( 𝔳𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔦𝔦, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝖔𝖓𝖊 ) — order of the phoenix

It had been two and a half weeks since the end of term.

In that time, Evangeline's daily routine consisted of only two things: visiting wizarding villages, and drinking copious amounts of elf-made wine in the comfort of her living quarters.

There was no surprise to anybody that she was still as lonely as she had been a year ago. Despite her individual reputation improving, the dark cloud that was her surname was still looming, raining brutal raindrops on potential friendships now more than ever. Be it Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, she was met with side-eyes and whispers everywhere she went.

So, she decided to switch it up a bit. Instead of going out for the day, she was planning to refuge under a cherry-blossom tree near the Black Lake. It's pink petals would have been admirable at any other point in her life, but now they just brought back bad memories. A willow tree on the other side of the bank would have to do.

The brunette sat down on a small cushion she had brought with her, leaning against the rough tree trunk. Nyx lolled on the ground beside her in a patch of dandelions, whilst Pinky, Dobby, and Winky — who were now as thick as thieves — paddled in the warm waters.

There was a book by her side which she should've been reading; not for entertainment, but as a distraction from her drinking and delusions. Unfortunately for her, wizarding literature was about as interesting as watching paint dry, and she had sworn to never pick up another Muggle book for as long as she lived.

''❛The Fountain of Fair Fortune❜. I must say, Miss Rosier, I didn't expect you to be a fan of fairy tales.''

''Good afternoon, Dumbledore,'' she clipped. ''What types of books did you think I was a fan of? Grindelwald's autobiography, perhaps?''

''I was thinking something more along the lines of Bellatrix Lestrange's poetry, but he will do,'' the headmaster chuckled good-naturedly. ''How are you on this fine summer day, Evangeline?''

''Fantastic. This seat gives me a good view of where Cedric Diggory's dead body lied about a month ago.''

''I appreciate that you are not in the highest of spirits, but there are urgent matters that I must discuss with you. Believe me, I have no pleasure in disrupting your holiday.''

''It is not like I have friends or family to see, Dumbledore,'' she sighed, uncharacteristically slumping her shoulders. She really wasn't her usual self these days. ''I suppose if it is urgent, then there is no harm done.''

''Tell me, what do you know about the Order of the Phoenix?''

The Rosier girl racked her brains. ''Nothing.''

''In that case, let me explain it to you. It's a secret society founded by myself in the seventies, which opposed Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. I constructed it after Lord Voldemort returned to England from abroad during the First Wizarding War, when he started his campaign to take over the Ministry of Magic and persecute Muggle-borns.''

One thing was for certain: Evangeline had her reservations about Dumbledore. However, she couldn't deny that taking a stand against the Dark Side when so many had been too afraid to do so was something that should be respected.

''I see,'' she said slowly. ''At the risk of sounding rude, what has that got to do with me?''

''Well, myself, along with many others, believe you would be a fine fit to recruit as one of our newest members. You won't be tasked with any missions that could put you in immediate danger or in direct opposition with your past people — on the contrary, your responsibility will be to watch over Harry here at Hogwarts, and occasionally give us an insight to the way a prejudiced pure-blood's mind works.''

''As intrigued as I am, I highly doubt the other members would appreciate you initiating me, Dumbledore. I would not be surprised if the second I stepped foot into a meeting, I would be greeted with a hex.''

''Would you think I would risk the entire future of the Wizarding World by telling you this information, Evangeline, if I didn't trust you?'' He asked, receiving no response. She hated just how often he was right. ''Some of the members have their suspicions, yes, but that matters not. After all, you are no stranger to people's stares and sneers.''

''I suppose so,'' she reluctantly agreed, biting her lip in concentration. ''If it helps Harry, and prevents so-called sports such as Muggle-hunting illegal — which I do not doubt is high on the Death Eater's priority list — then I will do it.''

''Perfect,'' the elderly wizard hummed, his blue eyes twinkling with something she couldn't quite decipher. ''That being so, we can head over to the headquarters later this evening. All the members will be in attendance, so I'll be able to introduce you to everyone at once.''

