Preface

to live (is the strangest thing)
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at https://archiveofourown.org/works/40328118.

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

F/M, Gen

Fandom:

Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Relationships:

Regulus Black/Harry Potter, Regulus Black & Harry Potter, Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Harry Potter & James Potter

Characters:

Harry Potter, Regulus Black, James Potter, Sirius Black, Lily Evans Potter

Additional Tags:

Female Harry Potter, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Reincarnation, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Regulus Black Lives, Regulus Black Deserves Better, Slytherin Harry Potter, Regulus Black Feels, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, James Potter Has a Sibling, Family Feels, Seer Harry Potter, Pining Regulus Black, Oblivious Harry Potter, Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Slytherin Politics, systematic dismantling of prejudice mwahaha, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Founders history

Language:

English

Collections:

🌌 The Witch's Library, Kasmin approved, Fics I will sell my Soul for, with feeling!╰(*´︶`*)╯♡, Lilranko Interesting Read List, fem harry fucks, harry but he's aware of the plot, various harry potter fics that re-emerse me into the fandom even though i left it five years ago

Stats:

Published: 2022-07-15 Updated: 2025-01-16 Words: 33,863 Chapters: 14/?

to live (is the strangest thing)

by drifting_melody

Summary

Evangeline Euphemia Potter was born on Ostara, the spring equinox, a day of life and renewal. She was born in the midst of the strongest thunderstorm in a century, one that felled trees and tore apart homes, and in the future, she realized it was an omen. Because Evangeline Potter was a storm in every way that mattered, and she would see the Magical World brought to its knees if she had to. 

(because James had been there for her since the moment of her birth and she’d die before seeing him dead) 

Or: Rose Potter is reborn in the past with all the memories of her first life. This is what happens next.

Chapter 1

Once upon a time, she was called Rose. She was born as the seventh month died, as Fate looked on with a satisfied smile, as Death tilted his head and watched for the first time. Her parents were James and Lily, and they loved her enough to die for her. 

Once upon a time, she was called Rose. 

This is not that story. 

~ 

It didn’t take long for her to realize what had happened. She’d died and then woken in her once-grandmother’s arms, and while she’d never been a Ravenclaw, she’d spent enough time around Hermione to know. 

Reincarnation. 

Her name was Evangeline Potter, and her father was her brother while her grandparents were her parents. Either way, though, they were family, and she’d never had a blood family before, not in any way that mattered. 

(she shoved aside thoughts of a cupboard, of hopeful green eyes peering up whenever she did something correctly only to be ignored, sniffed at, shoved aside alone in the darkness -) 

(this was not that story) 

They loved her - it was clear in the way they spoke, soft, kind words; in the way they held her, a gentle touch she had never been old enough to remember; in the way they looked at her, filled with wonder and affection. 

Her infant years passed in a haze, her mind not yet developed enough for any real semblance of memory and awareness. She knew, of course, that she’d been reborn, reborn into the family she’d never known, but her mind wasn’t yet advanced enough for her to draw any conclusions or make any plans. 

Slowly, though, the haze cleared. In her toddler years, she spoke for the first time, and her parents were so happy they cried. Neither of them were offended that her first word hadn’t been ‘mama’ or ‘papa,’ because how could they be, when she’d reached out to her brother with chubby arms and called him ‘Jay’?” 

(the first time he saw her, James had beamed his toddler smile and clapped)

‘Mama’ and ‘papa’ came soon after, of course - it was frustrating to be a child with the awareness of an adult, and if she had to pass herself off as an early bloomer or childhood genius, then so be it. Better to have them accustomed to it now then surprise them later. 

(she mourned the part of herself that’d jumped into things headfirst without any semblance of a plan, but she’d always been more Slytherin than she’d let on and it was time to let that out) 

~ 

“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” 

“Every week,” James promised, pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead. 

“And you’ll pay attention in your classes?” 

James grimaced. “You’re not mum, Evie.” 

She frowned at him. “Classes are important.” 

He rolled his eyes, ruffling her hair. “Such a Ravenclaw,” he said fondly. “I’ll see you at Yule, yeah?” 

She nodded, forcing back tears. “I’ll miss you. But you’ll have a grand time at Hogwarts, I just know it.” 

James blinked, then lowered his voice. “Have you… you know…”

Evangeline rolled her eyes fondly. “Yes. Off you go, then.” 

His grin widened. He’d already said goodbye to their parents, so with that, he hopped onto the train, trunk floating behind him. Evangeline swallowed, watching him go. His face appeared in one of the windows, waving wildly as the train pulled out of the station. Evangeline waved back, beaming, but a heavy feeling in her stomach. She could see a young boy with wavy black hair waving next to him, a girl with red hair and a boy with a hooked nose above him in the window. She’d been there once, in a memory, watched them make history. Now, history was moving, time was passing, and she was beginning to feel the pressure. 

“Come on, Evie,” her mother said, wiping away her tears as the train vanished into the distance. “Let’s go home.” 

~ 

It wasn’t a surprise James had grown up spoiled as he had in her past life - his parents had had him late in life and, as an only child, they’d given him everything he’d wanted. In this one, though, he had a sister, another miracle baby just a year after the first, and his responsibilities as an older brother had been impressed upon him at a young age. She hoped that, maybe, he’d be less of a spoiled bully in this life. 

Her mother sighed as they stepped out of the floo into the foyer. “It’s so quiet,” she murmured. 

Her father grinned. “I can blow something up if you miss it that much.” 

