts, Harry hesitated at the edge of the village square, his gaze fixed on the shadowed pathway leading to the graveyard. Evelyn and Theo noticed his pause immediately.
“Harry?” Evelyn whispered.
His jaw tensed. “I—I just need a moment.”
Evelyn didn’t have to ask why. She exchanged a glance with Theo, who simply nodded and stepped back. “We’ll keep watch,” Theo said. “Take your time.”
Harry gave them a small, grateful nod before slipping away into the quiet graveyard.
The cemetery was eerily still, the mist curling around old headstones like spectral fingers. His boots crunched softly over frost-covered grass as he walked through the rows of names, searching, his heart pounding harder with each step.
And then he found them.
James Potter.
Lily Potter.
The marble headstone was smooth beneath his fingertips as he traced the carved letters. His parents’ names. The dates that marked their too-short lives. And beneath them, the inscription:
“The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.”
Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. He had been here before—once, in the old timeline, with Hermione on Christmas Eve. Evelyn had told him. But this felt different.
This time, he wasn’t just a boy searching for a past he never knew. This time, he was a man standing on the precipice of war, ready to carve his own future.
He crouched down and rested a hand against the cold earth. “Hey, Mum. Dad.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m back. Well, now we’re in a different timeline so I’m not sure if that counts as being ‘back’.”
The night air pressed heavy around him. He wished—more than anything—that they could answer.
“I think I finally get it now,” he murmured. “Why you fought. Why you gave everything up.” He exhaled shakily. “And I promise, I won’t let it be for nothing.”
A soft breeze ruffled his hair. Maybe it was just the wind. Maybe it was something more.
Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a single white lily he had plucked earlier. Gently, he laid it against the base of the headstone.
“I love you,” he whispered.
A moment later, he stood, blinking away the stinging in his eyes. He turned back toward the entrance, where Evelyn and Theo waited just beyond the graveyard gates.
Evelyn’s expression was soft, understanding. She had given him space, but now, as he approached, she reached for his hand. He let her take it.
“Ready?” she asked gently.
Harry nodded. He cast one last glance at the graves, then turned away.
“We have a war to win.”
With that, they Disapparated, vanishing into the night.
With their first recon complete, they went back to the Room of Requirement, where the rest of the gang was waiting.
Pansy sat up from where she had been lounging. “Well? How was it?”
Theo exhaled. “Bad. Dumbledore’s house is warded to hell and back.”
Hermione immediately pulled out a piece of parchment. “What kind of wards?”
Evelyn sat down. “Strong ones. Anti-Apparition, anti-intruder, and some kind of ancient magic woven in. We couldn’t test everything without triggering alarms.”
Draco frowned. “So what do we do?”
Harry crossed his arms. “We learn exactly what protections he has, then figure out how to counter them.”
Evelyn smirked. “We’ve broken into worse places.”
The planning was far from over.
Chapter 100: Challenge & Escape
Chapter Text
The atmosphere in the Great Hall was different now. It had been weeks since the entire school had committed to training, and there was a noticeable shift in how everyone carried themselves. Students moved with more confidence, their spellwork sharper, their reflexes quicker. Even the younger years had started developing a resilience that hadn’t been there before.
Harry stood at the front, watching as a group of fourth-years practiced shielding charms under Hermione’s guidance. Nearby, Neville was showing a few sixth-years how to cast explosive spells against enchanted training dummies.
The school was readying itself for war.
But for Harry, Evelyn, and their closest friends, it still wasn’t enough.
After the day’s official training ended and the Great Hall was cleared out, Harry, Evelyn, and the others regrouped outside the Room of Requirement. They waited until the corridor was empty before Harry walked past the stretch of wall three times, focusing on what they needed: a private space where they could push their training beyond what they could safely do in front of the whole school.
A door appeared, and they slipped inside.
The Room had transformed into something that resembled a dueling arena. The floor was covered in reinforced stone, the walls lined with protective wards. Floating lanterns cast flickering light over the space, illuminating the small group as they stepped further inside.
“Alright,” Theo said, rolling his shoulders, “let’s see what we can really do.”
Evelyn smirked. “No holding back?”
“No holding back,” Blaise confirmed, pulling his wand free.
Harry nodded, gripping his own wand. “Then let’s get to work.”
Unlike the structured lessons in the Great Hall, training in the Room of Requirement was brutal. They weren’t just refining spellwork—they were fighting.
Sparks flew as spells crashed against shields. Theo and Blaise worked together, launching a relentless offense against Evelyn, who dodged with practiced precision. Pansy and Daphne took turns deflecting and counterattacking, while Draco paired with Harry, pushing him to react faster with each strike.
Evelyn dueled Theo directly, their wands moving so fast that streaks of light filled the air between them. She sent a hex at his feet, forcing him to jump back, but he countered with a silent disarming spell that she barely managed to twist away from.
“Faster,” she urged. “If you hesitate, you’re dead.”
Theo narrowed his eyes and cast again. This time, Evelyn was forced to throw up a shield, her arms shaking under the force of his magic.
Across the room, Ron and Hermione were engaged in a similar battle, their magic crackling as they clashed.
Harry wiped sweat from his brow. He could feel his muscles burning, his magic humming under his skin. This—this was what they needed.
They trained late into the night, only stopping when exhaustion threatened to overtake them. When they finally left the Room, there was no denying it—every single one of them had grown stronger.
But was it enough? Harry wasn’t sure.
_________________
The last few days at Hogwarts before the break passed in a blur. Training sessions continued in both the Great Hall and the Room of Requirement, but anticipation for their time away grew with each passing hour.
By the time the evening before the Easter holidays arrived, the gang was more than ready to leave the castle, even if it was only temporary.
“Alright,” Evelyn said as they gathered in Snape’s office, “remember to keep your heads down. It won’t be unusual for students to travel home for Easter, but we don’t want anyone getting too curious.”
“Agreed,” Hermione added. “Even though McGonagall supports us, the less people know where we are, the better.”
Snape, who had been standing near his desk, finally spoke. “You will floo directly to Miss McCrae’s apartment. Do not linger, and do not be reckless.” His dark eyes flickered toward Harry, as if he already expected him to be. “You may have found ways to hide from the Ministry, but that does not mean you are untouchable.”
Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he took a handful of Floo powder, stepped into the fireplace, and clearly stated, “Evelyn’s apartment.”
Green flames roared around him, and a moment later, he was stepping out into the familiar warmth of Evelyn’s home.
One by one, the others arrived, dusting off their robes as they adjusted to their new surroundings.
The apartment was just as cozy as Harry remembered. The living room was dimly lit by floating candles, a fire crackling in the hearth. The scent of freshly baked bread and roasted meat filled the air, making Ron practically groan in delight.
“You called Dobby, didn’t you?” Harry asked Evelyn, grinning.
She smirked. “Of course. I wasn’t about to let you lot starve over the holidays.”
At that moment, Dobby himself popped into the room, his large eyes shining with excitement. “Harry Potter, sir! And Miss Evelyn and all of Harry Potter’s friends! Dobby is so happy to be cooking for you all!”
“Thanks, Dobby,” Hermione said warmly, though she still frowned slightly—her stance on house-elves hadn’t changed, even if Dobby insisted he was happy.
Everyone settled into the apartment quickly, dropping their bags in the various spare rooms. The apartment wasn’t huge, but Evelyn had made sure there were enough beds and sleeping spaces for everyone.
When dinner was finally served, they all gathered around the long wooden table, plates piled high with food. Laughter and conversation filled the space, the tension of war momentarily forgotten.
Halfway through the meal, Theo leaned forward, setting his goblet down with a determined look. “Alright. We need to go over the plan.”
Silence fell over the group.
Harry set his fork down. “We’ve got the basics down from our recon, but we need to finalize how we’re actually getting inside.”
Evelyn nodded. “Dumbledore is careful. Even though he’s retired, I guarantee he still has wards up around the house. We need a way to get past them.”
Blaise smirked. “Good thing we have a few Slytherins on the team.”
Theo unfolded a piece of parchment and smoothed it over the table. It was a rough sketch of Dumbledore’s childhood home, based on everything they had learned from their scouting trips.
They spent the rest of the night deep in discussion, working through every possible way to get inside without alerting the former Headmaster.
It wouldn’t be easy.
But they were determined.
By the time their planning session finally wound down, the group was exhausted. One by one, they retreated to their rooms, still murmuring about possible strategies and backup plans.
Evelyn lingered in the living room, staring at the flickering fire. She wasn’t nervous—if anything, she was more determined than ever—but she couldn’t shake the weight of responsibility pressing against her ribs.
A warm hand settled on her shoulder.
“You alright?” Harry’s voice was gentle, but she could hear the concern behind it.
Evelyn turned to look at him, offering a small smile. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
Harry hummed, stepping closer. “You’ve been leading this fight for a while, Evelyn. It’s alright to take a break every now and then.”
She scoffed. “Says you.”
“Fair point,” he admitted with a smirk.
For a moment, they simply stood there, watching the fire crackle. Then, Harry slid his fingers through hers, giving her hand a small tug.
“Come to bed with me.”
It wasn’t a question.
Evelyn hesitated only for a second before nodding.
Their room was small but cozy. The window was cracked open just slightly, letting in the cool night air.
The moment the door clicked shut behind them, Evelyn felt herself relax. Here, away from the weight of their responsibilities, away from the war, she could just be with him.
Harry sat on the edge of the bed, watching her as she approached. There was something in his expression—affection, longing, something deeper than words could convey.
“You sure you’re alright?” he asked again.
Evelyn sighed, finally allowing herself to be honest. “It’s just… we don’t get a lot of moments like this anymore. I miss it.”
Harry reached out, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her between his legs. He pressed a soft kiss to her stomach through her shirt before looking up at her.
“I miss it too,” he admitted. “I miss us.”
Evelyn’s fingers carded through his hair, her heart swelling at his words.
“We’re still us,” she whispered.
Harry stood, capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss. It wasn’t rushed—it wasn’t desperate like so many of their stolen moments had been lately. This was different. This was grounding.
They took their time.
Clothes were shed, hands explored, and whispered confessions filled the space between them.
That night, there was no war. No Voldemort. No plans.
Just them.
_____________________
Sunlight streamed through the cracked window, casting golden hues across the room. The sheets were warm, tangled around their bodies in a mess of limbs and slow, steady breaths. Evelyn stirred first, shifting slightly against Harry’s chest.
His arm tightened around her instinctively, his face nuzzling into her hair.
“Mm,” he murmured sleepily. “Five more minutes.”
Evelyn let out a quiet chuckle. “We have a whole day ahead of us, Harry.”
“Don’t care,” he muttered, his voice rough with sleep. “This is better.”
And she had to agree.
For a long moment, she simply lay there, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was a rare thing—to have a peaceful morning with no immediate danger looming over them. She wanted to hold onto it for as long as possible.
But the world outside their bubble was waiting.
With a sigh, Evelyn shifted onto her side so she could face him properly. His green eyes were still hazy with sleep, his hair even messier than usual. She reached up, smoothing a hand through it, watching as his lips curved into a sleepy smile.
“Morning,” he murmured.
“Morning,” she echoed.
Harry let out a deep breath before finally conceding. “Alright. You win. We should probably get up before someone comes knocking.”
Evelyn smirked. “Considering Theo and Pansy, I’d say we have about five minutes before they start banging on the door.”
Harry groaned, burying his face in the pillow. “Let’s hex them.”
She laughed, pressing a kiss to his temple before slipping out of bed. “Come on, lazy. Time to be a responsible leader again.”
Grumbling, Harry dragged himself upright, watching her with tired but affectionate eyes as she gathered her clothes.
By the time they both made their way to the kitchen, the rest of the gang was already awake and bustling around. Dobby had prepared a massive breakfast spread—eggs, bacon, toast, sausages, and enough coffee to fuel an army.
“Nice of you two to finally join us,” Theo drawled, sipping his coffee. “Sleep well?”
Evelyn shot him a warning look, but Theo just smirked.
Harry, still a bit sleep-dazed, just grabbed a plate of food without comment.
Daphne, thankfully, steered the conversation away before Theo could push further. “So,” she said, turning to the group. “Are we all set on the plan for tonight?”
The shift in tone was immediate.
Evelyn nodded, sliding into her seat. “We’ve gone over it a dozen times, but let’s do one more final run-through. Everyone needs to be on the same page before we set foot in Godric’s Hollow.”
The gang settled into serious expressions as they prepared to go over their plan one last time. The easy comfort of the morning faded, replaced by sharp focus.
Tonight, they were going after the Elder Wand.
And they had to be ready.
____________________
The day passed in a blur of final strategizing. Everyone had their role, their position, their escape route—there was no room for error.
Evelyn sat at the head of the dining table, a map of Godric’s Hollow spread out before her, its parchment covered in moving dots and inked-in annotations. Harry stood at her side, arms crossed, while Theo, Daphne, and Blaise pored over the finer details.
“We’ll need to get in and out as quickly as possible,” Evelyn said, tracing a path on the map with her finger. “We can’t risk drawing too much attention. We have no idea if Dumbledore has wards set up around his house.”
“That’s why I’m going to check first,” Theo said. “I’ll go in under Disillusionment and do a sweep. If there are wards, I’ll try to disable them. If I can’t, we adjust.”
Harry nodded. “And once we’re in?”
“That’s where you come in,” Blaise said, turning to Harry. “If there’s any kind of magical protection inside, you’ll have to deal with it. The wand will recognize you—it belonged to Dumbledore, but before that, it was in your bloodline’s possession through Ignotus Peverell.”
Daphne drummed her fingers against the table. “And if Dumbledore is home?”
Silence fell over the group.
Evelyn took a deep breath. “We don’t fight him. If he’s there, we retreat. He’s too powerful, and if he figures out what we’re after, we lose our only chance.”
Pansy, sitting on the counter with her arms folded, scowled. “So we’re just supposed to run away?”
“Yes,” Evelyn said firmly. “The goal is to take the wand, not duel one of the greatest wizards of all time.”
Pansy didn’t look happy about it, but she didn’t argue.
Harry exhaled. “Alright. We leave after sunset. Everyone needs to be ready by then.”
The tension in the room was palpable, but no one voiced their nerves. They had a mission to complete.
By the time the sun dipped beneath the horizon, the group was dressed in dark, travel-ready clothing. Wands secured, spells at the ready.
Theo cast the Disillusionment Charm on himself first, vanishing into the night as he went ahead to scout. The rest of them waited in the shadow of the trees at the outskirts of Godric’s Hollow, concealed by multiple layers of protective charms.
Minutes passed like hours.
Then, finally, a soft voice whispered through the enchanted communication coin Evelyn held in her palm.
“All clear,” Theo’s voice murmured. “Wards are minimal. I took down the detection charms. Move in.”
Evelyn turned to the group. “Let’s go.”
Silent as shadows, they made their way through the village, the cobbled streets quiet and empty. Godric’s Hollow had an eerie stillness at night—its history whispering through the wind.
Then, at last, they saw it.
A modest, ivy-covered home nestled between two others. The house of Albus Dumbledore.
Harry exhaled, his grip on his wand tightening.
“Alright,” Evelyn whispered. “We do this fast.”
They crept forward, the weight of their task settling heavily on their shoulders.
Theo was the first to reach the house, still invisible under his Disillusionment Charm. He tested the air around the entrance with slow, deliberate wand movements.
“No new wards,” he murmured through the coin. “The ones I took down haven’t been replaced yet.”
Evelyn, Harry, and Blaise moved in next. Harry stepped up to the front door, his wand in hand. It was locked—of course it was. But simple locks wouldn’t stop them.
A flick of Evelyn’s wand sent a wave of silent magic toward the door. The lock clicked, but something resisted.
“Protego Arcanum,” Blaise whispered, recognizing the ward. “A basic protective spell. Let me handle it.”
He raised his wand, tracing an intricate pattern in the air. There was a shimmer—then a soft pop as the ward broke.
Harry pressed his hand against the door. “Everyone ready?”
They nodded.
With a silent push, the door creaked open, revealing the darkened interior.
The house smelled of parchment and old wood, a faint trace of lemon drops lingering in the air. The furniture was neatly arranged, bookshelves lining the walls. Everything about the home was calculated—deliberate.
“Stay quiet,” Evelyn whispered.
The group spread out, scanning the room for any sign of the wand.
Blaise checked the bookshelves. Theo moved toward the desk, rifling carefully through papers. Harry, following an instinct he couldn’t explain, made his way toward the fireplace, where a tall cabinet stood.
Something pulled at him.
“I think it’s here,” he whispered.
Evelyn moved beside him, her magic tingling against the cabinet’s surface. It was locked—not by mundane means, but by something stronger.
“A blood ward,” she realized.
Harry inhaled. There was no time to waste.
Without hesitation, he brought his wand to his palm and whispered, “Diffindo.” A shallow cut opened, and he pressed his bleeding hand against the cabinet.
The magic rippled.
Then— click.
The door creaked open, revealing a single object resting on a velvet cloth.
The Elder Wand.
Harry reached out and lifted it, the moment heavy with significance. The wand pulsed in his grip, as if recognizing him.
“We got it,” he whispered.
But before anyone could celebrate—
A crack sounded from outside.
Footsteps.
Someone was coming.
The footsteps outside were slow, deliberate. Whoever it was, they weren’t in a hurry—but they weren’t just passing by either.
Harry clenched the Elder Wand in his hand, resisting the urge to test its power. They needed to get out.
Evelyn’s eyes flickered to the others. “We need a distraction.”
Theo nodded, already moving toward the back door. He whispered a spell under his breath, and a second later, a loud crash echoed from the other side of the house—shattering glass and the heavy thud of something collapsing.
“Move,” Blaise hissed.
They sprinted for the front door, keeping their steps light. Harry pulled the door open—
And nearly ran straight into a figure in dark blue robes.
His breath caught.
Aberforth Dumbledore.
The old man’s eyes flickered over them, taking in their faces, the way Harry clutched the Elder Wand. His expression was unreadable, but his wand was already in hand.
Evelyn reacted first. She moved in front of Harry, her stance defensive. “We’re not here to hurt anyone.”
Aberforth’s gaze lingered on her, then back to the wand. His grip tightened. “You broke into my brother’s house.”
Harry held his ground. “I had to.”
Silence.
Theo and Blaise were already shifting into position, ready to fight if needed.
Aberforth exhaled sharply, his face lined with something close to resignation. “Go.”
Evelyn blinked. “What?”
“Take it and go,” he repeated, stepping aside. His expression darkened. “You won’t have long before someone else notices the wards have been tampered with.”
Harry hesitated, but only for a second. He nodded, gripping the wand tighter. “Thank you.”
Aberforth didn’t respond. He simply watched as they disappeared into the night.
⸻
The second they flooed into Evelyn’s apartment, tension snapped like a rubber band.
Blaise groaned, rolling his shoulders. “Well, that could’ve gone worse.”
Theo collapsed onto the couch, pressing a hand to his temple. “Could’ve gone better too.”
Evelyn ignored them, turning straight to Harry. Her eyes darted between his face and the wand in his hand. “How does it feel?”
Harry turned the Elder Wand over between his fingers. It hummed against his skin, responding in a way no other wand had. He didn’t know how to explain it.
“Powerful.”
Evelyn studied him carefully, but whatever she was looking for, she didn’t say. Instead, she exhaled and dropped onto the couch beside Theo.
“That was too close.”
Blaise smirked. “Oh, come on. You love the thrill.”
She shot him a look but didn’t argue.
Harry sat down, still turning the wand in his hands. He had it now. One of the most powerful magical objects in existence.
But the real battle was just beginning.
_________________
The adrenaline had long since worn off, but the weight of what they had just done still pressed on them like a physical force. They were all gathered in Evelyn’s apartment, sprawled across couches and chairs, the remnants of a late-night tea spread scattered across the coffee table. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken thoughts.
Harry sat with the Elder Wand still clutched in his hand, the warmth of its magic thrumming beneath his fingertips. He had expected it to feel foreign, wrong even—but instead, it felt like it belonged to him. As though it had been waiting.
Theo was the first to break the silence. “Alright,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “We actually pulled that off.”
Blaise snorted. “Barely.”
Evelyn, who had been quiet until now, sat forward. Her sharp green eyes flicked between them, landing on Harry. “What happens now?”
Harry exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We keep going. This doesn’t change anything—not yet.” He set the Elder Wand down on the table, staring at it. “It’s a tool. A powerful one. But Voldemort is still out there, and he’s still getting stronger.”
Evelyn nodded slowly, but her expression remained unreadable. “I just want to make sure you don’t become too dependent on it. You know what the legends say.”
“I know.” Harry looked up at her, meeting her gaze. “But I also know we can’t afford to lose.”
That was all that needed to be said.
By the next morning, the exhaustion from the mission had faded enough for the group to start thinking about their next move.
They gathered in the living room, this time with parchment and maps spread out before them. Evelyn took the lead, standing at the front of the room with her arms crossed.
“We have the Elder Wand,” she said, voice steady. “That gives us an edge. But it’s not enough to just have it—we need to make sure Voldemort doesn’t get desperate and start looking for a way to counter it.”
Theo, already scribbling on a piece of parchment, nodded. “Agreed. We know he’s after it, but he doesn’t know we have it yet. If we’re smart, we can use that against him.”
Blaise raised an eyebrow. “You’re suggesting we mislead him?”
“Why not?” Evelyn leaned against the armrest of the couch. “We leak information. Make it seem like the wand is somewhere else. Send him on a wild goose chase while we solidify our position.”
Harry frowned in thought. “It’s risky. If he figures out we’re playing him—”
“Then we deal with it,” Theo interrupted. “We’re already playing with fire, Potter. Might as well make sure the flames burn in the right direction.”
There was a pause. Then Harry nodded. “Alright. Let’s do it.”
___________________
The apartment was filled with the scent of fresh breakfast, a mix of cinnamon, eggs, and toasted bread as Dobby bustled around the kitchen, humming to himself. It was the start of their second day at Evelyn’s place, and despite everything hanging over their heads, the atmosphere was warm.
Theo stretched, leaning back in his chair at the dining table. “I could get used to this,” he said, popping a grape into his mouth. “A whole week without worrying about sneaking around Hogwarts.”
“You say that now,” Hermione remarked, flipping through a book beside him. “Give it three days, and you’ll be begging to go back.”
Evelyn smirked, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I doubt it. You lot are hopeless at relaxing.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Even as they sat around enjoying a hearty breakfast, the weight of their mission hadn’t lifted. The Elder Wand sat wrapped in cloth on the mantle, and every now and then, someone’s eyes would drift toward it.
After they ate, the real discussions began.
They gathered in the sitting room, maps and old texts spread out on the coffee table.
“First order of business,” Evelyn began, “we need to decide how to keep this wand safe. Voldemort’s still looking for it, and he’ll come after it the moment he figures out we have it.”
Harry sat forward, fingers drumming against his knee. “It has to stay with me,” he said firmly. “The wand only changes allegiance when it’s taken. If I give it up willingly, there’s a chance it could break its loyalty.”
“That means hiding it on you at all times,” Theo pointed out. “Disillusionment charm? Or do we transfigure it into something else?”
“We could carve a false casing,” Blaise suggested. “Make it look like an ordinary wand. That way, even if someone sees it, they won’t know.”
Hermione nodded thoughtfully. “And you should use your regular wand as much as possible. The more you use the Elder Wand, the more attention it’ll attract.”
Evelyn looked at Harry. “And if it comes down to it?”
“I’ll use it,” Harry said simply. “I won’t let Voldemort get his hands on it.”
There was a moment of silence before Evan cleared his throat. “Alright. Then let’s make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Despite the serious planning, the group found ways to enjoy their time off.
On the third evening, they held a game night, turning the sitting room into a makeshift battlefield for wizard’s chess and charades. Draco and Theo got into a heated debate over a chess match, while Pansy and Daphne engaged in a ruthless round of Exploding Snap that ended with smoke curling from Daphne’s fingertips.
On another night, Evelyn and Harry cooked together while the others lounged around, and for a brief moment, everything felt normal. Laughter echoed through the apartment, the sounds of forks clinking against plates filling the space.
But beneath it all, they never forgot what was coming.
Late at night, when the others had gone to bed, Evelyn and Harry would sit together by the fireplace, discussing strategy in hushed voices. Every step they planned, every move they anticipated, was another layer of protection against the inevitable.
And then, before they knew it, the week was over.
The transition from Evelyn’s apartment back to Hogwarts was jarring. One moment, they were enjoying home-cooked meals, lounging in a safe space, and strategizing in relative peace. The next, they were stepping through the Floo Network into Professor Snape’s office, back to the familiar but suffocating tension of the castle.
“Feels weird being back,” Theo muttered as they exited the dungeons and made their way toward the Great Hall for breakfast. “Like we were gone for longer than a week.”
“Probably because we actually relaxed for once,” Blaise said, smirking.
The Great Hall was bustling with activity when they entered. The younger students were chattering about exams, parchment and quills spread out across the long tables, while their own year group—those who weren’t sitting exams—were either reading quietly or discussing the latest training schedule.
McGonagall had made it clear before they left: with the war looming over them, only essential exams would be held this term. Younger years would still be tested in core subjects—Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Herbology—but the seventh years were excused from their mastery exams altogether. Their training, planning, and combat preparation had become their priority.
“Well, at least we don’t have to stress over exams,” Pansy said as she slid into her seat beside Daphne. She flexed her arm experimentally, the lingering stiffness from her injury still present but healing well. “Not that I ever did before, mind you.”
Draco scoffed. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I prefer ‘academically selective,’” she said with a grin.
Across the table, Evelyn and Hermione were already flipping through books, discussing battle tactics they could incorporate into training.
“If we’re going to keep pushing ourselves, we need to start integrating more advanced spellwork,” Hermione said. “We’ve been focusing on dueling, but we need more large-scale magic. Defensive wards, barrier spells, tactical maneuvering—”
“We’ll go over it in the Room of Requirement later,” Evelyn assured her. “We’ll make the training more intensive.”
Harry, meanwhile, was scanning the hall, his eyes darting toward the staff table. He had half expected McGonagall to pull him aside immediately, asking how things went over the break, but she simply nodded at him before continuing her discussion with Flitwick.
As breakfast wound down, the group made their way toward the library.
Despite not having exams, the gang still spent time in the library, helping the younger students revise while also using the opportunity to expand their own magical knowledge.
“Alright, let’s run through this again,” Evan said, leaning forward at their table. “We’ve got the Elder Wand secured. We’ve got a few plans in place to keep it hidden. Now we need to finalize our plan to actually end this war.”
“We’ve weakened Voldemort’s ranks,” Theo added. “Taken out some of his key allies. But it’s not enough. He’s still gathering forces, and from the way he’s been moving, I’d say he’s planning something big.”
Harry exchanged a look with Evelyn. “Then we need to be ready before he strikes.”
Hermione tapped a finger against the table thoughtfully. “The problem is, Voldemort isn’t just attacking randomly. He’s strategic. Every move he makes serves a purpose. If we can figure out what his endgame is, we might be able to predict his next attack.”
Blaise raised an eyebrow. “His endgame? That’s easy. He wants Harry dead.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you, Blaise.”
Evelyn sighed. “The question is how he’s planning to do it. He knows he can’t duel Harry properly because of the twin cores issue, and now that we have the Elder Wand, he’s lost his best chance at overpowering him magically.”
“He’s desperate,” Daphne said quietly. “And desperate people make reckless decisions.”
“That’s what worries me,” Hermione admitted. “We don’t know what he’ll do next.”
They spent the next few hours piecing together everything they knew, refining their tactics, and going over every possible angle.
By the time they left the library, the weight of what was coming had settled even heavier on their shoulders.
___________________
The air was thick with tension inside Malfoy Manor. The grand hall, usually cold and foreboding, was transformed into a makeshift funeral chamber, draped in deep black. Heavy, flickering torches lined the walls, casting jagged shadows across the stone floor. At the center of the room, atop a raised platform, lay Bellatrix Lestrange’s body—wrapped in elegant, dark silks, her expression frozen in a twisted mockery of peace.
Voldemort stood at the head of the platform, his pale fingers curled around his wand, his red eyes gleaming with pure, unrestrained rage.
Bellatrix was dead.
Bellatrix—the most devoted of his followers. The one who had never wavered, who had taken his cause and made it her life’s purpose—gone, at the hands of Evelyn McCrae.
His lips curled back in a silent snarl as he listened to the hushed murmurs of the gathered Death Eaters. They were subdued, standing in neat rows, heads bowed as if in mourning. But Voldemort knew the truth. They weren’t grieving. They were afraid .
And they should be.
“This,” he finally spoke, his voice a deadly whisper, “is an insult I will not suffer.”
The entire hall stilled. No one dared to breathe too loudly.
Voldemort slowly stepped down from the platform, his gaze sweeping over his followers. “Do not mistake my fury for grief,” he continued, his tone deadly calm. “Bellatrix was powerful, but she was one piece in this war. She has been replaced .”
At this, the crowd stirred uncomfortably.
“Evelyn McCrae will suffer for what she has done,” Voldemort promised. “I will break her. And when she is begging for death, I will grant her that mercy.”
A faint shiver ran through the ranks of the Death Eaters.
Lucius Malfoy cleared his throat carefully before stepping forward. “My Lord, we are already gathering intelligence on her weaknesses. But if I may suggest… the girl is not the only one who requires punishment.”
Voldemort turned his burning gaze on him, and Lucius dipped his head immediately in deference.
“Potter,” Lucius continued. “He is the reason she fights so hard. Remove him, and she will fall.”
A slow, cruel smile spread across Voldemort’s lips. “You are not wrong, Lucius.”
He began pacing, his mind working quickly.
“We need to strike soon,” he mused. “This war has dragged on long enough. They have had time to prepare , time to train . That ends now.”
The Death Eaters stiffened, sensing the shift in his tone.
“We will move against them soon—sooner than they expect,” Voldemort decided. “But this time, we do not fight for control. We do not fight to subdue.” His eyes darkened, gleaming with malice. “We fight to kill .”
The Death Eaters exchanged glances, silent but understanding. This would not be another battle. This would be a massacre .
Voldemort’s fingers curled around his wand, his grip tightening.
Evelyn McCrae thought she could challenge him.
Harry Potter thought he could escape him.
They would both learn the truth soon enough.
_______________
Every morning, the seventh years gathered in the Great Hall for structured training sessions, led by McGonagall and the other professors. At this point, it was less about teaching and more about refining. The students were good . Many were skilled duelists now, capable of holding their own against full-grown wizards.
Still, it wasn’t enough.
“Again!” McGonagall barked as Evelyn dodged a hex from Theo and sent a sharp Stunning Spell right back at him. He deflected it easily, but she was already moving, her wand a blur as she fired a nonverbal disarming spell. Theo’s wand nearly flew from his grip, but he managed to hold on and retaliate.
Across the hall, Harry was locked in a heated duel with Blaise and Daphne, both of whom had improved drastically over the past few months. Blaise moved fast, relying on his agility, while Daphne used controlled, precise movements, always thinking two steps ahead.
“You’re getting slow, Potter!” Blaise taunted as he sent a Blasting Curse toward Harry’s feet.
Harry leapt back, twisting mid-air to dodge a follow-up hex from Daphne.
“Not slow,” Harry grinned, landing smoothly. “Just waiting for you to catch up .”
With a flick of his wrist, he sent a powerful Disarming Charm toward Blaise, forcing him to deflect it at the last second.
Nearby, Ron and Pansy were paired off, and for once, Ron wasn’t complaining. He’d grown used to dueling Pansy, and their matches were actually evenly matched. Pansy fought with sheer aggression, whereas Ron had developed a knack for last-second counterspells.
“You always go for the right side,” Ron commented as he blocked another of her attacks.
Pansy smirked. “And yet you still let me land a hit half the time.”
After two hours of rigorous training, McGonagall finally dismissed them. The students collapsed onto the benches along the walls, panting, catching their breath.
“You lot ,” McGonagall sighed, shaking her head. “If you trained half as hard in your regular classes as you do here, you might all be experts in every subject by now.”
“Defence Against the Dark Arts is just a tad more important at the moment, Professor,” Evan said wryly, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
McGonagall pursed her lips but didn’t argue.
Though the official training in the Great Hall was structured and intense, the gang knew they needed something more. That’s why, almost every night, they gathered in the Room of Requirement for private training sessions—just them, no professors.
Here, they pushed themselves to the limit.
Evelyn and Theo sparred fiercely, testing each other’s endurance. Harry and Ron worked on advanced shield charms, while Hermione and Daphne experimented with spell combinations designed to counteract some of the Dark Arts. Pansy and Blaise focused on physical combat as well, reinforcing their reflexes alongside their spellwork.
The goal was simple: be better than the enemy.
During one of these nights, as Evelyn and Harry sat catching their breath on one of the conjured couches, Theo leaned against the wall, watching the rest of the group sparring in pairs.
“We’re running out of time,” he muttered, voice low.
Harry glanced at him. “What makes you say that?”
Theo exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You can feel it, can’t you? Something’s coming. We’ve been training for months, but it’s not just us getting stronger. Voldemort’s forces are probably doing the same.”
Evelyn nodded, her expression grim. “He won’t wait forever. The longer we prepare, the more desperate he’ll become. He knows we’re getting stronger, and he won’t let that continue unchecked.”
Harry leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “We have the Elder Wand now. That gives us an advantage, but we can’t rely on it alone. If Voldemort attacks, it won’t be just him—it’ll be his entire army.”
Theo crossed his arms. “That’s exactly what I mean. He’s waiting for the right moment, but he will make a move soon. We need to be ready for anything.”
The three of them sat in silence for a moment, watching as Ron and Blaise continued sparring on the other side of the room. Hermione was off to the side, testing an advanced protective ward with Daphne. Pansy was dueling Evan, both of them moving so fast their spells were almost blurs.
Evelyn finally broke the silence. “We need to start preparing for a full-scale attack. Not just dueling practice—actual battle strategy. We’ve been training one-on-one, but if we’re caught in a fight against a large group, we need to know how to fight together .”
Theo nodded in agreement. “Tactical formations, defensive positioning, counter-ambushes… things like that.”
Harry ran a hand through his hair. “We should also start training the others in the DA. Not everyone is at our level, but if we’re going to fight, they need to be able to hold their own too.”
Evelyn stood up, “Let’s start now then.”
The letter arrived in the middle of the night.
It was Sirius’ handwriting—sharp, hurried, urgent. Harry had been up late in the common room with Evelyn, flipping through strategy books they had borrowed from the library, when the window suddenly burst open. A jet-black owl swooped inside, dropping the letter right into Harry’s lap before disappearing back into the night.
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Sirius?”
“Yeah,” Harry said, already tearing it open. His eyes scanned the parchment, his face darkening with every line he read.
Evelyn frowned. “What is it?”
Harry swallowed hard and handed her the letter. She quickly read through it.
Harry,
We have reason to believe that Voldemort is preparing another attack on Hogwarts. Snape overheard him speaking with Lucius Malfoy—he’s been waiting for the right moment, but it sounds like he’s growing impatient. He wants this war over, and he wants it over soon.
We don’t have an exact date yet, but it could be within weeks. He knows you’re still at Hogwarts. He knows the school is still a threat to him.
Be ready. Do whatever you have to do to make sure you all survive.
I wish I could be there, but you know I can’t at the moment. We will be there when he attacks if you send word. Keep Evelyn close. She’s the best chance you have. And don’t be stupid. Don’t try to face him alone.
—Sirius
Evelyn clenched her jaw. “So it’s happening sooner than we thought.”
Harry ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “We don’t have time to waste. We need to get everyone ready for a real battle, not just dueling practice.”
Evelyn stood up. “McGonagall needs to hear this. Now.”
They left the common room immediately, hurrying through the dark corridors of Hogwarts. The castle was eerily silent at this hour, save for the occasional flickering torch and the distant hoot of an owl outside.
McGonagall’s office was on the second floor, and by the time they reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance, Harry was already knocking urgently.
“Enter,” came McGonagall’s voice.
Harry and Evelyn stepped inside.
McGonagall was sitting behind her desk, still dressed in her robes, though she looked tired—like she had been expecting bad news. A single candle flickered beside her, casting long shadows across the room.
She glanced between them. “What is it?”
Harry handed her the letter. “Sirius sent this. It’s from the Order.”
McGonagall took the parchment, adjusting her glasses as she read. Her mouth tightened, and when she finished, she set the letter down carefully.
“So it has come to this,” she murmured.
Evelyn stepped forward. “We need to change the way we’re training. We can’t afford to keep doing separate groups by year. We need everyone working together—learning to fight in large numbers.”
McGonagall met her gaze, then Harry’s. “You are suggesting full-scale battle training.”
Harry nodded. “Yes. We’ve already been working on it in the Room of Requirement, but if the attack happens soon, we need every student prepared. Everyone who’s willing to fight needs to be able to hold the line.”
McGonagall was silent for a long moment.
Then she stood up.
“Very well,” she said, her voice steady. “Starting tomorrow, I will make the announcement. If Voldemort plans to bring the fight to us, then we will be ready.”
_______________
The Great Hall was unusually quiet the next morning.
It wasn’t just the usual sluggishness that came with early breakfast—there was a tension in the air, a sense that something big was coming. Harry and Evelyn sat with the others at their usual spot, waiting. Ron and Pansy were murmuring about the letter Sirius had sent, and Theo kept drumming his fingers on the table, clearly impatient.
McGonagall stood at the front of the Hall, looking out over the students as the last of them settled into their seats. She tapped her goblet with her wand, and the hall fell into absolute silence.
“As many of you have likely realized, we are at a turning point in this war,” she began, her sharp gaze sweeping over the students. “Lord Voldemort has not given up on his goal of conquering the wizarding world, and Hogwarts remains a target.”
A ripple of unease spread through the younger students, but the older years remained steady, exchanging glances with one another.
“New information has come to light,” McGonagall continued, “suggesting that he will strike sooner than expected. Because of this, our approach to your training must change.”
Murmurs began to spread, but McGonagall silenced them with a single look.
“From this day forward, we will no longer be training in separate year groups,” she announced. “Instead, the entire school will train together from ten o’clock in the morning until four in the afternoon, Monday through Friday.”