''Today?''

''Tomorrow isn't promised to any of us.''

The grimy fronts of the houses that surrounded her were not welcoming in the slightest; some of them had broken windows, glimmering dully in the light from the street lamps, paint was peeling from many of the doors, and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of front steps.

''This is the headquarters?'' Evangeline asked, turning her nose up at something that scurried past her foot.

''Patience is a virtue,'' Dumbledore hummed, rummaging around in his cloak, before raising something similar to a silver cigarette lighter into the air and clicking it.

The nearest street lamp went out with a pop. He clicked the un-lighter again; the next lamp went out. He kept clicking until every lamp in the square was extinguished and the only light came from the sickle moon overhead.

''That'll take care of any of the Muggles looking out of their windows, see? Come on, now, quick.''

They crossed the road onto the pavement. The muffled pounding of a stereo was coming from an upper window in the nearest house. A pungent smell of rotting rubbish came from a pile of bulging bin-bags just inside the broken gate.

''Here,'' he whispered, thrusting a piece of parchment toward Evangeline's shaking hands, before lighting the tip of his wand to illuminate the writing. ''Read quickly and memorise.''

The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.

Dumbledore pulled the piece of parchment back and promptly set it on fire. As the message curled into flames and flickered to the ground, she concentrated on the mirror image in her mind.

A battered door emerged out of nowhere between numbers eleven and thirteen, followed swiftly by dirty walls and grimy windows. An extra house had inflated, pushing those on either side out of its way.

Evangeline hesitantly followed Dumbledore up the stone steps, staring at the serpent-shaped knocker. He tapped the shabby door with his wand once, before many metallic clicks and the clatter of a chain sounded, and the entrance creaked open.

''Get in, quick, Evangeline. Don't go far inside and don't touch anything.''

The pure-blood stepped over the threshold into the almost total darkness of the hallway. She could smell, damp, dust, and a sweetish, rotting smell; the place had a feeling of a derelict building. Dumbledore followed in behind her after restoring the street lamp's lights as they had been before, in order to avoid attracting any further attention.

There was a soft hissing noise as an arrangement of old-fashioned oil lamps spluttered to life all along the walls, casting a insubstantial glow over the fraying wallpaper and threadbare carpet of a long, gloomy hallway, where a cob-webbed chandelier glimmered above and age-blackened portraits hung crooked on the walls.

He led her into the kitchen, treading carefully throughout the house. It was scarcely less gloomy than the rest of the interior, a cavernous room with rough stone walls. Most of the light was coming from a large fire at the far end of the room. A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air like battle fumes, and many chairs had been crammed into the room and under a long wooden table for the meeting. The surface was littered with rolls of parchment, goblets, empty wine bottles, and a heap of water-logged rags.

''Dumbledore,'' the voice of Mad-Eye Moody grunted. ''What is this all-important matter that couldn't possibly wait?''

''Order members,'' he greeted. ''I have promised you all a young and fresh, yet wise and talented mind to join our ranks. Meet our newest member — Evangeline Rosier.''

Maybe it was weird to admit, but Remus smelt her before he saw her. It was the same scent that lingered in every inch of his house, following him around everywhere he went. A floral aroma, alive with notes of rose, peony, iris, and lily-of-the-valley.

As he stepped aside to reveal her form, the witch wanted nothing more to allow the ground to swallow her whole. Instead of letting it show, she kept her head held high, stepping further into the room.

Within seconds of hearing her last name, almost every Order member's gaze fell to her bare forearm. Her appearance didn't help, either: her chestnut locks were styled into an elegant up-do, along with an array of heirloom jewellery, tight corset, and black skirt.

She cracked a nervous smile at the curious faces before her. All it took was the upturn of her lips, and the room seemed to shine brighter than before.

''Evangeline, I trust you know Mad-Eye, Minerva, Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie, Sirius, Hagrid, Severus, and Remus?''

The witch nodded delicately, not trusting the sound of her own voice as she locked eyes with him. 