Euphemia’s eyes immediately narrowed. “Don’t you dare.” 

Fleamont laughed. “Well, I’m off to the lab,” he said cheerfully. He ruffled Evangeline’s hair - really, what was it with the men in her family and hair-ruffling? - before ambling off. Euphemia sighed and turned to her. 

“Did you really See James making friends?” she asked softly. 

Evangeline nodded, smiling up at her. “He makes friends he’ll keep his whole life,” she said. “I’m sure the next letter he writes will be all about them.” 

The lines in Euphemia’s face seemed to ease. “Good,” she said. “That’s good.” 

That was another difference between this life and the last - she was a Seer, in this one. It manifested in dreams, in flashes when she was awake, and seemed to be entirely random. It helped her explain her maturity, though, and her foreknowledge, so Evangeline wasn’t complaining. 

“I suppose you’ll be going to the library, then?” Euphemia asked, but there was a note of wistfulness in her voice. 

Evangeline felt a pang - she’d never been a child, not really. She’d never quite needed her parents in the way James had, and while they never brought it up, she could see it in the way they looked at her, sometimes. Now, with James gone, it was clear to all of them that Evangeline would be quite content on her own. 

“Actually,” she said, “I was wondering if I might read in your study.” 

Euphemia smiled down at her, and Evangeline’s heart lightened. “Of course. You’re always welcome in my study, Evie.”

Evangeline brightened. “Brilliant! I’ll just go get a book then, shall I?” 

~

It was lonely, without James, Evangeline had found. She missed him despite his letters which, as he’d promised, arrived weekly. She spent much of her time with her mother, gravitating towards her, and would often be found reading on a couch in Euphemia’s study while Euphemia went over her documents. Whenever Euphemia, as the current holder in Fleamont’s place, was at a Wizengamot meeting, Evangeline was with her father in the potions lab. 

Evangeline was quite good at potions. James never had the patience for it, but Evangeline, remembering Slughorn’s Slug Club, worked until she was. She’d graduated from her tutors ages ago, and was now self-studying everything from arithmancy to defence. 

Her real passion, though, lay in ancient runes. Both arithmancy and runes were new to her, and therefore interesting, so she couldn’t resist reading up on the subjects and discovered she had quite a knack for ancient runes. She loved the meanings and history behind each rune, and soon found herself drawing out runic arrays for fun. She never activated them, of course, not without supervision, but her tutors were always astounded at their complexity. 

James, of course, was appalled at how her days were spent with books. 

You need to get out more, Evie, he chided gently in one of her letters. You’re just like one of my friends, Remus, only he at least has the rest of us to drag him out of the library once in a while. You’ll waste away if you only spend time indoors. Why don’t you go to Diagon sometime?

She was warmed by the concern for her, of course, but couldn’t resist being cheeky. 

Of course, James. Diagon’s a wonderful idea - I haven’t been to Obscurus in quite some time, they must have new books by now. 

~ 

She did end up going to Diagon in the end. James, the cad, had written to their parents about it, and Euphemia thought it was a wonderful idea. The two of them went one weekday afternoon, when it wouldn’t be quite so crowded, flooing into the Leaky Cauldron and saying a quick hello to Tom behind the counter. 

“You’re not really going to drag me to Twilfitt and Tattings, are you, mum?” Evangeline asked, a note of pleading in her voice. 

Euphemia smiled at her fondly. “Of course not. We’re going to Knockturn.” She winked. “Now, you remember the rules -” 

“Hood up, chin high, shoulders back,” Evangeline recited. “Stay close to you, and if anyone grabs me, anything I do is in self-defence.” 

Euphemia smiled. “Excellent. Now, come along.” 

It’d shocked her, the first time, when Euphemia had come home from Diagon with a book on ancient runes that Evangeline was certain was illegal. She’d always thought of the Potters as a Light family, but that notion had been quickly disabused by learning Euphemia’s maiden name - Rosier. A distant branch, yes, but still. The Potters were firmly Neutral, neither Light nor Dark, Progressive nor Traditional. It was part of why her parents had been nothing but pleased when James had found a best friend in Sirius Black, why they had no compunctions about their son befriending both the scion of the Black family and half-blood Remus Lupin. 

Evangeline walked a half-step behind her mother as they headed to Obscurus Books. It was a ratty second-hand bookstore deep down Knockturn, but the number of treasures Evangeline had found there disabused her of any prejudice she may have had towards it. The bell rang as they entered, the hag who owned the shop nodding at them in recognition. 

And hadn’t that been a shock, learning that part of the reason Knockturn was looked down upon was because it catered to non-humans? Of course, there was the illegal thing, but that was secondary to the non-human thing. It was packed with dark creatures, like Mrs. Abernathy, the hag who owned Obscurus Books, which was why her mother felt comfortable taking her there - as a dark pureblood from a Traditionalist family who advocated for the rights of dark creatures, she had nothing to fear and so, therefore, neither did her daughter. 

The world wasn’t made up of good people and Death Eaters, as Sirius had said a lifetime ago, and Evangeline had learned that. 

Now that they were inside the store, Evangeline was able to pull down her hood. She smiled and waved at Mrs. Abernathy, who smiled fondly in return. 

“Lady Potter,” she greeted. “And little Evangeline. I have a book here that I think you’d like.” 

Evangeline looked at her mother for permission. At her nod, she bounded up to the counter as Mrs. Abernathy pulled out a large, thick tome. 

“A History of Druidic Magic,” Mrs. Abernathy said proudly. “One of only two copies in existence.” 