Now the Hall erupted in chatter. First-years whispered nervously to one another, and some fourth-years looked downright terrified. But the seventh-years—especially those who had been training with Harry and Evelyn—looked satisfied, as if they had been expecting this.
McGonagall let them talk for a few moments before continuing. “The purpose of this is to ensure that if an attack does happen, we will not be caught unprepared. You will learn to fight alongside one another, regardless of year or House. Your professors will lead these training sessions, and several students will be acting as assistants to help guide those who are less experienced.”
At this, she turned to look at Harry, Evelyn, Pansy, and Ron.
“You four will be assisting myself, Professors Flitwick, Snape, and Sprout in organizing these sessions,” she stated. “Your experience leading training in the Room of Requirement makes you the best candidates for this responsibility. You will also be demonstrating advanced techniques for the younger students to learn from.”
Harry sat up a little straighter. He had expected something like this, but hearing it said out loud made it feel more real.
McGonagall’s voice softened slightly as she looked around at them all. “This will be difficult. This will be exhausting. But it is necessary. The time for hesitation is over.”
A heavy silence followed her words.
Then, to everyone’s surprise, it was Theo who stood first.
“Then we’d better get started,” he said, his voice even.
Slowly, one by one, other students began nodding in agreement. Evelyn saw Blaise, Daphne, Evan, and even Draco sitting silently, accepting what was coming. The Gryffindors looked ready, the Hufflepuffs determined, and the Ravenclaws calculating their best strategies already.
McGonagall gave a small nod. “Training begins tomorrow.”
And with that, breakfast resumed—but the atmosphere had shifted. There was no more meaningless chatter, no casual conversation. The entire school was preparing for war.
By the next morning, the Great Hall looked completely different.
The circular dining tables had vanished, replaced with an open space large enough to accommodate the entire student body. At the front stood McGonagall, Flitwick, Snape, and Sprout, along with Harry, Evelyn, Pansy, and Ron.
“As you all know, training starts now,” McGonagall said, her voice carrying across the hall. “We will begin with group coordination. Fighting in an open battle is vastly different from a controlled duel—you must learn to move together, to watch each other’s backs, and to trust those around you.”
Flitwick stepped forward, his tiny frame barely intimidating, but his presence commanding nonetheless. “We will split you into teams of twenty, each with a mix of years and Houses. Each team will run through defensive formations and offensive tactics before we move into battle simulations.”
The students murmured amongst themselves as the professors began sorting them into groups. Evelyn was placed with Harry, Ron, and Pansy, along with a mix of younger and older students.
“Once your teams are set,” Snape continued, “we will begin with defensive spellwork. Shields are the first line of defense—if you cannot protect yourself and your teammates, you will not last long in battle.”
With a flick of his wand, Snape conjured a glowing silver dome in front of him. “This is a proper shield. It is not just about casting Protego—it is about layering your defenses, reinforcing your magic, and sustaining it under pressure.”
Evelyn turned to her group. “Alright, let’s see what you lot can do.”
The younger students hesitated, but the older ones immediately lifted their wands.
“Protego!”
Several shimmering shields appeared, some more solid than others. Evelyn walked between them, inspecting their forms. “Hold it steady,” she told a fourth-year Ravenclaw. “Your stance is too narrow—spread your feet for better balance.”
Pansy, on the other side, was working with a pair of third-years. “Your wand movement is too slow,” she told one of them. “Faster, and put more intent into it.”
Ron was demonstrating with a group of fifth-years, showing them how to layer shields together. “The stronger spellcasters should go first,” he explained, “and then the others reinforce it. That way, even if one shield breaks, there’s another behind it.”
Harry, meanwhile, was running drills with his group, throwing spells at their shields to test their durability. “In a real battle, your enemy won’t wait for you to get set,” he told them. “You need to be able to cast under pressure.”
The Great Hall was soon filled with the sounds of magic—shields shimmering, spells colliding, voices calling out instructions.
After an hour, McGonagall called for a break.
Evelyn wiped the sweat from her forehead as she joined Harry and the others at the front of the Hall. “They’re catching on faster than I expected,” she admitted.
Harry nodded. “Yeah, but this is just the beginning. We need to push them harder if we want them ready.”
McGonagall must have overheard, because she turned toward them. “Then perhaps a demonstration is in order.”
Evelyn smirked. “You want us to put on a show?”
McGonagall’s lips twitched slightly. “Something like that.”
Evelyn glanced at Harry, who nodded in understanding.
“Alright,” she said. “Let’s show them how it’s done.”
The Great Hall was silent as the students gathered in a large circle, leaving an open space in the center. Harry, Evelyn, Pansy, and Ron stood at the ready, wands in hand, as McGonagall addressed the crowd.
“As you have all been told,” she began, her sharp gaze sweeping over the students, “battle is unpredictable. You will not always face a single opponent. You may be outnumbered. You may have to fight alongside someone whose style is entirely different from yours. Today’s demonstration will show you how teamwork and adaptability are essential in combat.”
She turned to the four of them. “Begin.”
There was no hesitation.
Harry and Evelyn took up position on one side, Pansy and Ron on the other. For a second, they simply stood there, analyzing each other, waiting for the first move.
Then, in the blink of an eye, Pansy struck first.
“Expelliarmus!”
Evelyn deflected it with a sharp flick of her wand, spinning on her heel as Ron sent a Stunner her way.
“Protego!” Her shield flared to life, absorbing the impact, but before she could counter, Pansy fired off another spell.
“Confringo!”
A burst of fire erupted toward her, forcing her to dodge.
Harry used the opening. “Stupefy!”
Ron barely managed to block the Stunning Spell, his shield shimmering under the force.
The crowd watched in awe as the duel escalated. The four of them moved fluidly, dodging, casting, shielding—no wasted movements, no hesitation.
Evelyn shot a silent hex at Pansy, who sidestepped, countering with a barrage of spells that forced Evelyn to retreat.
Meanwhile, Harry and Ron were locked in a fast-paced exchange, their spells clashing midair, each trying to outmaneuver the other.
Then Evelyn changed tactics.
“Accio Pansy’s wand!”
Pansy yelped as her wand wrenched itself from her grip, but instead of panicking, she did the unexpected—she lunged at Evelyn, tackling her.
The crowd gasped as both girls hit the ground, rolling. Evelyn kicked Pansy off her, but Pansy wasn’t done. She grabbed Evelyn’s arm, twisting it as if she were in a hand-to-hand fight rather than a duel.
Evelyn grinned. “You fight dirty.”
“You taught me,” Pansy shot back.
Across the battlefield, Ron realized Pansy was disarmed and yelled, “Petrificus Totalus!” aiming at Evelyn, trying to help.
Harry intercepted. “Protego!”
Ron’s spell rebounded.
“Nice try,” Harry said, before sending a blasting hex his way.
Ron barely dodged in time.
McGonagall finally called, “Enough!”
All four froze in place, their wands raised, bodies tense, ready to keep fighting.
McGonagall looked pleased. “That,” she told the watching students, “is how you fight as a team. Observe how they covered for each other, adapted to changing circumstances, and used more than just magic to gain the upper hand.”
She turned to the rest of the school. “Now, you will practice.”
The training session resumed, but the energy was different. Everyone had seen what real teamwork looked like. Now, they wanted to replicate it.
Evelyn smirked at Harry as they walked back to their group. “Not bad, Potter.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re literally the only person who still calls me that.”
“Force of habit,” she teased.
Ron groaned, stretching his arms. “I think my entire body is bruised.”
Pansy smirked. “Good. Means you were actually working for once.”
He scowled. “Oh, shut up, Parkinson.”
They all laughed, the tension of the fight fading. But beneath it all, they knew this was just the beginning.
The real battle was still coming.
The Great Hall buzzed with excitement the next day as students prepared for another training session. The previous demonstration had left a lasting impression—so much so that it sparked controversy.
As Evelyn, Harry, Ron, and Pansy stood at the front, preparing to assist McGonagall in training exercises, a voice rang out from the crowd.
“That was all well and good,” Michael Corner called, arms crossed, “but let’s be honest—each of you was fighting with your significant other. There was already a natural rhythm. It wasn’t a true test of teamwork under real conditions.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the assembled students.
Evelyn arched a brow, unfazed. “You think we need to prove ourselves?”
“It’s only fair,” Daphne added, stepping forward and addressing the hall. “They set the example, but in a real battle, you won’t always have the luxury of fighting alongside someone you’re perfectly in sync with. We need to see if you can adapt.”
Harry, standing beside Evelyn, exchanged glances with her, Ron, and Pansy. He could see the determination in their eyes.
“Alright,” he said, voice carrying across the room. “We’ll fix that now.”
Evelyn smirked. “How about this? New teams. Harry, Ron, Blaise, and Daphne—” she gestured toward them, “—against me, Draco, Pansy, and Theo.”
Gasps and whispers broke out in the hall.
Blaise snorted. “You’re telling me I have to fight you?” He glanced at Daphne. “Well, at least I won’t be the only one getting hexed into oblivion.”
Daphne rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up, Zabini.”
Draco scoffed, stepping forward to join Evelyn’s team. “This should be interesting.”
McGonagall, intrigued, nodded. “Very well. The duel will begin now.”
The moment McGonagall gave the signal, the hall exploded into action.
Harry and Evelyn locked eyes for only a second before they both moved—Harry ducking to the left, Evelyn to the right, each already countering spells before they had even been cast.
Ron squared off against Theo, both exchanging rapid-fire hexes.
“Stupefy!”
Theo deflected it with a nonverbal Protego, sending back a sharp slicing hex that forced Ron to backpedal.
Meanwhile, Daphne and Draco clashed in an elegant duel, their styles refined but ruthless.
Pansy and Blaise, usually on the same side, showed no mercy. Blaise had always underestimated her, but now, as she forced him back with relentless volleys, he realized just how much she had improved.
“You’ve been holding back,” he muttered, barely dodging a Blasting Curse.
Pansy smirked. “Wouldn’t want to bruise your ego too soon, Zabini.”
The duel escalated.
Harry feinted, forcing Evelyn off-balance before sending a powerful Expelliarmus her way.
But she was faster. She spun mid-air, landing smoothly, her wand still in her grasp.
“Nice try,” she taunted, before hitting him with a nonverbal knockback jinx that sent him stumbling.
Daphne and Draco were still engaged in a rapid exchange of spells, neither letting up.
Then Theo shifted tactics. Instead of keeping Ron at a distance, he darted forward, forcing their fight into close-quarters.
“Impedimenta!” Ron snarled, trying to slow Theo down.
Theo countered immediately, twisting out of the way. “Too slow, Weasley!”
Daphne, noticing Ron struggling, switched targets. She pivoted, aiming a powerful Stunning Spell at Theo.
But Pansy was already moving.
“Protego!” she shouted, blocking Daphne’s attack before spinning on her heel and firing off a Disarming Charm.
Daphne barely dodged.
Blaise, now realizing that Evelyn’s team was gaining the upper hand, made a bold move—he aimed a hex not at Pansy, not at Draco, but at Theo.
Theo yelped as his legs locked together, sending him toppling sideways.
“What the hell, Zabini?” Theo hissed from the floor.
“Sorry, mate, but that’s what you get for dodging too well,” Blaise said, smirking.
It was the opening Harry needed.
“Expelliarmus!”
Draco’s wand flew from his hand.
At the same moment, Evelyn turned to duel Daphne, but Harry was quicker.
“Stupefy!”
Evelyn barely managed to deflect, but Daphne seized the moment, hitting Evelyn with a knockback jinx that sent her skidding across the floor.
McGonagall raised her wand. “Enough!”
Silence fell over the hall.
Both teams stood panting, taking in the results. Draco was disarmed. Theo was on the ground. Evelyn was just getting back up.
Harry’s team had won.
McGonagall nodded approvingly. “An excellent demonstration of adaptability. Now, let this be a lesson—battle is unpredictable. You must be prepared for any circumstance.”
As the students dispersed, Daphne turned to Evelyn, smirking. “Looks like we won.”
Evelyn smirked back. “For now.”
With the duels over, training intensified.
McGonagall coordinated with Flitwick, Sprout, and Snape to implement large-scale battle drills.
The entire school practiced defensive wards, communication spells, and emergency evacuation protocols.
Students patrolled the corridors in pairs, reinforcing protective enchantments on doorways and secret passages.
The Room of Requirement transformed into a tactical planning space, where Harry, Evelyn, and the rest of their group strategized daily.
Even younger students got involved, learning essential defensive spells to prepare for the inevitable.
Every student, from first-years to seventh-years, was given a role. Some were designated as healers, training under Madam Pomfrey. Others focused on counter-curses, ensuring that they could break enemy spells quickly in battle.
The house-elves worked tirelessly behind the scenes, preparing emergency supplies and safe zones within the castle.
Hogwarts was no longer just a school.
It was a fortress.
And they were ready for war.
Chapter 101: The Inevitable
Notes:
hey guys! so, my ao3 is glitching out which means i’m struggling to make some of the text italics (the letters and spells) as there’s so many of them. enjoy anyway!!
Chapter Text
The fire crackled in the dimly lit Room of Requirement, casting long shadows against the stone walls. Evelyn sat cross-legged on the couch, parchment spread across her lap, quill in hand. Harry paced nearby, rubbing his temples as he dictated.
“Dear Sirius,” he began, exhaling sharply. “We need to start preparing for the battle. Voldemort is planning an attack on Hogwarts, and when he does, we need the Order ready to fight back immediately.”
Evelyn scribbled quickly, her handwriting sharp and deliberate. “We think it would be best if the Order gathered at Grimmauld Place now,” she continued, “so that when the time comes, you can all leave from the same place. It’ll be faster, and we’ll have a better chance of launching a coordinated counterattack.”
Harry nodded. “Let him know we’re still training every day. The students are improving fast, but we’ll need all the help we can get when it happens.”
Evelyn hesitated before adding, “We also need to think about what happens after the battle. If we win, Hogwarts will be in ruins. If we lose… Well, we won’t have to worry about that, but the Order needs to be ready to act either way.”
Harry sat beside her, reading over her shoulder. He sighed. “I hate asking him to do this. He’s already risking his life by staying involved.”
Evelyn reached over and squeezed his hand. “Sirius isn’t the type to sit back and do nothing. He’ll want to help.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s send it.”
They folded the letter, sealed it, and tied it securely to Hedwig’s leg. She hooted softly, ruffling her feathers before taking off into the night.
Now, all they could do was wait.
Barely a day later, they received a reply.
Hedwig swooped into the Great Hall during breakfast, dropping the letter right into Harry’s lap. He unfolded it hastily, scanning the words.
Harry, Evelyn—
I hear you loud and clear. You’re right, we can’t afford to waste any time. I’ve already contacted the others—Remus, Tonks, Kingsley, Moody, even some of the old crowd. They’re all on their way to Grimmauld Place. We’ll be ready when the time comes.
I know you two are preparing the students, and I trust you to keep each other safe. Keep me updated. We’ll see you soon.
Sirius
Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He passed the letter to Evelyn, who read it quickly before nodding.
“It’s happening,” she murmured. “It’s really happening.”
Harry clenched his fist. “Then we make sure we win.”
_________________
The halls of Hogwarts felt eerily calm as Harry led Evelyn through the castle, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone floors. It was late—far past curfew—but neither of them cared. After everything they had been through, sneaking around after hours felt almost nostalgic rather than nerve-wracking.
Evelyn glanced at him curiously. “Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?”
Harry smirked, tugging her hand gently as they ascended a staircase. “Nope. You’ll see soon enough.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes but let him lead her. Despite the secrecy, she found herself enjoying the moment—just the two of them, away from battle plans and training sessions, away from the weight of the war pressing down on their shoulders.
Finally, Harry stopped in front of a familiar wooden door. The Room of Requirement. He grinned at her before pushing it open, revealing what he had spent the past hour preparing.
The room had transformed into an intimate, star-lit haven. A large window stretched across one wall, overlooking a night sky scattered with shimmering constellations, as if the entire universe had been laid out just for them. Candles floated lazily in the air, casting a warm golden glow over the space, and in the center of the room was a small, elegantly set table for two.
Evelyn blinked, momentarily speechless. “…Harry,” she breathed.
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. “I know it’s nothing extravagant, but I figured we could use a night off.”
Evelyn turned to him with an unreadable expression. Then, slowly, she smiled. “This is perfect.”
Relief flooded Harry’s chest. “Good. Because I’ve already stolen food from the kitchens, and I don’t want to face Dobby’s wrath if we don’t eat it.”
Evelyn laughed, allowing him to pull out her chair before sitting down. The table was set with an array of their favorite foods—steak and roasted potatoes for Harry, a rich pasta dish for Evelyn, and a selection of desserts that looked almost too good to eat.
As they ate, conversation flowed easily, shifting between lighthearted teasing and deeper, more meaningful discussions.
“I was thinking about it today,” Evelyn said suddenly, twirling her fork between her fingers. “How different things would be if we weren’t in a war. What would we even be doing right now?”
Harry exhaled, thinking. “Probably stressing about N.E.W.T.s. And Quidditch. And what we’re going to do after graduation.”
Evelyn smiled softly. “Sounds nice.”
Harry reached for her hand across the table. “It will be.”
And for a moment, just a moment, they allowed themselves to believe it.
The night had stretched on longer than expected. After dinner, they had moved to a plush seating area near the window, wrapped in each other’s warmth as they talked about everything and nothing at all.
Evelyn rested her head against Harry’s shoulder, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his hand. “I still can’t believe we’re almost done with Hogwarts.”
Harry hummed in agreement. “It feels weird, doesn’t it? This place has been home for so long. And now…”
“And now we have no idea where we’ll be in a few months,” Evelyn finished.
Harry hesitated. He had been thinking about this a lot lately—what came after the war, after Voldemort. If they won, if they survived… what then?
Before he could stop himself, the words were out.
“I want to marry you.”
Evelyn froze. Slowly, she lifted her head to look at him, her eyes wide. “…What?”
Harry’s brain caught up with his mouth, and panic set in. “Shit—wait, no, I mean—” He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “That was not how I planned to say that.”
Evelyn just stared at him.
Harry let out a breath, deciding to just go for it. “I was going to do this properly, you know. I actually have a ring in my dorm. But then I opened my mouth and—” He huffed, shaking his head. “I love you, Evelyn. More than anything. And I don’t want to wait until after the war to tell you that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Evelyn’s expression softened. “You have a ring?”
“Yes,” Harry admitted. “And I was going to do this in a much more romantic way, but…” He exhaled, locking eyes with her. “Evelyn McCrae, will you marry me?”
Silence.
Then, Evelyn surged forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his. When she pulled back, she was grinning. “Of course, you idiot.”
Relief crashed over Harry, and he let out a breathless laugh. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” Evelyn teased. “Though you do owe me a proper proposal.”
Harry grinned. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
Evelyn smirked. “You’d better.”
And as she kissed him again, Harry knew—no matter what happened, they would get through this. Together.
___________________
The Great Hall was alive with movement, the clashing of spells echoing off the high ceilings as students ducked, weaved, and retaliated with growing precision. Over the past few weeks, their training had escalated to a level that none of them would have thought possible at the start of the year. The battle formations were becoming second nature, spell work was sharper, and even the younger students were holding their own.
Harry stood near the back, watching as Professor McGonagall led a group of fifth years through a series of rapid-fire defensive maneuvers. He exchanged a look with Evelyn, who stood beside him, her arms crossed as she analyzed the fights happening before them.
“They’re actually getting good,” she murmured.
Harry nodded. “Yeah. It’s terrifying how quickly everyone’s adapted.”
Evelyn smirked. “That’s what happens when you tell an entire school they’re about to go to war.”
Pansy jogged up to them, slightly out of breath but grinning. “I just walked through the fourth years’ dueling drills, and I swear they’re scarier than the seventh years were two months ago.”
Ron, who had just finished a demonstration on shielding spells, joined them. “The third years are mad little things. I saw one of them disarm a sixth year today. No hesitation.”
Harry chuckled. “That’s both impressive and mildly concerning.”
Theo, Draco, and Blaise approached next, looking equally as satisfied.
Draco smirked. “Well, Potter, I hate to say it, but your little army might actually stand a chance.”
“Little?” Evelyn scoffed. “We’re pushing five hundred strong now.”
“And all of them want to kill Voldemort,” Blaise added. “That’s got to count for something.”
The group turned their attention back to the hall, watching as Professor Flitwick demonstrated an advanced counter-curse technique with the Ravenclaws. It was remarkable how much everyone had improved. The Hogwarts students weren’t just learning to fight—they were learning to fight as one.
McGonagall’s sharp voice cut through the room. “Everyone! Front and center!”
As the students gathered, McGonagall surveyed them with an approving yet stern gaze. “You have all done exceptionally well. But as good as you are individually, we must continue to work on fighting as a unit. In real battle, chaos will be our greatest enemy.”
Evelyn stepped forward. “That’s why we’ll be running large-scale battle simulations from now on. If we want to stand against Voldemort’s forces, we have to be ready for anything.”
A ripple of murmurs went through the crowd—excitement, apprehension, determination.
Harry smiled. “Don’t worry. You’re ready for this.”
And judging by the fire in their eyes, they knew it too.
As the reality of the looming battle settled over them, the gang made an unspoken decision: one last night of normalcy. One last moment to simply be students before the war truly began.
The Room of Requirement provided the perfect setting, transforming itself into a massive common room-like space filled with plush seating, warm lighting, and a fireplace crackling with gentle flames.
Food and drinks from the kitchens covered the tables—Dobby had insisted on preparing a feast for them, and no one had argued. Music played softly in the background, and for the first time in a long while, laughter filled the air.
Harry sat back against the couch, watching as Fred and George attempted to charm Draco’s hair a different color (Draco was half-heartedly swatting them away). Pansy and Daphne were deep in conversation with Ginny, while Luna and Neville were sprawled out on a rug, staring up at the enchanted ceiling that mirrored the night sky.
Evelyn dropped onto the couch beside Harry, stealing a sip of his Butterbeer.
“We should do this more often,” she murmured.
Harry smirked. “Unfortunately, I don’t think Voldemort is going to give us a break for game nights.”
She hummed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Shame.”
Across the room, Theo clinked his glass against Evan’s. “To the end of Hogwarts,” he declared.
Fred grinned. “To making sure there’s still a Hogwarts to come back to.”
George nodded. “And to us kicking Voldemort’s arse.”
A chorus of cheers rang through the room as they all raised their glasses.
For that night, at least, they were just friends, just students, just young people who had grown up too fast but still found a way to hold on to each other.
Tomorrow, they would return to training. Tomorrow, they would prepare for war.
But tonight, they simply lived.
_________________
The dark sky hung heavy over the desolate moorland, swirling clouds blotting out the moon entirely. An unnatural silence blanketed the land, save for the occasional rustling of cloaks and the shifting of boots against the cold, damp earth. The Death Eaters stood in formation, stretching far into the shadows—two hundred strong, their presence alone exuding an ominous aura of impending destruction.
At the center of the gathering, a single figure stood apart, clad in flowing black robes that barely moved despite the chilling wind that swept across the field. Lord Voldemort’s slit-like nostrils flared slightly as he surveyed his forces, crimson eyes gleaming with cold amusement.
“My most loyal,” Voldemort’s voice rang out, sharp and precise, cutting through the quiet like a blade. Every Death Eater present snapped to attention, the air around them thick with tension.
Lucius Malfoy, standing nearest to his master, lowered his head respectfully. Though his features were composed, there was something tight about his expression—something weary. His once-polished aristocratic appearance had been dulled over time, his once-pristine robes slightly worn, his skin paler than usual. He had long since abandoned hope of redemption, but even he knew that what they were about to do would seal all their fates.
Beside him, Antonin Dolohov smirked, his wand twirling idly between his fingers. He had been waiting for this moment for far too long. Bloodlust simmered beneath his carefully controlled exterior, his anticipation barely restrained.
Corban Yaxley stood with his arms crossed, his imposing frame rigid with determination. Augustus Rookwood, the former Unspeakable, had his hands behind his back, his calculating gaze locked onto Voldemort as if absorbing every word before it was spoken.
The Carrow twins, Amycus and Alecto, shared a glance, their expressions gleeful and twisted with anticipation. They had spent the past year dreaming of how they could terrorise the students of Hogwarts, and now they would finally be able to burn it all down.
Fenrir Greyback, towering and wild-eyed, stood off to the side, his fingers twitching as he bared his yellowed teeth. The promise of carnage, of fresh blood spilled under the moon, was almost too much for him to bear.
And then there were the Lestranges. Rodolphus and Rabastan stood side by side, their gazes fixed forward, expressions unreadable. But the fury was there—it burned behind their eyes. Bellatrix was dead, and that alone was enough to set them ablaze with vengeful intent.
Voldemort let his gaze sweep across them all, his lips curling in satisfaction. “Hogwarts has resisted for too long. Dumbledore thought he could shield them, and now McGonagall leads them in his place. But she is not Dumbledore. The school is weakened. The children believe they have grown strong, that their pathetic little resistance can hold against us.”
A quiet murmur rippled through the crowd, Death Eaters shifting in place, eager for the signal to begin.
“They are mistaken.” Voldemort’s voice dropped lower, but it carried through the night like a whispering storm. “We will strike before they can prepare. Hogwarts will burn, and those who stand against us will be crushed beneath our boots.”
He took a step forward, his presence alone sending shivers through the gathered assembly. “Lucius.”
Lucius Malfoy’s head snapped up. “My Lord.”
“You will lead the first wave. Take Dolohov, Yaxley, and Rookwood. Break through their defenses. I do not want a prolonged battle—I want swift and overwhelming force.”
Lucius inclined his head. “As you command.”
Voldemort’s gaze flickered to the Carrows. “You will take the castle from within. Ensure that no student, no professor, escapes unscathed.”
Amycus grinned wickedly, his fingers twitching. “Consider it done, my Lord.”
Rabastan Lestrange finally spoke, his voice low but sharp. “And what of the girl?”
The atmosphere darkened.
The girl. Evelyn McCrae. The one who had killed Bellatrix. The one who had turned against everything she was meant to be.
Voldemort’s crimson eyes burned brighter. “She will die.”
Rabastan’s grip tightened around his wand, a ghost of a smirk forming at the corner of his lips. “Then allow me the pleasure.”
“You may have your chance,” Voldemort allowed, his tone dismissive, as though Evelyn’s death was already a certainty. “But do not let personal vengeance cloud your purpose. The girl is powerful, yes—but she is not untouchable.”
He turned back to the crowd, his voice ringing once more into the darkness. “This is our final move. This war has gone on long enough. We strike, we conquer, and we end this.”
A silence followed, thick and heavy, before—
A single voice rose in chilling unison.
“Hail Lord Voldemort.”
Then another. And another.
“Hail Lord Voldemort.”
The chant spread like wildfire, the night trembling with the sound of it.
Voldemort closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. This was it. The beginning of the end.
And Hogwarts would fall.
_______________
The Room of Requirement was uncharacteristically silent. Normally, when the gang gathered there, it was filled with the low hum of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter, or the steady sound of spellfire as they trained late into the night. But now, there was only the scratch of quills against parchment, the weight of unspoken words settling over the group like a heavy fog.
Each of them sat at one of the conjured desks, parchment spread before them, ink bottles and quills poised. This wasn’t just any letter. These were final words—messages to family, to loved ones, to the people they might never see again.
For some, this was the hardest part. Facing the battle itself was easier than acknowledging that they might not make it through.
Evelyn sat at the far end of the table, her quill hovering above the parchment. What was there to say? That she was prepared? That she was ready to die if it meant protecting Hogwarts and the people she loved? She clenched her jaw, blinking hard as she dipped her quill in ink. Her hand trembled slightly as she began.
Dear—
She hesitated. There was no family to address it to. No parent waiting anxiously for her to return home.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat and continued.
To whoever finds this,
I have no blood family to send this to, but if you’re reading it, that means the battle is over. That means I am gone. And that’s okay. I knew what I was fighting for. I knew what was at stake. If we won, if Voldemort is truly defeated, then everything we did—everything I did—was worth it.
I have spent so much of my life wondering if I had a place in this world. If I had people who cared. Now, I know I do. I have friends. I have love. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
Take care of each other. Keep fighting for what’s right. And if you ever wonder whether I regretted any of it—the answer is no.
Always,
Evelyn
She set the quill down, staring at the ink as it dried. The words felt both too much and not enough. But there was nothing more to say.
Across from her, Harry was hunched over his own letter, brows furrowed in concentration. His handwriting was messier than usual, as if his emotions were spilling onto the page faster than his quill could keep up.
Dear Sirius, Remus, and everyone at Grimmauld Place,
I’m not sure how to write this, because if I don’t come back, I don’t want this to feel like an ending. I want it to feel like a promise. I want you to know that I fought with everything I had, and I fought alongside the best people I’ve ever known.
Sirius, you’ve given me a family when I thought I’d never have one again. Remus, you’ve taught me more about strength and kindness than you’ll ever know. And to everyone else—I hope you don’t have to fight, but if you do, I know you’ll stand with us.
If I don’t make it, don’t be sad. Just know that I finally got to live.
Take care of each other.
Love,
Harry
He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair before folding the parchment. Beside him, Ron was finishing his own letter to the Weasleys, his expression unusually somber. Pansy, Daphne, and Blaise were all focused on their own letters, some writing with steady hands, others hesitating between words.
But Draco—Draco was different.
He sat slightly apart from the group, his usual arrogance stripped away. He wasn’t just writing to any family member—he was writing to his mother. The only person who had ever truly mattered in his world.
His hand trembled slightly as he dipped his quill into the ink. He had never been good at expressing his emotions, but this…this was different. This wasn’t just a letter. It was a lifeline.
Mother,
By now, you must know what’s happening. You must know that Hogwarts is preparing for war, and that I will be fighting in it.
I won’t ask for your blessing, because I know you’d never give it. I won’t ask you to understand, because I know that deep down, you already do. But I will ask this—please, stay at Grimmauld Place. Please, stay safe.
I know you, Mother. I know that when you hear what’s happening, your first instinct will be to come find me. To try and get me out. But I need you to listen to me for once. I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing.
I am not my father. I do not stand with Voldemort. I never have. I never will. And if I have to die to prove that, then so be it.
But I need you to live. I need to know that no matter what happens to me, you will be okay. That you will be safe.
Promise me that, Mother. That’s all I ask.
Your son,
Draco
He let out a slow breath, staring at the letter in his hands. His chest felt tight, his pulse unsteady. He had never told her any of this before. Never put it into words.
He folded the letter carefully, sealing it with a flick of his wand before setting it aside.
The room remained silent as everyone finished their letters, the weight of what they had just written pressing down on them like an invisible force.
No one spoke as they gathered the letters into a pile, ready to be sent out in the morning. No one needed to.
Because for the first time, it truly felt real.
The battle was coming.
And there was no turning back.
The castle was eerily silent. The kind of silence that felt unnatural, that made the hairs on the back of one’s neck stand on end. It was a little past midnight, and most of the students were fast asleep, curled in their dormitories, blissfully unaware of what was coming. But not the gang.
Evelyn sat cross-legged in the Room of Requirement, wand in hand, turning it over between her fingers. The firelight flickered against her face, her expression unreadable. Around her, the others were similarly restless—Harry and Ron stood by the window, watching the darkened grounds, Draco and Theo sat playing a half-hearted game of wizard’s chess, while Blaise, Pansy, and Daphne were gathered on the couches, murmuring quietly to each other.
They were waiting.
Waiting for the inevitable.
Then, it happened.
A blast—distant but unmistakable. A deep, guttural tremor shook through the castle, rattling the very foundations.
Evelyn shot to her feet, her wand raised instinctively.
“That’s it,” Theo said grimly, pushing up from his chair. “It’s starting.”
Another blast—louder this time, closer. A ripple of dark magic surged through the air, making the torches in the castle flicker violently.
Harry swore under his breath, pressing his fingers to the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
“He’s here.”
Evelyn exchanged a glance with him. No words were needed.
Without hesitation, she flicked her wand, sending a sharp, piercing alarm throughout the entire castle. The sound rang like a siren, high and urgent, a magical warning that pulsed through every corridor, every dormitory, every common room.
The castle was waking up.
The Great Hall had never been more crowded. Within minutes of the alarm, students and professors alike flooded in, still half-dressed, some clutching their wands with shaking hands, others looking as if they had been expecting this moment for weeks.
Professor McGonagall stood at the front, flanked by Flitwick, Sprout, and Snape. She raised her hands, calling for silence.
“Voldemort is attacking,” she said, voice steady despite the chaos around her. “We have three hours before the castle’s defenses break. That means we have three hours to prepare.”
A murmur ran through the crowd, fear evident on every face.
“Madam Pomfrey, set up a hospital ward here,” McGonagall continued. “Any students who are not of age or who cannot fight—stay here and help treat the wounded.”
A group of younger students hesitated, some looking as though they wanted to protest, but Pomfrey wasted no time in ushering them toward the far end of the hall, where cots were already appearing.
McGonagall turned to the rest of them.
“We have trained for this,” she said. “We have prepared. We will hold this castle.”
The words were met with nods, some more certain than others.
Evelyn turned to Harry. “We need to split into groups.”
Harry nodded, already moving toward Ron and Pansy. “We’ll take the front entrance and hold the courtyard.”
“Theo, Blaise, Daphne,” Evelyn said, “you take the Astronomy Tower. Get a vantage point and take out as many as you can from above. Fred, George, Hermione — You guys stake out the secret passageways. Make sure nobody gets into the castle.”
Draco cracked his knuckles. “And what about me?”
Evelyn met his gaze. “You’re with me.”
Draco raised an eyebrow but said nothing, just gave a short nod.
Another blast shook the castle, louder this time, more violent. The torches flickered again, and a crack snaked down the far wall.
“They’re almost through,” Theo muttered.
Evelyn looked at them all, her closest friends, the people she had fought alongside for months now. Her heart clenched, but she kept her voice steady.
“This is it,” she said. “We hold our ground. We fight. We win.”
The sun had started to rise outside, casting long shadows across the Great Hall.
And with it, war had come to Hogwarts.
The castle walls trembled again as another violent surge of magic struck the outer defenses. Dust rained from the ceiling of the Great Hall, and a collective murmur of unease rippled through the gathered students and staff. The wards were holding—but barely.
“They’re almost in,” Ron muttered, gripping his wand so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Evelyn took a slow breath, trying to steady her heartbeat. She cast a glance at Harry, who stood beside her, his jaw clenched, his emerald eyes blazing with determination.
Then, with a final, earth-shaking boom, the defenses shattered.
Harry, Ron, Pansy, and a group of fifth and seventh years were the first to engage as the Death Eaters flooded the courtyard.
“Protego Maxima!” Harry shouted, sending a shimmering shield across the entrance just in time to deflect the first wave of curses. The moment the spell clashed against the Death Eaters’ magic, the air erupted with flashes of green and red light.
Ron was already in motion, hurling a Stunning Spell at one of the advancing attackers. “Stupefy!”
Pansy fought beside him, her wand moving in sharp, precise arcs. She ducked beneath a jet of purple flame, retaliating with a perfectly cast Petrificus Totalus, causing one of the masked figures to seize up and crash to the ground, paralyzed.
Harry deflected a Killing Curse, the green light missing him by mere inches as he countered with Expelliarmus, sending a Death Eater’s wand flying across the stone floor.
But the enemy kept coming.
More masked figures surged through the ruined entrance, spells flashing in the dim morning light. The sheer number of them was overwhelming, and though they were holding their ground, Harry knew they wouldn’t last forever.
High above the battle, Theo, Blaise, and Daphne took their positions atop the Astronomy Tower, wands raised.
“They’re swarming the courtyard,” Daphne murmured, her usually composed expression tinged with concern.
Theo narrowed his eyes, already focusing on a group of Death Eaters trying to flank Harry’s team. He aimed carefully.
“Confringo!”
The curse struck the ground at the Death Eaters’ feet, exploding on impact. The force sent them flying, breaking their ranks.
Blaise followed up with a barrage of spells, his movements swift and calculated. “Bombarda Maxima!”
Chunks of stone shattered from the castle walls, raining debris down onto the enemy. Below, Harry and Ron used the distraction to push forward, their spells finding their targets with ruthless precision.
Daphne turned her wand on a figure cloaked in black robes—Antonin Dolohov, one of Voldemort’s most dangerous fighters. He looked up just as she whispered, “Sectumsempra.”
The spell slashed through the air, striking Dolohov across the shoulder. He stumbled, his grip on his wand faltering as dark blood seeped through his robes.
“Nice shot,” Theo muttered, but his satisfaction was short-lived.
Because the Death Eaters had noticed them now.
A jet of silver fire shot past Theo’s ear, missing by mere inches.
“They’ve seen us!” Blaise called out. “We need to move!”
More spells flew toward the tower, forcing the trio to duck behind the battlements as their cover shattered around them.
While the battle raged outside, the Great Hall had transformed into a war hospital. The long house tables had been pushed to the sides, cots lining the walls as Madam Pomfrey and a team of students worked frantically to heal the injured.
Ginny was among them, her face set in grim determination as she moved from one wounded student to the next, helping where she could.
Neville, though younger than most of the fighters, had taken up a defensive position near the entrance, wand at the ready to protect those inside.
A sudden commotion made Ginny look up. The doors burst open, and two students stumbled in, dragging an unconscious Seamus Finnigan between them. His robes were burned, his breathing shallow.
Ginny’s heart clenched.
“We need help here!” one of the students called, his voice raw with panic.
Madam Pomfrey rushed forward, immediately assessing the damage. “Set him down—gently!”
Ginny grabbed a cloth, pressing it against the worst of Seamus’s wounds. His skin was hot beneath her touch, his body trembling from whatever curse had hit him.
“Stay with us, Seamus,” she whispered.
Outside, another explosion rocked the castle, shaking the very foundations of the Great Hall.
And the battle was far from over.
Not all of Voldemort’s forces had come through the front gates.
In the depths of the Forbidden Forest, dark figures moved through the trees, their glowing eyes barely visible in the gloom. Fenrir Greyback led them, his hulking form barely restrained as he prowled toward the castle.
The werewolves had arrived.
And soon, night would fall again.