''I'd like for the rest of you to introduce yourselves, please.''

A black-haired witch was the first to speak, with hazel eyes and heart-shaped lips. ''Hestia Jones.''

Next, a tanned girl with dark cocoa-coloured curls stood. ''Emmeline Vance.''

''Dedalus Diggle.''

''Elphias Doge.''

''Sturgis Podmore.''

''Mundungus Fletcher.''

''Kingsley Shacklebolt.''

''Arabella Figg, dear.''

''Mundungus Fletcher, pleasure.''

''Nymphadora Tonks,'' a bright pink haired witch exclaimed, bouncing up and down in her seat. ''But you can call me Tonks. On second thought, call me Dora, because you look like the type of person who insists on proper titles. Did you know we're actually related—''

''Thank you, Tonks,'' Dumbledore chuckled. ''You're all free to leave now, unless, of course, you wish to stay for dinner. That is all.''

Majority of the members slowly filed out the room, whispering among themselves. Not in a rude way, but more so in an intrigued manner; it wasn't everyday a Sacred Twenty-Eight Slytherin joined the Order.

''You look just like your mother,'' Moody commented, clunking his way through the kitchen. ''She was a real piece of work, that crazy woman.''

''You know her?''

''Oh, yeah,'' he huffed, pointing to his wooden leg. ''I almost had her and your father arrested during the First Wizarding War. Safe to say she wasn't a fan of the sentiment.''

Dinner was a fairly quiet affair. Upon Dora's suggestion, Evangeline offered to help make dinner, but when Molly handed her a peeler all she managed to do was survey it with fear. 

Instead, the two women cooked as she rested against the counter-top, conversing on everybody's first impressions. The Weasley matriarch admitted she had her concerns, but was soon proven wrong when she decided the brunette simply needed ❛a good motherly figure in her life❜. Dora shamefully agreed she was slightly scared of meeting her distant family member for she looked eerily similar to her aunt Bellatrix, but soon warmed up at the prospect of having a girl her age around the house.

As people excused themselves to bed and pots were being washed, Charlie approached Evangeline with an eager embrace which made Remus' jaw clench.

''I haven't seen you since the Quidditch World Cup. How've you been?''

''Quite well, actually, up until . . . well, you know,'' she replied. ''And yourself?''

''Same old, same old,'' he shrugged. ''I'll show you to your room. It's next to mine and right across from Sirius' should you need anything.''

''Lead the way.''

He guided her out of the kitchen and past a pair of long, moth-eaten curtains, and after skirting a large umbrella stand that looked as though it had been made from a severed troll's leg, they started up a dark staircase, passing a row of shrunken heads mounted on plaques on the wall. A closer look confirmed her suspicions — the heads belonged to house-elves.

Once they head reached the dingy landing, Fred and George popped out of thin air.

''Our Charms professor is as charming as ever, isn't she, Freddie?''

''Oh, yes, Georgie.''

''Don't let mum see you Apparating around again,'' Charlie warned. ''She'll have your heads mounted on the walls like those poor house-elves.''

Evangeline smiled fondly at the twins, secretly having missed their antics. ''NEWT's this year! Are you two looking forward to it? It feels like I was doing mine just yesterday.''

''That's because you practically were,'' Ron deadpanned, popping out from one of the many rooms.

''Don't mind him,'' Hermione heaved, exiting the same room he had just left seconds before, hugging the pure-blood. ''He's sulking because we're not allowed to write to Harry.''

''Oh, do not worry about it. Speaking of Harry, why is he not here? I would have thought he and Sirius would be inseparable by now.''

''Dumbledore's orders.''

''Interesting . . . ''

After a hasty catch-up, interrupted by Molly swatting the children away to bed, Evangeline found herself in what was once a lavish bathroom. She had just finished bathing and was analysing her regal features in a dusty mirror, when a sinister feeling swept over her.

Her blood ran cold at what stood beside her.

A man with the same dark hair and haughty look as Sirius.

a/n     for fans of sirius black, i have a new fanfic for him titled 'moon made' up now on my profile!