Evangeline’s mouth fell open. “No way,” she breathed. Her fingers hovered over the book, too in awe to even touch it. She could feel the magic coming off it - books on Druidic magic were rare, very rare. The Druids had died out before Hogwarts was founded, and they’d passed down their magic by word of mouth. This book was worth more than everything in the shop combined. 

She looked back at her mother, pleading in her eyes, and Euphemia sighed, smiling slightly. She and Mrs. Abernathy began to haggle, eventually settling on a price of a hundred galleons - a small fortune, but they could more than afford it. 

“Thank you,” Evangeline said breathlessly as her mother tucked the book into her bag. Old books, ones imbued with magic, couldn’t be shrunken lest it interfere with the book’s own magic. 

Mrs. Abernathy smiled fondly at her. “Of course. A great many others would’ve been interested in the book, but you are my only customer whom I believe will appreciate it for what it is.” 

“I’ll do my best,” Evangeline vowed. “Thank you so, so much. You don’t know how grateful I am.” 

Mrs. Abernathy smiled. “Oh, I have some idea. You’ll be off to Hogwarts soon, won’t you?” 

“Next September,” Euphemia confirmed, a note of pride in her voice. “She’s more than powerful enough.” 

“Congratulations,” Mrs. Abernathy said warmly. “I’ll miss you, though. I don’t think any of my other customers appreciate books quite as much as you do.” 

“I’ll miss you, too.”

“Any idea what house you’ll be in?”

“My brother says I’m set for Ravenclaw,” Evangeline said. 

Mrs. Abernathy raised her eyebrows. “Ravenclaw?” she mused. “I suppose, but I had you pegged for Slytherin.” 

Evangeline blinked. Next to her, Euphemia smiled slightly. “So did I, actually.” 

Evangeline gaped up at her mother in shock. Euphemia didn’t look at her, but her smile widened. Mrs. Abernathy cackled. 

“A Potter in Slytherin!” she said. “That’ll be something.” She waggled her finger at Evangeline. “You better visit me over the summer,” she said sternly. “Else I might visit you.”

Evangeline giggled. “Yes, Mrs. Abernathy,” she said obediently. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Mrs. Abernathy sniffed. “Now, run along now, little snake. I’ll keep an eye on what I can find for you.” 

Evangeline smiled widely. “Thank you, Mrs. Abernathy.” 

She and her mother left. Evangeline tugged on her mother’s sleeve. 

“Will you and dad really not mind if I’m in Slytherin?” she asked earnestly. Her mother had been a Slytherin, she knew, but she was a Potter now, and the Potters had been Gryffindors since time immemorial. 

“Of course not,” Euphemia said sternly. “Slytherin is a fine house.” She looked at Evangeline, and her face softened slightly. She put a hand on Evangeline’s back. “Your father and I have known you’d be in Slytherin for ages,” she said. 

“But James -” 

His letters home had been full of accusations and anger against the Slytherins. Well, she suspected it was one Slytherin in particular, but he still grouped the whole house together. 

“James is young,” Euphemia said. “He’ll grow up.” 

That wasn’t comforting at all. She wanted - needed - to be in Slytherin. That was where she’d hone her cunning, where she’d learn who her brother’s enemies were. While not all Death Eaters came from Slytherin, enough of them did, and many of them were highly prejudiced against muggles and muggleborns. She’d gotten the idea that the split between Gryffindor and Slytherin hadn’t been as bad in her parents’ day, which was how the two had gotten together, but with Voldemort rising, it was only getting worse, and could only go downhill from there. 

She would be in Slytherin. Evangeline had vowed this long ago. She just hoped her brother wouldn’t hate her for it.

Chapter 2

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Time flew by. Yule came, and she met James on the platform, tackling him into a hug. She caught a glimpse of whom he waved goodbye to, and the sight of them sent a pang through her chest. 

Potter Manor was livelier with James back. He told stories of the pranks he and his friends had pulled, imitated Professor McGonagall’s disappointed voice, and told her all about the castle that’d been his home away from home. 

“It’s brilliant, Evie,” he said, his voice hushed. “I can’t wait for you to come - the Ravenclaws have their own tower, just like Gryffindor. We haven’t figured out where it is yet, but Sirius heard that all you have to do to get in is answer a riddle.” He gave her a wide smile. “I’ll be able to visit you all the time, even when you don’t want me to!” 

Evangeline hesitated. This was a good time to bring it up. “What if… what if I’m not in Ravenclaw?” 

James blinked. They were sitting on the couch in her room. “There’s nothing wrong with Hufflepuff, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said kindly. “And it’d be brilliant if you were a Gryffindor - we’d be able to hang out all the time, and I could show you the common room, I’m sure you’d like it, Evie -” 

“What if I’m in Slytherin?” Evangeline blurted out, cutting him off. 

“You won’t be,” James said reassuringly. “Only blood purists and prats get put into Slytherin, like Sirius’ cousins or Snivellus.” 

That was exactly what she’d been afraid of hearing. Evangeline swallowed. 

“Mum was a Slytherin,” she said quietly. 

“It was different back then,” James said dismissively. “Now, though, Slytherin’s terrible. You won’t get put there, I promise.” He hesitated. “Even if you’ve Seen something, it’s not set in stone, is it?” 

“I haven’t Seen anything,” Evangeline said, which wasn’t a lie. She was just self-aware. She wondered what it meant that her parents knew she’d be Sorted into Slytherin and her own brother didn’t. 