The sun had fully set, casting long shadows over the bloodstained stone floors of Hogwarts. Fires burned in the distance where curses had shattered walls and ignited tapestries, leaving parts of the castle eerily illuminated in flickering orange and red. Screams and the clash of magic still echoed through the corridors, but the battle had settled into a steady rhythm—one of brutal endurance.
McGonagall had made the call an hour ago: They would fight in shifts.
There was no other way to make it through this war.
The Great Hall, still acting as a hospital, had begun doubling as a temporary shelter for those who needed rest. The cots that had been empty earlier were now filled with exhausted fighters, their robes torn and singed, their bodies aching from spellfire.
Neville helped guide a limping fourth-year onto a cot while Ginny, her sleeves rolled up and stained with blood, passed out potions that Madam Pomfrey had hurriedly brewed.
“We’re holding them off, right?” one of the students mumbled as he collapsed onto his side, his voice heavy with exhaustion.
“We are,” Ginny assured him, squeezing his hand before standing up. “Sleep while you can. You’ll be needed soon.”
The house-elves worked tirelessly, bringing trays of bread, stew, and pumpkin juice to the wounded and the resting. Hogwarts’ very heartbeat relied on them now. The elves moved without hesitation, popping in and out of the hall with supplies, tending to those who needed help, and ensuring that those who lay down could rise again when their turn came.
McGonagall herself had taken command over the rotations. Anyone who had fought since the start of the battle and wasn’t critically injured was ordered to rest—even if they protested.
At the back of the hall, Evelyn stood over a small table covered in maps and notes.
“We’ll have people sleeping for at least three or four hours at a time,” she murmured to Harry, Ron, and Draco, tracing her fingers over a rough sketch of the castle. “That should be just enough to keep them from passing out in the middle of a fight.”
Draco, who had barely stopped casting defensive spells since the attack started, exhaled and scrubbed a hand down his face.
“Four hours might as well be an eternity,” he muttered, rolling his aching shoulder.
Harry nodded. “Yeah. We’ll take it.”
Evelyn glanced around at the remaining fighters. The ones still awake. The ones who hadn’t taken a break yet.
“You four should rest, too,” Theo’s voice cut in as he approached the table, a cut on his cheek still fresh from a duel earlier that night. “If we don’t, we’ll be useless tomorrow.”
Ron frowned. “Who’s taking first shift?”
Theo smirked slightly, rolling his wand between his fingers. “Blaise, Pansy, and I are already awake, along with a couple of the older Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. We’ll take over for a few hours.”
Evelyn hesitated. The idea of sleeping while Death Eaters still prowled the castle made her stomach twist. But she knew Theo was right. If they didn’t rest, they wouldn’t last.
“All right,” she said reluctantly. “Four hours.”
Harry placed a hand on her back, guiding her toward an empty cot. “C’mon,” he murmured. “I won’t sleep unless you do.”
Evelyn wanted to argue, but exhaustion was finally creeping in, dragging her down like a heavy weight. She allowed herself to sink onto the cot next to Harry, curling into his side as he draped an arm around her.
As she closed her eyes, the sounds of battle still raged outside—but she knew she had to trust the others.
She had to trust that, for now, Hogwarts was still standing.
Four hours later, when Evelyn, Harry, Draco, and Ron emerged from the Great Hall, the castle had changed again.
It was deeper into the night now, and though the fighting never truly stopped, the battle had settled into eerie bursts of intensity.
The Death Eaters had taken up new positions. Some were prowling the Forbidden Forest, waiting for an opportunity to strike from behind. Others had barricaded themselves in abandoned corridors, hoping to force Hogwarts’ defenders into traps.
And yet, the students were holding.
“They’re pacing themselves,” Blaise explained when Evelyn, Harry, and the others met him at the castle’s front steps. His robes were torn, his breathing heavy, but he was still standing. “They haven’t retreated, but they’re not throwing everything at us yet. They’re trying to wear us down.”
Ron adjusted his grip on his wand. “Well, joke’s on them. We already planned for that.”
Pansy walked up beside him, her hair half-loose from its usual style, but her expression sharp. “We have to keep this up until dawn. If we make it to the morning, we’ll be in better shape for another shift change.”
Evelyn looked toward the Forbidden Forest. Something was moving in the darkness.
She narrowed her eyes.
“They’re still waiting to flank us,” she muttered. “Greyback’s werewolves haven’t attacked yet.”
Harry stiffened beside her. “Then we need to make sure we’re ready for them.”
With that, the second shift of fighters took their positions, stepping back into the shadows to hold the line.
The war wasn’t over. Not even close.
But Hogwarts was still fighting.
Three hours into Evelyn’s shift, the war was still raging, the castle shaking under the force of relentless curses. The night air was thick with smoke and the lingering chill of Dementors, their presence looming just beyond the castle walls. The Order and professors were working tirelessly to drive them back, but for every Dementor pushed away, another seemed to take its place.
Somewhere in the chaos, Evelyn caught sight of Harry and Ron. They had broken off to defend a group of second-years caught in the crossfire, shielding them from a barrage of hexes as they ushered them back toward the castle.
Good, she thought. They’ll be fine.
Her own focus snapped forward as she heard the sharp click of boots against stone.
Lucius Malfoy.
He was walking toward her through the battlefield, his long silver hair disheveled, his face pale and tight with fury. His black Death Eater robes were dirtied and torn at the edges, a sign that he’d been fighting for hours just as she had. Yet there was something calm, calculated, and cold about him.
He had chosen her.
Evelyn raised her wand just as Lucius flicked his.
“Diffindo!”
She barely dodged in time, the Severing Charm slashing through the air where her arm had been a second ago.
Lucius didn’t hesitate, sending a stream of rapid-fire hexes in her direction. She countered quickly, her movements sharp and decisive, her magic crackling against his. The force of their spells collided in the space between them, sending shockwaves through the ground.
Evelyn ducked behind a fallen statue, panting. She could hear his voice over the chaos.
“You’re more trouble than you’re worth, McCrae,” Lucius sneered, stepping closer. His voice was smooth, but there was venom in it. “Bellatrix was a fool, but you? You’re worse. You don’t belong anywhere.”
Evelyn gritted her teeth and stood, sending a blast of raw energy his way. He blocked it, but the force sent him skidding back a few steps.
“You’re right,” she shot back, her chest heaving. “I don’t belong anywhere. And that makes me stronger than you.”
Lucius’ expression twisted into a scowl, and then the duel truly began.
They moved across the battlefield like shadows, their wands a blur as curses and counter-curses collided. Evelyn knew she was faster. Lucius had experience, but she had raw power—and she used it to her advantage.
“Expulso!”
The force of her spell shattered the ground at Lucius’ feet, forcing him to leap back. He retaliated with a sharp flick of his wand—
“Crucio!”
Evelyn threw herself to the side, her shoulder hitting the ground hard as she narrowly avoided the curse. Pain shot through her body, but she ignored it. She couldn’t afford to slow down.
Lucius was smirking now, circling her like a predator.
“You’re impressive, I’ll give you that,” he mused. “But you can’t win this war, girl. You’ll burn out just like the rest of them.”
Evelyn wiped blood from her lip and pushed herself to her feet.
“You’re wasting your breath, Malfoy,” she said coolly. “I don’t care what you think.”
Lucius’ smirk vanished. He flicked his wand again, and a jet of blue fire roared toward her.
Evelyn reacted instantly.
“Protego Maxima!”
The flames curled around her shield, licking dangerously close before vanishing into smoke. Without hesitating, she twisted her wand—
“Sectumsempra!”
Lucius barely had time to move. The spell sliced through the air, cutting deep into his leg. He stumbled with a sharp gasp, dropping to one knee. Blood seeped into the fabric of his robes.
Evelyn stood over him, her wand aimed at his heart.
Lucius’ lip curled in frustration, his breathing ragged. Then, before she could react, he cast a nonverbal spell—not at her, but at the ground.
A burst of dust exploded between them. By the time Evelyn could see clearly again, Lucius was limping away, vanishing into the tree line of the Forbidden Forest.
Her stomach twisted.
That’s where they’re hiding.
She had suspected it before, but now she was sure—the Death Eaters had turned the Forbidden Forest into their safe zone.
Evelyn exhaled sharply, steadying herself. There was no time to chase after him. She had to return to the fight.
With one last glance toward the trees, she turned back to Hogwarts, her grip tightening around her wand.
Chapter 102: Bombarda Maxima
Chapter Text
The battle raged on, the sounds of spellfire and clashing magic echoing through the air as Hogwarts fought with everything it had. Smoke curled in thick plumes toward the sky, and the scent of burnt wood and stone mixed with the iron tang of blood. The castle had already suffered, its once-grand walls scorched and cracked, but it still stood—they still stood.
Professor McGonagall and Evelyn found themselves at the bridge, fending off a relentless wave of Death Eaters who were trying to force their way across. The wooden beams groaned under the weight of the fight, creaking ominously as explosions and spells tore through the air.
McGonagall was a force of nature. Her dueling skills were nothing short of legendary, and Evelyn could barely keep up as the older witch fired off precise, merciless spells.
“Reducto!”
A Death Eater in dark robes was blasted backward, flying over the edge of the bridge with a sharp scream before disappearing into the abyss below.
Evelyn was beside her, spinning her wand in a quick arc to shield them from a volley of curses. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, adrenaline keeping her moving as she countered spell after spell, her body aching but refusing to falter.
Another Death Eater lunged forward, sending a slicing hex toward McGonagall. Evelyn intercepted it, her shield flashing bright as it absorbed the impact.
McGonagall spared her a glance, her expression unreadable beneath the dirt and battle-worn lines on her face.
“You’re quick,” she said, voice sharp but approving.
Evelyn smirked. “I learn from the best.”
Their moment of reprieve was short-lived. More Death Eaters surged forward, relentless. The bridge was their only passage into the castle from this side—if they lost it, they would be overrun.
They couldn’t hold it forever.
Then, just as Evelyn sent another hex hurtling toward an oncoming enemy, she heard a familiar voice behind her.
“Professor! Evelyn!”
She turned to see Seamus Finnigan sprinting toward them, his face smeared with soot but his expression alight with determination. He was fully healed now, no longer weakened from his earlier injuries. And he had an idea.
“I’m blowing it up,” he panted, gripping his wand tight. “The bridge—I’m bringing it down.”
Evelyn’s eyes widened. It was risky. But they didn’t have another option.
McGonagall nodded, already stepping back. “Do it,” she commanded. “We’ll cover you.”
Seamus didn’t hesitate.
He ran toward the center of the bridge, his wand raised as he muttered an incantation under his breath. The air around him shifted, hummed, and then—
“Bombarda Maxima!”
The explosion ripped through the bridge, shaking the ground beneath their feet. Wooden beams splintered and snapped, stone pillars cracked and tumbled into the depths below. Flames burst outward as the bridge collapsed in sections, sending Death Eaters plummeting into the chasm beneath.
Evelyn and McGonagall hurled themselves back as the force of the explosion knocked them off balance. Seamus barely managed to throw up a shield in time to protect himself from the debris.
And then—silence.
The bridge was gone.
No more Death Eaters would cross this way.
Evelyn exhaled sharply, chest heaving as she looked over the wreckage.
“You alright?” she called over to Seamus, who was brushing dust from his hair.
He gave her a lopsided grin. “Better than them,” he said, nodding toward the canyon where Death Eaters had just been swallowed by the abyss.
But before anyone could celebrate, a horrifying chill seeped into the air.
It was unnatural, suffocating in its intensity. Evelyn’s breath hitched, her stomach dropping as a dark shadow spread across the battlefield.
More Dementors.
Dozens of them. Hundreds, maybe. Floating in eerie silence above the treetops, their skeletal hands stretching toward the castle.
And just beyond them—giants.
Massive, lumbering figures stomped through the trees, the ground trembling beneath their weight. Their war cries were deafening, their rage unchecked.
Voldemort had sent more of his forces.
The second wave had begun.
Evelyn sprinted through the battlefield, her boots pounding against the broken ground as she dodged stray spells and ducked behind fallen debris. Her lungs burned, her limbs ached, but she couldn’t stop—not yet.
She needed to find them.
The Dementors were closing in, an endless swarm of darkness choking the air, their presence stretching across the battlefield like a creeping sickness. The air itself felt heavy, thick with despair. Screams of fear and pain echoed through the ruins of Hogwarts as students and professors alike struggled to defend themselves against the overwhelming tide.
But they had a chance—a small window to push them back.
Evelyn had to get to the others.
Spotting Ron through the smoke, she ran to him first. He was mid-duel, his face streaked with dirt and sweat as he fired a well-aimed Stupefy at an oncoming Death Eater.
“Ron!” she shouted, breathless. “We need everyone who can cast a Patronus—now!”
He didn’t even hesitate. With a nod, he turned and started grabbing whoever he could find, shouting for the others as he ran across the battlefield.
Evelyn did the same, finding Pansy, Blaise, Theo, and Daphne in a tight formation as they defended a group of younger students.
“Drop everything—we’re driving back the Dementors!” she called.
Pansy’s eyes widened, but she immediately grabbed Daphne’s hand, nodding. “Let’s go!”
Draco and Evan were next, cutting through the chaos to meet up with them as Harry and Neville arrived, guiding a small group of DA members behind them. Fred and George showed up moments later, pulling Luna and Ginny along with them.
Soon, dozens of wands were raised in the courtyard.
Everyone was exhausted, but they didn’t have a choice.
Evelyn stood at the front, Harry beside her, their fingers brushing briefly before they both lifted their wands in unison.
“On three!” Evelyn called out, voice carrying over the battlefield. “One—two—three!”
“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
A blinding silver light erupted across the courtyard, illuminating the darkened battlefield as dozens of Patronuses burst forth from wands, surging toward the Dementors.
Evelyn’s silver doe leapt into the sky, its powerful form charging straight into the mass of creatures. Harry’s stag followed, antlers slashing through the shadows, joined by Pansy’s fox, Ron’s terrier, and Hermione’s otter. Patronuses flooded the air like spectral guardians, forcing the Dementors back as their inhuman shrieks filled the night.
For the first time in hours, the hopeless chill lifted.
Evelyn watched, panting, as the Dementors retreated toward the treetops, chased away by the sheer force of their magic.
They had done it.
But just as she turned to celebrate—
Pain.
A sharp, searing agony tore through her stomach, as if fire had suddenly exploded inside her. The world tilted as she stumbled, her breath catching in her throat.
Someone had hit her.
Her vision blurred as she looked down.
A deep gash stretched across her abdomen, crimson blooming across her robes. A jagged, bleeding wound—the telltale mark of a cutting curse.
“EVELYN!”
She barely registered Harry’s voice before her legs gave out.
Strong arms caught her before she hit the ground, and through her fading vision, she realized it was Harry—his face twisted in sheer panic as he lifted her up.
“Stay with me, stay with me,” he begged, his voice raw as he hoisted her into his arms.
The gang rushed forward, their expressions flashing with horror as they realized what had happened.
“We need to get her to the Great Hall—NOW!” Daphne barked, already clearing a path.
Harry didn’t waste a second.
With Evelyn cradled against his chest, he ran.
The air was thick with the scent of blood, smoke, and antiseptic potions, and the occasional cry of pain punctuated the chaotic murmurs.
Harry didn’t stop running until he reached one of the empty cots near the front, laying Evelyn down with as much care as he could manage despite his trembling hands.
“Madam Pomfrey!” he bellowed, panic laced in his voice.
Pomfrey was already moving, her sharp eyes taking in Evelyn’s wound as she grabbed a handful of potions from a nearby table.
“Hold her down, Mr. Potter! This is going to hurt.”
Evelyn groaned weakly as Harry pressed her shoulders against the cot. He was soaked in sweat, his green eyes wild with fear, his hands covered in her blood.
Pansy and Daphne knelt beside them, their own faces pale.
“Will she be okay?” Pansy demanded.
Pomfrey didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she uncorked a vial of Essence of Dittany and poured it directly over Evelyn’s wound. The moment the potion touched her skin, it sizzled, and Evelyn let out a hoarse, choked gasp.
“She lost a lot of blood,” Pomfrey finally said, her voice tight with concentration as she worked. “But she’ll survive. The wound is deep, but it’s clean—no dark magic residue.”
Relief crashed over Harry so violently that he nearly collapsed.
“Thank Merlin,” he whispered, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.
Evelyn blinked up at him, her breath shaky. “Guess… I’ll need a new shirt,” she rasped.
Harry let out a breathless laugh, half-crazed from worry. “You scared the hell out of me, Ev.”
She gave him a weak smirk. “That’s what I do best.”
Pomfrey shot them both a stern look, but there was the faintest trace of relief in her expression. “She needs rest. And so do you.”
Harry started to protest, but Pomfrey cut him off with a glare. “No arguments. The lot of you have been awake for nearly a full day. If you don’t sleep, you’ll be no use when the fighting starts again.”
She wasn’t wrong.
The battle outside still raged, but they all knew that fighting in shifts was the only way they’d survive this war. The Death Eaters weren’t stopping—but neither were they.
Evelyn’s eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion pulling her under.
Harry pressed a kiss to her sweat-dampened forehead before reluctantly pulling back.
“Alright,” he said, voice hoarse. “We swap shifts. Who’s up next?”
The Great Hall was eerily quiet compared to the battlefield outside. The only sounds were the occasional groan of the injured, the rustling of blankets, and the hurried whispers of those tending to the wounded. Harry, Pansy, Theo, and Draco had taken the last shift fighting, which meant it was now time for the others to take over.
Ron, Daphne, Blaise, Ginny, Neville, and Luna stood at the entrance to the Great Hall, wands already in hand, waiting for Harry’s signal.
Harry took one last glance at Evelyn’s sleeping form, her chest rising and falling evenly now, before turning back to the group.
“Be careful,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Voldemort’s sending in giants now. We don’t know how many, but if it gets too bad, fall back. Understood?”
Ginny nodded sharply, eyes blazing with determination. “We’ve got this.”
Daphne adjusted her grip on her wand, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Get some rest, Potter. We’ll hold them off.”
Harry hesitated, but he knew better than to argue. With a final nod, he watched them disappear out of the Great Hall and into the war-torn corridors beyond.
Then, finally, he sat down on the cot beside Evelyn’s and let exhaustion take him.
The battlefield was chaos. Smoke filled the air, mixing with the acrid stench of blood and burning wood. The Death Eaters had pushed their forces forward, but the students and staff of Hogwarts had held their ground.
Now, the giants had arrived.
They were hulking figures, nearly twenty feet tall, swinging massive clubs that shattered stone and splintered trees with every swing. The Order members, led by Kingsley and Sirius, had just arrived, engaging them in battle near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
“We need to split them up!” Neville shouted over the noise, blasting a Death Eater off his feet with a well-aimed Stunning Spell.
“On it!” Ginny spun on her heel and launched a series of Blasting Curses at the ground, causing the terrain to explode outward in a barrier between two of the giants.
Daphne and Blaise tag-teamed a group of Death Eaters, moving fluidly as they fought. Daphne cast Petrificus Totalus on one, freezing him mid-step, while Blaise disarmed another with a quick flick of his wrist.
“Not bad, Greengrass,” Blaise smirked as he deflected a green jet of light from an advancing Death Eater.
“Focus, Zabini!” Daphne shot back, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes.
Nearby, Luna and Neville held their ground, repelling a horde of Dementors with strong Patronuses. Luna’s hare and Neville’s toad danced through the battlefield, forcing the Dementors back toward the tree line.
“We need more backup!” Ginny called as she barely dodged a giant’s swinging club, rolling to the side just as it crashed into the ground where she had stood.
At that moment, a new force entered the battlefield.
The centaurs.
A hundred hooves thundered across the grass as Bane, Ronan, and Magorian led their warriors forward, bows drawn.
“Hogwarts stands!” Magorian bellowed. “And so does the forest!”
Arrows whistled through the air, striking the giants and causing them to stagger back in pain.
Daphne’s eyes widened in shock. “Holy shit, I could kiss a centaur right now.”
“Please don’t,” Blaise muttered.
Neville grinned. “Reinforcements are here. Let’s push forward!”
__________________
Voldemort stood on the outskirts of the battlefield, watching the fight unfold with narrowed, furious eyes. The Death Eaters had made progress, but not nearly enough. Hogwarts still stood. Its defenses had been weakened, yes, but not broken.
His long, skeletal fingers curled into a fist. The giants should have crushed them by now, yet they were being held back—by students, no less. The Dementors had swept through the grounds, yet they had been repelled. The centaurs had dared to interfere in a war that was not theirs, proving themselves just as foolish as Dumbledore had always believed them to be.
“We should attack harder, my Lord,” Lucius Malfoy said from his left, his voice tight with barely concealed pain. A deep gash still bled sluggishly down his leg, a wound from his earlier duel with Evelyn McCrae. “We have them cornered—let me lead another wave—”
Voldemort turned to him slowly, his red eyes burning like embers. “Tell me, Lucius,” he said softly, dangerously. “What good is an attack if you cannot even defeat a girl?”
Lucius flinched. “She—she is skilled, my Lord, but—”
“But she is just a girl.” Voldemort’s voice was venomous. “And yet, you fled.”
Lucius swallowed hard but said nothing.
Voldemort turned his gaze back to the castle. He had underestimated them.
McGonagall had led them well. The students fought with precision, unity, and a terrifying sense of purpose. Even the youngest among them stood their ground.
The war was not supposed to last this long.
This was supposed to be his victory.
Voldemort’s lip curled as he turned to the Death Eaters gathered around him.
“Summon the werewolves,” he commanded. “Greyback’s pack will tear through them before sunrise.”
Augustus Rookwood, standing to the side, gave a cruel grin. “And when they turn, they will be more useful to us than ever.”
“Precisely,” Voldemort murmured. “Send in the inferi as well. Let the dead rise in Hogwarts once more.”
Lucius and the others hesitated.
“My Lord…” Yaxley stepped forward, careful with his words. “The inferi were—last used against McCrae. She knows how to destroy them.”
Voldemort’s eyes flashed with something dark.
“Then we shall see how long she lasts,” he hissed.
The orders were given.
The war was not over.
Not until Hogwarts burned.
__________________
Evelyn groaned as she stirred awake. Her body ached—her stomach throbbed where the cutting curse had struck—but she forced herself to sit up. The Great Hall was quieter than before, the sound of battle still raging outside, but muffled by the thick stone walls.
She wasn’t alone.
Ron was passed out beside her, his arm wrapped in fresh bandages. Pansy was still awake, sitting cross-legged on one of the empty cots, sharpening her wand like it was a blade. Across the hall, Theo and Blaise sat at one of the long tables, hunched over a map of the castle, deep in discussion.
Harry was nowhere in sight.
Her heart lurched.
Before she could even think about stopping herself, Evelyn swung her legs off the cot, testing her weight on shaky limbs. She was exhausted, but the war wasn’t over. If she could stand, she could fight.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Pansy’s voice snapped through the quiet, sharp and unimpressed. Evelyn turned to her, lifting an eyebrow.
“Back out there,” she said simply.
Pansy gave her a long look, then sighed, shoving her wand back into her sleeve. “You’re an idiot.”
Evelyn smirked. “You love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
Pansy stood, and without another word, grabbed Evelyn’s arm and pulled her into a tight embrace. Evelyn stiffened for a brief second before melting into it.
“I thought you were gonna die,” Pansy muttered, voice low, face hidden in Evelyn’s shoulder.
“I didn’t.”
“Yeah, well—don’t do that again.”
Evelyn pulled back, giving her a small, grateful smile. “No promises.”
Pansy rolled her eyes, but there was something soft in them.
Then, before she could say anything else, the doors to the Great Hall slammed open.
Everyone’s heads snapped up as Neville stumbled inside, panting, his robes torn and bloody.
“They’re coming,” he gasped. “The werewolves—they’re here.”
Silence.
Then—chaos.
The tension in the Great Hall snapped like a bowstring. People sprang into motion, reaching for wands, scrambling to wake those who were resting.
“Werewolves?” Theo demanded, his face paling.
Neville nodded, breathless. “Greyback’s leading them. At least twenty—maybe more. They’re circling the castle, trying to find a way in.”
Evelyn’s stomach clenched.
“We need to get back out there,” she said, already moving toward the doors.
“You just got patched up,” Blaise hissed, grabbing her wrist before she could leave.
“I don’t care.”
“Of course you don’t,” he muttered darkly. “Stupid Gryffindor tendencies—”
“Blaise—”
“I’m coming with you,” he cut in, sighing as he released her wrist. “Because you clearly have a death wish.”
Pansy was already strapping her wand holster back onto her wrist. “Same.”
Ron groaned as he pushed himself off the cot. “Well, I wasn’t planning on sleeping during a bloody werewolf attack, so count me in.”
Theo looked between all of them, then huffed. “Fine. But we fight smart. No reckless heroics.”
Evelyn didn’t bother responding.
Because as soon as they stepped outside, the air changed.
The battlefield had shifted. The ground was slick with blood, spells still crackled through the air, and beyond the wreckage of the courtyard—dark shapes moved.
The werewolves were here.
And then, with a bone-chilling howl, the attack began.
The werewolves rushed forward like a wave, snarling and snapping, their glowing eyes flashing in the dark.
Evelyn raised her wand. “INCENDIO!”
Fire erupted from her wand, forming a burning barrier between them and the oncoming wolves. But it wouldn’t last. The beasts hesitated, growling, pacing just beyond the flames—waiting for an opening.
“Hold the line!” Ron shouted. “We can’t let them get inside!”
Behind them, the doors to the Great Hall were barricaded shut.
The students—their army—stood shoulder to shoulder, wands raised, spells flying.
Draco fought beside Evelyn, his jaw set, movements sharp and calculated as he sent a blast of raw magical force at one of the wolves, slamming it into a crumbling wall.
Fred and George fought like a well-oiled machine, their spells weaving together in perfect synchronization, lighting up the night with bursts of blue and gold.
A werewolf lunged at Neville—
“STUPEFY!”
It collapsed mid-air, stunned before it could reach him.
“Nice shot, Theo!” Daphne called, slicing her wand through the air. A silver arc of magic crashed into another wolf, sending it tumbling.
But the werewolves weren’t stopping.
Evelyn barely dodged as one swiped at her, its claws tearing through her sleeve. She twisted, her heart pounding, and slammed her wand into its chest.
“DEPULSO!”
The force of the spell sent the creature skidding backward—but it got up again.
They weren’t staying down.
And then—Greyback stepped through the flames.
His hulking form cast a long shadow across the battlefield, his fangs bared in a vicious grin.
“Well, well,” he rasped, his voice like crushed gravel. “Look at all the little fighters. Putting up such a brave struggle.”
Evelyn’s grip on her wand tightened.
His gaze locked onto her.
“Ah. And you,” he purred. “You’re the one who killed Bellatrix, aren’t you?”
Evelyn braced herself.
Greyback’s grin widened.
“Let’s see if you’re as hard to kill as she was.”
Greyback moved like a shadow, fast and brutal. Evelyn barely had time to throw herself to the side, dodging his first swipe. His claws slashed through the air, inches from her face.
She rolled, hit the ground, spun her wand up—
“CONFRINGO!”
The Blasting Curse hit him square in the chest, sending him skidding back with a furious snarl.
But he didn’t stay down.
“Too slow!” Greyback growled, leaping forward again.
Evelyn barely managed to throw up a Shield Charm before he slammed into it, the force of the impact sending a shockwave through her arm. Her wand vibrated in her grip, magic straining against his inhuman strength.
“Still using those pretty little spells?” he sneered. “I can smell your fear.”
Evelyn’s breath came sharp and fast—but she forced herself to stay calm.
“Then you should know,” she said coolly, “you should be afraid of me too.”
Then she dropped the shield on purpose—
Greyback stumbled forward—
And she slashed her wand down, sending a blazing arc of white-hot magic into his ribs.
Greyback roared in pain, his body crashing into the ground.
But Evelyn didn’t stop.
“STUPEFY!”
A red flash of light struck him full in the face—but instead of knocking him out, he shook it off, growling lowly.
Evelyn gritted her teeth.
“That’s not going to work!” Theo shouted from the sidelines. “Werewolves have resistance to basic Stunning Spells—”
“Then I’ll use something else!” Evelyn shouted back.
She flicked her wand upward—
“GLACIUS!”
Frost exploded outward, racing up Greyback’s arms, freezing him mid-motion.
For a second, he stilled—
Then he shattered through the ice, lunging forward.
Evelyn was ready.
She twisted at the last second, dodging his claws, spun—
And drove her wand into his side.
“SECTUMSEMPRA!”
Blood sprayed across the battlefield.
Greyback howled, staggering back, his chest torn open from the spell. His breathing was ragged, but he was still standing.
Ron’s voice rang out over the chaos—
“EVIE, MOVE!”
Evelyn didn’t hesitate.
She dove sideways—
And a bright blue hex slammed into Greyback’s back, sending him flying into a pile of rubble.
Ron and Draco ran up, wands still glowing.
“You alright?” Ron asked, eyes darting between her and Greyback’s motionless form.
Evelyn’s chest rose and fell quickly.
“I’m fine,” she panted. “For now.”
Draco glared at Greyback’s still form, his wand trembling in his grip.
“That bastard better stay down.”
But before Evelyn could respond—
A loud horn blast echoed from the Forbidden Forest.
Her stomach dropped.
Across the battlefield, Death Eaters stopped mid-duel, turning toward the sound. A moment of silence passed—
Then the ground shook.
And out of the darkness of the trees—
Dragons appeared.
The sky was a murky shade of violet, the last remnants of daylight clinging to the edges of the horizon. Smoke hung heavy in the air, thick with the scent of burning wood, scorched stone, and blood. The battlefield was a warzone of rubble, shattered glass, and fallen bodies— yet still, neither side had given in.
For two days, they had fought. Two days of relentless duels, explosions, and death.
Evelyn stood near the shattered remains of the courtyard, her wand loose in her grip, her body aching with exhaustion. Sweat clung to her skin despite the cold air, and a long, shallow cut stretched down her arm, the blood dried in uneven streaks.
She watched as students and staff battled dragons at the far edge of the battlefield, near the Forbidden Forest. The beasts were massive, their scales gleaming like molten metal under the flickering torchlight. Their roars shook the ground, their fiery breath turning parts of the courtyard into molten craters.
Professors McGonagall and Flitwick led the counterattack, casting powerful spells to redirect the flames, while Charlie Weasley, who had arrived with the Order earlier that day, dodged and weaved beneath one of the dragons, shouting commands to the fighters around him.
Fred and George had taken to luring one of the dragons toward the lake, blasting firecrackers and screaming, “Come on, you ugly overgrown chicken!” as they ran.
Daphne, Theo, and Blaise worked to shield fallen students, covering them with hastily cast Protego Charms while Hermione and Luna tried to stun the dragons’ wings.
Evelyn let out a breath, trying to push away the nausea curling in her stomach.
They were holding their own.
But for how much longer?
A sharp whistle cut through the battlefield—Harry’s signal.
The gang turned, sprinting back toward the castle ruins where he stood with Ron, Draco, and McGonagall.
“We’re pulling back for now,” McGonagall announced, her face set with grim determination. “Everyone, fall back to the Great Hall. We need to reconfigure our strategy.”
The reluctance was visible on everyone’s faces, but the exhaustion was worse. Even the strongest duelists were running on fumes.
Evelyn exchanged a glance with Harry.
They had fought for two days.
They needed to end this.
Soon.
Thirty minutes later, the core fighters of Hogwarts were gathered in the Great Hall.
The long wooden tables had been pushed aside, making space for rows of cots, supply stations, and injured fighters huddled under blankets.
Evelyn, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Pansy, Theo, Draco, Daphne, Blaise, Fred, and George stood at the front of the room, while McGonagall, Kingsley, and Lupin examined a large map of Hogwarts spread across one of the tables.
“So far, we’re evenly matched,” Kingsley said, his deep voice steady despite the tension in the room.
“The only ones we’ve lost are a few third-years,” Lupin murmured, his eyes dark with grief. “They got caught in the crossfire.”
The room fell silent.
A lump formed in Evelyn’s throat. She didn’t want to ask their names.
McGonagall took a sharp breath and continued. “The Death Eaters have lost dozens. They’re not invincible, but neither are we.”
“We need to end this in the next twenty-four hours,” Harry said, gripping the edge of the table. His knuckles were white. “We can’t last much longer.”
Evelyn nodded. “We need to target their weaknesses. Their biggest weapons are the Dementors, the dragons, and the giants. We’re holding them off, but if we don’t wipe them out now, they’ll overrun us.”
“I’ll go after the dragons,” Charlie Weasley volunteered from the back of the room. “I know their weak spots.”
“I’ll lead another Patronus charge with the DA,” Luna added.
McGonagall nodded. “And the giants?”
“We need to take them down quickly before they break through the last of the castle’s defenses,” Ron said. “If they get inside, we’re finished.”
Kingsley tapped the map. “We’ll lure them toward the viaduct—the bridge is already destroyed. We just need to push them over the edge.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
Evelyn exhaled, glancing at her friends. They looked like hell.
Blaise had a bloody gash on his temple. Theo’s robes were torn and covered in dirt. Pansy was half-asleep against Daphne, her arms wrapped around her ribs. Draco’s lip was split, and Fred and George had matching burns on their arms.
But they were alive.
And they were still fighting.
Just as Evelyn opened her mouth to speak—
The castle shook.
Voldemort’s voice rang out, amplified over the battlefield.
“Harry Potter… Evelyn McCrae…”
A cold chill swept through the room.
Every head turned toward the doors.
Voldemort’s voice was low, smooth, and taunting.
“The time has come. I grow tired of this meaningless war. I am offering you both a chance to end it now.”
Silence fell over the Great Hall.
Evelyn felt her pulse pounding in her ears.
“Come to the boathouse,” Voldemort continued, his voice dripping with mocking amusement. “You have one hour.”
A shiver ran down her spine.
“If you refuse, more will die.”
Then, silence.
The voice was gone.
The room remained frozen in the aftermath.
Evelyn turned to Harry.
His jaw was clenched, his fists tight at his sides.
Ron muttered a curse under his breath.
Pansy swallowed hard. “It’s a trap.”
“Obviously,” Hermione whispered.
Evelyn’s hands curled into fists.
Voldemort was forcing their hand. One way or another, this battle was about to end.
Chapter 103: A Final Fight
Chapter Text
The boathouse was eerily silent.
A thick mist curled over the dark waters of the lake, and the scent of damp stone and decay clung to the air. The wooden structure was barely standing, the old beams groaning under the weight of the battle raging above.
Harry and Evelyn walked side by side, their footsteps light on the rotting wooden planks. Neither spoke.
They had one goal.
End it.
Inside, standing near the edge of the water, Voldemort waited.
His black robes were unmoving despite the faint breeze drifting in from the shattered windows. His red eyes gleamed, and the corners of his mouth twisted in something almost akin to amusement.
“You came,” he murmured, his voice carrying through the dimly lit space. His long, pale fingers tightened around his wand.
Evelyn and Harry raised their wands, but Voldemort did not attack.
Not yet.
Instead, he stepped forward, his gaze flickering between them. “How long I have waited for this moment,” he said softly. “Harry Potter. Evelyn McCrae. The last true obstacles standing between me and victory.”
Evelyn’s grip tightened on her wand. “Cut the theatrics, Tom.”
His eyes darkened.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then he laughed—low, cold, and mocking.
“Oh, Evelyn,” Voldemort said, tilting his head. “You remind me of myself when I was young. Arrogant. Powerful.” His gaze flickered to Harry. “And you… you are as predictable as ever, Potter. Always the hero. Always so eager to throw yourself into danger.”
Harry’s jaw clenched. “You don’t know anything about us.”
Voldemort hummed in amusement. “But I do. I know what drives you. I know what you fear.”
He took another step forward, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“You fight so hard,” he murmured. “But it is pointless. You cannot win.”
Harry’s fingers curled around his wand.
Evelyn stood her ground.
Voldemort’s lips curled.
“I have spent years waiting for this moment,” he continued. **“And tonight, it finally ends. You both will die here, and the world will know that no one—**no matter how powerful, no matter how defiant—can escape Lord Voldemort.”
Evelyn exhaled sharply.
No more talking.
She fired the first curse.
Spells exploded through the air, illuminating the darkened boathouse in bursts of red, green, and gold.
Voldemort was fast. His movements were calculated, controlled, deadly. He barely needed to move—his wandwork was precise, each spell ricocheting off their defenses and counterattacks.
Harry and Evelyn fought in perfect tandem.
“Expelliarmus!” Harry shouted, his spell crashing against Voldemort’s shield.
“Sectumsempra!” Evelyn followed, aiming for his exposed side.
Voldemort twisted at the last second, his robes slicing apart but leaving him unharmed.
He retaliated with a blast of dark energy, sending both of them skidding back across the wooden floor. Evelyn barely caught herself before slamming into a broken railing.
Harry was already back on his feet. He fired another curse—blinding white light shot toward Voldemort, who deflected it with a flick of his wand.
Evelyn lunged forward, throwing three nonverbal hexes in quick succession.
Voldemort dodged the first two but was forced to throw up a shield against the third.
His red eyes flickered with something dangerous.
“You have learned much,” he murmured.
Then, with a flick of his wand—the entire floor beneath them cracked apart.
Evelyn and Harry leapt aside as wooden beams splintered beneath them. The air filled with dust and debris, the sound of breaking timber nearly drowning out the battle.
Then Voldemort moved.
He appeared in front of Evelyn in a blink, his wand already slashing downward—
Evelyn barely raised her wand in time—the force of the spell sent her stumbling back, a sharp gash tearing across her arm.
Pain seared through her, but she didn’t stop moving.
She rolled to the side just as Harry’s spell crashed against Voldemort’s shield.
They were running out of time.
Harry locked eyes with her. Evelyn took a sharp breath. She dropped her wand.
Voldemort reacted instantly.
His eyes flashed with triumph as he raised his wand for the final strike.
But in that one second of arrogance—
Evelyn reached into her sleeve, and pulled out the Elder Wand.
Voldemort’s eyes widened. But it was too late.
“Avada Kedavra!”
A blast of green light filled the room.
For a moment, time froze.
