( 𝔳𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔦𝔦, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝖋𝖎𝖛𝖊 ) — the calm before the storm

Evangeline awoke at half-past five the next morning as abruptly and completely as if someone had yelled in her ear. Judging by her ghastly experiences at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, she wouldn't put it past it having been Sirius' eerie doppelgänger awakening her.

For a few moments, she lay immobile under the heavy velveteen covers, before having enough of the deafening silence and leaping out of bed. She shivered in her silk negligee, wrapping the first comforting clothing she could find around her bare shoulders — a maroon cardigan. 

The brunette gently padded down the stairs, bumping into Harry on the second landing, past the heads of Kreacher's ancestors, and into the god-forsaken kitchen.

She knew the only reason the Potter boy had been awake was due to the anxiety of his upcoming hearing, so imagine her surprise upon entering the room and coming face-to-face with Arthur, Molly, Sirius, Remus, and Dora. They were all fully dressed apart from the Weasley matriarch, who was wearing a quilted, purple dressing gown — her relaxed state made the brunette feel slightly better about herself.

''Nice cardigan,'' Dora snickered, exchanging a sly smirk with Sirius.

Evangeline glanced down at her figure, then back up at the faces before her. All four of them wore large smirks, as if they knew something nobody else did, save for Remus' whose cheeks were flushed a dark crimson.

''So that's where it went,'' he muttered under his breath, mustering up the most this-isn't-awkward-at-all smile he possibly could at dawn. ''Keep it, it looks better on you anyway.''

Thankfully, Harry stole the spotlight as he entered, nearly knocking his Charms professor flying.

''Careful there, Harry, you are almost as bad as Dora.''

''It was one time! I said I was sorry!''

Molly got to her feet at once, fussing over a pot of porridge. ''Breakfast!''

''Morning, Harry,'' the half-blood yawned; her hair was blonde and in tight curls today. ''Sleep all right?''

''Yeah.''

''I've been up all night,'' she shuddered, drawing out a chair for the Potter boy and knocking over the one beside it. ''Come and sit down . . . ''

''You and me both,'' the pure-blood sighed, wincing at the fresh injury tainting her delicate skin. It was a fairly deep gash, oozing a red anger. ''It will be a miracle if I leave this house in one piece.''

Remus glanced at Harry, drawing away his gaze of captivation from Evangeline and coughing. Some would say it was creepy, the way he stared, but he couldn't help it. She was carved from the Gods, and such profound beauty would be criminal to not observe and admire. ''What were you saying about Scrimgeour?''

''Oh . . . yeah . . . well, we need to be a bit more careful — he's been asking Kingsley and me all sorts of funny questions. Also, I'll have to tell Dumbledore I can't do night duty tomorrow, I'm just too tired,'' she finished with a hearty yawn.

''I'll cover for you,'' Arthur offered. ''I'm okay, I've got a report to finish anyway . . . ''

''Bless you two, I would not be able to hack a night shift — I need my beauty sleep,'' the pure-blood elaborated. ''How are you feeling, Harry?''

He shrugged.

''It'll be all over soon,'' Arthur said bracingly. ''In a few hourts time you'll be cleared. The hearing's on my floor, in Amelia Bones' office. She's Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so she's the one who'll be questioning you.''

''Amelia Bones is okay, Harry,'' Dora assured earnestly. ''She's fair, she'll hear you out.''

''Don't lose your temper,'' Sirius spoke up for the first time. ''Be polite and stick to the facts.''

''Do whatever you have to do, Harry,'' Evangeline smirked. ''Turn on the charm. Sell a story dramatized enough to make even Kreacher cry, and you should be more than fine.''

''The law's on your side,'' Remus mentioned whilst Molly attacked Harry's hair with a wet comb. ''Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations.''

''Doesn't it ever lie flat?''

''No, not really.''

''I think we'll go now,'' Arthur announced, flicking out his wrist to check his watch. ''We're a bit early, but I think you'll be better off there than hanging around here.''

Harry dropped the toast he was holding and shot up out of his seat. ''Okay.''

''You'll be all right, Harry,'' the Tonks girl promised, patting him on the arm.

''Good luck,'' Remus wished. ''I'm sure it'll be fine.''

Molly hugged him. ''We've all got our fingers crossed.''

''And if its not,'' Sirius started grimly. ''I'll see to Amelia Bones for you . . . ''

''Maybe this time you will be rightfully convicted,'' Evangeline laughed; a sweet melody that graced every fibre of Remus' being. She squeezed Harry's shoulder, her beaming smile lighting up the muggy room. ''Good luck, Harry!''

''I knew it!'' Ron yelled, punching the air. ''You always get away with stuff!''