~ 

Soon, winter break was over, and James was back to Hogwarts. Evangeline read her books, visited Mrs. Abernathy, and waited eagerly for her letter. When it finally came, on Ostara, she almost fell over with happiness, unlike her father, who really did fall over. 

“Come on!” her father urged, jumping to his feet from his place on the floor where he’d fallen. “Open it!” 

“Let her savor it, dear,” her mother said, smiling at Evangeline knowingly.

Evangeline, for her part, was too busy running her fingers over the familiar green ink to notice. It was just like she’d remembered, only it was addressed to Miss Evangeline E. Potter, West Wing, Potter Manor. Slowly, she pried open the seal, keeping it in one piece, and unfolded the letter. 

Dear Miss Potter, 

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…

Tears sprung to her eyes. Finally - finally - she was going to Hogwarts. 

~ 

“You have all your things?” 

“Yes, mum.” 

“Your books, your wand -” 

“Right here.” 

“Don’t forget to write -” 

“She won’t,” James grumbled. “Honestly, mum, Evie’s going to Hogwarts, not America.” 

“And you, James -” James quailed as their mother turned her gaze on him. “Look after your sister, alright? No matter which house she ends up in.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll look after her,” James said distractedly. “Don’t I always? Anyway, I think I see Sirius -” 

Her mother sniffled, tears welling in her eyes. She gave Evangeline and James one last hug before waving her hand. “Off you go, then.” 

James grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the train. “Honestly,” he said, “she didn’t make this much of a fuss when I left. No favorites, my arse.” 

“She’s just worried,” Evangeline said. 

“What for?” James rolled his eyes. “Ravenclaw’s filled with swots, sure, but they’re alright.” He brightened, seeing two boys with identical wavy black hair and silvery-gray eyes. “Sirius! Over here!” 

Sirius grinned broadly. “Good t’see you, mate,” he said. “Let’s get on the train, shall we?” 

It didn’t hurt as much as she’d expected, seeing Sirius again. She’d seen him briefly over the summer, when her parents had invited James’ friends over. It was easy to separate him from the Sirius she’d lost - this Sirius still had that spark in his eyes. Laughter came easily to him, and Evangeline vowed quietly that she’d make sure it stayed that way. 

She and Regulus barely had time to look at each other before they were pulled by their respective brothers. They found an empty compartment, and set their trunks overhead before flopping down, already deep in conversation. 

She and Regulus exchanged a long-suffering look, united in their exasperation. 

“Hello,” Evangeline said, holding out her hand. “I’m Evangeline Potter.” 

Regulus’ lips twitched. Up close, his eyes were more steel-gray than silver. He was about her height, with a narrow, aristocratic face. “Yes, I’d gathered,” he said, taking her hand. “I’m Regulus Black.” 

Evangeline arched an eyebrow. “Funnily enough, I’d gathered that as well. Do you want to find a different compartment? I think Remus and Peter’ll be here soon enough, and I’d rather be far away when that happens.” 

Regulus grimaced, whether it was because she’d mentioned Remus, the half-blood, or because he knew that chaos followed the four wherever they went. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, Evangeline chose to assume the latter. 

“Yes, let’s,” he said. He glanced at Sirius and James, who had their heads bent close to each other. “Do you think they’ll notice if we just leave?” 

Evangeline gave him a wicked smile. “I like the way you think, Black.” 

He grinned. Their trunks levitating behind them, they left their older brothers alone and found an empty compartment. 

“What house do you think you’ll be in?” Regulus asked, once they’d slid the compartment door shut. 

Evangeline paused. “Promise not to tell my brother?” 

Regulus raised his eyebrows, looking intrigued. “Promise.” 

She grinned. “Slytherin.” 

Regulus’ eyes widened. “But you’re a Potter!” 

Evangeline shrugged carelessly. “Believe me or don’t,” she said easily. “But once I end up in Slytherin, I won’t say ‘I told you so.’” 

He looked contemplative. “Well, I suppose your mother was a Rosier,” he mused. “It’s not that surprising once you think about it that way.” 

Evangeline grinned. “And you? What house do you think you’ll get?” 

A complicated expression crossed Regulus’ face. It was a little sad, and made Evangeline’s heart hurt. “My parents would disown me if I got anything but Slytherin.” 

“That’s not what I asked,” Evangeline said. “I asked what house you wanted to be in, not which you’re expected to be in.” 

Regulus was quiet. He looked away for a moment, and Evangeline wondered if she’d crossed a line. Then, he spoke. 

“Ravenclaw,” he said softly. “I think it sounds nice.” 

She smiled. “You like books, then?” 

“Love them,” Regulus said fervently. His eyes shone. “Sirius makes fun of me for it, but learning is just brilliant.” 

Evangeline’s smile turned fond. She vowed, then and there, to make sure Regulus lived to see his eighteenth birthday. “What’s your favorite subject?” 

It was, to her surprise, Ancient Runes, and they immediately launched into a friendly debate on the merits of Germanic runes versus Egyptian hieroglyphs. Regulus took the stance that Germanic runes were objectively better because they were in Britain, and considered themselves natives to the isles, and therefore had a better connection to the land which made them stronger. Evangeline objected on the grounds that Egyptian hieroglyphs were more versatile and better-known, as well as more common on a global scale, which gave them power in their own right. 

It was a debate that was still ongoing amongst Rune Masters around the world, so neither of them expected to win, but they still had fun pulling out more and more esoteric arguments. 

“Egyptian hieroglyphs, being more pictorial in nature, have a better connection to Magic herself,” Evangeline argued, not really believing her argument. 