Voldemort’s expression was one of pure shock. His body stiffened, his red eyes dimmed, and then—His lifeless form crashed onto the wooden floor.
Silence.
Evelyn could hear her own breathing.
Harry was still holding his wand, his chest rising and falling quickly.
They stared at Voldemort’s body.
He was gone.
For the first time in so many years, Voldemort was truly gone.
Evelyn slowly turned to Harry.
“…Did we just win?”
Harry let out a breathless laugh. “I think we did.”
They floated Voldemort’s body back to the castle.
It was eerie—his lifeless form hovering above the battlefield, robes billowing, pale skin illuminated by the rising moon.
When they reached the middle of the courtyard, Evelyn and Harry let go.
Voldemort’s body crashed onto the stone.
The fighting halted.
For a long, terrifying second—
No one moved.
A single Death Eater screamed.
The rest collapsed into chaos.
Some tried to flee. Others dropped their wands. Some fell to their knees in shock and disbelief.
And then, from the ranks of the Hogwarts fighters—
A single voice shouted into the night.
“He’s dead!”
A roar of victory erupted through the courtyard.
The cheering didn’t last.
The moment Voldemort’s body hit the stone, exhaustion set in. The students and staff who had been fighting for days could barely stand upright. Their adrenaline was gone, leaving nothing but the deep ache of bruises, cuts, and burns.
McGonagall was the first to take control.
“All students who are injured—get inside the Great Hall immediately!” Her voice, hoarse from battle, rang through the courtyard. “If you can still stand, help someone who can’t!”
Madam Pomfrey was already rushing forward, along with several seventh-year students who had been assisting her in the makeshift hospital.
The gang, still standing in the courtyard, barely had the energy to move.
Evelyn pressed a hand to her stomach—the wound from the cutting curse earlier was still throbbing. Harry swayed on his feet. Ron had dried blood on his forehead. Hermione was gripping Daphne’s arm as she tried to stay upright.
“I think we should sit down,” Fred muttered, voice weak.
“We can’t,” George replied. “If we sit, we might never get back up.”
Through the fading smoke and dust, Evelyn could see Aurors subduing the last of the Death Eaters. Kingsley was leading them, his robes torn and splattered with blood. Lucius Malfoy, bound in chains, was being dragged toward the castle, his expression vacant. Antonin Dolohov was unconscious, slumped against the steps. Yaxley was screaming something, but no one was listening to him.
Then, from somewhere in the crowd—
A voice screamed.
“Where’s my brother?!”
A girl—no older than fifteen—was pushing through the gathered students, her robes torn, her face streaked with soot and tears.
Evelyn’s stomach dropped.
And then she saw them.
The bodies.
They had been laid out in neat rows near the entrance to the Great Hall. Some were covered with sheets. Others weren’t.
A third-year Ravenclaw. A Gryffindor boy she had seen in Charms. A Hufflepuff girl who had barely been thirteen.
The war hadn’t been bloodless.
Evelyn turned away, her throat tight.
Pansy, standing beside her, suddenly grabbed her arm.
“Don’t look,” she whispered.
Evelyn exhaled sharply. “I need to—”
“Don’t.”
She let herself be pulled away.
⸻
Dozens of students lay on cots and conjured beds, some barely conscious, others wrapped in bandages. Madam Pomfrey and her assistants moved between them quickly, casting spells and handing out potions.
Evelyn, Harry, and the rest of the gang stumbled inside.
They had just enough energy to find a corner and collapse onto the floor.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired,” Ron muttered, leaning against one of the stone pillars.
Hermione had her head in her hands. Daphne was rubbing at a deep cut on her shoulder. Theo and Blaise sat against the wall, both too exhausted to even speak.
Fred and George were silent.
That alone was terrifying.
Evelyn leaned against Harry, pressing her forehead against his shoulder.
“We did it,” she whispered.
Harry was quiet for a long moment.
Then he exhaled.
“Yeah,” he said. “We did.”
Across the hall, McGonagall stood on the staff table, addressing the remaining students.
“Hogwarts is safe,” she said. Her voice was calm, steady—but underneath, there was exhaustion. “The Aurors have detained the remaining Death Eaters. The battle is over.”
Some students broke down in relief. Others just sat there, too numb to react.
McGonagall paused.
Her gaze swept over the Hall—over the injured, the exhausted, the empty cots that would never be filled again.
“Rest,” she said, voice softer. “You’ve all done more than enough.”
Then her voice hardened.
“Hogwarts stands. And so do we.”
For the first time, Evelyn believed it.
The castle was silent.
For the first time in days, there was no shouting, no clashing of spells, no screams of pain. The battle was over, and now, all that remained was recovery.
The Great Hall remained the hospital. The long house tables had been permanently vanished, replaced with rows of cots for the injured. The enchanted ceiling reflected a clear sky—a direct contrast to the chaos that had consumed the castle just two nights before.
Madam Pomfrey and her assistants worked tirelessly, moving between beds, handing out potions and changing bandages. Some of the injuries were severe—burns from dragon fire, shattered bones, deep magical wounds that resisted healing. A few Auror mediwizards had arrived to assist, but there were still so many students in pain.
Evelyn spent most of the first day asleep.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione had forced her to stay in bed, even though she insisted she was fine. She wasn’t. The cutting curse to her stomach had taken a lot out of her, and the exhaustion of leading an army for four days had finally caught up.
By the time she woke, it was midday.
And for the first time in a long while, she smelled food.
The house-elves had been working nonstop, ensuring that everyone was fed properly again. Large trays of warm soup, roast chicken, fresh bread, and pumpkin juice floated around the Great Hall, given to anyone strong enough to eat.
Evelyn sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she looked around.
Most of the gang was still in the Hall.
Draco, Blaise, Theo, and Daphne were sitting on the floor near one of the windows, quietly eating. Fred and George were talking to McGonagall—probably about their injuries. Ron was asleep, his tray of food untouched beside him.
Harry sat next to her, offering her a bowl of soup.
“You need to eat,” he said softly.
Evelyn took the bowl, feeling the warmth in her hands. She hesitated before speaking.
“How many?” she asked.
Harry didn’t need clarification.
“Sixteen students,” he murmured. “And three professors.”
Evelyn swallowed hard.
The weight of their losses settled deep in her stomach.
“We did everything we could,” he added, watching her carefully.
Evelyn nodded, but the guilt remained.
By the time the second day rolled in, more students were starting to recover.
Some were strong enough to leave the Great Hall, returning to their dorms to sleep in proper beds. Others were still confined to their cots, too weak to stand.
Hogwarts itself had taken serious damage.
Entire hallways had collapsed, staircases were missing, and part of the Astronomy Tower had caved in during the battle. The bridge Seamus had blown up was now just ruins, scattered across the ravine below.
Professors Flitwick and Sprout had already started rebuilding. With the help of the few Ministry officials who had arrived, they were slowly restoring the castle, piece by piece.
Evelyn, Harry, and the rest of the gang spent most of the second day helping.
Some students cleaned up debris, while others helped carry supplies to the medical wing. The Great Hall was still being used as a hospital, but Madam Pomfrey had begun transferring students with serious injuries to the actual hospital wing, now that the castle was safe.
At one point, Draco had disappeared for an hour.
When he returned, he looked exhausted.
Evelyn gave him a questioning look, but he just sighed. “Writing to my mother. Letting her know I’m alive.”
His voice was strained, and Evelyn knew he was leaving something out.
“She’s still at the safe house?”
He nodded. “I told her to stay there until things settle. She… she wanted to come here. But I couldn’t—” He exhaled sharply. “I couldn’t risk it.”
Evelyn squeezed his shoulder before heading back to help in the Great Hall.
Even though Voldemort was dead, the war still wasn’t over.
There was still so much to fix.
___________________
The castle still stood, but it bore deep wounds from the battle. The professors took charge of rebuilding efforts, but the students insisted on helping. It became a school-wide effort—every able-bodied witch and wizard used their magic to repair what had been destroyed.
Evelyn, Harry, and Hermione spent hours reinforcing walls, levitating heavy rubble out of the way, and sealing cracks where spells had torn through stone. Draco and Theo worked in the dungeons with Slughorn, clearing potion ingredients from broken shelves and fixing cauldrons that had shattered during the explosions.
Seamus, after blowing up the bridge, felt obligated to help Fred and George rebuild it. With careful guidance from McGonagall, they worked on restoring the structure, reinforcing it with protection spells.
Pansy, Daphne, and Blaise took charge of restoring the library, as many of the books had been damaged by spells or debris. They spent days repairing torn pages and fixing burnt covers, with Madam Pince looking on, giving curt nods of approval.
Even the ghosts helped where they could—Nearly Headless Nick floated alongside the students, offering encouragement, while the Bloody Baron watched the Slytherins work in silence.
Despite their exhaustion, there was a sense of unity. House rivalries had all but dissolved, and everyone worked together to restore their home.
Not everyone could jump straight into rebuilding. The battle had left many injured, and for some, the wounds were severe.
Madam Pomfrey and a team of volunteer Healers from St. Mungo’s remained at Hogwarts, tending to students who needed long-term care. Those who had suffered burns, broken bones, or spell damage required constant attention.
Physio training began for those with severe injuries to their legs or mobility issues. Theo had taken a hex to the knee that nearly shattered it—he spent his days relearning how to walk properly with the help of a Healer.
Evelyn worked with him, pushing him to keep going. “You survived a war, Nott. Don’t let one bad knee take you down.”
“You say that like this doesn’t hurt like hell,” Theo muttered, gripping the edge of his chair as he slowly bent his leg.
“You can whine all you want, but you’re still doing it,” she smirked.
Neville, too, had sustained serious injuries, having taken several brutal spells in his fight against the Death Eaters. Despite the pain, he never complained, determined to regain his strength.
Some injuries weren’t visible.
Students who had been on the battlefield but hadn’t been physically hurt still carried the mental toll of the war. Nightmares were common. Sleep was restless. Some found themselves startled by sudden noises, reaching for their wands at any unexpected sound.
Luna had started gathering students to sit outside by the lake in the evenings, creating a quiet space for those who needed to simply breathe.
A week after the battle, Professor McGonagall gathered the entire school in the Great Hall.
She stood at the front, her face lined with exhaustion, yet still radiating strength. The room fell silent as she spoke.
“I know many of you are still processing what has happened.” Her voice was calm but firm. “We have won, but victory does not erase the pain that war brings. Some of you may be feeling lost. Some of you may be carrying burdens you do not yet understand.”
She looked around the hall, making sure to meet the eyes of as many students as possible.
“For the next month, we will have Mind Healers from St. Mungo’s available here at Hogwarts. You may visit them at any time, for any reason. There is no weakness in seeking help.”
There was a hushed silence. Some students shifted uncomfortably, while others nodded in quiet understanding.
“I urge you all to speak with them,” McGonagall continued. “War leaves scars—not all of them visible. It is important that we heal, together.”
She let her words settle before continuing.
“The summer holidays will begin as scheduled, and I encourage you to continue seeking help during the months away. This school has been your home for years, and it will always remain a home to you.”
A small flicker of relief crossed many faces. Hogwarts wasn’t just a school—it was where they had fought, where they had survived.
McGonagall’s voice softened as she finished.
“Take care of yourselves. And take care of each other.”
The room was silent for a few moments longer, but then, one by one, students began to clap. Soon, the entire hall erupted into applause—not just for McGonagall, but for each other, for surviving, for still standing after everything they had endured.
⸻
Hogwarts was far from fully healed, but there was progress.
Students began to visit the Mind Healers, some hesitantly, others more openly. Training continued for those who needed physical rehabilitation.
Bit by bit, Hogwarts was rebuilding—not just the castle, but the people within it.
The war was over.
Now, it was time to learn how to live again.
_________________
Evelyn stood outside McGonagall’s office, hesitating for just a moment before she knocked.
“Enter,” came the firm but tired voice from within.
Pushing the door open, Evelyn found Professor McGonagall seated at her desk, poring over a seemingly endless pile of parchment. Her robes were slightly disheveled, and her glasses sat lower on her nose than usual. Despite her exhaustion, she still looked as composed as ever.
McGonagall glanced up, her expression softening slightly when she saw Evelyn.
“Miss McCrae,” she greeted. “What can I do for you?”
Evelyn stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “I—I wanted to ask about graduation.”
McGonagall set down her quill, folding her hands atop the desk. “Ah, yes. I suspected that would be on your mind.” She sighed, as if anticipating Evelyn’s concerns.
“It’s still happening, then?” Evelyn asked cautiously.
“As long as Hogwarts is fully rebuilt in the next two weeks,” McGonagall confirmed. “Then yes, graduation will proceed as planned—three weeks from now.”
Evelyn exhaled, relief washing over her. “Good,” she murmured. After everything they had been through, after all the loss and destruction, she wasn’t sure if any of them would get a proper ending to their Hogwarts years.
McGonagall seemed to sense her thoughts because she added, “We will not allow this war to steal everything from you. You deserve your moment.”
Evelyn nodded, gripping the back of one of the chairs in front of the desk. “Will it be like normal?”
“There will be some adjustments,” McGonagall admitted. “Some students may still need extra time to heal, and we will have to ensure all families feel safe attending.” She adjusted her glasses. “But you will have your proper send-off. You and the other seventh years have more than earned it.”
Evelyn hesitated before asking, “Are we… still expected to take our mastery exams?”
McGonagall gave a rare smile. “Not in the traditional sense, no.” She glanced down at a parchment. “The Ministry has agreed that, given the circumstances, all seventh years will be evaluated based on their past coursework and practical abilities. Your efforts during the battle, for example, will be factored into your final marks.”
Evelyn blinked, surprised. “Wait, so you’re saying that…?”
McGonagall’s lips twitched in amusement. “Yes, Miss McCrae. You don’t have to sit for your mastery exams”
For the first time in weeks, Evelyn actually grinned. “Best news I’ve heard all day.”
McGonagall let out a soft chuckle. “I suspected you’d say that.”
Evelyn took a deep breath. “Okay. So, two weeks to finish rebuilding Hogwarts and three weeks until graduation.”
“Precisely.”
Evelyn nodded firmly, determination setting in. “Then I’d better get back to work.”
She turned to leave, but just as she reached the door, McGonagall called after her.
“Miss McCrae.”
Evelyn turned back, meeting her professor’s gaze.
“I am proud of you,” McGonagall said, her voice carrying the weight of everything that had happened. “Of all of you.”
Evelyn swallowed the lump in her throat.
“…Thank you, Professor.”
And with that, she left the office, stepping back into the hallway with a renewed sense of purpose. Graduation was happening. They were going to finish what they started.
The sun had long since set behind the battered towers of Hogwarts, casting long shadows over the half-repaired castle. Even with magic, rebuilding Hogwarts was slow, tedious work—especially when nearly everyone involved was still recovering.
Evelyn wiped the sweat from her brow, glancing over her shoulder at the towering half-built stone wall she’d just reinforced. Transfiguration, Charms, and even basic manual labor had become part of their daily routine.
“Alright,” Theo called from a few feet away, collapsing onto a pile of rubble that had yet to be cleared. “If I have to mend one more wall today, I swear I’m going to hex myself unconscious so I can get some bloody rest.”
Pansy, standing beside him, smirked. “I’ll do it for you if you want.”
Theo shot her a glare, but before he could snap back, Harry cut in.
“Let’s call it for the night,” he said, rolling his shoulders. “We’re all exhausted, and I think we need a proper break.”
Evelyn didn’t argue. The last few days had been nothing but fighting, rebuilding, and barely getting any sleep. Even though their side had won, even though Voldemort was dead, the war had left a deep, lingering weight in its wake.
The others seemed to agree, because one by one, they dropped their tools, their wands, their exhaustion settling in.
“Room of Requirement?” Daphne suggested, brushing dust from her robes.
Draco nodded. “We could all use a drink.”
“And food,” Ron added immediately.
Everyone turned toward the castle, moving slowly, stiffly, as if their bones still remembered the battle.
The moment the golden doors materialized and the gang stepped inside, the Room of Requirement had already anticipated exactly what they needed.
It had transformed itself into a large, cozy space, like a common room that belonged to no specific House. The walls were lined with soft tapestries, the lighting dim but warm. There were several cushioned sofas and armchairs, a massive table in the center covered with trays of food, and a fireplace burning low in the far corner.
Evelyn exhaled, feeling her muscles relax for the first time in days.
“This place really does know what we need,” Neville murmured, stepping inside with awe.
Ginny immediately made her way toward the food, grabbing a plate and piling it high. “If I have to eat one more bowl of Madam Pomfrey’s energy potion, I’m going to scream.”
Luna twirled her wand, conjuring a floating string of fairy lights above the room. “This feels like the first time we’ve all been together properly,” she said dreamily.
And she was right. The war had scattered them. For months, they had been together, yet constantly on high alert, waiting for the moment they would have to fight for their lives.
Now, for the first time in what felt like forever, they had time to just be.
Evelyn sank onto one of the sofas, her plate balanced on her lap, as everyone else settled in around the room.
For a while, there was only the sound of eating. They were all too hungry, too tired, to talk much.
Eventually, Fred leaned back, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. “So,” he started, “what the hell are we supposed to do now?”
George scoffed. “What do you mean?”
Fred gestured vaguely. “You know… after this. What happens after you fight a war?”
Silence followed his words.
Because none of them really had an answer.
For so long, their lives had been leading up to this battle, this war, this fight. And now that it was over, there was nothing but uncertainty ahead.
“Some of us are graduating,” Theo pointed out. “Some of us aren’t. Either way… the year ends soon.”
Daphne crossed her legs, swirling the drink in her glass. “Do we just… pretend this was a normal seventh year? Go on with our lives like everything is fine?”
“No,” Evelyn said immediately. “Things aren’t fine. And I don’t think they will be for a long time.”
Harry nodded, setting his empty plate aside. “But we won.”
There was another silence, heavier this time. Because yes, they had won. But that victory had come with a cost.
Ron sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I still can’t believe it, though. He’s gone. After everything…”
“Feels strange,” Blaise admitted, his expression unreadable. “Knowing we’ll never have to fight him again.”
“We’ll still be fighting,” Pansy muttered, picking at the edge of her sleeve. “There’s still people out there—Death Eaters who got away, people who supported him in secret. This war isn’t over, not completely.”
Evelyn knew she was right.
There would always be stragglers, remnants of Voldemort’s followers. Just because they had cut the head off the snake, didn’t mean there weren’t still people loyal to his cause.
“It’s up to us now,” Draco murmured.
All eyes turned to him.
Draco straightened slightly, expression serious. “Our generation. It’s up to us to make sure none of this ever happens again.”
It was an odd thing to hear coming from him, but Evelyn understood.
They had been children born into a war. Children who had grown up surrounded by expectations, prejudices, battles they never should have had to fight.
And now, for the first time, they had the chance to shape what came next.
“We will,” Evelyn said. “We’ll make sure of it.”
As the night stretched on, the conversations turned softer, lighter.
The war still loomed over them, but for a little while, they allowed themselves to talk about stupid things that had nothing to do with fighting.
Harry and Evelyn finally announced that they were engaged and the room erupted with cheers.
Ron and Neville argued over who was the better chess player (Neville insisted Ron’s luck was unnatural). Ginny and Pansy ended up having a strange but passionate discussion about which Quidditch team would dominate the next season.
Fred and George, in typical fashion, began scheming ways to market ‘Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes’ as the best post-war stress reliever.
And at some point, Evelyn caught Harry watching her with that look on his face—the soft, steady one he always had when he thought she wasn’t paying attention.
She nudged him with her foot, smirking. “What?”
Harry just shook his head, smiling. “Nothing.”
But there was something in his eyes, something quiet and fond.
Evelyn let her head rest back against the sofa, closing her eyes for just a moment.
For the first time in what felt like years, she felt safe.
And she let herself enjoy it. Even if only for tonight.
________________
It was a solemn morning in the Great Hall when Professor McGonagall stood at the staff table, clearing her throat. The room, which had regained some of its liveliness over the past few days, fell into an immediate hush.
The weight in her expression was enough for everyone to know what was coming.
“As you all know,” she began, her voice steady despite the heaviness of the topic, “Hogwarts suffered nineteen losses during the battle. Students, staff… friends.”
Evelyn felt the atmosphere shift. People lowered their gazes, some reaching for the hands of those beside them.
McGonagall continued, “Arrangements have been made for all nineteen funerals in the coming weeks. Families have decided on separate services, and the full schedule has been posted outside the Great Hall for those who wish to attend.”
Nobody spoke, but the unspoken agreement hung in the air. They would attend. They would show up for those who never got the chance to see peace.
McGonagall’s expression softened. “I understand that this is difficult. That, after everything, this is not how we imagined our time at Hogwarts ending. But we will honor them. We will rebuild. And we will ensure that their sacrifices were not in vain.”
She let that sit for a moment before nodding. “Now—back to work.”
The following days were filled with relentless effort.
Though they were exhausted—mentally, physically, emotionally—the students of Hogwarts worked tirelessly to rebuild their home.
Charms and Transfiguration classes had turned into structured rebuilding sessions. Professors and older students taught spells for reinforcing walls, repairing floors, restoring stained glass.
House-elves worked alongside them, using their own unique magic to fix what wands couldn’t.
But it wasn’t just the students.
On the fourth morning, a group of familiar figures arrived through the castle’s front entrance, bags in hand.
Sirius Black, looking far more grounded than he had in years, slung an arm over Harry’s shoulder the moment he saw him.
Remus Lupin, despite his usual weary demeanor, gave Evelyn a small smile before ruffling her hair.
Narcissa Malfoy swept into the castle with quiet elegance, her sharp gaze immediately scanning for Draco. He met her halfway, unsure how to react, but she pulled him into a tight embrace without a word.
Bill and Charlie Weasley arrived not long after, greeted by their siblings with a mix of exhaustion and relief.
“We’re staying for a few days,” Bill told them, arms crossed. “You didn’t think we’d just sit around at home while Hogwarts was being put back together, did you?”
Fred grinned, nudging George. “Our big brothers, swooping in to save the day.”
“Better late than never,” Charlie quipped, smirking.
Ron shook his head. “Mum didn’t want to let you lot leave, did she?”
Bill sighed. “Not even a little. Took some convincing.”
Charlie chuckled, stretching his arms. “She practically chased us out the door once she realized how useless we were sitting around the house, though.”
With the new arrivals, things became a little easier. The extra wands made repairing the castle faster, and the presence of family members provided some much-needed morale.
Sirius spent most of his time lingering near Harry, though he often joked around with the other students, lightening the mood in his usual, carefree way.
Remus was a quiet observer, checking in on the injured students, making sure nobody was pushing themselves too hard. He made a habit of reminding them all that rest was just as important as rebuilding.
Narcissa, despite not being a Hogwarts professor, took charge in some of the repair efforts. It was odd at first—watching a Malfoy issue orders to a mix of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws—but she was efficient. She worked quickly, keeping her interactions professional, though she lingered near Draco, making sure he wasn’t overexerting himself.
And Bill and Charlie?
They threw themselves into the work like they had something to prove. Charlie, in particular, took over repairing the Astronomy Tower, scaling the half-ruined structure like it was a dragon enclosure.
By the end of the week, the castle was beginning to resemble Hogwarts again.
The walls stood tall. The broken staircases were stable once more. The towers had been restored, and the library—one of the most heavily damaged sections—was nearly back to normal.
It wasn’t perfect.
But it was home.
__________________
By the end of the first week, Hogwarts stood tall once again.
The damage had been severe, but with hundreds of hands and wands working in tandem, the final cracks in the walls sealed themselves shut. The enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall, which had flickered dimly since the battle, once again shimmered with the moving sky.
The last of the debris was cleared from the courtyards. The Whomping Willow—which had been half-destroyed during the fighting—was fully restored, its branches twisting in their usual unpredictable manner.
And when the work was finally done, a strange silence settled over the castle.
For so long, they had been focused on rebuilding, keeping their minds occupied. But now that the physical labor was over, there was only one thing left to do—process everything that had happened.
McGonagall had been true to her word.
The second week was dedicated to recovery.
Mind healers from St. Mungo’s arrived, setting up private offices in different parts of the castle. Students were encouraged—and in some cases, gently ordered—to visit them at least once before the end of the term.
Some resisted at first. But the truth was—everyone needed it.
Evelyn’s first session felt… strange.
The healer, a kind-looking woman named Madam Fairchild, greeted her with a warm, understanding smile.
“There’s no right or wrong way to feel after something like this, Evelyn.”
Evelyn wasn’t sure where to begin. How did she put everything into words? The battle, the losses, Voldemort’s death?
But the words came, little by little.
The mind healers were patient, helping them navigate through the grief, the exhaustion, the guilt that many carried.
Some people needed one session. Others went multiple times. But by the end of the week, there was a noticeable shift.
The wounds would never truly vanish—but they were starting to heal.
By the time Friday evening arrived, Harry and Evelyn finally had something they hadn’t had in months—peace and privacy.
Harry had asked her to meet him by the Black Lake, and though she was confused, she went without question.
The night was quiet, the castle lights reflecting on the water’s surface.
Evelyn found Harry standing near the shore, his hands in his pockets. His hair was even messier than usual, and there was an odd look on his face—nervous, but sure.
She tilted her head. “What’s going on?”
Harry let out a breath, then turned to face her fully.
“We’ve been through… a lot,” he said. “More than most people ever will.”
Evelyn’s lips twitched. “That’s an understatement.”
His expression softened, but then—he dropped to one knee.
Evelyn’s breath hitched.
The world stilled.
She barely registered the ring in his hand, the small silver band with an emerald at its center, catching the moonlight.
“I love you,” he said, looking up at her. “I’ve loved you for years. I don’t want to wait anymore and we agreed that you need a better proposal than me blurting the words out, so,” He exhaled sharply. “Marry me, Evelyn.”
For a moment, she was stunned.
Then—her knees nearly gave out as she knelt down in front of him, throwing her arms around his neck.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, of course.”
Harry let out a relieved laugh, pulling her in for a deep, steadying kiss. When they finally broke apart, he slipped the ring onto her finger, where it fit perfectly.
Neither of them said anything for a moment. They just sat there, by the lake, taking in what this meant.
After everything, they had made it.
And now, they had a future to look forward to.
On Sunday morning, all the seventh-years were called into the Great Hall.
McGonagall stood at the front, her hands folded in front of her.
“As you all know,” she began, “graduation is in one week.”
A murmur went through the students. Some nervous, some excited, others still processing the fact that they had actually made it to the end.
McGonagall’s gaze swept over them before she continued, “This year’s Valedictorian has been chosen. Given everything that has happened, we decided to select two individuals to represent the class of 1999.”
She paused.
“The first will be Susan Bones, who has shown outstanding academic performance and leadership throughout the year.”
There was scattered applause, especially from the Hufflepuffs, as Susan’s eyes widened in shock.
McGonagall’s expression softened slightly before she said, “And the second is Evelyn McCrae.”
The Great Hall fell silent for half a second—before an eruption of applause followed.
Evelyn blinked, momentarily stunned.
She had expected someone like Hermione to get it. But then again, Hermione had missed most of her seventh year with focusing so much on the war, and Evelyn had unknowingly secured top marks in nearly every subject. How she managed that she had no idea.
She felt a nudge on her arm and turned to see Harry grinning at her, pride shining in his eyes.
McGonagall gave her a knowing nod.
“The two of you will deliver your speeches before the final awarding of diplomas.”
As the applause died down, Evelyn exhaled slowly.
She had faced Voldemort and survived a war, but somehow, the idea of giving a speech in front of everyone made her feel nervous.
Still, as she met Harry’s gaze—the same boy who had just proposed to her two nights ago—she found that she wasn’t worried.
She wasn’t alone.
And for the first time in years, she felt excited about what came next.
_________________
The last week at Hogwarts felt strange.
For months, they had been living in a state of constant survival, where every day had been about fighting, healing, and rebuilding. But now—there was nothing left to fight. No castle left to rebuild. The war was over.
And yet, life didn’t just snap back to how it used to be. The scars—both physical and emotional—lingered.
McGonagall had insisted that every student, no matter how “fine” they claimed to be, attended at least one more session with the mind healers before leaving Hogwarts.
The sessions varied for everyone.
For some, like Seamus, it was brief and blunt—he mostly needed to talk through the shock of battle and how it felt to destroy a bridge. For others, like Pansy, it was more complicated.
Pansy had gone in reluctantly, arms crossed, a glare on her face, but after an hour, she came out looking pensive. She never said what was discussed, but later that night, Evelyn found her staring at the ceiling of their dormitory, lost in thought.
For Draco, the sessions were the hardest. He had isolated himself in the days following the war, struggling under the weight of what he had seen, what he had done, and the family name he carried. But when he finally went in, he came back looking… lighter.
For Evelyn, her final session was more reflective than anything.
Madam Fairchild folded her hands on her desk. “You don’t need to have all the answers right now, Evelyn. Trauma doesn’t disappear in a week.”
“I know,” Evelyn admitted. “But it still feels… strange. Like I should be doing something, preparing for something. But there’s nothing left to fight.”
The healer gave her a knowing look.
“You’ve been in survival mode for months,” she said. “It will take time to adjust to the fact that you don’t have to fight anymore.”
Evelyn swallowed. “And if I don’t know who I am outside of the war?”
Fairchild smiled gently. “Then you give yourself time to figure it out.”
Evelyn didn’t have a response to that.
But for the first time, she let herself sit with the uncertainty.
And it didn’t feel as terrifying as before.
The students who had been too young to fight had suffered in their own way. Many had been trapped in the castle during the war, witnessing the destruction without truly understanding it.
Some had lost friends, siblings, mentors.
So, in the last week before graduation, the older students made an effort to help them.
Evelyn found herself in the library, guiding a pair of third-years through a Transfiguration assignment.
Ron and Hermione spent time with the first-years, helping them through some of the spells they had missed learning while Hogwarts had been under attack.
Theo and Daphne organized small dueling practice sessions in the courtyard—not for battle, but to give the younger years confidence in their magic again.
Blaise took up a more subtle role, simply keeping the younger Slytherins in good spirits, making sure no one felt alone.
The effort wasn’t grand or dramatic.
But it helped.
It reminded them all that Hogwarts wasn’t just a battlefield—it was still their home.
Two nights before graduation, the Slytherin common room was packed.
Every Slytherin from first year to seventh had gathered, waiting for Evelyn to speak.
For years, the title of Queen had belonged to her—not by choice, but by necessity. She had taken control because she had needed to, because Slytherin had been fractured, lost, and leaderless.
Now, it was time to step down.
Evelyn stood in front of them all, her wand tapping against her palm. She glanced at Pansy, then at Draco, Theo, and Blaise, before she turned to face the younger years.
“The war is over,” she said. Her voice was steady, but there was an edge of finality in it. “But that doesn’t mean the work is.”
A hush fell over the room.
“For years, people have seen us as the enemy. We all know it. We’ve heard the whispers in the corridors, the way people expect the worst from us before they even get to know us.”
Her gaze hardened.
“But that doesn’t mean we have to prove them right.”
She let her words sink in before continuing.
“Slytherin is about ambition. Strength. Intelligence. But it’s also about loyalty. It’s about protecting our own—and not in the way that isolates us from the rest of Hogwarts.”
She looked across the room, scanning every face.
“We are not the villains of this story,” she said, voice firm. “And we never will be again.”
A ripple of agreement ran through the crowd. Some of the younger students nodded.
Evelyn let out a breath, then glanced toward a specific student in the crowd.
Anya Travers.
A sixth-year girl with sharp green eyes and a mind that rivaled Hermione’s. She had spent the war quietly organizing the younger Slytherins, making sure they were safe and accounted for while the older students fought.
She was a natural leader.
Evelyn’s gaze locked onto hers.
“I won’t be here next year,” she said. “But Slytherin still needs a leader. Someone to guide them. Keep them unified.”
She lifted her chin.
“I nominate Anya Travers to be the next Queen.”
A wave of murmurs ran through the room, but no one objected. Anya looked stunned, eyes widening, before she slowly stood up.
“You sure about that?” she asked, crossing her arms.
Evelyn smirked. “If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have said it.”
A beat of silence passed.
Then—Anya gave a slow nod.
“Alright,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
There was a moment of pause—then the Slytherins erupted into cheers, applause, and murmured approval.
It wasn’t just about leadership.
It was about the future of Slytherin House.
And as Evelyn looked around the common room, watching as the younger students rallied around their new leader, she realized something:
For the first time, she wasn’t worried about what she was leaving behind.
Slytherin would be just fine.
And so would she.
Chapter 104: Graduation
Chapter Text
The Slytherin girls’ dormitory was alive with nervous excitement, laughter, and the occasional dramatic sigh.
For the first time in years, they weren’t preparing for a battle.
They were getting ready for graduation.
Evelyn, Pansy, Daphne, and Hermione were all squeezed into the same dormitory, their emerald-trimmed graduation robes hanging neatly off the wardrobe doors.
Ginny and Luna were sprawled across Evelyn’s bed, watching the older girls rush around with varying degrees of amusement.
“I don’t get why you’re all stressing so much,” Ginny muttered, tossing a pillow in the air and catching it. “It’s just a speech, some parchment, and a fancy handshake with McGonagall.”
Pansy shot her a withering look as she adjusted her robes in the mirror. “It’s not just a fancy handshake, Weasley. This is a moment. An era-ending moment.”
Luna, who was absently braiding and unbraiding a strand of her blonde hair, nodded dreamily. “It’s the closing of a chapter, really. The end of something familiar. The start of something unknown.”
Ginny groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “Merlin, not you too.”
“She’s right, though,” Daphne murmured, smoothing her skirt. “It feels surreal.”
Hermione, sitting cross-legged on her bed, was meticulously curling the ends of her hair with her wand.
“I still can’t believe we made it,” she admitted. “After everything… I wasn’t sure we’d ever get a normal graduation.”
Evelyn hummed in agreement as she pulled her hair into an elegant half-up, half-down style.
The emerald and black robes felt heavy on her shoulders—not physically, but symbolically.
She had never pictured herself making it this far.
For so long, she had lived with the idea that she was constantly running out of time. That her story would end in battle, in war, in some final dramatic showdown.
But now—
She was here.
She was graduating.
She let out a slow breath and turned to the others. “Do you think everything will feel different tomorrow?”
Daphne arched a brow. “In what way?”
Evelyn shrugged. “Once we walk across that stage, get our certificates, hear the speeches… it’s like we’re finally stepping out of Hogwarts. Out of our old lives.”
Pansy smirked. “Evelyn McCrae, getting sentimental? Who would’ve thought?”
Evelyn rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but smile.
Hermione set down her wand and turned toward them, her expression soft. “It won’t be the same, no,” she admitted. “But that’s not a bad thing. We survived, and now we get to build something new.”
Luna tilted her head. “That’s the exciting part, isn’t it?” she mused. “A world where we get to decide what happens next.”
Ginny made a gagging noise. “Alright, that’s enough deep emotions for one day.”
Daphne threw a pillow at her.
The next few minutes were filled with laughter and banter, Pansy and Daphne fixing each other’s hair while Hermione double-checked that their robes were perfectly pressed.
Luna hummed softly, absently running her fingers along the silver trim of Evelyn’s robes. “This suits you,” she murmured. “The color of endings and beginnings.”
Evelyn stilled for a moment, taking in the warmth of the room, the faces around her, the laughter that felt so effortless.
These were her girls.
The war had thrown them together in ways none of them had expected. Pansy had once been an enemy. Hermione had been a rival. Daphne had been a stranger.
Now? Now they were family.
And later today, they would walk across that stage together.
Evelyn took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and smiled.
“Alright,” she said. “Let’s go graduate.”
The morning sun was warm but gentle, casting golden light over the Hogwarts grounds.
Rows upon rows of elegantly arranged chairs lined the grass beside the Black Lake, each facing a grand stage draped in Hogwarts banners. The water behind it shimmered beneath the light breeze, its surface calm and undisturbed, as if the world itself was holding its breath for this moment.
Evelyn stood just beyond the seating area, waiting with the other seventh years. Around her, students were adjusting their robes, whispering to their friends, glancing out at the crowd of families that had gathered.
It was strange, seeing so many parents and relatives here—some she recognized, others she didn’t.
Among them, she spotted Sirius and Remus standing together, chatting quietly. Nearby, Narcissa Malfoy sat with an unreadable expression, though her gaze flickered over to Draco every so often. The Weasley family was clustered in a section toward the front, while other familiar faces—Aurors, Order members, and even some of the **Hogwarts staff who had fought in the war—**mingled in the crowd.
The survivors.
The people they had fought for.
The realization settled in Evelyn’s chest, heavy but not unwelcome.
They had made it.
A hush fell over the crowd as Headmistress McGonagall stepped onto the stage, her emerald robes billowing slightly as she raised a hand for silence. The murmur of voices died down, leaving only the faint rustling of parchment and the distant call of birds in the Forbidden Forest.
With a small smile, she glanced over the gathered seventh years.
“Welcome, students, parents, staff, and honored guests,” she began, her voice carrying effortlessly over the crowd. “It is my privilege to stand before you today as we celebrate the graduating class of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A class unlike any other.”
A quiet murmur rippled through the audience, but McGonagall’s expression remained steady.
“You have endured hardships that no other class has faced. You have fought not just for your education, but for your lives—for the lives of those you love, and for the very future of the world we live in.”
The wind stirred gently, carrying her words like a spell woven into the very air.
“And yet, despite everything, you are here.”
Evelyn felt a lump form in her throat as she cast a glance at her friends. Hermione had straightened, her hands clasped tightly together. Pansy exhaled softly, while Daphne stared ahead, her blue eyes unreadable.
Draco, standing beside Blaise, was silent. But his gaze flickered over to Evelyn, and when their eyes met, she knew they were thinking the same thing.
They weren’t supposed to be here.
Not after everything.
But they were.
McGonagall continued, her voice strong yet laced with emotion.
“Your resilience is unparalleled. Your strength is unquestionable. And today, as you prepare to step into the world beyond these castle walls, know that you do not leave Hogwarts behind.”
She paused, letting the words settle.
“Hogwarts will always be a part of you.”
Silence.
Then—applause.
A soft, rolling wave of it. Not loud, not thunderous, but warm. Genuine.