''They were bound to clear you,'' Hermione sniffed, although she looked positively faint with stress for the better half of the day. ''There was no case against you, none at all . . . ''

''Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering they all knew I'd get off.''

Evangeline bumped her shoulder with Harry's, swaying into him as Kreacher scuttled past. His floppy ears shielded his eyes, as if the view of Muggle-borns and blood-traitors alike cut a hole in his heart. ''Then again, it is the Ministry of Magic — you never know with them nowadays.''

Molly was wiping her flour-covered face on her splattered apron, whilst Fred, George, and Ginny were doing a kind of war dance to a chant that went: ''He got off, he got off, he got off—''

''That's enough, settle down!'' Arthur shouted, although he too had a grin so wide it looked like his face was about to split into half. ''Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry—''

Sirius visibly perked up, his eyes narrowing into dangerous little slits. ''What?''

''He got off, he got off, he got off—''

''Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on level nine, then they went up to Fudge's office together. Dumbledore ought to know.''

''Absolutely, we'll tell him, don't worry,'' the Black man decided at once. ''Say, Evangeline, I've been out of that society for too long — what's your take on this?''

''Lucius Malfoy is very high up in the Ministry,'' she recalled one of her latest memories of the platinum-blonde man. It was at a Sacred Twenty-Eight gala in Norway, where one of the main celebrations had been to do with Narcissa and her husband. ''Him and Fudge are old friends, so the conversation might have very well been innocent. You can never be too careful with them, however.''

Arthur and Sirius nodded, and the former picked up his briefcase in a business-like manner. ''Well, I'd better get going, there's a vomiting toilet in Bethnal Green waiting for me. Molly, I'll be late, I'm covering for Tonks, but Kingsley may drop in for dinner—''

''He got off, he got off, he got off—''

''That's enough, Fred, George, Ginny!''

Over the next few days, there turned out to be only one person in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place who didn't seem wholly overjoyed that Harry would, in fact, be returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had put on a very good show upon hearing the news, beaming and wringing Harry's hand just like everybody else, but soon spent increasing amounts of time shut up in his mother's bedroom with Buckbeak. At one point, he was looking surlier and moodier than ever, so Evangeline had taken it upon herself to cheer him up.

''Let us go drinking!'' She proposed, clapping her hands together, seemingly satisfied with the offer that would undoubtedly turn any frown upside down. ''Like Dora said, some strictly adult time will do us all good!''

The scowl on Sirius' face didn't budge in the slightest. Back when he was younger, there would've been no convincing needed; where did the time go? ''No.''

It was Evangeline's turn to frown. The sight was practically criminal; her pretty face contorted like a crumpled origami piece, what was once beautiful ruined by somebody's doing. ''Why not?''

''Not in the mood,'' he grumbled, jutting his chin out and nuzzling Buckbeak's fluffy feathers. He had been looking so grey and neglected that Evangeline decided to give him a bubble bath, and to everybody's surprise, she remained unscathed — the hippogriff even seemed to enjoy it. ''I'd gladly take another stint in Azkaban than go out drinking.''

''You do not mean that,'' she heaved a sigh, fiddling with the heavy heirloom choker that graced her neck. It was made out of several strings of pearls, and an emerald pendant with the Rosier family crest engraved in silver took center-stage. ''You Blacks, always so dramatic — just like Narcissa.''

''I think you'll find Narcissa's over-the-top antics come from your side of the family, Rosier.''

''Nope, it is definitely a Black trait, Black,'' she decided, smirking once a small, yet defiant, smile graces Sirius' features. ''Come along, do not be such a negative niffler — it will only be me and Dora.''

''What about Remus? Why can't I invite him?''

''Remus' presence does not affect me in the slightest, whatsoever,'' she shrugged. ''Feel free to invite anyone and everyone your heart desires. As for me, I will be sending Snape and invite by owl.''

The scowl on Sirius' face returned. ''Don't bring up that greasy git ever again,'' he threatened. ''Not unless you want every single inhabitant of this house to find out how you flush every time his name is mentioned, and how you subconsciously lean closer to him every time he speaks. Oh, and you'll also continue finding his cardigans and sweaters at the foot of your bed every morning. But fine, if it's only to be you and Tonks, I suppose I can spare some of my much sought-after time.''

''You have so much time you do not know what to do with yourself,'' Evangeline deadpanned, bringing her knees up to hug her chest. ''There is only one rule: do not let Dumbledore get wind of this idea, or he will surely put the house on lock-down.''

''Dumbledore wouldn't do that, not if Minnie could help it — I've always been the apple of her eye, as she has been of mine.''

''McGonagall is much too old for you, Sirius. She could be your mother!''