Regulus snorted. “You can’t possibly believe that.” 

Evangeline grinned. “Albimbert does.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Everyone knows Albimbert is a recluse who only publishes whatever he thinks will get him the most attention. And he’s a mudblood.” 

Evangeline frowned. “That’s not a very nice word.” 

Regulus coughed awkwardly. “Sorry. I forgot you were Neutral.” 

Evangeline wanted to argue more - wanted to say that muggleborns were just as good at magic as purebloods, that Lily Evans was top of her year, that new blood brought back traits thought lost for generations - but let it die in her throat. This wasn’t the time - she and Regulus may have bonded over their shared love of Ancient Runes, but they’d still only met that day. She needed to wait, establish herself in her own right, before she could do anything about pureblood supremacy. 

So she waved off Regulus’ apologies, the words sour on her tongue, and said a silent apology to the memory of Hermione. She wasn’t a Gryffindor, in this life. She would have to wait. 

~ 

It was strange. She had all the memories of her past life, but very little of the emotion attached to them. It was more like she’d watched a movie about a girl named Rose Potter and less like she’d actually been Rose Potter, so while she was much more mature and knowledgeable than the average eleven-year-old she wasn’t exactly secretly twenty-one, either. 

That was all to say, the first time she saw Hogwarts in this life took her breath away. Memories hadn’t done it justice - it couldn’t compare to feeling the cold wind on her face, having the magic of the wards wash over her. 

Professor McGonagall met them at the entrance hall and gave a brief speech about the houses before leaving them to talk amongst themselves. 

“How d’you reckon we’ll be sorted?” Lucas Boot, whom she and Regulus had shared a boat with, asked nervously. “My cousin said we had to tickle a dragon - you know, like the school motto.” 

Regulus snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous, Boot,” he said dismissively. “They wouldn’t bring a dragon around eleven-year-olds. My parents would’ve thrown a fit.” 

Evangeline smiled mischievously. “Maybe we’ve got to pull a rabbit out of a hat.” 

Regulus and Jennifer Abbot, both purebloods, stared at her uncomprehendingly. Lucas Boot, a half-blood, snorted. 

“Funny, Potter,” he said dryly. 

At that moment though, Professor McGonagall returned, and they fell silent. They were led into the Great Hall, and Evangeline sent Boot a smug look when they saw the Sorting Hat. It sang its song, and then Professor McGonagall began calling them up to be Sorted. 

Abbott went to Hufflepuff, Regulus to Slytherin, and Boot to Ravenclaw. Then, once more than half the students had been Sorted, it was Evangeline’s turn. 

“Potter, Evangeline!” 

She walked up to the hat and sat on the stool. The last thing she saw before the hat fell over her eyes was her brother, giving her a bright, eager grin. Her heart clenched, and then - 

Oh, my. What do we have here? 

Hello, Hat, Evangeline thought. 

Hello, Miss Potter. Twice over, it seems. 

You’re sworn to keep students’ secrets. 

I am. The hat sounded amused. Now, where shall I put you? Plenty of courage, oh yes, and a core of pure loyalty. A fine mind as well. 

You know where I belong. 

Yes, and so, it seems, do you. Really, Miss Potter, it’s not a choice at all. Better be - 

“SLYTHERIN!” the hat called. Evangeline waited for Professor McGonagall to take the hat off her head, but when she didn’t, Evangeline did it herself and handed it to her. Professor McGonagall’s eyes were wide and shocked, and she took the hat from her almost numbly. 

Evangeline walked to the Slytherin table as it clapped and cheered, after they’d allowed themselves a stunned beat of silence. She glanced over at the Gryffindor table, and her heart sank. James looked pale with shock, his eyes wide, and when she sent him a tentative smile, he just stared at her like he’d never seen her before. 

She looked away, willing herself not to let her emotions show on her face, and sat next to Regulus. He gave her a half-smile, but there was sympathy in his eyes. They both knew that a Potter getting Sorted into Slytherin was akin to a Black in Gryffindor. Evangeline swallowed and watched the rest of the Sorting calmly. 

As the food appeared, a tall, blonde-haired Prefect girl leaned over towards them. “Congratulations on getting into Slytherin, Regulus,” she said, a note of warmth in her cool voice. 

Regulus dipped his head. His back was ramrod-straight. “Thank you, Narcissa,” he said formally. “May I introduce you to Evangeline Potter? Evangeline, this is Narcissa Black, my cousin.” 

Evangeline saw a flicker of surprise and then calculation cross Narcissa’s face at Regulus’ use of Evangeline’s first name. “Please, call me Narcissa,” she said. “A friend of Regulus’ is a friend of mine.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Narcissa,” Evangeline said, dipping her head politely. “Please, call me Evangeline.” 

Narcissa smiled. “You’re very well-mannered,” she said, and gave a nod of approval in Regulus’ direction. “I look forward to seeing what you’ll accomplish.” 

She looked away, turning back to her peers, and beside Evangeline, Regulus relaxed slightly. 

“She likes you,” Regulus murmured. “That’s good.” 

Would you have stopped being friends with me if she hadn’t? Evangeline wondered, but she knew better than to ask. She just smiled, turning to her yearmates and introducing herself.

“So,” Evan Rosier said, leaning forwards interestedly. “What’s a Potter doing in Slytherin?” 

Evangeline arched a brow. So it begins. “Well, I put on this hat, see -“ 

Rosier rolled his eyes. “Alright, you don’t want to talk about it, I get it,” he said grudgingly, but there was a hint of respect in his eyes. “What class are you looking forward to most, then?” 