McGonagall let it pass before nodding. “Now, before we begin presenting certificates, I invite you all to take your seats.”
The seventh years began moving toward their assigned chairs, filling the rows in alphabetical order.
Evelyn took her place between Malcolm McGowan and Draco Malfoy, her robes rustling as she sat down. Hermione was a few rows ahead, beside Daphne, while Theo, Pansy and Blaise settled into their seats in the row behind her.
She could feel Harry’s presence nearby, just a few seats away, his signature messy hair visible even from behind.
The ceremony had only just begun, but as she looked up at the stage, at McGonagall standing tall with the other professors behind her, she knew—
This was the moment they had been waiting for.
McGonagall stepped aside, allowing Professor Flitwick to take her place at the podium. He stood on a small, enchanted platform that lifted him so that he was visible to the entire audience.
“Now,” he said, his voice warm, “we will begin presenting the graduates with their certificates. As always, students will come up in alphabetical order. When your name is called, please come forward to receive your certificate from your Head of House.”
Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor Snape, and Professor McGonagall stood near the edge of the stage, prepared to hand out certificates to their respective students.
Flitwick lifted the long parchment list of names and smiled brightly. “Let us begin.”
One by one, each seventh-year student was called forward, walking across the stage to receive their certificate. Parents and family members clapped enthusiastically, some even whistling in celebration.
“Daphne Greengrass.”
Daphne strode across the stage confidently, shaking Professor Snape’s hand before taking her certificate. Evelyn saw Astoria sitting in the crowd, clapping proudly for her sister.
“Hermione Granger.”
Hermione walked briskly to the podium, shaking Professor McGonagall’s hand with a firm grip. The applause for her was particularly loud, with the Weasleys cheering wildly from their seats.
“Draco Malfoy.”
A moment of silence followed before the applause, softer than most but still present. Narcissa Malfoy clapped gracefully from the audience, a proud and relieved expression on her face. Draco took his certificate from Snape with a barely perceptible nod.
One by one, more names were called.
“Evelyn McCrae.”
Evelyn took a steadying breath before standing and crossing the stage.
Applause met her, loud and unwavering. She caught glimpses of her friends beaming at her—and she let herself take in the moment.
She accepted her certificate from Professor Snape, who patted her shoulder with a warm smile. “Well done, Evelyn. Well done.”
She nodded in thanks and returned to her seat, clutching the certificate tightly.
More names were called, more graduates received their certificates.
“Pansy Parkinson.”
Pansy walked gracefully, her head held high, and accepted her certificate with an elegant nod to Snape. Ron cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “That’s my girl!” earning laughter from the crowd.
“Blaise Zabini.”
Blaise moved with his usual calm, almost lazy grace, shaking Snape’s hand briefly before slipping the certificate under his arm.
Finally, after the last name was announced, McGonagall returned to the podium.
“Now,” she said, “we will hear from our two valedictorians, who will share their thoughts as we close this chapter of our lives at Hogwarts.”
A hush settled over the crowd.
“First,” McGonagall continued, “Miss Susan Bones.”
Susan, looking both excited and nervous, stepped up to the podium. She took a deep breath, adjusting her parchment, and then began speaking.
Her speech was heartfelt, touching on the importance of perseverance, the friendships forged through hardship, and the legacy that their class would leave behind.
“We are not just a class defined by a war,” Susan said toward the end, her voice steady. “We are a class defined by our survival, our choices, and our strength. We are here today because we chose to keep moving forward, no matter how difficult the road became. And that—” she paused, eyes scanning the audience, “is what truly matters.”
The applause was thunderous.
When it finally died down, McGonagall stepped forward again.
“And now,” she announced, “Miss Evelyn McCrae.”
Evelyn exhaled slowly before rising from her seat.
She walked up to the podium, placing her parchment on the stand. The words she had written were precise, well thought out. But as she looked out over the audience—her friends, her chosen family, the castle that had become her home—she knew she wanted to say more.
She took a breath, then began.
“Seven years ago, most of you received your Hogwarts letter.” She let her gaze travel across the students before continuing. “Some of you were excited, some were nervous, some maybe even terrified. But all of us—no matter where we came from—were given the chance to step into this castle and carve out a place for ourselves.”
She paused, then spoke again, voice stronger.
“For me, that journey started later. But when I arrived, I realized something: Hogwarts isn’t just a school. It’s a home.”
There was a murmur of agreement through the students.
“This castle,” she continued, “has stood for centuries. And so have we.”
She lifted her chin slightly. “We have endured war, we have endured pain, we have endured loss. And yet—we are still here. We are still standing.”
She let that sink in before moving on.
“People will look at our class and say we are ‘the class that survived.’ And they’re right. But we are also the class that fought. The class that refused to give in. The class that will carry the lessons we’ve learned here and use them to build something better.”
Her gaze swept over her friends. Harry. Hermione. Draco. Pansy. Blaise. Daphne. Theo. Ron. Everyone.
“I don’t know what comes next,” she admitted. “None of us do. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that we’re not facing it alone.”
A small, warm smile touched her lips.
“So, to my fellow graduates, my friends, my family—congratulations. We made it.”
Silence hung in the air for a single moment.
Then came applause. Loud, endless applause.
She stepped back, heart pounding, as the sound washed over her.
As she turned back toward her seat, Harry caught her eye and smiled.
She smiled back. They had made it.
As soon as the ceremony concluded, the air was filled with an overwhelming sense of relief and joy. Laughter, chatter, and excited voices filled the space around the lake as families swarmed their graduates, hugging them tightly, taking pictures, and wiping away happy tears.
Evelyn barely had a second to process before she was enveloped in a bone-crushing hug from Harry.
“You were brilliant,” he murmured against her hair.
She laughed breathlessly, wrapping her arms around him in return. “So were you. You made it, Potter.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re never letting that nickname go, are you?”
“Never.”
Before he could retort, they were pulled apart as Hermione appeared, eyes shining with unshed tears as she hugged Evelyn tightly.
“You did wonderfully!” she gushed. “That speech—it was perfect.”
“Thanks, ’Mione,” Evelyn said, squeezing her back before turning to Pansy, who was smirking but also clearly emotional.
“Alright, alright,” Pansy huffed, “I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully—I’m actually proud of you.”
Evelyn blinked in mock surprise. “Pansy Parkinson? Proud of me? What is the world coming to?”
“Shut up,” Pansy said, hugging her briefly before stepping away.
The next hour was filled with families reuniting, professors offering quiet congratulations, and graduates reminiscing about the past seven years at Hogwarts.
As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, everyone made their way back up to the castle, where the Great Hall had been transformed into a stunning banquet hall. Golden banners hung from the enchanted ceiling, and the long tables were now one large circular arrangement to encourage mingling.
At the professors’ table, McGonagall looked at them all with open pride.
“I want you all to eat to your heart’s content tonight,” she said, her usual sternness softened. “You’ve earned it.”
And eat, they did.
The food was even more extravagant than usual—roast meats, warm bread, rich sauces, mountains of dessert. It was a meal of celebration, and for the first time in a long time, no one felt the weight of battle or war.
Evelyn found herself seated between Harry and Theo, with Daphne, Hermione, Ron, and Blaise nearby. The chatter was warm and easy, and even the professors joined in on conversations.
Slughorn raised a glass toward Evelyn and Blaise, his two Slytherin stars, and boomed, “Well done, my dear, well done! If you ever need a reference for the Ministry, you need only ask!”
Evelyn smiled, raising her own glass in return.
The evening was filled with stories and laughter.
Fred and George somehow charmed the pumpkin juice so that whoever drank it ended up belting out the Hogwarts school song at full volume.
Theo ended up transfiguring Ron’s fork into a snake, causing a brief moment of chaos until Harry convinced the snake to turn back.
McGonagall only sighed in exasperation but let them be.
It was a night of happiness, of normalcy, of being young again.
As the Great Hall began to empty, Evelyn felt a familiar tug in her chest.
There was one more place they needed to go.
She glanced at Harry, Hermione, and the others. “One last gathering in the Room of Requirement?”
They all exchanged looks—**knowing, nostalgic—and nodded.
Together, they made their way to the seventh floor.
When they arrived, the door swung open to reveal a cozy, candle-lit space. Plush chairs, a warm fireplace, and a large enchanted window showing the Hogwarts grounds under the stars.
Their families joined them—Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Narcissa, Bill, Charlie, Arthur, Molly, Andromeda (who had come along on Sirius’ invitation). The people who had become their real family over the years.
Drinks were passed around—Butterbeer, Firewhisky for those of age, warm cocoa for those who preferred it.
They played games.
Fred and George brought out a deck of exploding snap.
Theo and Blaise started a wager on who could beat Daphne in wizard’s chess (she won every time).
Luna, Ginny, and Pansy ended up starting a ridiculous round of truth or dare, which resulted in Harry having to stand on a chair and declare himself ‘the ultimate champion of Quidditch’ in a dramatic voice.
There was laughter, teasing, but also moments of quiet reflection.
At one point, Evelyn sat by the window, gazing out at the castle that had become her home.
Harry appeared beside her, leaning on the sill. “What are you thinking about?”
She sighed, a soft smile playing at her lips. “Just… how far we’ve come.”
Harry was silent for a moment before he murmured, “Yeah. We really did make it, didn’t we?”
She turned to him, lacing their fingers together. “Yeah. We did.”
The night stretched on, and for the first time in years, there was no war, no looming battle—just them and their families.
Chapter 105: A New Beginning
Chapter Text
The summer holidays had barely begun when Harry and Evelyn started their search for a new home.
Evelyn’s apartment had been fine for them over the past year, but it had never felt permanent. It had always been a temporary stop, a place for them to catch their breath after the war. Now, with graduation behind them and a future ahead, they were ready to find something theirs.
Harry had suggested Godric’s Hollow almost immediately. Evelyn knew how much it meant to him—to be close to his parents, to have a true home where they had once lived. She had agreed without hesitation.
So, just three days into the summer, they found themselves walking through the quiet, winding streets of Godric’s Hollow, hand in hand, surveying the homes that were up for sale.
“Are you sure you want to live here?” Evelyn asked softly as they passed the ruins of the Potter cottage.
Harry gave her a small smile, squeezing her hand. “Yeah. I think—I think it’ll be good to be close to them. But I don’t want to live in their old house. That’s… that’s theirs. I want something new for us.”
Evelyn nodded, understanding.
Their first stop was a small stone cottage on the edge of the village. It had ivy climbing the walls, a cozy little garden, and a wooden fence that looked like it had seen better days.
“It’s nice,” Evelyn said as they stepped inside. The ceilings were low, the fireplace was warm, and there was a lovely little study nook by the window.
But as they moved through the house, Harry’s expression turned uncertain.
“It’s too small,” he admitted. “I want a place where we can actually grow into. A place where people can visit and stay over if they want to.”
Evelyn nodded. “Alright. On to the next.”
The next house was massive.
It stood at the very edge of the village, surrounded by thick trees. The stone exterior was grand, the windows tall and elegant. Inside, the rooms were expansive, with vaulted ceilings and a formal dining hall that could fit at least twenty people.
Evelyn turned to Harry with a raised eyebrow. “Are we trying to house all of Hogwarts?”
Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, no. This is too much.”
They didn’t even finish the tour.
By late afternoon, they arrived at the third house on their list.
It was modest but charming—a two-story cottage with a thatched roof, blue shutters, and a garden bursting with wildflowers. It had a wide backyard, a cozy front porch, and a stone pathway leading up to the door.
As soon as they stepped inside, something clicked.
The living room had warm wooden floors, a fireplace, and large windows that let in the golden light of the setting sun. The kitchen was spacious yet cozy, and the staircase led up to a loft-like second floor with two bedrooms and a little reading nook.
Evelyn turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. “Harry…”
Harry was already grinning. “Yeah?”
She turned to him. “This is the one.”
His grin widened as he pulled her into a kiss. “Yeah. It is.”
The house felt right. It wasn’t too big, but it had enough space for them to grow into. It was warm, welcoming, and most importantly—it felt like home.
They exchanged a look, both knowing the decision was made.
“Let’s put in an offer,” Harry said.
Evelyn smiled, squeezing his hand. “Let’s do it.”
__________________
The next two weeks were a blur of grief, remembrance, and farewells.
The funerals were held one by one, scattered across different locations in both the wizarding and Muggle world. Some were small and intimate, others were large gatherings, attended by classmates, professors, Aurors, and entire wizarding families who came to pay their respects.
The gang made a promise to attend every single one. No matter how difficult, no matter how painful—these were people they had fought alongside. People they had laughed with, studied with, protected. They owed it to them to say goodbye.
Lavender’s funeral was held in a sunlit meadow, surrounded by wildflowers and soft summer winds. Her parents, both Muggles, sat at the front, their grief raw and unfathomable.
Professor Trelawney, her mentor in Divination, spoke through tears, recalling how Lavender had always been so full of life, so eager to believe in the magic around her.
When it was over, Parvati Patil broke down completely, clutching at Evelyn and Pansy as she sobbed into their shoulders.
“She was supposed to be here,” Parvati whispered. “She was supposed to—” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.
Nobody could find the words to respond.
Terry’s service was held at a small wizarding chapel in London.
His parents—a Muggle mother and a wizard father—stood beside his coffin, accepting condolences with empty, distant expressions.
Michael Corner and Anthony Goldstein spoke about him—his sharp wit, his love for books, his habit of collecting Chocolate Frog cards even as a seventh-year.
As they lowered his coffin, Hermione whispered an apology under her breath. For not being able to save him.
Angelina’s death had shaken the Quidditch community. Her funeral was held on a sunny afternoon at the Holyhead Harpies stadium, where her teammates—past and present—had gathered.
Fred and George stood together, dressed in black, their faces eerily devoid of emotion.
But when Lee Jordan took the podium and spoke of her fearless determination, her laughter, her refusal to let anyone tell her what she couldn’t do—George finally broke.
Fred caught him as he stumbled, his shoulders shaking, his face buried in his twin’s robes.
Evelyn had never seen either of them like that before.
The other funerals followed in a wave of grief.
Ernie Macmillan’s, attended by almost every Hufflepuff in existence, all standing together, their house unity stronger than ever.
Hestia Carrow’s, an ex-Death Eater who had switched sides at the last minute, whose parents refused to attend. Harry and Evelyn stood in the front row, ensuring she wasn’t forgotten.
One by one, they said goodbye.
By the time they reached the final funeral, exhaustion was deep in their bones. There were no more tears left to shed.
But they kept going. Because it was the least they could do.
____________________
The war had left scars—some visible, some hidden deep beneath the surface. After two weeks of funerals, of grief weighing on their shoulders, of watching their friends and classmates be lowered into the ground, Evelyn decided enough was enough.
They needed to breathe again. To live.
So, she called them all together—Pansy, Ron, Hermione, Evan, Luna, Draco, Theo, Blaise, Ginny, Neville, Fred, and George.
They met at Grimmauld Place, where the group had been drifting in and out over the past few days. Some were staying there, some at the Burrow, others at Hogwarts or back home with their families. But they all came, because when Evelyn said she had something important to say, they listened.
She stood in the center of the drawing room, arms crossed, her expression set.
“We’re going on holiday,” she announced.
There was a beat of silence.
“…What?” Ron blinked.
“We need to get away. We need to actually spend time together outside of a battlefield. We need sun, sand, and an actual break. So, I’ve decided we’re going to Lanzarote.”
More silence. Processing.
“You’re serious?” Pansy said, raising an eyebrow.
“Dead serious.”
“You mean,” Fred leaned forward, eyes lighting up, “like an actual trip? Not some ‘Auror-approved mission where we all end up nearly dying’ trip?”
“An actual trip,” Evelyn confirmed.
“Well,” George grinned, “count us in.”
Once the idea settled, everyone was in.
It was exactly what they needed—to get away from the memories, the constant reminders of what they had lost.
“So, why Lanzarote?” Hermione asked, pulling out parchment and a quill to start organizing.
“It’s warm,” Evelyn said simply. “There are beaches, night markets, and no bloody war hanging over our heads.”
“Puerto del Carmen is supposed to be beautiful,” Blaise added. “Good choice.”
“And we’re staying for three weeks?” Theo asked.
“Yep,” Evelyn confirmed. “I’ve already looked at places, and there’s a massive villa that’s right by the beach, with a private pool. It has enough bedrooms for everyone, and if we book it now, we can leave in a week.”
That set off a flurry of excitement.
“I can handle booking the Portkeys,” Draco offered.
“I’ll handle the travel itinerary,” Hermione said immediately.
“I’ll take care of food,” Ron added. “Because let’s be honest, none of you lot know how to prioritize it properly.”
“That’s fair,” Ginny laughed.
“I’ll make sure we have everything we need for the villa—bedding, toiletries, and whatever else,” Pansy added.
“And I,” Fred announced, “will ensure that this trip is filled with chaos and unforgettable moments.”
George nodded solemnly. “We accept this great responsibility.”
The week leading up to their departure was filled with anticipation.
Hermione made lists for everyone, ensuring they had the right clothes, sunblock, potions, and Muggle currency.
Ginny, Pansy, and Luna dragged Evelyn and Daphne to Diagon Alley for last-minute swimsuits and summer dresses and Draco had secured them an international Portkey to Lanzarote, set to depart early in the morning.
By the night before their departure, they were buzzing with excitement.
For the first time in a long time, they were going on an adventure that didn’t involve life-or-death stakes.
They were going to be young again.
The morning before their trip to Lanzarote, Harry and Evelyn were in their shared flat, finishing up last-minute packing when a large barn owl tapped at their window.
Harry, still half-asleep, frowned as he unlatched it. “We’re not expecting anything, are we?”
Evelyn shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
The owl hooted and stuck out its leg, a crisp white envelope tied neatly to it. Harry untied it, and the owl immediately took off again.
Evelyn peered over his shoulder as he opened the letter.
And then froze.
Harry read it once. Then again.
His hands trembled slightly as he turned to look at her, green eyes wide with disbelief.
“We got the house.”
There was a moment where Evelyn just stared at him, processing.
“We got the house?” she repeated, voice slightly breathless.
Harry let out a disbelieving laugh and handed her the letter. “We got the house.”
Evelyn grabbed it, scanning the parchment quickly. The words “Congratulations on your successful offer” stood out immediately, and she felt her stomach flip with excitement.
They had put in the offer just over a week ago—a beautiful cottage in Godric’s Hollow, just a short walk from the Potters’ old home. They hadn’t expected to hear back so soon, especially with the amount of interest in the property.
And yet—it was theirs.
A real home.
Not just a temporary place, not just somewhere to crash between battles and missions—a real, permanent home for them.
Evelyn let out a small laugh, pressing a hand over her mouth before looking at Harry. “We actually got it.”
Harry grinned. “Yeah.”
And then she tackled him.
Harry stumbled back as Evelyn threw herself at him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. He caught her easily, laughing as she pressed excited kisses against his cheek.
“This is happening,” she whispered against his skin. “This is actually happening.”
Harry held her even tighter. “Yeah, love. It is.”
For so long, they had fought for this. They had dreamed of a future beyond war, beyond death, beyond the weight of the past.
And now—they were stepping into it together.
_______________
Before they knew it, the entire gang was gathered at the Portkey station, bags in hand, ready to set off for Lanzarote.
It was absolute chaos.
“Who has my sunscreen?” Pansy demanded, rifling through her bag.
“You packed six bottles,” Blaise said dryly. “How do you not have one of them?”
“Leave her alone, Blaise,” Theo smirked. “She burns like a vampire in the sun.”
Pansy shot him a glare. “Not all of us have Mediterranean skin, Theo.”
Meanwhile, Fred and George were causing trouble.
“You reckon this Portkey will make us sick?” Fred mused, nudging the battered old straw hat they’d been given.
“I dunno,” George grinned. “Let’s all hold hands and find out together, shall we?”
“Not a chance,” Ginny said firmly.
“You lot are ridiculous,” Hermione huffed, but there was fondness in her voice as she tightened the strap on her shoulder bag.
Evelyn, standing beside Harry, couldn’t help but grin at the energy buzzing around them. It was strange, really. They had been through hell together.
And yet, here they were—laughing, teasing, planning a holiday like normal young adults.
Like survivors.
She glanced at Harry, who was already watching her with a soft smile. He laced his fingers through hers.
“You ready?” he murmured.
Evelyn squeezed his hand. “More than ready.”
And then—the Portkey activated.
A sharp tug behind their navels—a rush of wind, a blur of colors—
And suddenly—
They were in Lanzarote.
The moment they landed, they were hit with a blast of warm, salty air. The scent of the ocean was thick in the atmosphere, and the sun beat down on them, far hotter than anything England had to offer.
“Bloody hell,” Ron groaned, already tugging at the collar of his shirt. “It’s boiling.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s called summer, Ronald.”
The group burst into laughter as they took in their surroundings. They had arrived in Puerto del Carmen, a vibrant coastal town known for its beaches, nightlife, and stunning villas.
And speaking of the villa—
“Oh. My. God.” Daphne gasped.
They turned—and stared.
Their villa was massive. A pristine white building with arched windows, lush greenery, and a private infinity pool that overlooked the sea.
“Did we rob Gringotts and I missed it?” Neville muttered.
“Did you lot think I was going to book some dingy little cottage?” Evelyn smirked, flicking her sunglasses down.
Pansy let out an excited squeal. “I love you.”
“Inside, inside!” Luna cheered, practically floating up the stone pathway.
They tumbled into the villa, dropping their bags in the grand foyer. Everything was sleek, modern, and completely theirs for the next three weeks.
There was a huge open kitchen, a sprawling living room with floor-to-ceiling windows, and multiple balconies that faced the ocean.
And, most importantly—
“THERE’S A HOT TUB!” Fred bellowed from outside.
Evelyn laughed as she stepped out onto the terrace, the golden sand of the beach just visible beyond the edge of the property.
It was perfect.
And for the first time in a long time—she let herself believe they deserved this.
By the time they had unpacked and claimed their rooms, it was nearly sunset.
“Alright,” Evelyn called out, standing at the center of the living room. “We need to establish some ground rules before Fred and George try to burn this place down.”
“We would never,” George gasped, feigning offense.
Fred grinned. “We would simply accidentally set it on fire.”
Evelyn shot them a look before continuing.
“First—no pranks inside the villa.”
A collective groan.
“Second—whoever cooks doesn’t clean.”
Ron perked up immediately. “Excellent.”
“Third—no sneaking off to shag in the common areas.”
Theo raised an eyebrow. “That one seemed directed.”
Evelyn smirked. “Just making sure you know.”
Blaise smirked right back. “No promises.”
Everyone laughed, and soon enough, they settled into an easy, comfortable night.
Harry and Evelyn sat on the terrace, watching the sun sink into the horizon, turning the ocean into a canvas of deep orange and pink.
She leaned into him, exhaling softly. “This was a good idea.”
Harry pressed a kiss to her temple. “Yeah. It really was.”
And as the night stretched on, filled with laughter, warmth, and the sound of the waves, Evelyn knew—
They were finally free.
________________
The morning sunlight streamed through the windows of the villa, casting a golden glow over the crisp white sheets. The air smelled of the sea and citrus, a warm breeze drifting in from the balcony.
Evelyn stirred slightly, Harry’s arm slung lazily over her waist. She blinked blearily at the clock—9:27 AM.
Not too bad, considering they had all stayed up late the night before, drinking on the terrace and laughing until their stomachs ached.
She carefully turned in Harry’s hold, brushing a strand of messy black hair from his forehead. He made a small, content noise and tightened his grip around her.
“Five more minutes,” he mumbled against her shoulder.
Evelyn chuckled. “We’re in Lanzarote, love. You’re really going to waste the morning sleeping?”
Harry cracked one green eye open. “…Yes.”
She rolled her eyes but leaned in to kiss his nose before gently prying herself from his arms.
The villa was quiet, but the distant sound of the ocean and the occasional clink of dishes from the kitchen signaled that a few people were already awake.
Evelyn pulled on a loose white button-down over her bikini and padded downstairs, where she found Hermione, Evan, and Luna sitting around the kitchen island, mugs of coffee in hand.
“Morning,” Hermione greeted, looking far too awake for someone on holiday.
Evan lifted his mug in greeting. “Morning.”
Luna smiled dreamily. “The birds here sound different than in England.”
Evelyn grabbed a cup of coffee, inhaling the rich scent. “What’s the plan for today?”
“Beach,” Hermione said promptly. “I refuse to go anywhere else until I’ve had a proper swim in the ocean.”
Luna nodded. “I agree. There’s something very healing about salt water.”
Evan smirked. “And the fact that you just want to see everyone in their swimsuits has nothing to do with it?”
Hermione flushed. “Evan!”
Luna simply tilted her head. “Well, that’s a bonus.”
Evelyn laughed as the others started trickling in, still sleep-rumpled but already buzzing with excitement.
Fred yawned, slumping onto a stool next to Blaise. “Are we eating before the beach?”
“Obviously,” Pansy said, already rummaging through the fridge. “Some of us need to eat to survive, Fred.”
“Some of us,” Theo said smugly, stretching, “just need sunlight and good company.”
Luna beamed at him, and Evelyn raised an eyebrow at the subtle exchange. Oh, interesting.
Draco, looking far too put-together for someone who had just woken up, leaned against the counter. “So, what’s the damage for today?”
Ron slung an arm around Pansy. “Beach, obviously. Then we could find somewhere for lunch?”
“And drinks,” George added, grabbing an orange and tossing it into the air. “Lots of drinks.”
Ginny smirked. “It’s like you’re allergic to being sober.”
“Listen, Gin,” Fred said, grinning. “We’re in Spain. It’s illegal to be sober here.”
“That’s not how it works,” Hermione muttered, exasperated.
But it was settled—breakfast, then the beach.
———
An hour later, the gang was sprawled across the golden sand, the bright sun overhead and the turquoise waves rolling in gently.
Pansy, fully equipped with oversized sunglasses and a large floppy hat, was slathering sunscreen on Ron’s freckled shoulders while he grumbled about it.
“You’ll thank me when you don’t look like a bloody tomato later,” she sniffed.
“Doubtful,” he muttered.
Meanwhile, Fred and George were already in the water, diving into the waves and attempting to dunk each other.
Blaise, watching from his towel, smirked. “Reckon we’ll have to rescue them at some point?”
Evan, lying on his stomach, shrugged. “Nah. Let them drown. One less problem for the world.”
Draco snorted from where he was sitting under the shade of an umbrella. “Agreed.”
Nearby, **Theo and Luna were building a sandcastle—**well, Theo was building it, and Luna was decorating it with seashells she had collected.
Evelyn, lying on a towel beside Hermione and Ginny, watched them with mild amusement.
Ginny nudged her. “You see that?”
“Oh, I see it.”
Hermione smirked. “Theo’s an idiot if he doesn’t realize she likes him.”
“Or,” Evelyn said, sipping her drink, “he realizes it and is just dragging it out for fun.”
“Very on-brand,” Ginny agreed.
Meanwhile, Harry waded out of the ocean, water dripping from his toned chest, and flopped dramatically next to Evelyn.
“It’s too hot,” he groaned.
Evelyn laughed, pushing his wet hair back from his forehead. “It’s the sun, Harry. That tends to happen.”
He sighed dramatically. “I’m English. I’m not built for this.”
She grinned, leaning down to press a kiss against his salty lips. “You’ll survive.”
Fred suddenly popped up from the water. “Who’s up for beach volleyball?”
A chorus of groans.
“No,” Draco said flatly.
“Absolutely not,” Blaise added.
George threw an arm around his twin. “Sounds like a challenge to me.”
And before anyone could protest, a game was in full swing.
By the time the sun dipped into the horizon, painting the sky in purples and oranges, everyone was showered and dressed for the evening.
They found a small, local restaurant overlooking the sea, where lanterns glowed warmly and soft music played in the background.
Platters of seafood, fresh bread, and olives covered the table, and bottles of wine and cocktails were passed around.
“I vote we never leave,” Neville sighed, sipping his drink.
“Seconded,” Luna said dreamily.
Theo smirked. “We’ll just live here forever. Open a little wizard-run bar.”
“I’d run the entertainment,” Fred said.
George grinned. “And I’d run the scams.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Honestly, you two.”
Evelyn leaned back in her chair, taking it all in—the laughter, the warmth, the feeling of being completely and utterly happy.
She met Harry’s gaze across the table. He smiled, reaching for her hand.
She squeezed it, knowing they were both thinking the same thing.
The next morning, the villa was quieter than usual, with most of them still asleep after the late night at the restaurant.
Evelyn stretched lazily in bed, Harry’s arm draped across her waist. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, and the faint sound of the ocean waves in the distance made everything feel serene.
She shifted slightly, pressing a soft kiss to Harry’s shoulder. “Morning.”
He hummed sleepily. “Too early.”
She chuckled, slipping out of bed and pulling on one of Harry’s oversized t-shirts. “I’m making coffee.”
That got him to open his eyes. “Bring me some?”
Evelyn smirked. “We’ll see.”
Downstairs, the kitchen was mostly empty except for Theo and Luna sitting at the counter, deep in conversation.
Evelyn raised a brow. “You two are up early.”
Luna smiled serenely. “The sunrise was beautiful.”
Theo, who looked half-asleep but was nursing a cup of coffee, just grunted.
Evelyn poured herself a mug and leaned against the counter. “What’s the plan for today?”
“We were thinking of heading into town,” Theo said, rubbing his eyes. “Get some souvenirs, explore a bit.”
Luna nodded. “There’s a market today. They sell handwoven charms and enchanted trinkets.”
That sounded interesting.
“Do we need to wake everyone?” Evelyn asked.
Theo snorted. “Let’s give them an hour.”
By late morning, the entire group was out wandering through the cobbled streets of Puerto del Carmen, the warm breeze carrying the scent of salt and spices.
The market was vibrant and bustling, with stalls selling woven baskets, handcrafted jewelry, magical artifacts, and fresh fruit.
Pansy was immediately drawn to a jewelry stand, holding up a delicate gold anklet. “Thoughts?”
Ron shrugged. “Looks nice.”
She rolled her eyes. “You have the enthusiasm of a wet towel, Weasley.”
Meanwhile, Fred and George were bartering with an old wizard selling enchanted sunglasses.
“These let you see through walls?” Fred asked, turning them over.
The vendor nodded. “For a very limited time, of course.”
George grinned. “We’ll take three.”
Hermione groaned. “You two are menaces.”
Elsewhere, Ginny and Neville were picking out fresh fruit, while Evan and Draco examined some old wizarding books.
Harry nudged Evelyn. “See anything you like?”
She smiled, running her fingers over a set of beautifully carved runestones. “These are lovely.”
The stall owner, an older witch with weathered hands and a kind smile, noticed her interest. “Those are hand-etched. Each symbol represents a form of protection.”
Evelyn glanced at Harry, then back at the stones. “We’ll take them.”
Harry chuckled. “Another addition to our collection?”
She grinned. “You can never have too many protective enchantments.”
After returning to the villa, the group sprawled out around the pool, drinks in hand.
Blaise stretched out on a lounge chair, sunglasses perched on his nose. “This is the life.”
Fred grinned. “Told you. We should move here permanently.”
Draco, floating lazily in the pool, snorted. “Absolutely not.”
Pansy smirked. “What, scared of a little sun, Malfoy?”
“I burn, Parkinson.”
Nearby, Theo and Luna were once again caught up in their own world, laughing softly.
Evelyn nudged Harry. “Should we start a bet on when they’ll finally admit they like each other?”
Harry chuckled. “I say by the end of the trip.”
Evan overheard and smirked. “I give it three days.”
Theo, overhearing, scowled. “Mind your business.”
Luna just smiled serenely. “They’re not wrong, though.”
Theo nearly choked on his drink.
As the evening approached, the gang headed down to the beach, setting up a bonfire in the sand.
Hermione and Ginny worked on lighting the fire with a mix of magic and traditional methods, while Neville roasted vegetables over the flames.
Draco and Blaise, both wholly unused to camping, sat on conjured cushions, sipping wine.
Ron, watching them, rolled his eyes. “You two are useless.”
Draco smirked. “I don’t do manual labor, Weasley.”
Evelyn just laughed, leaning against Harry’s shoulder as they all ate, talked, and watched the sky turn shades of gold and violet.
As the night deepened, the group gradually began wandering down the shoreline in pairs, enjoying the quiet moments together.
Evelyn and Harry walked hand in hand, the sound of the waves rhythmic and calming.
“You ever think we’d get here?” he asked softly.
She glanced at him, seeing the warmth in his green eyes. “There were times I wasn’t sure.”
Harry squeezed her hand. “But we did.”
She smiled. “Yeah. We did.”
And as they walked along the shore, surrounded by their closest friends, beneath a sky full of stars, Evelyn knew—this was exactly where she was meant to be.
Chapter 106: Life After Hogwarts
Chapter Text
The morning sun was already high in the sky by the time everyone was up and ready. The villa was filled with the chaotic sounds of people searching for swimsuits, towels, and sunscreen.
“Where is my other flip-flop?” Ron muttered, rummaging through his things.
Pansy, lounging against the kitchen counter, smirked. “I saw Blaise toss it over the balcony last night.”
Blaise sipped his coffee innocently. “I regret nothing.”
Ron groaned. “Brilliant.”
After a lot of herding, they finally piled into their rented van and set off towards the largest waterpark on the island.
The moment they stepped inside, a massive wave of excitement hit the group.
The park was sprawling, filled with twisting water slides, a lazy river, and massive pools that shimmered under the sun. Families and tourists were everywhere, laughter and splashing filling the air.
“This,” Fred said, slinging an arm around George, “is going to be chaos.”
“I love it already,” George grinned.
Draco, eyeing a particularly steep water slide, crossed his arms. “I am not going on that.”
Theo smirked. “Oh, you are.”
They split into smaller groups, each heading towards different attractions.
Fred, George, Blaise, and Ron immediately ran towards the biggest slide in the park—a near-vertical drop that ended in a massive splash.
“Alright, Weasley,” Blaise said to Ron as they climbed the stairs. “You scream, you buy the first round of drinks.”
Ron scoffed. “You wish.”
Of course, when they actually went down the slide, Ron’s scream could probably be heard from across the island.
Fred and George cackled all the way down.
Meanwhile, Harry, Evelyn, Ginny, and Neville opted for the racing slides.
“Losers buy dinner,” Ginny announced as they climbed into their lanes.
Evelyn grinned. “You’re on.”
The signal went off, and they all launched themselves down the slides.
Neville, surprisingly, was the fastest, while Harry got stuck halfway down and had to awkwardly scoot the rest of the way.
Evelyn laughed so hard she fell into the water at the bottom.
Harry, dripping and unimpressed, glared at her. “Not a word.”
After the chaos of the slides, the group floated down the lazy river, enjoying the chance to relax.
Luna, drifting peacefully, sighed. “I think I might live here.”
Theo, floating beside her, absentmindedly trailed his fingers through the water. “I wouldn’t mind staying a few extra weeks.”
Evan, stretched out on his tube, smirked. “I’d say that’s an invitation to extend the trip.”
Hermione, sipping a conjured iced tea, raised a brow. “You all do realize we have actual responsibilities to return to, yes?”
Draco, perfectly dry because he refused to get in the river, scoffed. “Speak for yourself, Granger.”
Later, in the wave pool, things quickly devolved into chaos.
Fred and George conjured inflatable sharks and started chasing people around.
Pansy and Ron teamed up against Blaise and Neville in a water fight, using enchanted water jets.
Evelyn and Harry tried to stay out of it—until Theo and Luna splashed them from behind.
It turned into an all-out battle.
By the time they left the pool, they were soaked, breathless, and laughing.
As the sun began to set, the group found a beachside restaurant just outside the park and ordered a ridiculous amount of food.
Between sipping cool drinks, sharing bites of different dishes, and rehashing the day’s funniest moments, the evening was perfect.
Draco, who had somehow avoided getting wet all day, raised his glass. “To surviving another day of Weasley-induced madness.”
Fred grinned. “You love it, Malfoy.”
The gang laughed, clinking glasses, watching the sun dip below the horizon.
And as they walked back to their villa under the stars, Evelyn knew this was a day they’d never forget.
__________________
The first week of their holiday was a blur of sun, sea, and adventure. The gang had made a pact before they even arrived—this trip was about experiencing everything the island had to offer. No sitting around all day, no wasting the trip with lazy afternoons (except for the days they explicitly planned for that).
So, bright and early a few morning’s in, they found themselves gathered outside their villa, squinting in the sunlight as they prepared for their first major activity: kayaking along the coastline.
Harry was the first to grab a kayak, helping Evelyn adjust her life vest as the others picked partners. The pairs naturally fell into place—Ron and Pansy, Blaise and Fred, Neville and Ginny, George and Draco, and finally Theo and Luna, with Hermione and Evan both choosing to go solo.
The guide, a friendly local named Diego, explained their route: they would paddle along the coastline, weaving through hidden caves and stopping at a secluded beach only accessible by water.
At first, there was chaos.
Ron and Pansy immediately veered off-course, their kayak spinning in circles as Ron yelled, “Pansy, paddle on the other side!” while she snapped back, “I am paddling on the other side, you idiot!”
Draco and George weren’t much better. Draco, who had been confident he could kayak without issue, ended up splashing George in the face while trying to figure out how to steer.
Meanwhile, Luna and Theo were somehow perfectly synchronized, despite having never kayaked before. Theo looked entirely at ease, watching Luna with interest as she spoke about the different types of birds flying overhead.
Harry and Evelyn worked well together, though Harry took every opportunity to tease her.
“You look adorable when you’re trying to concentrate,” he said with a grin as Evelyn tried to match his rhythm.
“Shut up and paddle, Potter.”
After about twenty minutes, everyone had found their groove. The cliffs towered over them as they paddled toward a dark opening in the rock—one of the famous sea caves.
“Alright, one at a time!” Diego called out as they entered. The water inside the cave shimmered an eerie turquoise, reflecting the sunlight filtering through an opening in the ceiling.
“This is incredible,” Hermione breathed, running her fingers through the glowing water.
Luna tilted her head. “This place has a beautiful energy. I wouldn’t be surprised if merpeople lived nearby.”
The group spent a while exploring the cave, some of them daring to jump into the water before paddling toward the secluded beach. Once they arrived, they sprawled out on the sand, enjoying the peace.