''Remus could be your father!'' He exclaimed, mocking her high-class accent — Evangeline didn't even sound that haughty and conceited, only a little bit. ''Your point?'' She huffed, slapping Sirius' shoulder with not nearly enough force. ''Careful there, wouldn't want to break a nail now, would we?''

''Would you stop antagonising me?'' She complained, drawing her wand. It was all in good spirits, of course, but she didn't like a point proven if it didn't work out in her favour. ''One of these days I will get you when you least expect it. Anyhow, pick one — Polyjuice Potion or glamour charms?''

''Both,'' the Black man wiggled his thick eyebrows, barking a laugh at his own sense of humour. ''It'll take a lot of work to cover up my good looks, so don't be surprised if the task is too difficult for you.''

Evangeline made a move to roll her dark brown eyes when a shriek sounded from the room directly below them. The two pure-bloods shared a curious look, before she reluctantly hoisting themselves up from Walburga Black's forest-green velveteen bed sheets. Slowly, she padded down the now-clean stairs, searching for the source of the scream.

''I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family!''

''What are Fred and I, next-door neighbours?'' George pointed out indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son.

''You might as well be,'' Evangeline laughed, striding into the room. Not only to Remus, but also to everyone, it seemed as if she carried a stream of sunlight with her. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place had been considerably brighter since the brunette had come to spend the summer there. ''Congratulations, Ron . . . and Hermione, of course.''

Hermione eagerly expressed her thanks, but Ron's gratitude was muffled by the grip Molly had on him. ''Wait until your father hears! Ron, I'm so proud of you, what wonderful news, you could end up Head Boy just like Bill and Percy, its the first step! Oh, what a thing to happen in the middle of all this worry, oh Ronnie—''

Fred and George were both making loud retching noises behind their mothers back; thankfully, she didn't notice, too busy kissing all over Ron's face until he turned the same shade of scarlet as his new and shiny Prefect's badge.

Not wanting to leave him to his own devices for too long, Evangeline returned to Sirius' soon after the celebrations were over. They conversed about anything and everything — mostly their shared experiences of growing up — when they were called downstairs to find out that the celebrations weren't over just yet.

Down in the basement, Molly had hung a blood-red banner over the heavily laden dinner table, which read ❛CONGRATULATIONS, RON AND HERMIONE — NEW PREFECTS.❜ She looked in a better mood than ever before during the holiday.

''I thought we'd have a little party, not a sit-down dinner. Your father and Bill are on their way, Ron, I've sent them both an owl and they're thrilled.''

Fred rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around Evangeline's slim shoulder, which she promptly batted off. Although, she had missed the flame Remus' eyes flashed with, beseechingly furious at the harmless gesture. Anyone else who noticed it — which was everyone in the room, apart from her — were eternally grateful. They had been yet to see the pure-blood angry, and for some unknown reason, nobody was ready to test her patience. Perhaps they thought she would disappear into a fog of black smoke and return flanked by Death Eaters.

''Oh, Alastor, I'm glad you're here,'' Molly apprehended Moody as he stumped in and shrugged off his travelling cloak. ''We've been wanting to ask you for ages — could you have a look in the writing desk in the drawing room and tell us what's inside it? We haven't wanted to open it just in case it's something really nasty.''

''No problem, Molly,'' he responded, as his electric-blue eye swivelled upwards and stared fixedly through the ceiling of the kitchen. ''Drawing room . . . '' he growled, and his pupil contracted. ''Desk in the corner? Yeah, I see it . . . yeah, it's a Boggart . . . want me to go up and get rid of it?''

''No, no, I'll do it myself later,'' she beamed. ''You have your drink. We're having a little bit of a celebration, actually — fourth Prefect in the family!'' She exclaimed fondly, ruffling Ron's hair.

Evangeline was worried she was going to start kissing him again, so she turned away and surveyed the room. Sirius and Remus were deep in conversation, along with Dora and Kingsley who seemed to be laughing at something in the Daily Prophet. The Weasley children chattered among themselves, along with Harry who looked as if he would rather be anywhere else. Seconds after, Arthur and Bill arrived.

''Well, I think a toast is in order,'' Arthur declared, seemingly unbothered by the weight of his work robes; he wasted no time scooping his son into a hearty hug which triggered a sudden pang of parental loss in Evangeline's heart. ''To Ron and Hermione, the new Gryffindor Prefects!''

The witch whisked Harry to the side, furrowing her perfectly-plucked brows. ''The steam coming out of your ears is making your glasses fog up, Harry. Anything the matter?''

''No, no — everything's fine,'' he forced out, taking off his glasses and wiping the lenses on the bottom of his blue polo shirt. Once he put them back on, he took a glance at the young woman beside him, unwilling to burden her with his troubles. ''Were you ever prefect, professor?''