Evangeline smiled and hid her satisfaction. 

~

The Slytherin dorms, being in the dungeons, were more spacious than those in Gryffindor Tower, so instead of sharing a room with three other people, Evangeline only had to do so with one. Thankfully, her roommate was Olivia Rowle, who sent her a small smile when their rooms were assigned. 

They quickly unpacked, chatting as they did so. Olivia Rowle was just as friendly as she’d been at the Welcoming Feast, and they quickly allowed each other the use of their first names in an overture of friendship that was returned. 

As she went to bed, though, Evangeline couldn’t help but think of the look on her brother’s face when she’d been Sorted. 

~

Their very first class was Potions, for which Evangeline was eager for. She didn’t try very hard to hide it, so when Olivia sat down next to her at the Slytherin table, Olivia laughed. 

“Excited, are we?” 

“Very,” Evangeline said. Snape had been a terrible teacher, and while her father did his best, she was eager to see what an introductory Potions class looked like from someone who knew what he was doing. 

“What are we talking about?” Regulus asked, sliding into the seat across from them and plucking a piece of toast from Evangeline’s plate. Evangeline stared at him, open-mouthed, before he realized what he’d done and went red. 

“Sorry,” he said. “Habit. I do it all the time with Sirius.” 

“Are you saying I look like your brother?” Evangeline asked archly, enjoying the way Regulus went even more red. 

“No, I just -” 

“Ah, so you’re saying I remind you of a Gryffindor, then,” she nodded sagely. 

At this point, Regulus looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. Evangeline took pity on him and abruptly changed the subject. Olivia didn’t even try to cover up her sniggers. 

“We were just talking about Potions,” she said, and Regulus seized the topic change with alacrity. 

“Yes, we have it with the Ravenclaws, don’t we?” 

Evangeline nodded. “I’m quite looking forward to it,” she said. 

Regulus cocked his head. “Your father’s a famous potioneer, isn’t he?” 

She laughed. “I’d call him more of an inventor, but yes, I suppose. He’s not very good at teaching though. He’s so brilliant he makes leaps and jumps and James and I had to scramble to catch up.” Her smile faltered at the thought of James, but she pasted it back on so fast that no one could tell. She glanced at the Gryffindor table - James wasn’t there yet, and her heart sank. 

“Does anyone know how to get there?” Olivia asked, thankfully changing the subject. Regulus and Evangeline shook their heads, so they resolved to finish breakfast early to go find it. 

Evangeline nudged them in the right direction, so they eventually arrived at the Potions classroom fifteen minutes early. They were to be seated in pairs, though, which led to a bit of an awkward silence which Olivia broke. 

“I’ve been meaning to catch up with Valeria Avery anyway,” she said easily. “You two sit together.” 

“If you’re sure.” 

She and Regulus exchanged a look, then sat in mutual agreement at the front of the classroom. Olivia laughed at them, calling them teacher’s pets, but it was a friendly jab, so they didn’t do more than roll their eyes. 

Soon, the rest of the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws trickled in. Evangeline smiled at Boot, who blinked, startled, for a moment before smiling back hesitantly. Slughorn entered the room, and they all found seats. 

“Welcome to Potions!” he said grandly. “Potions is a delightful art, but a tricky one. If you’re not careful, an antidote you’re brewing could quickly turn into a poison, or a boil-cure could explode, producing the very thing it was meant to extinguish whenever it touches skin. That’s why, for the first few classes, I’ll be teaching you correct brewing practices. Now, don’t look at me like that,” he said, waggling his finger as several people groaned. “It’s important to have a solid foundation before we get started with any actual brewing. Now, let’s begin by turning to page five of your textbook…” 

Evangeline was amazed. An actual lesson? In Potions? It was unbelievable. She felt another stab of resentment towards Snape - why hadn’t he followed this path, instead of throwing them into the deep end without actually teaching anything? 

They quickly got out their cutting boards and began practicing how to slice, dice, and cube. Evangeline, who’d learnt this from mistakes made as Harry and then again from her father, did it with ease, and Slughorn praised the way she’d cubed her gurdyroots. 

“Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d been doing this for years!” he gushed. “Now, not anything against your brother, of course, but he clearly didn’t have your skill! We’ll make a Potioneer out of you yet, Miss Potter.” 

Evangeline smiled at him. He might’ve been a collector, but he didn’t care about blood purity or House, considering the praise he’d distributed so far, and she appreciated that. 

“I often brew with my father,” she said, by way of explanation. 

Slughorn’s eyes lit up. “Oh ho! Old Fleamont Potter, eh? One of the best Potioneers of our age, he is. Why, I remember when he was a student - he was top of the class. I’m glad to see you’re following in your father’s footsteps, my dear.” 

Evangeline’s smile widened but she ducked her head. “I like to think so, Professor.” 

Next to her, Regulus looked like he was trying not to laugh. As Slughorn moved on, he whispered, “Teacher’s pet.” 

Evangeline giggled. “I think he’s just glad I’m nothing like my brother. He set off fireworks in his first Potions class.” 

Regulus blinked, eyes widening. “Merlin.” 

“Merlin, indeed,” Evangeline agreed. They went back to their cutting boards, and then - 

“For what it’s worth,” Regulus said quietly, “I’m glad you’re in Slytherin.” 

Evangeline shot him a surprised look, which quickly turned into a smile. “I’m glad I’m in Slytherin too, but I’m certain my brother disagrees.” Her smile faded. 