Fred and Blaise, however, had other plans.
“Beach volleyball!” Fred announced, tossing a ball he had somehow smuggled along.
It turned into an all-out war. Ron, Pansy, Theo, and Luna made up one team, while Harry, Evelyn, Draco, and George were on the other. Hermione, Evan, Neville, and Ginny sat back and judged from a safe distance.
“You’re all absolutely terrible at this,” Evan commented dryly as Ron completely missed the ball and fell face-first into the sand.
By the time they paddled back to shore that afternoon, everyone was exhausted, sun-kissed, and already buzzing about what to do next.
Two days later, after a well-deserved recovery day filled with lounging by the pool and making cocktails, the gang geared up for a hike through Timanfaya National Park, home to Lanzarote’s famous volcanic landscape.
“This is like another planet,” Draco muttered as they walked along the trail, surrounded by black volcanic rock and craters.
The guide leading them—an older woman named Maria—explained the history of the volcanoes, but only Hermione, Luna, and Theo seemed to be paying full attention. The rest were either complaining about the heat (“I’m dying,” Ron groaned dramatically) or enjoying the view.
After the hike, they rented bikes to explore more of the park. This turned into yet another disaster.
Fred and George immediately started a racing competition, nearly knocking over a group of elderly tourists.
Ginny, Neville, and Blaise took a more relaxed approach, cycling at a steady pace while chatting.
Harry and Evelyn rode side by side, taking in the scenery.
“You know, if we weren’t already moving in together, this would be the perfect place to propose,” Harry said casually.
Evelyn shot him a look. “You already proposed twice, and the first was a shit proposal, remember?”
He laughed. “Yeah, yeah. But if I had waited, I could’ve done it here—romantic scenery, sunset, the works.”
“Good thing you didn’t wait, then. I would’ve drowned you in that cave.”
The sixth day was all about Lanzarote’s wildlife. The morning was spent on a wildlife safari, where they got up close with camels, lizards, and rare birds.
Fred, of course, tried to convince the guide to let him ride a camel at full speed. It did not go well.
The afternoon was spent snorkeling and diving, something that had the entire group excited.
“This water is so clear,” Hermione marveled as they floated in the shallows, watching colorful fish dart between the coral.
Luna, predictably, was convinced she spotted a magical creature.
“That fish definitely had wings,” she said seriously to Theo, who chuckled.
“That was a manta ray, Luna.”
“It winked at me.”
The real highlight of the day, however, was when Evelyn, Ginny, and Draco decided to go swimming with sharks.
“You’re both mad,” Blaise said flatly as he watched them suit up.
“It’s safe,” Evelyn assured him. “They’re not dangerous.”
“I still think you’re mad.”
Despite their nerves, the experience was exhilarating. Being in the water with the sharks, watching them move so gracefully, was unlike anything else. Draco, despite his usual complaints, was the first to admit it was “bloody brilliant.”
As their second week in Lanzarote began, the gang settled into a rhythm—alternating between adventurous activities and lazy days filled with cocktails and sunbathing.
On one of their chill days, Theo and Luna spent more time together, their friendship shifting into something more. They weren’t rushing anything, but there was definitely something there, especially with the way Theo looked at her when he thought no one was watching.
“So, are you two dating now?” Ginny asked bluntly one evening.
Luna smiled dreamily. “Not yet. But soon.”
Theo just chuckled. “Yeah… soon.”
The days blurred together in the best way possible—lazy beach mornings, crazy nights filled with drinking games (never let Fred and George invent the rules), and the occasional deep conversation about what life would look like once they returned home.
But for now, they weren’t thinking about that.
They had one more week in paradise, and they intended to enjoy every second of it.
__________________
By the time their last week in Lanzarote rolled around, the gang had fully embraced the holiday lifestyle. Their mornings were spent lounging by the villa’s private pool, afternoons soaking up the sun at the beach, and nights bar-hopping or dancing until dawn.
After two weeks of adventure-packed days, they decided the final stretch of their trip would be all about unwinding and having fun—drinking, partying, and making the most of their time before reality hit them back home.
Every night, without fail, they found themselves in one of the busiest clubs in Puerto del Carmen, the air thick with music, flashing lights, and the scent of tropical cocktails.
Fred and George were the undisputed kings of drinking games. On their first big night out of the week, they gathered everyone around at a beach bar and introduced a new challenge:
“Every time someone says ‘cheers,’ you have to take a shot,” Fred announced with a grin.
Ron groaned. “We’re going to die.”
“That’s the spirit!” Blaise smirked, raising his glass. “Cheers.”
The night descended into chaos after that. Hermione, who rarely drank this much, was giggling as she swayed between Evan and Neville, while Draco—who claimed he was too sophisticated for shots—was somehow leading the entire club in a singalong to a classic rock song.
Theo, meanwhile, had been nursing his drink and keeping close to Luna, who seemed more interested in watching the club’s glowing lights than anything else.
“Are you having fun?” Theo asked, leaning in so she could hear him over the music.
Luna turned to him with her usual dreamy expression. “I am. But I think you should kiss me.”
Theo nearly choked on his drink. “What?”
“I think you should kiss me,” Luna repeated, completely unbothered. “I’ve been thinking about it all week. And I’m fairly sure you have, too.”
Theo blinked at her, then let out a short laugh. “Yeah, alright.”
And then he kissed her—right there, in the middle of the club, with the neon lights flashing around them. The moment their lips met, the rest of the gang exploded into cheers.
“FINALLY!” Ginny yelled.
Fred and George started clapping dramatically, while Pansy smirked at Theo. “Took you long enough, Nott.”
Theo just grinned against Luna’s lips before pulling away slightly. “Think they noticed?” he murmured.
Luna giggled. “A little bit.”
That kiss set the tone for the rest of the week. From that moment on, Theo and Luna weren’t just flirting anymore—they were something more.
Despite their wild nights, the gang made sure to enjoy the last few days soaking up the sun.
One afternoon, they set up a giant picnic on a secluded beach, passing around bottles of wine and reminiscing about their time at Hogwarts.
“Feels weird that we’re not going back,” Hermione admitted, swirling her drink. “Like, this is really it. No more school.”
“Yeah, but think about what comes next,” Ginny said brightly. “We’ve got the rest of our lives to figure things out.”
“Exactly,” Evelyn agreed, resting her head on Harry’s shoulder. “And right now, all we need to worry about is finishing this wine and watching the sunset.”
They spent their final days taking in every last moment of paradise—lazy mornings by the pool, spontaneous swims in the ocean, and late-night talks under the stars.
Before they knew it, the last day had arrived.
Packing was a chaotic mess—Ron couldn’t find half his clothes, Draco dramatically complained about “not being meant for economy class,” and George somehow managed to misplace his entire suitcase for an hour before realizing it was in the villa’s kitchen.
As they loaded their bags into the taxis, there was a bittersweet feeling in the air.
“Best trip ever?” Fred asked as they took one last look at the villa.
“Absolutely,” Evelyn said, smiling.
“Same time next year?” Theo suggested, throwing an arm around Luna.
Ginny grinned. “Oh, we are definitely doing this again.”
With that, they piled into the cars, ready to head back home—tired, tanned, and already planning their next adventure.
__________________
The return to England was a stark contrast to the sun-soaked, carefree days in Lanzarote. The moment Harry and Evelyn stepped off the plane at Heathrow (Luna had wanted to experience a muggle flight) the familiar chill of British summer greeted them, along with the unmistakable feeling of returning to reality.
Despite their exhaustion from the flight, there was one major thing they needed to do first—collect the keys to their new home.
After a quick stop at Evelyn’s apartment to freshen up, they headed straight to the estate agent’s office in Godric’s Hollow. The little village had quickly become one of Harry’s favourite places—it was peaceful, welcoming, and most importantly, it was where his parents had lived.
Evelyn reached over to squeeze his hand as they walked up the stone path leading to the office. “Excited?”
Harry grinned. “Excited. Nervous. Still can’t believe we actually bought a house.”
“It’s ours now,” Evelyn reminded him with a smile.
A few minutes later, the estate agent handed them a single brass key, smiling warmly. “Congratulations. The house is officially yours.”
Harry turned the key over in his fingers, taking a deep breath before looking at Evelyn. “Let’s go see it, then.”
The house was perfect.
When Harry pushed the door open for the second time, they just stood there in the empty hallway, taking it all in.
“This is insane,” Evelyn murmured, stepping inside and running a hand along the wooden bannister. “We have an actual house.”
“A house with a proper kitchen,” Harry said, peeking into the rooms. “And a fireplace. And—” He turned to grin at her. “A whole extra bedroom just for all the books you hoard.”
Evelyn scoffed. “That is a library, thank you very much.”
They spent the next hour wandering through the rooms, picturing where they’d put furniture, talking about what colour they’d paint the walls, and most importantly—dreaming about the future they’d have here.
But before they could move in, they had one final step—packing up Evelyn’s apartment.
There was no way they were packing up an entire apartment alone, so Sirius and Remus were the obvious choice to help.
Harry sent them an owl as soon as they got back to London, and within an hour, the two Marauders arrived—Sirius looking far too excited, and Remus already rolling up his sleeves.
“Alright,” Sirius declared, stepping into Evelyn’s apartment and surveying the massive amount of books, clothes, and furniture that needed moving. “Where’s the Firewhiskey? Because I refuse to do this sober.”
Evelyn snorted. “You are not getting drunk while handling my books.”
“What about half drunk?” Sirius tried, smirking.
Remus clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll survive. Let’s get started.”
And with that, the moving process began—filled with magic, bickering, and Sirius dramatically pretending to faint every time he had to lift something heavy.
The entire moving process was, unsurprisingly, chaotic.
Sirius and Remus—while enthusiastic helpers—were also incredibly unhelpful at times.
Sirius kept levitating boxes to the wrong rooms, claiming it was a test of Harry and Evelyn’s “detective skills.” Meanwhile, Remus was the only one actually organising things properly, making sure nothing got lost or broken in the process.
“If I hear either of you complain one more time,” Evelyn warned as she balanced a stack of books in her arms, “I will hex you.”
Sirius grinned. “It’d be worth it.”
Harry sighed dramatically. “Are we sure we want to move? Maybe we should just stay in this apartment forever and never unpack anything.”
Evelyn shot him a look. “Not a chance.”
After several hours of lifting, shrinking, and bickering over where things should go, they finally had everything packed up. The four of them stood in the middle of the now-empty apartment, taking one last look around.
“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” Evelyn murmured.
She had lived here for the past two years, and now… it was just an empty space.
Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “New chapter.”
Evelyn smiled, squeezing his hand. “New chapter.”
When they arrived at their new home, the real work began.
They unshrunk the boxes, dragged furniture into place, and by the time night fell, their little house was already starting to feel like theirs.
Sirius and Remus stuck around for dinner—takeaway, because none of them had the energy to cook—and they sat in the living room, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes, blankets, and the faint scent of woodsmoke from the fireplace.
“So,” Sirius said, raising his drink. “To the happy couple and their very responsible decision to move in together.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “We’ve been living together for years, Sirius.”
“Yes, but now you’re boring and domestic, which means I have to make fun of you.”
Evelyn smirked. “We were already boring and domestic.”
“Not as boring as Remus and I,” Sirius said, nudging his best friend. “He drags me to Muggle bookshops on Sundays.”
Remus sighed. “Because you need literature in your life, Sirius.”
Harry laughed, leaning back on the sofa. “Merlin, I missed this.”
Despite the exhaustion, despite the mountain of things they still needed to unpack, the house was already starting to feel like home.
And that was more than enough.
_______________
The next few days were a blur of unpacking, decorating, and realising they’d forgotten to buy basic necessities.
On the first morning, Harry and Evelyn woke up in their new bedroom, still half-buried in unpacked boxes. The sunlight streamed through the bare windows, illuminating the warm wooden floors and the mess they had yet to sort through.
“We forgot to buy curtains,” Evelyn mumbled, rolling over to bury her face in Harry’s chest.
“And a kettle,” Harry added with a yawn.
Evelyn groaned. “We are not starting our new life together without tea, Harry. That’s just—no. Absolutely not.”
So their first official outing as homeowners was to the nearest village to buy home essentials. Sirius had offered to come with them, but Evelyn had very firmly refused, knowing that he would only encourage them to buy the most ridiculous things imaginable.
“You don’t need a cauldron that stirs itself, Sirius!”
“But think of the convenience!”
Instead, Harry and Evelyn spent the day picking out things for their house—curtains, a kettle, some muggle appliances, and a new dining table, since the one from Evelyn’s apartment didn’t quite fit in the new space.
By the time they got back, they were armed with shopping bags, exhausted, but oddly satisfied.
“I feel like an actual adult,” Harry admitted as they stepped inside, dropping the bags in the kitchen. “Buying curtains really solidified it.”
Evelyn snorted. “Welcome to adulthood, love. It’s mostly realising you forgot to buy something important and having to go back for it later.”
Over the next week, they slowly turned the house into a home.
Evelyn enchanted the bookshelves in the living room so that they expanded infinitely to accommodate their growing collection.
Harry insisted on putting up photos—of them, of their friends, of the people they had lost—so the walls didn’t feel so empty.
They argued over furniture placement, only to end up agreeing with each other in the end anyway.
By the time Friday night rolled around, they were exhausted but happy.
Sirius and Remus came over for dinner, bringing firewhiskey and takeout as a housewarming gift. Fred and George also dropped by, claiming they just wanted to “see the place”—but really, they just wanted to tease Harry about being “a responsible homeowner.”
“You’re officially a boring adult now, mate,” Fred declared, throwing an arm around Harry’s shoulders.
“We’re so proud,” George added mockingly.
Harry rolled his eyes. “Says the bloke who’s about to own a business.”
“That’s different,” Fred argued.
Evelyn just smirked and handed Harry a drink. “You’re taking this very well, love.”
“Because I have accepted my fate,” Harry said, clinking his glass against hers.
They spent the rest of the evening laughing, drinking, and properly celebrating their new home.
And as Evelyn looked around—at the warm glow of the lights, at their friends crammed into their little living room, at Harry beside her, smiling and happy—she knew they had made the right choice.
This was home.
____________________
The Burrow was as lively as ever that afternoon, though the usual chaotic energy was amplified by the presence of nearly the entire gang. The kitchen was filled with the smell of Molly Weasley’s cooking, and the sound of multiple conversations layered over one another as everyone gathered around the large dining table. Fred and George had called them all together, their excitement practically radiating off them, and it was clear they had an announcement to make.
“All right, everyone, settle down,” George said, clapping his hands together to get their attention. “Now, we know you’ve all been anxiously awaiting some groundbreaking news from your favorite pair of genius entrepreneurs.”
“I thought we were here for dinner,” Neville muttered, earning a chuckle from Ginny.
“Dinner and an announcement,” Fred corrected with a grin. “Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards—”
“We have officially bought premises for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” George declared dramatically, throwing his hands up as if he’d just performed a grand feat of magic.
A round of cheers erupted through the room, followed by a chorus of congratulations. Blaise clapped Fred on the back while Pansy and Daphne smirked at George, clearly amused by their theatrics.
“Where is it?” Hermione asked eagerly.
“Diagon Alley, of course,” Fred said, looking almost insulted that she’d think otherwise. “A prime location right near Quality Quidditch Supplies and Florean Fortescue’s.”
“We move in next week to start setting up,” George added. “And we’re officially opening the week before September first—just in time to catch all the poor, unsuspecting Hogwarts students as they do their shopping.”
Ron snorted. “So you’re capitalizing on parents who are too tired to say no to their kids?”
“Exactly,” Fred said proudly. “Mum, Dad, you should be thrilled—we’re about to be filthy rich.”
Molly sighed, shaking her head fondly. “As long as you don’t blow yourselves up in the process.”
Blaise raised an eyebrow at Fred. “So, when are we moving in?”
“Next week, love,” Fred replied smoothly, slinging an arm around him. “You, me, and Georgie, finally living above the shop of our dreams.”
George rolled his eyes but didn’t dispute the claim. “It’s going to be brilliant.”
The excitement in the air was undeniable, and even those who weren’t directly involved in the shop couldn’t help but feel proud of them. It had been a long time coming—after all, they’d been planning this for years—and now, finally, Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was becoming a reality.
In the following weeks, everyone began settling into their new routines, figuring out life outside of Hogwarts.
Hermione had officially started her job as an admin for Puddlemere United, a position that put her in direct contact with both Viktor Krum and Oliver Wood. While she insisted that it was purely professional, Pansy took great joy in teasing her about it whenever she got the chance.
“Imagine, the Hermione Granger, surrounded by sweaty, muscular Quidditch players all day,” Pansy mused one afternoon while they lounged in Evelyn and Harry’s new house.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I don’t even see them that often.”
“I don’t know,” Daphne said with a smirk. “Oliver Wood is quite fit. Maybe you’ll finally loosen up.”
Hermione muttered something under her breath, but the conversation shifted when Theo stretched out on the sofa and sighed dramatically.
“Meanwhile, I’m doing absolutely nothing with my life,” he said.
Luna, who was sitting next to him, tilted her head. “You’re waiting for me to finish seventh year so we can travel the world together. That’s not nothing.”
Theo blinked at her, momentarily caught off guard. “Well—yeah, but—”
Luna simply smiled and patted his knee. “Be patient.”
Across the room, Ron was discussing his future with Harry and Evelyn. “I’m starting at the twins’ shop next week,” he said. “Figure I’ll help them out for a bit until I decide what I actually want to do.”
“Are you and Pansy moving in together soon?” Harry asked, glancing toward her.
Ron shrugged. “We’ve talked about it, but we’re not rushing. I mean, she’s got her fashion industry interviews coming up, so who knows where she’ll end up?”
Pansy smirked. “I’ll probably end up somewhere incredibly fancy, but don’t worry, Weasley—I won’t abandon you.”
Neville, meanwhile, was busy preparing to apply for a position at Hogwarts. He had been in touch with Professor Sprout about further studying Herbology, and though he wasn’t entirely sure about teaching just yet, he was seriously considering it.
Draco, on the other hand, had thrown himself into his studies again, working toward his mastery in Potions and Alchemy. He often spent his days reading through thick, ancient texts, much to the amusement of George, who had taken to teasing him mercilessly about his “bookworm tendencies.”
And then there was Evan, who had recently told them all about his plans to move to Australia.
“My mum’s health is getting worse,” he had explained one evening. “And Australia’s got the best medical treatment for wizards. If she’s got a chance anywhere, it’s there.”
It had been a bittersweet revelation. Everyone wanted what was best for him and his mother, but the idea of him leaving was difficult to process.
“You’ll visit, though?” Ginny asked.
Evan had nodded. “Of course. And you lot can visit me, too. We’ll make it work.”
And so, as the summer stretched on, they all found themselves adjusting—some diving headfirst into their new careers, some taking their time to figure things out, and some, like Harry and Evelyn, simply enjoying the process of settling into their new home together.
One thing was certain: life after Hogwarts was just beginning, and despite all the uncertainties ahead, they had each other.
Chapter 107: Christmas, Wedding Planning and More Graduations
Chapter Text
Christmas at Harry and Evelyn’s new home was shaping up to be the kind of event that no one would forget anytime soon. As soon as December arrived, the two had insisted that this year, Christmas would be hosted at their house. Given that their wedding was only months away, it seemed fitting to bring everyone together for the holidays.
Snow blanketed the quiet streets of Godric’s Hollow, giving the village a picturesque, postcard-like quality. Inside the house, however, was a completely different scene—full of warmth, laughter, and an energy that only a group like theirs could bring.
By midday on Christmas Eve, the house was already full of people. The Weasleys arrived first, Molly immediately taking control of the kitchen despite Evelyn’s half-hearted protests. Arthur, Ron, Fred, and George went straight to setting up decorations, though it mostly devolved into playful chaos as George repeatedly bewitched the fairy lights to wrap around Draco every time he turned his back.
Draco, despite rolling his eyes, didn’t fight it too much—mostly because Narcissa and Andromeda had just arrived together, and the last thing he wanted was to appear immature in front of them. It had been a pleasant surprise to learn that, after graduation, his mother and aunt had started rebuilding their relationship.
Without Bellatrix in the picture, they had come to realize that the bond they once had as sisters was still there, buried under years of estrangement.
“It’s odd, isn’t it?” Draco admitted to Evelyn later in the evening, as they stood near the fireplace watching Narcissa and Andromeda chat easily. “I never thought I’d see the day where my mother willingly spent Christmas with a house full of Gryffindors.”
Evelyn smiled, nudging him playfully. “Maybe she’s finally learning that some Gryffindors aren’t so bad.”
“Doubtful,” he muttered. “She only tolerates them because you’re here.”
Still, it was nice to see his mother genuinely enjoying herself. Narcissa, who was known for being reserved, looked perfectly at ease with her extended family.
By the evening, the house was packed with nearly everyone they loved. Theo and Luna arrived arm-in-arm, their relationship now official and in full bloom. Blaise and Fred snuck kisses under the mistletoe whenever they thought no one was looking (Molly was not pleased). Ginny, Hermione, and Pansy were in the corner with drinks in hand, chatting animatedly about their jobs and all the ridiculous things they had to deal with as working adults.
Harry, meanwhile, spent most of his time floating between groups, making sure everyone was comfortable while also receiving an endless barrage of questions about the wedding.
“So,” Ron said, clapping a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “What’s the verdict on the venue?”
Harry groaned. “We still haven’t decided.”
“I keep telling him and Evelyn that a beach wedding would be great,” Pansy chimed in from the sofa.
Draco scoffed. “You just want an excuse to wear a ridiculous designer gown and complain about the sand.”
Pansy smirked. “And?”
The conversation quickly turned into a full-blown debate about wedding themes, with Fred and George throwing out the most ridiculous ideas just to wind Harry up.
“A magical circus wedding,” Fred suggested.
“With acrobats,” George added.
“And a dragon as the ring bearer.”
Harry rubbed his temples. “Why did I invite you two again?”
“Because you love us,” they said in unison.
The night stretched on with plenty of drinks, games, and reminiscing about Hogwarts days. When midnight hit, they exchanged small gifts—just simple things to mark the moment—and then, one by one, people started retiring for the night, knowing that Christmas morning would be just as lively.
Despite the late night, Christmas morning started early—thanks, in large part, to Fred and George, who took it upon themselves to wake up the entire house by charming the wireless to play Celestina Warbeck at full volume.
“You are both menaces,” Hermione grumbled as she emerged from her room, hair a mess and still half-asleep.
“Menaces with holiday spirit,” George corrected.
Breakfast was a feast of everything Molly and Narcissa had prepared together—though nobody dared comment on Narcissa actually helping in the kitchen. Presents were exchanged, laughter filled the air, and the house was filled with a kind of warmth that had little to do with the roaring fire in the hearth.
Throughout the day, conversations drifted between lighthearted fun and deeper discussions about adulthood.
Theo talked about his and Luna’s travel plans, much to the envy of nearly everyone.
“We start in Greece, and then we’ll work our way through Eastern Europe,” Luna explained dreamily. “I think Theo’s mostly excited for the food.”
“I’m only excited for the food,” Theo confirmed.
Draco spoke about his ongoing studies in potions and alchemy, while Neville shared his hopes of securing a position at Hogwarts in the coming year.
Hermione, naturally, had the most serious updates—detailing how her job with Puddlemere United was challenging but rewarding.
“And,” Pansy added with a smirk, “she’s still trying to convince herself that Oliver Wood isn’t attractive.”
“Pansy!” Hermione hissed, her face turning red.
Across the room, Harry and Evelyn sat together, quietly observing everyone as they spoke. It was surreal, watching their friends fully step into their adult lives. Just a few months ago, they had all been students, worrying about NEWTs and the future. Now, that future was here.
Evelyn glanced at Harry, a small smile on her lips. “Think we’ll have a Christmas like this every year?”
He took her hand, squeezing it gently. “I hope so.”
As the evening rolled in, and people started preparing to leave, there was a shared understanding that this—these moments, these people—were what mattered most. Life had changed, and would continue to do so, but as long as they had each other, they would always find their way back home.
And, for the first time in a long while, everything felt exactly as it should be.
_______________
It was a crisp mid-March morning, and the air held the promise of spring as Evelyn made her way to the café where she was meeting Pansy, Daphne, and Hermione. The past few months had flown by in a blur of wedding planning, work discussions, and settling into post-Hogwarts life. But today was special. Today, she was finally going to ask three of the most important women in her life to stand beside her on the biggest day of her life.
She arrived at Rosewood Café, a cozy little spot in Diagon Alley, and found that, as usual, Pansy had claimed the best seat—right by the enchanted bay window that overlooked the bustling street. The café was a favorite of theirs, and Evelyn couldn’t think of a better place for this moment.
“Finally,” Pansy drawled as Evelyn slid into the seat beside her. “I was starting to think you got lost.”
“She’s, like, five minutes late,” Daphne said, rolling her eyes as she stirred sugar into her tea.
Hermione, sitting across from them, gave Evelyn a knowing smile. “Pansy’s been on edge all morning. She thinks you’ve called us here to announce something dramatic.”
Evelyn smirked, setting down her bag. “Well, I do have something important to say.”
Pansy’s eyes lit up. “I knew it.”
Daphne and Hermione both looked at Evelyn curiously, and she suddenly felt a small wave of nerves. This wasn’t exactly a nerve-wracking thing to ask—she was almost certain they’d say yes—but there was still something surreal about making it official.
She took a deep breath, then looked at each of them in turn.
“I wanted to ask you three to be my bridesmaids.”
For a second, there was silence. Then—
“Oh, obviously,” Pansy said, flipping her hair dramatically. “Like you even had to ask.”
Hermione let out a delighted laugh, and Daphne grinned.
“Of course, Evie,” Daphne said warmly. “It’d be an honor.”
Hermione nodded enthusiastically. “I’d love to.”
Evelyn felt a wave of relief and excitement wash over her, but she wasn’t quite done yet. She turned to Pansy, who was sipping her cappuccino as if she hadn’t been waiting for this moment for months.
“And, Pans,” Evelyn continued, “I wanted to ask you to be my Maid of Honor.”
For the first time in a long time, Pansy Parkinson was rendered speechless.
Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “You—me?”
Evelyn nodded, smiling. “Who else would it be?”
Pansy blinked rapidly, then sat up straighter, smoothing down her already-perfect hair as if composing herself. “Well, I am the obvious choice,” she said, recovering quickly. “Still, it’s nice to hear you officially acknowledge my superiority.”
Hermione snorted into her tea.
Evelyn laughed, shaking her head. “So, you’ll do it?”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “As if I’d say no. Merlin, this is going to be fabulous. I’m going to make sure you have the most stunning wedding in wizarding history.”
Daphne grinned. “This is going to be fun.”
“I do love a good bit of organized chaos,” Hermione added with a smirk.
Evelyn sat back, heart swelling with happiness. She had known all along that these three were the ones she wanted by her side, but hearing them say yes made everything feel even more real.
They spent the rest of the morning drinking coffee, laughing, and discussing plans for the wedding—what dresses they’d wear, how the bachelorette party would be legendary (Pansy’s words), and what kind of chaos the boys would inevitably bring to the wedding day.
And as Evelyn sat there, surrounded by her best friends, she knew that she had chosen exactly right.
The Hog’s Head wasn’t the most glamorous of pubs, but it was quiet, had strong drinks, and most importantly, had a private back room that Harry had managed to secure for the evening. He figured it was the best place to have this conversation—somewhere with enough space for a few pints and a proper talk without eavesdroppers.
Ron, Draco, and Theo arrived at nearly the same time, though Draco made a point of dusting off his coat and muttering about “the absolute state of this place” as he followed the others inside.
“It’s got character,” Ron said, clapping Draco on the shoulder. “And the drinks are good.”
Theo smirked as he slid into a chair. “That’s what really matters, isn’t it?”
Harry chuckled as he signaled Aberforth for a round of drinks before turning back to his friends. His nerves weren’t as bad as Evelyn’s had been when she asked her bridesmaids—he was pretty sure of what their answers would be—but there was still something surreal about making it official.
“So,” Ron said as he settled into his seat, taking a sip of his Butterbeer. “You didn’t just drag us all the way out here for the ambiance, did you?”
Harry smirked. “Not exactly.” He set his drink down and looked at each of them. “I actually wanted to ask you lot something important.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “If you’re about to say something sentimental, I’ll need another drink.”
Theo chuckled. “Go on, Potter, let’s hear it.”
Harry rolled his eyes but took a deep breath. “I want you three to be my groomsmen.”
For a moment, there was silence—then Ron let out a loud snort. “You git, of course we will.”
Theo grinned. “Did you really think we’d say no?”
Draco, ever dramatic, took a long sip of his drink before sighing as if it were a terrible inconvenience. “Well, I suppose if I must stand up there and look incredibly dashing in formal robes—”
“Shut up, Malfoy,” Ron said, throwing a beer mat at him.
Harry laughed but turned back to Ron, feeling the weight of the next question settle in. “And, Ron—I want you to be my best man.”
Ron’s teasing grin faltered for just a second before he recovered, sitting up straighter. “Really?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. There’s no one else I’d want up there with me.”
For a moment, Ron didn’t say anything, and Harry thought for a second he might actually get emotional about it. But then Ron gave him a lopsided grin. “Well, obviously, mate.” He clinked his Butterbeer against Harry’s. “I’ll make sure your stag night is legendary.”
“Oh, Merlin,” Theo muttered, smirking. “That sounds ominous.”
Draco smirked. “If Weasley’s in charge of it, I assume we’ll all end up in Azkaban for public indecency.”
Ron scoffed. “Nah, we’ll just be banned from a few places. Maybe cursed by a bartender. Standard.”
Harry shook his head, laughing. This felt right—just a group of friends having a drink, making terrible jokes, and somehow planning the next stage of their lives together.
They spent the rest of the night drinking, talking about the wedding, and, of course, debating what kind of ridiculous trouble they’d get into at the stag night. And as Harry looked around at them, he knew that he had picked exactly the right people to stand by his side.
_________________
The Hogwarts grounds were bathed in golden sunlight, the lake shimmering as the breeze carried the scent of summer across the castle. It was a perfect day for a graduation.
Harry, Evelyn, and the rest of the gang sat together in the designated guest seating, watching as the seventh years took their places. The stage was set just as it had been the year before, positioned beside the lake with rows of chairs lined up for the graduates. The castle stood tall behind them, fully rebuilt, a testament to the resilience of everyone who had fought to restore it.
Ginny and Luna sat amongst the other students in their crisp black robes, their house ties fastened neatly at their throats. Ginny was talking animatedly with some of her Gryffindor friends, while Luna sat serenely, looking up at the sky as if she were listening for something no one else could hear.
“They look so grown up,” Molly Weasley sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
“They are grown up, Mum,” Ron said, though he was grinning.
Arthur chuckled. “Doesn’t mean we can’t still be proud.”
Evelyn smiled as she squeezed Harry’s hand. Watching another graduation felt different now that they were on the other side of it. It hadn’t even been a full year since their own, but in so many ways, it felt like a lifetime ago.
Headmistress McGonagall stood at the podium, calling for silence before she began the ceremony. Her speech was heartfelt, reminding them of the strength and perseverance it had taken to rebuild the school and to move forward after the war. She spoke of hope, of new beginnings, and of the bright futures ahead.
When it was time for the students to receive their certificates, the names were called in alphabetical order, just as before. The group cheered loudly when Ginny’s name was called, and again when Luna took the stage, walking with her usual dreamlike grace.
“She’s not even trying, and she still looks like she’s floating,” Theo whispered to Evelyn, who laughed softly.
Once the ceremony ended and caps were tossed into the air, the entire group made their way to the graduates, pulling them into hugs.
“Finally free,” Ginny grinned, wrapping her arms around Ron and nearly knocking him over.
“Careful,” Ron wheezed, laughing. “You’re gonna break my ribs.”
Luna was swept into Theo’s arms before she even had a chance to react, and for a moment, she blinked in surprise before letting out a delighted laugh. He set her down gently, but his hands lingered on her arms for a second too long, his smile soft.
“You did it,” he murmured.
Luna tilted her head, her blue eyes shimmering. “We did.”
Before they could say anything else, Fred and George clapped them both on the shoulders.
“Alright, enough sappy moments,” Fred declared.
“Time to celebrate properly,” George added.
And so they did.
The Burrow was filled with laughter, the scent of Molly’s cooking filling the air as music played in the background. The party was a lively affair, with family and friends packed into every available space.
Ginny had been lifted onto Charlie’s shoulders at some point, leading a loud, off-key rendition of the Hogwarts school song while Luna sat contentedly by the fire, sipping a Butterbeer and watching with amusement.
Evelyn stood beside Harry, watching as everyone danced, drank, and enjoyed the evening. He had an arm loosely draped around her shoulders, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against her arm.
“You thinking about our graduation?” he asked, his voice low.
She nodded. “It feels like forever ago.”
Harry smiled. “And now it’s their turn.”
She looked up at him, tilting her head. “How long do you think before they feel like adults?”
Harry laughed. “Oh, at least another decade.”
Ron stumbled past them with Pansy, both holding drinks and looking thoroughly entertained by something Fred was saying. Theo and Luna were talking quietly in a corner, their heads bent close together, while Draco stood by the refreshments table, watching the chaos with the faintest hint of a smirk.
Evelyn sighed happily. “We’ve got a good group, haven’t we?”
Harry pressed a kiss to her temple. “Yeah,” he murmured. “The best.”
Chapter 108: Mr & Mrs Potter
Summary:
ahhh my favourite couple are finally married!!
i hope you guys have enjoyed reading about their relationship as much as i have enjoyed writing it because we’re only a few chapters away from the end :’(
Chapter Text
Harry stood in the doorway of the sitting room at Grimmauld Place, taking in the sight of his groomsmen sprawled out across the furniture. Ron was lounging on the sofa, drink in hand, while Draco leaned against the mantelpiece, looking entirely too composed. Theo sat cross-legged on the floor, flipping through an old wizarding magazine, and Blaise was at the bar, mixing drinks with an amused expression.
“Last night of freedom, mate,” Ron smirked, raising his glass. “How do you feel?”
Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he sat down. “Excited. A little nervous. But mostly just… happy.”
“You should be nervous,” Draco said dryly, though there was no real malice in his tone. “Marriage is a serious commitment, Potter. You’ll be stuck with Evelyn forever.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “That’s kind of the point, Malfoy.”
“You do realise she could do much better, right?” Draco added, smirking.
“Oi,” Ron scowled, throwing a cushion at him. “Don’t fill his head with that rubbish.”
Theo grinned. “Harry, mate, let’s be real—Evelyn could do better, but she chose you, so you must be doing something right.”
Harry snorted, shaking his head. “You lot are so supportive.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get properly sappy tomorrow,” Blaise said, handing Harry a drink. “Tonight’s for celebrating. And embarrassing you as much as possible.”
Before Harry could question what he meant, Fred and George burst through the door with matching grins.
“Fear not, dear brother,” Fred declared.
“We’ve brought entertainment!” George added, holding up a deck of enchanted playing cards and a bottle of something that definitely wasn’t Firewhisky.
The night quickly spiraled into chaos. Between drinking games, storytelling, and a very competitive round of Wizard’s Chess that Ron absolutely refused to lose, the atmosphere was light-hearted and full of laughter.
As the night wore on, the conversation turned more sentimental.
“You’re really about to be a married man,” Ron said, clinking his glass against Harry’s. “Feels like just yesterday we were first-years at Hogwarts, fighting trolls and getting detention together.”
Harry smiled. “Yeah. It’s been a long road.”
Draco, who had been quiet for a moment, spoke up. “I never thought I’d say this, Potter, but… you and Evelyn make sense. She’s always been able to handle your Gryffindor recklessness, and you balance each other out.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m happy for you.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Did you just willingly admit that I have a good relationship?”
“Don’t make me regret it,” Draco muttered, taking a sip of his drink.
Theo grinned. “Alright, alright, enough emotions. Let’s toast to Harry—soon to be officially the luckiest bastard alive.”
They raised their glasses, and Harry couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth in his chest. Tomorrow, he was going to marry the love of his life.
Meanwhile, at Evelyn and Harry’s house, the atmosphere was equally lively but far more chaotic.
“Where the hell is my wine glass?” Pansy demanded, standing in the kitchen with her hands on her hips.
Daphne sighed, pointing to the coffee table where multiple glasses were already scattered. “You have, like, three over there.”
“Yes, but which one is mine?” Pansy huffed.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Does it really matter?”
“Of course, it does!” Pansy exclaimed. “This is our best friend’s last night as an unmarried woman, and I will not drink out of a glass with smudged lipstick that isn’t mine!”
Evelyn laughed from where she was curled up on the sofa with Luna and Ginny. “Merlin, I love you all, but you’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously supportive,” Ginny corrected, smirking. “Now, tell us, are you ready for tomorrow?”
Evelyn took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “Honestly? Yes. I can’t wait to marry him.”
Luna smiled dreamily. “It’s going to be beautiful. The moon will bless the ceremony, and the tide will carry your love across the ocean.”
There was a brief silence before Hermione murmured, “That was actually kind of poetic.”
Luna just nodded sagely.
Pansy plopped onto the sofa next to Evelyn, throwing an arm around her. “You’re going to be the most stunning bride. And if Harry doesn’t cry when he sees you, I will hex him.”
Daphne chuckled. “I second that.”
Hermione smirked. “Thirded.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes fondly. “You lot are the best.”
The evening carried on with reminiscing about Hogwarts, drinking, and—of course—face masks and last-minute wedding preparations. Pansy went over the schedule at least four times, making sure everything was set.
As the night wound down, Evelyn found herself sitting outside on the porch, looking up at the stars. Pansy joined her a moment later, handing her a fresh glass of wine.
“Feeling alright?” Pansy asked softly.
Evelyn smiled. “Yeah. Just taking it all in.”
Pansy nudged her. “Tomorrow’s going to be perfect, you know.”
Evelyn nodded, gripping the stem of her glass. “I know. It just… still feels surreal. I spent so much of my life not knowing where I belonged, and now I have this home, this life, and him.”
Pansy squeezed her hand. “You deserve this happiness, Evelyn. More than anyone I know.”