''You know not to call me professor, Harry. But, no, I was never a Prefect — you know this, do you not?''

He shrugged his shoulders sulkily. ''Dunno.''

Evangeline dropped her voice to barely above a whisper, leaning in close so that her words reached his ears only. ''Is this about Dumbledore?''

That was one of the straws that broke the camel's back. Harry jumped up, as if something had protruded through the floorboards and poked his foot. ''It's about everything!'' He burst out, before blinking blankly, as if not knowing what possessed him to speak in such a way. ''Sorry, sorry— I, uh—''

''Harry,'' she took his shoulders and steered him in front of her, so that emerald green met bright brown. ''I hope you know that you can come to me with anything, all right? I am here to help you — do not hesitate.''

''I know . . . I—I know. If I need someone to speak to, I'll come and find you — promise.''

''I am happy to hear that,'' she smiled; a smile that once again nearly blinded everyone with it's golden ferocity. ''Now, if it is a Prefect you are in search for, go speak to your Uncle Moony. He was the good boy out of them lot when he was younger — he got the badge.''

Harry nodded appreciatively, strutting off to where Remus and Hermione were discussing house-elf rights. Evangeline tuned into a conversation herself, and although it was of a very different topic, she would have something to laugh about with Charlie when he returned from Romania.

''The length's really getting out of hand, and you're so good looking, it would look so much better shorter, wouldn't it, Evangeline?''

After about a thousand variations of that, along with Evangeline trying to twist herself out of the equation by providing vague answers, Molly finally yawned widely.

''Well, I think I'll sort out that Boggart before I turn in . . . Arthur, I don't want this lot up too late, all right? Night, dears.''

She left the kitchen, whilst Dora joined Bill and Evangeline. They both humoured her with stories from their Hogwarts years, which sounded scarily similar to the escapades Fred and George got up to in their place. The brunette supposed someone had to continue the legacy on, after all. She remembered the seven photo albums stored away in her trunk, each one dedicated to a year of her time at the school.

''I will return in a moment.''

Evangeline carefully strode up the steps (she didn't want to tarnish her brand-new heels out) and past the stuffed elf heads. As she approached the first landing, someone sobbing softly in the lavish drawing room immediately caught her undivided attention.

''Hello?''

There was no answer, but the crying continued. Her heels were the least of her worries as she jogged up the two remaining steps, crossed the landing, and wrenched open the grand drawing room door.

Molly was cowering against the dark wall, her wand in her quaking hand, and her entire body shaking with sobs. Sprawled on the old, but intricately-designed carpet in a patch of milky moonlight, clearly dead, was Ron.

Ron dead, no, it couldn't be.

It couldn't be. Ron was downstairs—

''Molly?''

''R-r-riddikulus!'' She cried, pointing her shaking wand at her son's lifeless body.

Crack.

Ron's body transformed into Bill's, spread-eagled on his back, his eyes wide open and empty; his mother wept and whimpered harder than ever, an unpleasantly stark contrast to her joy during the day.

''R-riddikulus!''

Crack.

Arthur's body replaced Bill's, his horn-rimmed glasses askew, a trickle of crimson blood running down his flushed face.

''No!'' She wailed. ''No . . . Riddikulus! Riddikulus! RIDDIKULUS!''

Crack. Dead twins. Crack. Dead Percy. Crack. Dead Harry . . .

''Molly, you have to get out of here!'' Evangeline urged her, surging forward and in front of the Weasley woman. She stared down at the Potter boy's body, ghostly pale. ''I will handle it.''

Crack.

It wax exactly how she remembered it, since her seventh year.

As white as a sheet of paper — bloodless — with razor-sharp fangs. The vampire's sclera was beautifully bloodshot, but not darker than the veins that slowly began to protrude from its eyes as he took a menacing step forward . . .

Evangeline found herself frozen, unable to move. But she wasn't scared — oh, no, quite the opposite, actually. She felt herself leaning forward leisurely, intrigued, wanting to know more about the creature. He bared his teeth at her, smirking sinisterly, and the shape of his mouth couldn't have possibly been able to form a coherent syllable, so then why did the whispers make her ears hurt?

''What's going on?''

Remus had come running into the room, closely followed by Sirius and Harry (who had gone to get help), with Moody stumping along behind them. The werewolf pulled out his own wand, before speaking very firmly and very clearly, with an air of authority that would've made Evangeline weak in the knees had her mind not been consumed . . .

''Riddikulus!''

A silvery orb hung in the air over the spot where the vampire had been. He waved his wand once more, and the sphere vanished into a puff of white smoke.

''Okay, maybe I'm not the only one who needs to go out and get absolutely shit-faced.''