“So does mine,” Regulus said with a shrug. “We’ll just have to prove them wrong, won’t we?” 

“We will,” Evangeline agreed. 

~ 

After Potions, they had Charms with the Hufflepuffs. She waved at Jennifer Abbott, who looked briefly surprised before waving back. Evangeline resisted the urge to huff - honestly, just because she was a Slytherin now didn’t mean she was automatically a blood purist or a prat, no matter what James or anyone else said. They didn’t learn any spells, but Evangeline earned Slytherin two points for answering Professor Flitwick’s questions, making Olivia, who was next to her, cough out another “Teacher’s pet.” 

They had lunch, and then Transfiguration, which was their last class of the day, and Professor McGongall set them to turning a match into a needle. Evangeline grinned, and turned her match into an elaborate needle with an ornate cat sleeping on top of the eye, earning Slytherin ten points. Professor McGonagall even gave Evangeline a smile, saying not even her brother had been able to produce a needle so beautiful on his first try. 

Evangeline spent the rest of the lesson helping her friends, and by the end of the class both Regulus and Olivia had needles, too. Professor McGonagall flashed another smile and awarded Slytherin another ten points. 

When class was over, Evangeline set off, Regulus and Olivia hurrying to keep up. 

“The common room’s the other way,” Olivia said. 

“I’m going to the library,” Evangeline grinned. 

Olivia looked astonished. “But we haven’t even got any homework yet!” 

Regulus, having brightened at Evangeline’s words, gave Olivia a look. “But it’s the Hogwarts library,” he said. “It’s one of the best libraries in the world!” 

Olivia looked at them like they’d expressed an interest in teaching trolls ballet, then heaved a sigh. “Alright,” she said. “I suppose it’d be useful to know where it is. Honestly, you two should’ve been Sorted into Ravenclaw. Especially you, Evangeline,” she added. 

Evangeline laughed. “No, I really shouldn’t’ve.” 

At that, Olivia and Regulus both gave her suspicious looks. 

“And why’s that?” Regulus prompted. 

Evangeline smiled sunnily. “Oh, I suppose Slytherin’s just the best place for me, that’s all.” 

Olivia snorted. “That’s a non-answer if I’ve ever heard one,” she said. “Maybe you do belong here, after all.”

They arrived at the library after some more nudging, and she heard Regulus let out a soft, blissful sigh. At Evangeline’s amused look, he flushed. 

“I like books, alright?” he said defensively. 

Evangeline giggled. “I never said anything.” 

“No, but you were thinking it,” Regulus grumbled. They quickly fell silent at Madam Pince’s glare. While Olivia found a table and began writing a letter home, she and Regulus browsed the aisles. 

What made the Hogwarts library world-renowned was that it never threw out a single book - Rowena Ravenclaw had written it into the Hogwarts Charter. Instead, books with outdated knowledge were flagged, but not removed, and books with knowledge that was made illegal were moved to the Restricted Section, but never once had a book been permanently removed. 

The best part was, only illegal books were moved to the Restricted Section, not books with content that the current Headmaster disapproved of, so she was able to find a first-edition copy of A History of Hogwarts . It was the only copy in existence, the basis upon which Hogwarts: A History had been written, but A History of Hogwarts had been written only two hundred years after the founding of Hogwarts and so contained much more forgotten information. It was so old and steeped in magic that her fingers tingled when she touched it.

She settled down at the table Olivia had chosen, Regulus joining a few minutes later, and they read and wrote in silence until dinner. 

~ 

During dinner, she couldn’t resist looking over at the Gryffindor table. She caught James looking at her, an unreadable expression on his face, and gave him a tentative smile. When he didn’t smile back, it was like a slap in the face, and she looked away. 

Next to her, Regulus gave her a little nudge. She glanced at him, and he smiled slightly, sadly.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he said quietly, “Sirius hasn’t looked at me all day.” 

She blinked. She’d been so caught up in her own little drama that she hadn’t even noticed - what sort of friend was she? Suddenly, Evangeline was incandescently angry. At Sirius, at James - just because their younger siblings were Slytherins now didn’t mean they were evil. It didn’t mean anything except that they valued ambition and cunning. And no matter how hard he tried to hide it, Evangeline could see the hurt in Regulus’ eyes.

They were eleven. They didn’t deserve this. 

She gritted her teeth, and stood abruptly from the Slytherin table. 

Regulus’ eyes widened. “What are you -”

“Fixing this,” Evangeline snapped. “This is ridiculous.” 

She strode over to the Gryffindor table. James and his friends looked up as she approached. 

“You and I,” she said to James, “are going to have a talk. And you,” she said, rounding on Sirius with a ferocious glare that made him shrink back, “are going to have a talk with Regulus, because he’s your brother and just because his house colors are green and silver doesn’t mean that’s stopped being true.” 

“I’m not done dinner yet -” James protested weakly, but fell silent when Evangeline turned her glare onto him. 

“It’ll still be there when we’re done,” she snapped. “C’mon.” 

She strode out of the Great Hall, hearing James hurry along behind her. When they were alone in the entrance hall, she turned to him. He was watching her hesitantly. When she met his eyes, their mother’s eyes, all the fight drained out of her and she slumped against the wall. 

“What’s so bad about Slytherin?” she asked tiredly. “What’s so bad about ambition and cunning?” 

James opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked torn. “It’s not - you don’t belong there,” he said instead. “I told you, all the Slytherins are either blood-purists or prats, and -” 

“So which one am I?” Evangeline demanded. 