Evelyn exhaled, leaning against her best friend. “Thanks, Pansy.”
They sat there for a while, the sounds of laughter from inside drifting through the night air. Tomorrow, Evelyn would walk down the aisle, and everything would change.
And she couldn’t wait.
_______________
The morning of July 18th dawned with a warm, golden glow, the sun casting soft light over the beach and Parkinson Manor’s sprawling grounds. It was still early, but the estate was already buzzing with activity as final preparations were made for Harry and Evelyn’s wedding.
Evelyn stood by the tall windows of the bridal suite, looking out at the beach where the ceremony would soon take place. The waves lapped gently at the shore, and the sound of distant laughter from the house below made her smile.
Behind her, Pansy, Daphne, and Hermione were getting ready, their fall-coloured dresses hanging elegantly as they moved about the room.
“You’re too calm,” Pansy declared, adjusting her olive green dress in the mirror. “Shouldn’t you be freaking out or something?”
Evelyn smirked. “Why would I freak out? I want to marry Harry, Pansy.”
Hermione laughed softly as she secured the last of her curls. Her deep plum dress complemented her complexion beautifully. “I think Pansy is just looking for drama.”
“I live for drama,” Pansy confirmed. “But fine, I’ll let you have your ‘graceful, elegant’ bride moment.”
Daphne, in her burnt orange dress, smoothed a hand over the fabric and turned to Evelyn. “Alright, then let’s get you into your dress.”
With that, the bridesmaids gathered around, helping Evelyn into her gown. The moment she stepped into it and the fabric settled around her, a hush fell over the room.
Evelyn turned to the mirror, taking in the sight of herself. The ruched bodice hugged her figure perfectly, the delicate beaded lace straps resting lightly on her shoulders. The structured waist gave way to the cascading silk skirt, its soft pleats flowing effortlessly to the floor. Tiny pearl embellishments shimmered subtly in the light, and as she moved, the elegant train trailed behind her like something out of a dream.
Pansy exhaled. “Merlin, you look stunning.”
Evelyn turned, catching the glassy look in her best friend’s eyes. “Pans, are you crying?”
Pansy sniffed dramatically. “Absolutely not. It’s just… dust. Lots of dust in here.”
Daphne smirked. “Of course.”
Hermione placed a gentle hand on Evelyn’s arm. “You really do look beautiful.”
Evelyn swallowed the lump in her throat, touched by how much love surrounded her. “Thanks, guys. I wouldn’t be here without you lot.”
There was a knock at the door, and Molly stepped inside, a warm smile on her face. “Evelyn, sweetheart, are you ready?”
Evelyn took one last deep breath, her fingers brushing over the embroidered details of her gown.
“Yeah,” she said, smiling. “I’m ready.”
⸻
Meanwhile, at the other end of the estate, the boys were gathered in one of the manor’s guest rooms, finalizing their looks. Unlike the organized, serene atmosphere of the bridal suite, the groomsmen’s room was a chaotic whirlwind of misplaced ties, half-drunk glasses of Firewhisky, and Ron panicking over his cufflinks.
“Why are we wearing fall colours when it’s the middle of bloody summer?” Ron complained as he struggled with his olive green tie.
Draco, perfectly composed in his black suit and plain tie, rolled his eyes. “Because it’s aesthetic, Weasley.”
Theo smirked as he adjusted his burnt orange tie. “And you actually look decent for once, so stop complaining.”
“Alright, everyone shut up and focus,” Blaise called out, lounging in an armchair. “Harry, are you breathing? Still conscious?”
Harry, standing in front of the mirror in his all-black suit, took a deep breath. He looked at his reflection, noting the sleek embroidery on his cuffs—‘H&E’ on one and ‘July 18th’ on the other. His black shirt and jacket fit perfectly, tailored to precision. He didn’t have a tie, but he didn’t need one. The simple elegance of the suit spoke for itself.
“I’m good,” he said finally, glancing at his groomsmen. “Just… ready to get married.”
Ron, finally managing his tie, grinned. “Good, because I don’t think Evelyn would let you back out even if you wanted to.”
Harry laughed. “As if I would.”
There was another knock at the door, and Fred and George strode in, both grinning.
“Blimey,” Fred said, looking at Harry. “You actually look like a proper groom.”
George nodded. “Almost like an adult.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Thanks, I guess?”
Draco sighed. “Can we please move this along? The sooner we get to the ceremony, the sooner I can have a drink.”
Ron smirked. “Excited to watch Potter cry, Malfoy?”
Draco smirked back. “Oh, he’s definitely going to cry.”
Harry just shook his head, but he knew they were probably right.
In just a short while, he’d be standing on the beach, watching Evelyn walk toward him.
And he couldn’t wait.
The soft hum of waves crashing against the shore created the perfect backdrop for the ceremony. The beach beside Parkinson Manor had been transformed into a breathtaking wedding venue—rows of white chairs faced an elegantly decorated arch adorned with trailing flowers in deep greens, burnt oranges, and soft plums. Fairy lights hung overhead, twinkling like stars against the early evening sky, and a warm breeze carried the scent of the ocean through the air.
Guests had taken their seats, quiet murmurs filling the space as anticipation built. The groomsmen stood at the altar, lined up in their fall-toned accents, with Harry in the center, adjusting his cuffs. His hands were steady, but his heart was racing. He was ready—so ready—but the anticipation was making his pulse hammer against his ribs.
Then, Sirius nudged him.
“Time to go, kiddo,” he murmured with a grin, his voice thick with emotion.
Harry let out a breath and nodded, his grip tightening momentarily on Sirius’ arm before they stepped forward together.
As they walked down the aisle, a hush fell over the crowd, and Harry felt warmth spread through his chest at the sight of all the people who had come to celebrate with them. His family—his real, chosen family. Sirius squeezed his arm reassuringly before they reached the altar, and as Harry took his place, Sirius gave him a final, proud pat on the back before stepping to the side.
Then the music began.
The opening chords of Ordinary by Alex Warren filled the air, and everyone turned their heads as the bridesmaids began their walk down the aisle.
Pansy was the first to step out, her olive green dress flowing elegantly with each step. She held her bouquet with practiced grace, but her lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smirk when she caught Ron’s eye in the front.
Daphne followed next, her burnt orange dress glowing in the evening light, moving with effortless elegance as she walked. Behind her, Hermione stepped forward, looking radiant in her deep plum gown, smiling with pride as she met Harry’s gaze.
Then, just as the song swelled, the crowd collectively inhaled as Evelyn stepped into view.
Harry barely had time to register the sharp intake of breath before his vision blurred with tears.
Remus stood beside Evelyn, his arm linked with hers as they took their first step down the aisle. She looked stunning—no, ethereal. The soft, delicate lace straps framed her shoulders perfectly, and the structured bodice hugged her form before giving way to the flowing silk skirt that caught the light with every movement.
Her eyes met Harry’s, and she smiled.
That was it. That was all it took.
Tears slipped freely down Harry’s cheeks, unbidden, unstoppable. He didn’t even care—he was too overwhelmed, too in love.
Sirius clapped him on the back, whispering, “Knew you’d cry.”
Harry let out a breathy laugh, unable to take his eyes off Evelyn.
When they reached the altar, Remus pressed a kiss to Evelyn’s temple before gently placing her hand in Harry’s.
“You take care of her,” Remus murmured, his voice slightly thick.
Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Always.”
Evelyn squeezed Harry’s hands, smiling up at him. “Hi.”
Harry let out a watery laugh. “Hi.”
McGonagall stood before them, her usual stern expression softened by something impossibly fond.
“Well,” she said, eyes twinkling. “It’s about time.”
A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd.
“As some of you may know, I’ve had the privilege of knowing both Harry and Evelyn since their school days. I have watched them grow—not only as individuals but together, as partners. It is an honor to stand before them today as they make the most important promise of all.”
Harry and Evelyn barely heard the rest. They were lost in each other’s eyes, fingers interlocked as McGonagall guided them through their vows.
Harry cleared his throat, trying to steady himself before speaking.
“Evelyn…” He exhaled, looking at her with so much love it made her breath catch. “There are a million things I could say right now. I could tell you that from the moment we met, I knew you were going to change my life. That you’ve been my best friend, my partner, my home in a way I never knew I needed. I could tell you that I love you more than anything in this world—but that still wouldn’t be enough to describe what you mean to me.”
A tear slipped down Evelyn’s cheek.
“You’ve seen me at my worst and loved me anyway. You’ve given me a life I never imagined I could have, and every single day with you is a gift. So today, I promise to always be by your side. To love you, to fight for you, to build a life with you. Whatever comes next, we face it together. Always.”
Evelyn let out a shaky breath, gripping his hands tightly as she spoke.
“Harry…” Her voice was soft but steady. “I spent so much of my life feeling like I was on my own. Then you came along, and suddenly, I wasn’t anymore. You never just let me stand beside you—you pulled me in, made me a part of your world, your life. You chose me, and that is the greatest gift I will ever receive.”
Harry blinked rapidly, trying not to completely lose it.
“I love you,” Evelyn continued. “With every part of me. And I promise to always love you, to always stand beside you, to always be yours. No matter what life throws at us, I’ll be there. Because there is no version of my future that doesn’t have you in it.”
By the time she finished, both of them were crying.
McGonagall cleared her throat, her eyes suspiciously bright. “Well then, with that said, I now pronounce you Husband and Wife—Harry, you may kiss your bride.”
Harry didn’t hesitate. He scooped Evelyn up, one hand cradling her face, the other pressing firmly against the small of her back as he kissed her deeply.
The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, and from the front row, Colin Creevey clicked his camera, capturing the perfect shot of Harry and Evelyn’s first kiss as husband and wife.
It was a perfect moment.
The golden light of the setting sun cast a warm glow over the beach as the wedding party gathered for photos. Colin Creevey, beaming with excitement, directed everyone with an eager enthusiasm that made the whole process fun rather than tedious.
The first set of photos featured immediate and chosen family. Harry stood between Sirius and Remus, all three of them laughing as Colin snapped a few candid shots before capturing a more formal pose. Then, Evelyn joined them, and Remus wrapped an arm around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head while Sirius grinned at the camera.
Next came the Weasleys—Molly and Arthur stood proudly with Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George, while Evelyn and Pansy (who had long since been considered honorary Weasleys) joined in. There was a mix of both posed and candid shots, with Molly pulling Evelyn into a tight hug for one and George pretending to wipe a tear dramatically in another.
Then came a moment that made everyone pause—Narcissa Malfoy stood beside Andromeda Tonks for a picture with Draco. It was the first time in years that the sisters had been photographed together, and the sight of them smiling at one another had Draco rolling his eyes but ultimately looking pleased.
Evelyn stood with her bridesmaids, their fall-toned dresses complementing the setting sun beautifully. Pansy stood at her side in olive green, Daphne in burnt orange, and Hermione in deep plum, all of them looking effortlessly elegant. Colin directed them to pose both formally and playfully—one shot had them all looking ethereal and poised, while the next had them laughing, their bouquets held up as if they were about to duel with them.
On the other side, the groomsmen—Ron, Theo, and Draco—posed beside Harry. Ron stood proudly in his olive tie, Theo smirked in burnt orange, and Draco, ever composed, adjusted his plain black tie with a smirk. They all did a serious pose first before breaking into something more natural, Theo slinging an arm around Harry’s shoulder while Ron ruffled his hair.
As the bridal party stepped aside, Evelyn stood alone for a few portraits. Her dress shimmered in the light, the intricate beading catching the last rays of sun. She turned slightly, letting the train of her gown flow behind her, her expression soft but radiant.
“Absolutely stunning,” Colin murmured as he snapped the shots.
One of the most beautiful moments came when Evelyn turned toward the ocean, the breeze lifting a few strands of her hair. She looked back over her shoulder, a smile on her lips, and Colin knew instantly that it would be one of the best shots of the day.
Harry joined Evelyn for the next round of photos, and it was clear that he couldn’t stop staring at her. Colin captured it all—the way Harry held her close, the way Evelyn tilted her head back laughing when he whispered something in her ear, the way they fit together so seamlessly.
One particular shot had Harry pressing a kiss to Evelyn’s temple, his eyes closed while she smiled softly. Another had them walking hand in hand along the shoreline, their footprints left behind in the sand.
But the best one?
Harry scooping Evelyn into his arms, spinning her around as she laughed, her dress billowing out beautifully. The love between them was evident in every frame.
Finally, it was time for a full group shot. Colin gathered everyone—family, friends, guests—and positioned them artfully. Some stood, others sat, and the younger children were held by their parents.
“Alright, everyone, big smiles!” Colin called out.
There was a loud chorus of cheers and laughter as the shutter clicked, capturing a perfect moment of celebration.
Then, just before the session ended, Fred and George—standing at the back—let off a pair of tiny, colorful fireworks from their wands, sending sparks into the sky just as Colin took one last shot.
It was chaotic, it was joyful—it was perfect.
______________________
The reception was nothing short of breathtaking. Parkinson Manor’s expansive gardens had been transformed into a stunning venue, with fairy lights strung through the trees, casting a warm glow over the perfectly arranged tables. The circular tables were draped in elegant white tablecloths, each adorned with autumn-themed centerpieces of deep red and burnt orange flowers, gold-accented candles, and delicate greenery. The top table, a long rectangular one at the front, was reserved for the bride, groom, and their bridal parties, positioned beneath an enchanting canopy of twinkling lights and hanging florals.
As the guests settled into their seats, servers moved gracefully between the tables, pouring glasses of champagne and serving the first course. The meal was exquisite—beginning with a delicate pumpkin and sage soup, followed by perfectly roasted lamb or a vegetarian option of wild mushroom risotto, and finishing with a decadent chocolate and raspberry tart. Laughter and chatter filled the air as people ate, old friends reuniting and new friendships forming.
After the plates were cleared, the gentle clinking of a spoon against a glass drew everyone’s attention to the top table. Pansy Parkinson stood, the glimmer of her olive green dress catching the candlelight as she raised her glass with a smirk.
“Alright, everyone, let’s get this over with before I cry and ruin my makeup,” Pansy began, causing a ripple of laughter through the crowd. She turned to Evelyn first. “Evelyn, my best friend, my partner-in-crime, and, as of today, officially Mrs. Potter.” Another round of cheers erupted at that, and Evelyn grinned.
“I won’t bore you all with childhood stories because, let’s face it, Evelyn didn’t exactly grow up with us,” Pansy continued. “But I will say that from the moment she walked into our lives, she fit right in. And not just in the ‘she tolerates my dramatics’ kind of way—though, let’s be honest, she does—but in the way that she became a part of our family.”
Pansy glanced at Harry with an approving smirk. “And then there’s you, Potter. Somehow, somehow, you managed to steal her heart, which still baffles me to this day.” More laughter followed, and Harry grinned, shaking his head. “But in all seriousness, I’ve never seen Evelyn as happy as she is with you. You two are disgustingly perfect for each other, and if you ever do anything to hurt her—well, let’s just say I know some very powerful curses, and I have connections.”
The guests roared with laughter while Harry raised his hands in surrender. “Noted,” he said, chuckling.
Pansy’s expression softened as she turned back to Evelyn. “You are the sister I never had, and I can’t tell you how happy I am to be standing by your side today. So, everyone, raise your glasses—to Evelyn and Harry. May your life together be filled with love, adventure, and just the right amount of mischief.”
“To Evelyn and Harry!” the guests echoed, raising their glasses before taking a sip.
As the applause died down, Ron stood up, adjusting his olive green tie before clearing his throat. “Alright, my turn. And let me just say—Pansy set the bar way too high.”
A few laughs sounded, and Ron continued. “I could stand up here and tell you all embarrassing stories about Harry—you know I have plenty—but I won’t. Not today, at least.”
Harry rolled his eyes, smirking as Ron went on. “I’ve known Harry since we were eleven years old, and in all that time, I’ve seen him do some really stupid things. Sneaking into the Forbidden Forest, fighting off a troll, nearly getting himself killed at least five times before we even hit fifteen—real great decisions, mate,” he added with a pointed look, making everyone laugh.
“But one decision he did get right? Choosing Evelyn,” Ron said, his tone turning more sincere. “You two bring out the best in each other, and as much as I hate to say it, I think you’re actually a pretty good match.” He sighed dramatically, earning another round of laughter.
“Harry, you’re my best mate, and seeing you this happy—it means everything. And Evelyn, welcome to the real family, because Merlin knows the Weasleys have already claimed you.”
Harry and Evelyn both grinned at that, exchanging a glance.
“So, let’s all raise a glass to these two. May your future be filled with laughter, love, and, hopefully, fewer near-death experiences.”
Everyone laughed as they raised their glasses once more, the atmosphere warm and joyous.
As the final echoes of laughter from the speeches faded, the lights around the garden dimmed slightly, and a gentle hum of anticipation settled over the crowd. The band on the small stage at the far end of the garden struck up the opening notes of Carry Me Home by Alex Warren, the soft piano melody floating through the warm summer air.
A hush fell over the guests as Harry stood from his seat at the top table, turning to Evelyn with a grin before offering his hand. She took it without hesitation, her fingers sliding easily into his as he led her toward the center of the garden, where a dance floor had been set up beneath a canopy of fairy lights.
The moment they stepped onto the dance floor, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of them. The golden glow from the lanterns above reflected in Evelyn’s eyes as she looked up at Harry, a soft smile playing on her lips. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close, while she rested a hand on his shoulder.
“I never thought I’d have someone like you,” the lyrics played, and Harry’s grip on Evelyn tightened slightly as they began to sway.
The song’s melody was slow, tender, and as the words filled the air, Harry felt an overwhelming rush of emotion. He had always known he loved Evelyn, had known from the moment he first realized he wanted a future with her, but standing here now—his wife in his arms, the golden lights above them casting everything in a dreamlike glow—he had never been so certain of anything in his life.
Evelyn smiled up at him, her head tilting slightly as she whispered, “You’re staring, Potter.”
Harry chuckled softly. “Can you blame me, McCrae?”
She rolled her eyes fondly, her fingers brushing lightly against the back of his neck. “It’s Mrs. Potter now, actually.”
That sent a thrill through him, and he leaned down, resting his forehead against hers as they moved in time with the music. “Say that again,” he murmured.
Evelyn laughed, her breath warm against his lips. “Mrs. Potter.”
A cheer suddenly erupted from their friends at the edge of the dance floor, making them both laugh as they glanced over. Ron, Pansy, Theo, and the rest of their friends were standing there, watching them with delighted smiles—though Pansy looked a little misty-eyed.
The song swelled, the chorus wrapping around them like a soft embrace.
“So take my hand and don’t let go, I’ll carry you home…”
Harry gave Evelyn a small spin, and as she twirled back into his arms, he dipped her slightly, making her laugh. Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him, and he swore, in that moment, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
When he pulled her upright again, he cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “I love you,” he whispered, voice barely audible over the music.
Evelyn’s expression softened, and she rested her hands over his. “I love you too.”
As the final chords of the song played, Harry didn’t wait for the cue—he simply leaned in and kissed her, slow and deep, as their guests burst into cheers and applause. The camera flash went off, capturing the moment as their first dance as husband and wife came to a perfect, heart-stopping end.
As the first dance ended and their guests erupted into cheers, the band smoothly transitioned into a livelier song, encouraging more people to join the dance floor. Evelyn and Harry barely had time to catch their breath before Pansy and Ron pulled them apart, dragging them back into the crowd.
The garden, now glowing under the warm twinkle of fairy lights and lanterns, turned into a scene of pure celebration. The band played an energetic mix of songs—both wizarding and Muggle—as guests twirled, laughed, and clapped along to the music.
Pansy, already a little tipsy from the champagne, dramatically dragged Ron onto the dance floor. “Come on, Weasley, show me those Gryffindor moves!” she teased.
Ron groaned. “You know I can’t dance.”
“You managed just fine at the Yule Ball.” She smirked before grabbing his hands and spinning him in a way that made him stumble, sending Hermione and Theo into fits of laughter nearby.
Draco and George had somehow ended up as dance partners, a sight that had Blaise and Fred practically howling in the background. “Didn’t peg you for a dancer, Malfoy,” George teased, twirling Draco dramatically.
“Shut up, Weasley,” Draco huffed, but there was a small, amused smirk on his face.
Luna and Theo had found each other in the middle of the dance floor, their movements light and effortless. Theo, though a little awkward at first, seemed to find a natural rhythm with Luna, who was completely at ease, as if floating through the music.
Meanwhile, Neville and Ginny were caught up in their own world, swaying to a slower song, oblivious to everything else around them.
After what felt like hours of dancing, the music softened, and attention shifted to the center of the garden, where a stunning, multi-tiered wedding cake stood. The cake was elegant but subtly themed—golden stars and soft white icing, with tiny enchanted lights hovering around it, giving it a dreamy glow.
Harry and Evelyn approached it hand in hand, laughter still lingering on their lips as the guests gathered around.
“Are you going to be nice?” Evelyn asked, eyeing Harry with playful suspicion.
Harry gave her a look of mock innocence. “Would I ever do anything but be nice?”
She narrowed her eyes but picked up the knife anyway, and together, they sliced into the cake.
For a brief moment, Harry behaved himself, offering Evelyn a neat little piece… but then, right when she was about to take a bite, he smeared a bit of icing on the tip of her nose.
A collective ooooh rose from the crowd.
Evelyn gasped dramatically before retaliating by pressing her entire piece of cake against his cheek.
The guests erupted into laughter as Harry wiped at his face, shaking his head. “I should have seen that coming.”
“You really should have,” Evelyn quipped, grinning.
The guests raised their glasses, cheers filling the night air as Harry and Evelyn exchanged smiles, hands clasped tightly together.
As the formalities wrapped up, the real party kicked off. The bar was stocked with top-tier Firewhisky, cocktails, and enchanted drinks that shimmered in a spectrum of colors.
At one point, Theo and Blaise started an impromptu drinking contest that quickly spiraled into chaos. Blaise was confident in his ability to drink Theo under the table, but by the fifth shot of some particularly strong Firewhisky, both of them were swaying on their feet.
“I am—” Blaise paused, blinking. “—perfectly fine.”
“You’re slurring,” Daphne pointed out.
“I am not—” He tripped slightly, and Fred caught him with a laugh. “Alright, maybe a little.”
Meanwhile, Luna had somehow convinced Draco and George to dance again—this time to a ridiculously upbeat song that had them both looking incredibly awkward but also surprisingly entertained.
Neville, Ginny, and Hermione sat at a quieter table, chatting about Hogwarts and their careers. Hermione was already deep into her job with Puddlemere United, Ginny was considering joining a professional Quidditch team, and Neville was preparing for his future in Herbology.
As the night wore on, the newlyweds finally got a chance to slip away for a quiet moment. Sitting on a small garden bench beneath a canopy of fairy lights, Harry wrapped his arms around Evelyn, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“Best day of my life,” he murmured against her skin.
Evelyn leaned into him, sighing contentedly. “Mine too.”
From the dance floor, their friends continued to celebrate, their laughter and joy filling the night air. It was perfect—everything was perfect.
And as the party carried on well into the early hours of the morning, Harry and Evelyn knew—this was only the beginning of the next beautiful chapter in their lives.
Chapter 109: I’m Not Crying
Chapter Text
The morning sun filtered softly through the sheer curtains of their bedroom in Godric’s Hollow, casting golden streaks across the bed. The air smelled faintly of fresh linens and the lingering warmth of the night before.
Evelyn stirred first, slowly waking as she felt the weight of Harry’s arm draped over her waist, his hand warm against her stomach. A slow smile tugged at her lips as she turned her head, taking in the sight of him—his hair still a mess, his breathing steady, completely at peace.
Her heart swelled. Her husband.
The thought still felt surreal, and yet it settled in her chest like it had always belonged there.
She shifted slightly, stretching beneath the covers, and Harry groaned sleepily, tightening his hold on her.
“Don’t move,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.
Evelyn chuckled. “I have to move eventually.”
“No, you don’t,” he countered, nuzzling his face against her shoulder, pressing a lazy kiss to her skin. “You’re my wife now. That means you’re required to stay in bed with me for at least—” He cracked one eye open, squinting at the clock. “—another three hours.”
Evelyn turned in his arms, resting her chin on his chest as she looked up at him. “Oh, is that part of the vows? Did I miss that part?”
“Unwritten rule,” he said smugly, rubbing slow circles on her back.
She sighed dramatically. “I suppose I can be convinced to stay…”
Harry grinned before rolling her onto her back, hovering over her as he kissed her properly. It was slow and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world—because, for the first time, they did. No rushing off to classes, no impending danger, no war looming over them.
Just them.
He pulled away slightly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “How does it feel?”
Evelyn raised a brow. “Being married?”
Harry nodded.
She thought for a moment before smiling. “Like everything finally makes sense.”
His expression softened, and he kissed her again, this time lingering, savoring. “Yeah,” he murmured. “It really does.”
They stayed wrapped up in each other for a long while, trading kisses and quiet laughter, reliving little moments from the wedding. When they finally pulled themselves out of bed, the smell of coffee and breakfast filled the air—courtesy of Dobby that had taken the liberty of preparing a meal for them.
Evelyn sat at the small table in their kitchen, still in Harry’s oversized shirt, as he placed a plate in front of her.
“To the first morning of forever,” he said, raising his coffee cup.
She clinked hers against his, smiling. “To forever.”
A few days after the wedding, Evelyn sat at the small writing desk in their new home, staring at the blank piece of parchment in front of her. She had spent the last few days reveling in the bliss of married life, soaking up every quiet moment with Harry, but now, something was pulling at her. A thought she couldn’t ignore anymore.
She wanted to teach.
The idea had been lingering for a while now. She had always enjoyed helping Harry with his training, and she had loved co-teaching Dumbledore’s Army. Even during their final year at Hogwarts, when she had been balancing classes and the war’s aftermath, she had found herself drawn to the idea of guiding younger students—helping them be prepared for whatever life threw their way.
And now, with the Defence Against the Dark Arts position open for the upcoming year, it felt like fate.
Dipping her quill into the inkpot, she began writing.
⸻
Dear Headmistress McGonagall,
I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to reach out because, after much thought, I’ve decided that I would love the opportunity to apply for the Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching position at Hogwarts.
Throughout my time at school, I found myself deeply invested in the subject—not just in studying it, but in practicing it and passing that knowledge on to others. Co-teaching Dumbledore’s Army and training alongside Harry for the past few years has only solidified my passion for this field, and I truly believe I could be an asset to your staff.
If the position is still available, I would love to arrange a time to meet with you to discuss this further.
Looking forward to your response.
Best regards,
Evelyn Potter
⸻
She read over the letter twice before sealing it in an envelope. She could feel a sense of certainty settle in her chest—the kind she hadn’t felt in a long time. With a flick of her wand, the letter floated over to where their owl, Bramble, sat on the windowsill.
“Take this to McGonagall, please,” she said softly, stroking the owl’s feathers before watching him soar out into the sky.
With the letter sent, she turned to find Harry leaning against the doorframe, watching her with a small smile.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said, stepping into the room and wrapping his arms around her from behind. “I just love seeing you like this. Excited. Sure of yourself.”
Evelyn leaned into him. “It feels right. Teaching, I mean.”
“I know,” Harry murmured. “You’ll be brilliant.”
She turned to face him. “And what about you? Any thoughts on what you want to do?”
Harry exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly? I think I want to take a break for a while. I’ve been training, fighting, and running headfirst into danger for years now. It’d be nice to just… exist for a bit.”
Evelyn nodded, understanding completely. “You deserve that.”
He smiled. “Maybe I’ll figure it out after a few months. But for now, I just want to enjoy being here, with you.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Then that’s exactly what we’ll do.”
________________
A few days later, Evelyn found herself standing outside the Headmistress’s office, smoothing out the front of her robes. The familiar stone gargoyle stood before her, motionless, as she took a deep breath to steady herself.
She had been in this office countless times before—usually alongside Harry, sometimes because of mischief, and other times for far more serious matters. But this time, it was different. This time, she was here as an adult, as someone hoping to shape the future of young witches and wizards.
Gathering her courage, she said, “Gillywater.”
The gargoyle sprang to life, shifting aside to reveal the spiraling staircase leading up to the office. Evelyn climbed it steadily, knocking lightly on the heavy wooden door before she heard McGonagall’s voice call, “Enter.”
As she stepped inside, the office felt as grand as ever, lined with shelves of books and old headmaster portraits, many of whom were watching her with mild curiosity. McGonagall sat behind her desk, looking as sharp and composed as always, though a small smile graced her lips.
“Mrs. Potter,” McGonagall greeted, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. “How wonderful to see you again.”
Evelyn smiled as she took a seat. “You too, Professor. Or should I say, Headmistress?”
McGonagall’s lips twitched in amusement. “Minerva will suffice when we are outside the classroom.” She folded her hands on the desk. “I received your letter, and I must say, I was quite pleased to hear that you were interested in teaching.”
Evelyn sat up straighter. “Defence Against the Dark Arts was always my favorite subject. And after everything we went through at Hogwarts… I want to make sure students leave here truly prepared, not just in theory, but in practice.”
McGonagall nodded approvingly. “You have always been a rather remarkable student, Evelyn. Skilled, dedicated, and a natural leader. Your work with Dumbledore’s Army speaks volumes, and, of course, I’ve had the privilege of witnessing your talents firsthand. Truth be told, I had already considered you as a candidate for the position before you even wrote to me.”
Evelyn blinked in surprise. “You had?”
McGonagall’s smile softened. “I did. You have a gift for this subject, and I believe you will be an invaluable addition to the Hogwarts staff.”
Evelyn felt her heart race. “Does that mean…?”
McGonagall inclined her head. “If you are still interested, the position is yours.”
For a moment, Evelyn was too stunned to respond. She had expected a full interview—questions, evaluations, maybe even a practical demonstration. But McGonagall had already made up her mind.
“I—yes, of course, I’m still interested!” Evelyn said quickly, barely containing her excitement.
McGonagall chuckled. “Then congratulations, Professor Potter.”
Evelyn grinned. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”
“You have until September first,” McGonagall said. “I will send over all the necessary paperwork, as well as the syllabus we currently have in place. You are, of course, welcome to make any adjustments as you see fit.”
Evelyn nodded, still feeling a little overwhelmed. “Thank you, Headmistress. Truly. I won’t let you down.”
McGonagall’s expression softened. “I know you won’t.”
As Evelyn left the office, her head was spinning with excitement. She was going to be a professor at Hogwarts. She was going to be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts.
And she couldn’t wait to tell Harry.
Evelyn apparated home with a wide grin, her heart still racing with excitement. As she stepped into their cozy house in Godric’s Hollow, she called out, “Harry? You home?”
“In the kitchen!” he called back.
She followed the sound of his voice and found him sitting at the small dining table, a cup of tea in hand and the Daily Prophet spread out in front of him. His hair was still damp, likely from a shower, and he was dressed in one of his usual comfortable t-shirts and sweats.
The moment he saw the look on her face, he raised an eyebrow. “You got it, didn’t you?”
Evelyn practically beamed. “I did! McGonagall barely even interviewed me—she said she had already considered me for the job before I even wrote to her!”
Harry grinned, setting his tea down and standing up to pull her into a tight hug. “That’s amazing, Ev,” he murmured against her hair. “Professor Potter, huh?”
She laughed, wrapping her arms around him. “It sounds so weird, right? But I can’t wait. I already have ideas for the syllabus, and McGonagall said I can adjust things as I see fit.”
He pulled back just enough to press a kiss to her forehead. “You’re going to be brilliant at it. The students won’t know what hit them.”
Evelyn smirked. “Hopefully just metaphorically.”
Harry snorted. “We’ll see.”
They sat down together, Evelyn excitedly telling him everything about the meeting with McGonagall as she made herself a cup of tea. Just as she was about to start brainstorming lesson plans out loud, an owl swooped in through the open kitchen window, dropping a letter right in front of them before perching on the windowsill.
Harry picked it up, scanning the handwriting. “It’s from Ron.” He opened it and read aloud:
Hey you two,
Hope married life is treating you well. I’ve got something big planned and need you both to be there. I’m proposing to Pansy next week, and I want you lot to be there for the surprise. We’re going to dinner at that fancy restaurant in Diagon Alley, the one she keeps going on about—Ambrosia. She thinks it’s just a regular dinner, but when we come outside, I want you all there waiting. Then I’ll get down on one knee right in the middle of the street. Pansy loves a spectacle, so I figured I’d give her one.
Let me know if you’re in. Don’t tell her anything. See you soon.
-Ron
Evelyn gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh my god.”
Harry grinned. “He’s really going for it, huh?”
“He is!” Evelyn laughed, eyes shining. “I mean, we all knew it was coming, but I didn’t think he’d do it this soon.”
“He did say Pansy loves a spectacle. This is going to be one hell of a proposal.”
Evelyn beamed. “We have to be there.”
Harry nodded, already reaching for a quill. “Absolutely. Let’s write back and tell him we’re in.”
As he penned their response, Evelyn couldn’t help but think about how their lives were changing so quickly. First their wedding, now Ron and Pansy were about to take the next step. Soon, everyone would be settling into their futures—careers, relationships, new adventures.
And she couldn’t wait to see what came next.
The day of Ron’s proposal arrived faster than expected, and Evelyn couldn’t contain her excitement. She and Harry spent the afternoon at home, pretending it was just a normal day, but the anticipation was almost unbearable. Pansy had no idea what was coming, and Evelyn knew that when Ron finally got down on one knee, the entire street would hear her reaction.
As the sun began to set, they dressed for the evening, opting for smart yet casual outfits. Harry wore a dark green button-up with black trousers, while Evelyn chose a sleek black dress that was elegant but comfortable. The rest of their friends were meeting them at a designated spot near Ambrosia, the upscale restaurant where Ron was taking Pansy.
They apparated to Diagon Alley, landing near the rendezvous point where Draco, Theo, Blaise, Daphne, Hermione, and George were already waiting.
“Finally,” Draco drawled, adjusting the cuff of his jacket. “Thought you two got lost.”
“We were fashionably late,” Evelyn teased.
Theo smirked. “Well, you’re just in time. They should be finishing dessert soon.”
Hermione was practically bouncing on her feet. “I can’t believe Ron is actually pulling this off. He’s been talking about it for ages, but I never thought he’d go all out like this.”
“Pansy will love it,” Daphne said confidently. “She was practically born for a dramatic proposal.”
Blaise chuckled. “The only way this could be any more extravagant is if he’d gotten a bloody fireworks display.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” George added, grinning.
The group moved closer to the restaurant, keeping to the shadows to avoid being spotted through the large front windows. The restaurant was beautifully lit, and through the glass, Evelyn could see Ron and Pansy still sitting at their table. Pansy looked happy, her expression animated as she spoke, and Ron was clearly nervous, fidgeting slightly with his napkin.
“Any bets on whether or not he messes up his speech?” Draco muttered.
“Oh, absolutely,” Theo replied. “He’ll stumble over his words, but she’ll say yes before he even finishes.”
They didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes later, Ron and Pansy emerged from the restaurant, her hand looped through his arm as they stepped onto the cobblestone street. The moment they were a few steps away from the door, Ron took a deep breath and stopped in his tracks.
Pansy turned to him, brows furrowed in confusion. “Ron? What are you—”
Before she could finish, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small velvet box, and dropped to one knee.
Pansy gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.
“Pansy Parkinson,” Ron began, voice loud and clear despite his nerves. “You drive me absolutely mad, you always have. You’re stubborn, bossy, and you make fun of me constantly—but I love you more than anything. I can’t imagine my life without you, and I don’t want to. So, will you marry me?”
For a second, Pansy just stared at him. Then, in true Pansy fashion, she let out a dramatic huff. “You absolute idiot, of course I will!”
The entire group erupted into cheers, clapping and whistling as Ron grinned and slid the ring onto her finger. Pansy barely gave him time to stand before she threw herself at him, kissing him fiercely while he laughed into it.
“Well, that was disgustingly sweet,” Draco muttered, though he was smirking.
Hermione dabbed at her eyes. “I’m not crying.”
Evelyn grinned, grabbing Harry’s hand as they walked over to join the newly engaged couple. “That was perfect,” she told Ron, who looked a little dazed.
“I didn’t even screw up my speech,” he admitted, sounding proud.
“I’m impressed,” Theo admitted. “You actually managed to say it all in one go.”
Pansy, still admiring her ring, smirked. “I knew you had something planned, but I didn’t expect this. You really pulled through, Weasley.”
Ron grinned. “Figured you deserved a bit of a spectacle.”
George clapped him on the back. “And what a spectacle it was. Now, time to celebrate—let’s hit the Leaky Cauldron. First round’s on the groom-to-be.”
With that, the group cheered once more and made their way to the pub, laughter and excitement filling the air.
The Leaky Cauldron was already bustling when they arrived, but the moment Ron and Pansy stepped inside, they were met with a wave of cheers. Word had spread fast—probably thanks to George—and their other friends were already there, waiting to celebrate.
Neville, Ginny, Luna, and even Oliver Wood were gathered around a large table near the back, waving them over.
“There they are!” Ginny called, raising her glass. “To the newly engaged!”
Everyone echoed the toast, lifting their drinks as Ron and Pansy made their way to the center of the group. Pansy was practically glowing, flashing her ring to anyone who so much as looked in her direction.
“Merlin, Weasley, you actually did it,” Oliver said with a grin, shaking Ron’s hand. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”
Luna beamed at them both. “You two have the perfect energy together. Like a pair of nargles who found their favorite mistletoe.”
Ron blinked. “I think that’s a compliment?”
“It is,” Evelyn assured him, laughing.
Drinks were quickly distributed, and the celebration truly began. The atmosphere was lively, filled with laughter and music, and soon, everyone was fully immersed in the moment.
Blaise and Theo had somehow convinced George and Oliver into a drinking contest, which had the entire table roaring with laughter as shots were lined up and downed in rapid succession.
“Should we stop them?” Daphne asked, sipping her cocktail.
Evelyn shook her head, watching as George dramatically clutched his chest after a particularly strong shot. “Absolutely not. This is pure entertainment.”
Across the table, Hermione and Neville were deep in conversation about something work-related, while Ginny and Luna were already a few drinks in and dancing near the small open space by the bar.
“Come dance with me,” Evelyn said, tugging on Harry’s sleeve.
Harry groaned. “Evs, you know I’m terrible at dancing.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s never stopped you before.”
With a resigned sigh—but a fond smile—he let her drag him to the dance floor. The rest of their friends soon followed, and before long, the entire group was swept up in the music. Pansy and Ron danced together, laughing as Ron dramatically spun her around, while Theo twirled Daphne and Luna at the same time.
At some point, someone convinced Draco to dance (probably Ginny), and he begrudgingly joined in, though he tried to play it off like he wasn’t enjoying himself.
As the night stretched on, the drinks kept flowing, and the pub felt like their own little world—one where time didn’t matter, and all that existed was this moment, their laughter, and the warmth of being together.
It was well past midnight when they finally started to wind down, some settling back at the table while others remained on the dance floor. Evelyn rested her head against Harry’s shoulder, a little tipsy but mostly just happy.
“This is nice,” she murmured.
Harry pressed a kiss to her hair. “Yeah. It really is.”
From across the room, Pansy caught Evelyn’s gaze and lifted her glass in a silent toast. Evelyn grinned, raising hers in return.
______________
September 1st arrived quicker than Evelyn expected, and before she knew it, she was standing at the gates of Hogwarts once more—this time, not as a student, but as a professor.
The realization still hadn’t entirely sunk in. She had spent years walking these corridors, sitting in those classrooms, and now she’d be on the other side of it all. Teaching. Guiding students the way others had guided her.
She took a deep breath as she stepped through the grand entrance and into the castle, the familiar scent of parchment, candle wax, and something distinctly Hogwarts filling her lungs.
“Bit different being back, isn’t it?”
Evelyn turned to find Neville grinning at her, his hands tucked into the pockets of his new professor’s robes.
“A lot different,” she admitted, exhaling a laugh. “How are you feeling about it?”
Neville chuckled. “Excited, mostly. Sprout’s left a lot of notes, but I think I’ll manage. What about you? Ready to terrorize students with Defense lessons?”
Evelyn smirked. “Absolutely.”
They both laughed as they made their way down the corridor toward the Great Hall, where the rest of the staff was gathered before the feast.
Inside, the long staff table stretched across the front of the hall, and familiar faces greeted them as they entered. McGonagall stood at the center, speaking with Flitwick and Hagrid, while Snape sat further down, deep in conversation with Draco.
Draco glanced up as they approached, giving them a slow once-over before smirking. “Well, well. Professor Potter and Professor Longbottom. What a sight.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in her expression. “And what do we call you? Professor Malfoy? Assistant Malfoy?”
Neville snickered. “Snape’s shadow?”
Draco scowled. “I will poison you both.”
“Not on the first day, surely,” Evelyn teased.
McGonagall cleared her throat, drawing their attention. “If the three of you are done bickering like students, perhaps you’d like to take your seats.”
They quickly obeyed, slipping into their places at the table as the first students began filtering into the hall. The Sorting was about to begin.
As the ceremony unfolded, Evelyn couldn’t help but glance out at the sea of young faces, some eager, some nervous, all waiting to be sorted into their respective houses. It was strange to be on this side of things, but… it felt right.
And as the Sorting ended and the feast began, she knew one thing for certain—she was ready for this.
Evelyn’s first week as Professor Potter was a whirlwind of activity, excitement, and the occasional chaos that came with teaching teenagers how to defend themselves.
Her first lesson with the first-years set the tone for the week. They were wide-eyed and eager, hanging onto her every word as she introduced the basics of spell-casting and self-defense. A few students whispered excitedly when they realized she was married to Harry Potter, but she quickly established that she wasn’t here for gossip—she was here to teach.
The older years were more of a challenge, but in the best way. The seventh-years were sharp and skilled, testing her dueling techniques with impressive precision. The sixth-years, including some particularly bold Gryffindors, seemed determined to push boundaries, but she kept them in line with a sharp wit and an even sharper wand.
By midweek, she had fallen into a routine—early mornings in the Great Hall with Neville and Draco (who still insisted he wasn’t a professor, just helping Snape), long hours in the classroom, and evenings spent grading essays in her office.
One evening, as she left the castle to walk back to her quarters, she ran into McGonagall near the staircase.
“How are you settling in, Professor Potter?” McGonagall asked, a rare smile on her lips.
Evelyn exhaled a small laugh. “It’s been a week, but I love it.”
McGonagall nodded approvingly. “You’re doing well. The students respect you, and the staff is impressed. I had no doubt you’d excel here.”
Evelyn felt warmth spread through her chest at the praise. Coming from McGonagall, it meant everything.
The rest of the week continued in much the same way—lessons, grading, occasional pranks from the students (which she suspected Fred and George had inspired before they left Hogwarts), and getting used to being called Professor Potter.
It was strange. New. But it was right.
Chapter 110: The Future Is Ours
Chapter Text
The months leading up to Christmas at Hogwarts were some of the busiest Evelyn had ever experienced. Teaching was everything she had hoped for—rewarding, exhausting, and occasionally chaotic—but she loved every moment of it.
By October, she had fully settled into her role as Professor Potter, and the students had stopped whispering about the fact that she was married to Harry Potter. Instead, they saw her as their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—strict but fair, with a sharp sense of humor and a talent for keeping even the most distracted students engaged.
The crisp autumn air brought a fresh energy to Hogwarts, and Evelyn found herself genuinely looking forward to her lessons each day. She enjoyed teaching all the years, but she found that she particularly liked working with the OWL and NEWT students, challenging them in ways they hadn’t expected.
The sixth-years had started practicing non-verbal spells, a task that left many students groaning in frustration. Evelyn had to bite back a smile when a particularly stubborn Gryffindor exclaimed, “How do you expect us to do this without saying anything?!”
Evelyn raised a brow. “With practice. And patience. And if I hear one more complaint, you’ll all be writing an essay on the history of non-verbal dueling.”
That shut them up quickly.
Meanwhile, the seventh-years were diving into advanced dueling techniques, and Evelyn found herself genuinely impressed by their progress. She sparred with a few of them at the end of each lesson, offering pointers on footwork, spell combinations, and defensive tactics.
One afternoon, after an intense duel with a Ravenclaw student, she turned to see Draco watching from the doorway, arms crossed.
“You’re enjoying yourself,” he observed.
Evelyn grinned, breathing slightly harder from the match. “I really am.”
He huffed a small laugh. “At least one of us is.”
Draco, despite his protests, had technically become an assistant professor under Snape’s reluctant guidance. Though he insisted he wasn’t a real professor, Evelyn caught him correcting students in the corridors more often than not.
As November crept in and the first snowfall dusted the castle grounds, Hogwarts grew colder, but Evelyn’s classroom remained as lively as ever.
The younger years were growing more confident in their spellwork, though that confidence occasionally led to disaster. A particularly memorable day involved a second-year attempting a Shield Charm, only for it to rebound and knock over half the classroom’s desks.
Evelyn sighed, helping the students pick up their things. “And that is why we practice before we attempt a full-power cast.”
Meanwhile, the Weasley twins’ legacy was still very much alive in Hogwarts. Despite being out of school, they had left a lasting impression, and their influence was obvious in the frequent pranks pulled by students.
One morning, Evelyn walked into her classroom only to find that someone had enchanted all the chairs to float just out of reach.
She turned, unimpressed, to the group of fourth-years snickering in the back.
“You have ten seconds to fix this,” she said, crossing her arms.
The chairs hit the ground immediately.
Outside of teaching, Evelyn found herself growing even closer with her fellow staff members. She spent a lot of time in the greenhouses with Neville, who was thriving as the new Herbology professor. Draco, despite his initial reluctance, had settled into his role as Snape’s assistant surprisingly well.
Evenings were spent in her office, grading essays with a cup of tea, occasionally writing letters to Harry about her day. He was still taking time off before deciding what to do next, but he always made a point to visit her at Hogwarts when he could.
By December, Hogwarts had transformed into a winter wonderland. The Great Hall was decorated with twinkling lights, garlands of ivy, and the massive Christmas trees that Hagrid had brought in. Snow fell outside in thick, heavy flakes, covering the castle grounds in white.
The students were growing restless, excitement building as the holidays approached. Even Evelyn could feel the anticipation in the air.
She spent her last few lessons before the break letting the younger students practice fun defensive spells—like repelling enchanted snowballs that zoomed through the air. The older years, however, were not so lucky.
“I know you all have been counting down the days until break,” Evelyn told her seventh-years as they groaned at the sight of a practice exam on their desks. “But if you think I’m letting you go into the holidays without reviewing your coursework, you’re mistaken.”
That earned her a collective sigh from the students.
Hogwarts always had a magical energy around Christmas, and Evelyn loved every second of it. She had decided to spend Christmas at home with Harry this year, but she made sure to take part in all the usual Hogwarts traditions before the break—drinking hot chocolate in the Great Hall, watching the students try (and fail) to ice skate on the Black Lake, and even helping McGonagall supervise the decorating of the Christmas trees.
By the time the term officially ended and the students left for the break, Evelyn was more than ready to go home and spend the holidays with Harry.
Teaching at Hogwarts had been everything she had hoped for—and as she walked through the castle one last time before leaving for Christmas, she knew she had made the right choice.
________________
Christmas at Godric’s Hollow had quickly become one of Evelyn and Harry’s favorite traditions. Their home—warm, inviting, and always filled with laughter—was the perfect place to host everyone, and this year was no exception.
On Christmas Eve, the house was already bustling with energy as friends and family arrived throughout the day. The scent of cinnamon, pine, and freshly baked biscuits filled the air as Hermione and Molly Weasley took over the kitchen, insisting on preparing far too much food.
Pansy, Daphne, and Ginny sat in the living room, sipping mulled wine as they exchanged gifts early, while Ron, Theo, and Draco attempted to set up an enchanted Christmas tree—attempted being the key word.
“Ron, if you put that star on top one more time and it falls off, I’m hexing you,” Draco muttered, rubbing his temples.
“I’m doing my best, Malfoy,” Ron grumbled, climbing onto the sofa to try again.
From across the room, Harry and Fred were watching, completely entertained, as the enchanted ornaments floated midair, waiting to be placed.
“You could help,” Theo pointed out.
Harry just grinned. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Evelyn stood beside him, shaking her head in amusement. “Honestly, I don’t know how you lot survived Hogwarts without setting the castle on fire.”
Christmas morning arrived with fresh snowfall covering the grounds, and for the first time in ages, there was no rush to get up early. The house was filled with the sleepy warmth of lazy holiday mornings—the smell of coffee and pastries, the crackling of the fireplace, and the soft hum of conversation.
Evelyn woke up wrapped in Harry’s arms, the warmth of their duvet keeping them perfectly comfortable against the cold outside.
“Merry Christmas,” Harry mumbled against her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“Merry Christmas,” she murmured back, still half-asleep.
They spent a few moments just enjoying the quiet before the inevitable chaos of the day began. When they finally made it downstairs, they found everyone already gathered in the living room, presents stacked under the tree.
Laughter echoed as gifts were exchanged—Hermione gifted Ron a book on How to Impress Your Fiancée in 10 Simple Steps (which Pansy immediately stole), Ginny and Luna surprised Draco with a terribly bright Weasley jumper, and George gifted Theo a joke wand that turned into a rubber chicken when used.
“Very mature, Weasley,” Theo deadpanned, but he was smiling.
Harry and Evelyn exchanged gifts in their own quiet moment—Harry had gifted her a delicate silver bracelet engraved with their initials and a tiny lightning bolt charm, while Evelyn had given him a first-edition Quidditch Through the Ages and a handwritten letter that made him tear up.
By late afternoon, everyone had settled into comfortable conversations while Molly, Hermione, and Dobby prepared an incredible feast. The dining table was covered in platters of roast beef, turkey, Yorkshire puddings, roasted vegetables, and everything else one could dream of.
“Merlin, I love Christmas,” Ron sighed, already piling his plate.
“You love food, Weasley,” Draco corrected, sipping his wine.
“Same thing,” Ron shot back.
The evening continued with music, drinks, and games. Fred and George insisted on a round of Wizarding Charades, which resulted in Theo dramatically pretending to be a Dementor (and failing miserably), while Luna and Neville won every round of Exploding Snap.
By the time midnight rolled around, everyone was either curled up by the fire or still engaged in late-night conversations. Harry and Evelyn sat together on the sofa, watching their friends and family with content smiles.
“Best Christmas yet?” Harry asked, his arm around her.
Evelyn leaned into him, lacing their fingers together. “Definitely.”
With that, they clinked their glasses of butterbeer together, soaking in the warmth and love that filled their home—because this, this was everything they had ever wanted.
_________________
The return to Hogwarts after Christmas was a familiar rush of cold air, swirling snow, and the warm glow of the castle welcoming students and staff back from the holidays. Evelyn settled back into her role as Professor Potter with ease, slipping into the routines of lesson planning, grading essays, and ensuring her students were actually practicing their defensive spells rather than using them to hex each other in secret.
It was strange, in a way, to think this was her life now—teaching at Hogwarts, sharing the staff table with old professors like McGonagall and Flitwick, and watching students navigate their own friendships and rivalries. But she loved it.
Neville had fully embraced his role as Herbology professor, his enthusiasm infectious as he spoke about rare magical plants. Draco, though technically still an assistant to Snape, often ended up in the greenhouses with Neville or sitting in on Evelyn’s lessons—something she liked to tease him about.
“Thinking of switching to Defense, Malfoy?” she asked one afternoon when she caught him lingering in the back of her class.
Draco scoffed. “Absolutely not. I just prefer watching you struggle to keep those Gryffindor third-years from setting each other on fire.”
She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t argue—some of her students were absolute menaces.
Between lessons, Evelyn found herself deeply involved in helping Pansy plan her wedding to Ron.
“It needs to be perfect, Evie,” Pansy insisted one evening as they sat in a quiet corner of Hogsmeade’s Three Broomsticks, parchment and quills spread out across their table. “A Christmas wedding means we have to think winter wonderland but elegant, not tacky snowflakes everywhere.”
Daphne, sitting across from them, sipped her wine. “So no giant ice sculptures of you and Ron?”
Pansy shot her a glare. “Absolutely not.”
Evelyn grinned. “Alright, so what are we thinking for colors?”
Pansy tapped her quill against her chin. “Deep reds and golds. Maybe with touches of emerald green—got to keep some Slytherin representation.”
“Speaking of,” Daphne smirked. “Have you told Ron he’s wearing green?”
Pansy waved a dismissive hand. “He’ll survive.”
Evelyn and Daphne exchanged amused glances.
From choosing a venue (they settled on an enchanted ballroom that transformed into a winter wonderland) to selecting flowers and cake flavors, Evelyn helped Pansy navigate every decision, knowing how much it meant to her.
Between teaching and wedding planning, the months flew by, and before Evelyn knew it, summer was right around the corner.
The moment the Hogwarts Express pulled away from the station for the last time that school year, Evelyn felt the weight of responsibility slip off her shoulders. She loved teaching—really, she did—but there was something undeniably freeing about stepping into the summer holidays with nothing but warm weather, long days, and endless possibilities ahead of her.
She and Harry had decided to spend the summer doing absolutely anything they wanted. No grand plans, no strict itinerary—just the two of them, enjoying life as a newly married couple.
Most mornings, they woke up late, tangled in sheets with the sun streaming through the windows of their cozy home in Godric’s Hollow. The cottage was slowly becoming theirs—small touches of both of them everywhere. Evelyn’s ever-growing collection of books filled the sitting room shelves, while Harry had turned one of the spare rooms into a space for flying gear and Quidditch memorabilia.
They spent their mornings lazily, often making breakfast together—Harry frying bacon while Evelyn brewed coffee, dancing around the kitchen as an old enchanted radio played soft music. Some days, they’d stay in their pajamas for hours, stretched across the couch reading, or sitting on their porch with cups of tea, watching the world go by.
Evenings were their favorite time. The summer air was warm, the sky often painted in hues of pink and orange. They’d take long walks through the village, hand in hand, stopping at the small local pub where they’d become regulars over the past year. The bartender, an elderly wizard named Alistair, always had something new to tell them—whether it was gossip about the villagers or a wild story from his youth.
On nights they stayed in, they’d sit by the fireplace, playing wizard’s chess (Harry was shockingly bad at it) or just talking for hours about everything and nothing at all.
Despite their love for slow, quiet days, they also had an undeniable itch for adventure.
One morning, they decided—on a complete whim—to take a trip to France. With a quick trip to the Leaky Cauldron and a bit of Floo Powder, they found themselves strolling through the cobbled streets of magical Paris, drinking butterbeer at a charming little café near the Seine. They visited wizarding museums, explored spell shops tucked away in hidden alleys, and even attended a Quidditch match between the French and German national teams.
Another day, they took a Portkey to the Scottish Highlands, where they went hiking along misty trails, Evelyn insisting on bringing a picnic. They found a secluded spot overlooking a vast, glittering lake, where they sat for hours, just talking and laughing.
And then there was the impromptu weekend trip to the coast. They rented a tiny cottage near the sea, where they spent days lounging on the beach, collecting seashells, and swimming in the cool, clear water. At night, they lit bonfires in the sand, wrapped in blankets as they listened to the waves crashing against the shore.
Of course, summer wasn’t just about the two of them. Their friends were scattered across the country, but they all made an effort to see each other often.
Dinner at the Weasleys’ became a regular thing, with Molly insisting they come over at least once a week. She fussed over them endlessly, making sure they were eating enough (despite Evelyn reassuring her that Harry wasn’t living off of toast and tea).
Fred and George’s business was thriving, and
they often dragged Harry and Evelyn into testing new joke products (some of which ended in mild explosions). Blaise, now fully moved in with Fred, had even taken to helping out with the business.
Whenever Pansy wasn’t busy working, she and Evelyn were knee-deep in wedding planning. The excitement for the upcoming Christmas wedding was building, and each new detail made it feel more real.
And Draco, ever the reserved one, preferred hosting small get-togethers at his townhouse in London. He, Theo, and Daphne often invited them over for dinner and wine nights, which usually ended in deep conversations about life, the future, and sometimes, ridiculous debates over the best magical creatures.
More than anything, the summer was theirs. A time to just be. No war, no looming responsibilities—just them, in love and happy.
One evening, as they lay on a blanket in their garden, staring up at the stars, Harry turned to her and smiled.
“This is the happiest I’ve ever been,” he admitted softly.
Evelyn reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers. “Me too.”
And in that moment, with the warm night air around them and the sound of crickets in the distance, everything felt perfect.
____________________
As their first wedding anniversary approached, Evelyn had been feeling… off. It wasn’t anything obvious at first—just a little more tired than usual, a little more sensitive to smells. But after she caught herself tearing up twice over a particularly sappy passage in a book, she knew something was up.
A quick trip to St. Mungo’s confirmed it—she was pregnant.
She’d sat in the healer’s office, hands pressed to her stomach, trying to process it. A baby. Their baby.
She was excited, of course. She and Harry had always talked about having a family someday, but now that someday was suddenly right now, she couldn’t help but feel nervous. Would they be ready? Were they too young? Would she be a good mother?
By the time she got home, though, her nerves had settled enough for a new feeling to take over—joy. She and Harry had built such a beautiful life together, and this was just another incredible chapter.
And what better way to tell him than on their anniversary?
Evelyn spent the next few days putting together a small gift basket—one that looked just like a sweet anniversary present on the surface. She filled it with things she knew Harry would love:
• A new Quidditch jersey (his old one was getting worn out).
• A handwritten letter about their first year of marriage.
• A little box of Honeydukes chocolates.
• A tiny, white baby onesie that read Mischief Managed in elegant script.
• A pair of small, knitted baby booties in Gryffindor red and gold.
• A baby book titled The Young Witch or Wizard’s Guide to Adventure.
Once it was ready, she wrapped the whole thing up in tissue paper, trying to contain her excitement (and nerves).
Harry, as expected, had been adorably sentimental all day. He took her out for a late breakfast at their favorite café, then surprised her with an afternoon picnic in a secluded field just outside of town. When they got home, he’d cooked dinner himself—and managed not to set anything on fire.
Now, curled up together on the couch with glasses of wine, they exchanged gifts. Harry had gotten her a beautiful necklace—an elegant silver chain with a small charm of the night sky, enchanted to shimmer softly.
“You spoil me,” she murmured, leaning in for a kiss.
Harry grinned. “That’s my job.”
“Good, because I have something for you too.”
She handed him the basket, heart pounding as he pulled back the tissue paper.
At first, he smiled as he pulled out the chocolates and the jersey. “This is perfect,” he said, setting them aside before reaching for the letter. She watched as he read it, his expression softening.
And then—he reached for the little onesie.
For a moment, he just stared at it. His fingers brushed over the tiny fabric, tracing the words Mischief Managed. Slowly, his gaze shifted to the baby booties, then the book.
He looked up at her, eyes wide. “Evelyn…”
She bit her lip, suddenly nervous. “I’m pregnant.”
For a second, Harry didn’t move. Then, before she could say anything else, he was on her—arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly.
“We’re having a baby?” he asked, voice thick with emotion.
She nodded against his shoulder. “We are.”
Harry pulled back just enough to look at her, his green eyes shining. “Bloody hell.” He let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair before cupping her face. “We’re having a baby.”
His voice was filled with so much wonder that she had to laugh. “Yeah.”
Harry shook his head, still grinning. “Merlin, Evelyn. I—we—” He pulled her into another hug, holding her as if he never wanted to let go.
After a long moment, he leaned back, his hands resting on her stomach. “Are you okay? Do you feel alright?”
“A little more tired than usual, but other than that, I feel fine.”
He nodded, still looking a little stunned. “I just—I can’t believe it.” His voice was quieter now, full of something deeper. “We’re going to be parents.”
Evelyn reached for his hand, squeezing it. “I know it’s a little sooner than we planned, but—”
Harry shook his head. “No, love. This is perfect.” He kissed her softly. “Terrifying, yes. But perfect.”
She exhaled, relief flooding her. “You’re nervous too?”
“Absolutely.” He chuckled. “But I want this. I want our family.”
Evelyn smiled, placing her hand over his. “Me too.”
And as they sat there, wrapped up in each other, the weight of their new reality settled in. They were nervous. They were unsure. But most of all, they were so incredibly happy.
The weeks following their anniversary had been a whirlwind of emotions. Between private moments of excitement, nervous discussions about the future, and Evelyn dealing with the joy of morning sickness, the reality of their pregnancy was settling in.
They’d agreed to keep it to themselves at first—just for a little while. But as the days passed, it became harder and harder to hide. Evelyn’s robes were already starting to feel snug, and Harry had caught himself absentmindedly resting his hand on her stomach more times than he could count.
Now, with only a week left before Evelyn returned to Hogwarts for the new term, they decided it was finally time to tell their friends.
Ron and Pansy had invited everyone over for a late-summer dinner at the Burrow—one last gathering before they all went back to their routines. The long dining table in the garden was packed with their closest friends.
The evening was warm and buzzing with conversation. Plates were piled with Molly’s incredible cooking, and laughter rang through the air as George and Theo retold an old Hogwarts story that involved Filch, a vanishing cabinet, and a very confused Mrs. Norris.
Evelyn glanced at Harry, who gave her a small nod. Now’s the time.
She cleared her throat, setting down her fork. “So… we actually have some news.”
The conversation around them stilled.
Harry grinned, reaching for Evelyn’s hand under the table. “A big bit of news, actually.”
Pansy leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Are you moving?”
“No,” Evelyn said, smiling.
Hermione’s eyes flicked between them, and then—suddenly—her jaw dropped. “Oh. Oh!” She clapped a hand over her mouth.
Ron looked confused. “What? What is it?”
Evelyn couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I’m pregnant.”
For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then—
“WHAT?!” Pansy practically shrieked, jumping out of her seat.
Hermione’s hands flew to her face as she gasped, while Daphne let out a soft, delighted squeal.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Ron looked between them, stunned. “You—pregnant?”
Harry grinned, squeezing Evelyn’s hand. “Yeah, mate. We’re having a baby.”
The table erupted.
Pansy bolted around to Evelyn’s side, pulling her into a tight hug. “Oh my Merlin, you’re going to be a mum.”
Theo smirked at Harry. “You wasted no time, did you?”
Draco elbowed him, but even he looked mildly impressed. “Congratulations, Potter.”
Blaise laughed, shaking his head. “Damn. Never thought I’d live to see this day.”
Fred grinned at Harry. “So, what’s it like, mate? Having the most terrifying yet exciting thing in the world happen all at once?”
Harry let out a breathless laugh. “Honestly? It’s surreal. But we’re really happy.”
Molly, who had been standing nearby, wiped her eyes and immediately launched into a flurry of motherly questions—How far along? Have you been eating properly? Do you need anything?
Ron finally seemed to process it and grinned, reaching over to clap Harry on the back. “Bloody hell. You’re going to be somebody’s dad.”
“That’s the idea.” Harry smirked.
Hermione was still dabbing at her eyes. “This is wonderful. You two will be amazing parents.”
Evelyn smiled, feeling an overwhelming warmth settle over her. They were all just as excited—and stunned—as she and Harry had been.
Daphne tilted her head. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?”
“Not yet,” Evelyn said. “It’s still early.”
“Well, regardless,” Theo grinned, “that kid is going to have the coolest godparents.”
Harry chuckled. “About that… we have been thinking about who we want for godparents.”
The table hushed again, everyone watching them expectantly.
Evelyn turned to Pansy. “We’d love for you to be the baby’s godmother.”
Pansy gasped, her eyes instantly welling with tears. “Me?!”
Evelyn nodded. “Of course. You’re my best friend, and I know you’ll always be there for our baby.”
Pansy clutched at her heart dramatically. “I’m going to cry.”
“And,” Harry continued, turning to Ron, “there was never really any question about the godfather.”
Ron blinked. “Wait. Me?”
“Of course you, mate,” Harry said. “You’re my brother.”
Ron stared at him for a second before breaking into a huge grin. “Well, hell yes!”
The night carried on in celebration. Hermione made a toast, Daphne started asking about nursery themes, and Theo swore to teach their kid all the best pranks.
As the laughter and excitement swirled around them, Evelyn leaned into Harry, heart full.
This baby was already so loved.
It was the beginning of December, and the air had turned crisp and frosty, with twinkling lights adorning every building. Pansy and Ron’s wedding day had finally arrived, and it was set to be one of the most beautiful, wintery celebrations anyone could remember. The entire gang was buzzing with excitement as they prepared for the event that would officially unite two of their closest friends.
Evelyn, at four months pregnant, had been keeping busy with her teaching duties, but she’d made sure to take extra care of herself as the wedding approached. Her baby bump was starting to show, and though she still felt a little nervous about the journey ahead, she was excited for Pansy and Ron. They had both been through so much, and seeing them so happy together made Evelyn feel hopeful for the future.
The ceremony was being held in a grand church on the outskirts of London, decorated with ivy, twinkling lights, and winter greenery. Pansy had worked with her wedding planner to create a dream-like setting that felt like a snow-covered wonderland.
Evelyn was standing with the other bridesmaids in the bridal suite, carefully adjusting her dress and making sure she was comfortable. Her gown was a deep burgundy, elegant yet simple, and it complemented the winter theme of the wedding perfectly. The other bridesmaids—Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Daphne—were dressed in similar gowns, each in a different, rich color that matched the winter palette. Hermione’s dress was a deep emerald, Ginny’s a rich ruby, Luna’s was a soft lavender, and Daphne wore midnight blue.
Evelyn’s baby bump was now more prominent, and she wore her dress with grace, though she had to adjust it occasionally for comfort. She and Pansy had spent hours picking out dresses that would flatter everyone, even those who were expecting. The fit of Evelyn’s gown was perfect, making her feel elegant despite the small amount of anxiety she still felt about being pregnant.
“You look gorgeous, Ev,” Ginny said, turning to Evelyn with a smile. “I can’t believe you’re four months along already.”
Evelyn smiled, rubbing her stomach. “Time’s flying by. I can’t believe how fast it’s going. But I’m still not sure how I’m going to fit into any dress by the end of the pregnancy.”
“Trust me,” Pansy said, looking at Evelyn through the mirror, “you’ll glow no matter what.“
Finally, the moment came. The wedding procession began, and the music played softly through the hall as the guests rose to their feet. The groomsmen and bridesmaids walked down the aisle in pairs—Evelyn and Blaise, Hermione and Viktor, Luna and Draco, Daphne and Theo, and Ginny and Fred.
The guests, including the entire gang, stood in awe as they took in the beautiful winter setting, and the sight of Pansy—absolutely radiant in her snow-white gown—was enough to make everyone’s breath catch. She walked down the aisle with a serene smile, eyes locked on Ron, who was already at the front, his face full of love and excitement.
Evelyn watched them exchange glances, feeling a warm surge of happiness. She knew Ron and Pansy were meant to be, and seeing them finally tie the knot made it all feel right.
McGonagall officiated the ceremony in her usual composed manner, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house as Ron and Pansy exchanged vows. Their words were full of sincerity, love, and everything they had been through as a couple.
Evelyn watched the vows, and her heart swelled. It was hard not to think about her own wedding to Harry. In fact, it still felt surreal at times.
After they were pronounced husband and wife, the entire room erupted in cheers. Ron and Pansy shared a passionate kiss that had everyone applauding and whistling.
The reception that followed was held at an exclusive venue, where the guests moved into a grand ballroom adorned with sparkling lights and white floral arrangements. The tables were draped in soft silks, and everything looked as if it had been pulled from a fairy tale.
Evelyn couldn’t help but feel like she was in a dream as she watched Pansy and Ron share their first dance, the couple spinning around the dance floor, clearly lost in the moment.
The evening was full of laughter, joyful speeches (including one from Draco that had everyone cracking up), and delicious food. As the night continued, Hermione found herself dancing with Viktor, Ginny and Fred shared a tender moment, and Harry and Evelyn danced close together, sharing a few quiet words about how far they’d come.
Evelyn’s pregnancy wasn’t slowing her down, and she found herself laughing with friends, sharing stories from their time at Hogwarts, and soaking in every detail of the magical evening.
Later in the night, Ron and Pansy announced their departure for their honeymoon, but not before giving a heartfelt thank you to their friends and family for supporting them.
As the party began to wind down, Harry took Evelyn’s hand, a content smile on his face.
“This was perfect,” Evelyn whispered. “Pansy and Ron deserve this.”
Harry nodded. “They really do.”
As they made their way out of the ballroom, Harry kissed Evelyn’s cheek gently. “And I can’t wait for our own little one to be here to celebrate this with us.”
Evelyn smiled, her heart full. The future is ours, Harry.
Chapter 111: Epilogue
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Five years had passed since Evelyn and Harry’s wedding, and life had settled into something beautiful—something neither of them had ever imagined for themselves. Their home in Godric’s Hollow was always filled with warmth, laughter, and the occasional bit of magical chaos, thanks to their two children.
Lillian Pansy Potter, at four and a half, was an unstoppable force of curiosity, mischief, and endless energy. She had inherited Harry’s wild dark hair and Evelyn’s sharp wit, already proving to be a handful. Adam Sirius Potter, just two years old, was the calmer of the two, but only just. He was an affectionate little boy, forever clinging to Evelyn or Harry and already showing signs of being a miniature troublemaker in the making.
Evelyn was still teaching at Hogwarts as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. She loved her job, but every year when summer came around, she was grateful for the break to spend uninterrupted time with her family. Harry, on the other hand, had found his calling as an inventor. He had been working with Fred and George for years, developing new products for their joke shop, but his talents went far beyond prank items. He had come up with several magical devices that had started gaining traction in the wizarding world, allowing him to work from home while still being involved in his kids’ lives.
Fred and Blaise had surprised everyone when they not only got married but also adopted a little boy together—Isaac Zabini-Weasley. The four-year-old had all of Blaise’s cool confidence and a mischievous streak that screamed ‘Weasley.’ They still lived above the joke shop, where Fred worked full-time, but Blaise had branched out into other business ventures. George, meanwhile, had moved into his own place but remained closely involved with the shop, and his relationship with his longtime girlfriend — Abby — seemed to be going strong.
Pansy and Ron’s relationship had only grown stronger over the years. They now had a daughter, Aurora Margaret Weasley, who had inherited Pansy’s sharp features but had Ron’s red hair. Pansy was a force in the fashion world, designing for some of the most famous witches and wizards, while Ron had found his place as a healer at St. Mungo’s. He still played Quidditch in his spare time, often roping Harry and Draco into matches when they all had a free weekend.
Hermione and Viktor had been together for about four years now, living together and thriving in their respective careers. Hermione had climbed the ranks at Puddlemere United, now holding a high-ranking management position, while Viktor remained their star player. She traveled to all his matches, and their relationship had become one of the most stable among their friends.
Daphne and Draco, still the pragmatic pair, had decided to move in together—not out of romance, but to save money. Their friendship remained strong, and despite their single statuses, they were happy with their arrangement. Draco had finally achieved his goal of becoming a Potions Master, taking over after Snape had retired. Hogwarts had become something of a family business for them, with Evelyn, Draco, and Neville all teaching there.
Theo and Luna had just returned from their second trip around the world, this time with their three-and-a-half-year-old son, Maximus Nott. They were engaged but had no immediate plans to marry, instead focusing on their little family and the adventures they continued to go on. They were in no rush—happiness was their priority, and they had it in abundance.
Neville and Ginny had finally tied the knot and were currently trying for their first child. They lived together in London, balancing their demanding careers—Neville as Hogwarts’ Herbology professor and Ginny as a professional Quidditch player for the Holyhead Harpies. Despite their busy schedules, they were always present for their friends and made time for family gatherings.
Evan had returned from Australia, though not under the happiest circumstances. His mother had lived for three extra years thanks to Australia’s advanced magical healthcare, but she had passed away in the end. However, Evan had met someone while he was there, and he had brought his girlfriend — Jessie — back to England with him. Though he had been gone for years, his return felt seamless, like he had never left.
Sirius and Remus still lived in Grimmauld Place, often visiting their ‘adopted’ family in Godric’s Hollow. Narcissa had found a quiet life in the countryside, enjoying her independence. Tonks, meanwhile, had married a Muggle and now had a little boy named Teddy, who was quickly becoming one of Lillian and Adam’s favorite playmates.
______________
The evening stretched on in the garden of Godric’s Hollow, golden light filtering through the trees as the sun dipped below the horizon. The warm air buzzed with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of childish giggles as the next generation of their misfit family ran wild through the yard.
A long wooden table, slightly mismatched in places, had been set up in the garden, strung with floating lanterns that cast a soft glow over the gathering. Plates were piled high with food—grilled meats, fresh bread, and an array of side dishes that Hermione had insisted on preparing. Wine and butterbeer were passed around as everyone settled into their seats, letting the hum of conversation wash over them.
Lillian had climbed into Theo’s lap, chattering excitedly about how she was going to go to Hogwarts one day and be just like her mum.
“Are you sure you don’t want to be a world traveler instead?” Theo teased, ruffling her already-messy dark hair. “I could use an apprentice.”
Lillian’s green eyes sparkled with excitement as she considered it. “Maybe after Hogwarts!”
“That’s my girl,” Evelyn said with a smirk, sipping her wine.
Across the table, Blaise leaned back in his chair, watching as Fred pretended to be a dragon, roaring dramatically as Isaac, Aurora, and Adam ran in circles around him. Ginny shook her head fondly, nudging Daphne.
“I still can’t believe Blaise Zabini ended up married to Fred Weasley,” she said with a grin.
Daphne smirked. “And a father, no less.”
Blaise shot them both an unimpressed look. “Yes, hilarious. Keep laughing. Meanwhile, I’m the one who wakes up to Isaac jumping on me at six in the morning.”
Fred reappeared at the table, flushed from playing with the kids but grinning. “And you love it,” he said, dropping a kiss to the top of Blaise’s head before collapsing into the seat beside him. “Admit it, Zabini, you’re living your dream life.”
Blaise rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.
On the other side of the table, Pansy was perched on Ron’s lap, despite there being plenty of available chairs. Her wine glass dangled lazily from her fingers as she listened to Luna tell a ridiculous story about their latest adventure.
“So there we were,” Luna said, eyes wide with excitement. “In the middle of the Australian outback, and Theo forgets to cast a cooling charm, so he nearly passes out from heat exhaustion.”
“You should’ve seen him,” Max piped up proudly from where he sat between them, swinging his little legs under the table. “Mum had to throw a whole bucket of water on his head.”
“I maintain that I was perfectly fine,” Theo said indignantly.
“He turned the color of a tomato,” Luna added, smirking.
Laughter rang through the table as Theo huffed.
Nearby, Draco and Neville were deep in discussion about something vaguely academic, while Hermione and Viktor sat close together, their hands intertwined beneath the table. Hermione, ever the responsible one, had brought a list of Hogwarts-related matters to discuss with Evelyn, but at Harry’s insistence, she had abandoned it in favor of enjoying the night.
Sirius and Remus sat a little ways off, talking quietly and watching the younger generation with fond expressions.
“You ever think we’d get here?” Remus asked, swirling his drink in his glass.
Sirius smirked. “What, surrounded by kids, an absurd number of Weasleys, and more Slytherins than I ever thought I’d associate with?” He paused, glancing toward Evelyn, who was laughing at something Harry had said. “Nah. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
As the night wore on, the conversations shifted into nostalgia—stories of their Hogwarts years, the chaos they had all survived, and the moments that had shaped them. Evelyn found herself wrapped in Harry’s arms, her head resting against his chest as they listened to Pansy dramatically recount an old memory from their school days.
“You know,” Harry murmured in her ear, “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been.”
Evelyn smiled, tilting her head up to look at him. “Me too.”
Lillian, now half-asleep in Theo’s arms, yawned and mumbled, “Best family ever.”
And as Evelyn looked around at the mismatched, wonderful group of people she had somehow found herself belonging to, she realized that their little girl was absolutely right.
Notes:
i would first of all like to say thank you to everyone who has been reading these updates as i post them and secondly, i really hope you guys have enjoyed evelyn’s story as much as i have.
i’m really upset to say, however, that evelyn’s story has now come to an end. i do absolutely love these characters so i might go back and re-visit them at some point — possibly an alternate ending.but thank you all for the love and support on this story! ❤️
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