“Neither,” James blurted out. “Which is why I don’t know how you ended up there -” 

She sighed and leaned her head back. “Slytherins are just people, James,” she said. “There are good ones and bad ones. I haven’t become a completely different person now that I’m in Slytherin -” 

“I know that,” James said, cutting her off. “I just - I don’t know what to think.” He gave her a pleading look. “It’s just - difficult. I’ve spent a year thinking that all Slytherins were bad, and now you’re in Slytherin, and I know you’re not bad, so I just - I’m trying, okay?” he said, running a hand through his hair. He looked at her desperately. “Please don’t hate me,” he begged. 

Evangeline swallowed. He was trying, she could see it in his eyes. It wasn’t easy to admit when you’d been wrong, but James had, and he was trying to be better. 

“I thought you’d hate me,” she admitted quietly. 

James looked bewildered and a little hopeful. “You’re my sister, Evie - I could never hate you,” he said. “Does that - does that mean you -” 

“I could never hate you, either,” Evangeline said. It felt like an enormous weight had been taken off her shoulders. The hand that’d been squeezing her heart finally released it, and she exhaled and smiled up at him. When James returned it, her heart soared, and she tackled him into a hug. He hugged her back, laughing a little, and it was tinged with relief. 

He pressed his nose into her hair. “If any of the Slytherins give you trouble, you come straight to me, understand?” 

Evangeline grinned. “If any of the Slytherins give me trouble, I’ll give them trouble right back.” 

James laughed. He pulled back, ruffling her hair, and Evangeline felt like she was floating. “Just don’t get caught,” he said, and her grin widened. 

“Have I ever?” 

James rolled his eyes. “No wonder you’re in Slytherin,” he said affectionately. “You little snake.” 

They started walking back to the Great Hall. James was visibly cheered, a skip in his step, and Evangeline thought she was much the same. Before they parted ways, though, he caught her wrist. 

“Sit with me at breakfast tomorrow?” he asked hopefully. “I want to hear about how your first day went.” 

Evangeline beamed at him. “I’d love to,” she said warmly. 

James brightened even more. “Brilliant! See you tomorrow, then, Evie.” 

“See you!” 

They parted with a wave, and Evangeline practically skipped back to the Slytherin table. She sat down next to Regulus, who smiled at her. 

“The talk went well, I suppose?” 

“Very well,” Evangeline said happily. “It’ll your turn soon.” 

Regulus blinked once. “Beg pardon?” 

Evangeline grinned. “You’re so posh,” she said teasingly. “‘Beg pardon,’ honestly.” 

“You’re just uncouth,” Regulus shot back automatically. They’d had this argument before. “But really - what do you mean, ‘it’ll my turn soon?’”

“I mean,” Evangeline said, “you and Sirius are going to talk it out whether you like it or not.” 

“I doubt Sirius -” 

“He’ll go along with it, if he knows what’s good for him,” Evangeline said darkly. “I’ll lock you two in an abandoned classroom if I have to.” 

“Please don’t.” Regulus looked befuddled, not quite sure if he should believe her. “... Why do you care so much?” 

Evangeline nudged him. “What sort of friend would I be if I saw you were upset and didn’t do anything about it?” 

Regulus ducked his head, unable to hide his slight flush. It was cute, and Evangeline had to resist the urge to smile. On her other side, Olivia cooed, and Regulus sent her a glare. 

“Shut up, Rowle.” 

“The power of friendship -” 

“I said, shut up.”

Chapter End Notes

THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!! I am absolutely blown away by the response to this fic - over 100 kudos already, and EIGHT COMMENTS?!?! You guys are amazing <3 <3 <3
I literally wrote this chapter just now in the airport, so sorry if there are any mistakes!

Chapter 3

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The next morning, it was a Saturday. Evangeline made her way to the Gryffindor table for breakfast, ignoring the strange and outright hostile looks she got. She sat primly next to Remus, who was sitting alone, reading. He sent her a hesitant smile, which she returned warmly. He was tall for his age, with fewer scars, but the ones he did have were more prominent, more fresh. He carried himself with the air of someone perpetually apologizing for his existence, but when he looked at her, his eyes were warm and welcoming. This boy wasn’t the person who’d been her professor, that much was clear. Professor Lupin had been slumped, worn down with the weariness of having lost all his friends in one fell swoop. He’d been jaded, cynical, afraid to care. Remus was different - the world hadn’t yet brought down its wrath on him, and Evangeline saw that in the line of his shoulders and the warmth of his eyes. 

“Hello, Remus.” 

“Hello, Evangeline,” Remus gave her a small grin. “You’re up early.” 

Evangeline shrugged. “Or maybe the others are just up late.” 

His lips twitched. “I’m sure that’s it.” 

“What’re you reading?” 

“Just the Defence textbook,” Remus said, flushing. “We’ve got the class first thing on Monday, and I want to be prepared.” 

“Do you like Defence?” Evangeline asked, already knowing the answer. 

“It’s my favorite subject,” Remus said, ducking his head. 

She smiled at him encouragingly. “I think it’ll be my favorite, too. Do you know if the professor’s any good?”

“I think so,” Remus said hesitantly, “from what I’ve heard. Professor McCarthy’s a retired auror, so -” 

“Remmy! How could you?” 

Remus’ expression immediately morphed into a scowl. “Don’t call me that.” 

James, Sirius, and Peter sat down at the table. It’d been James who’d called out. 

Evangeline smiled at them, even Peter. Her feelings of hatred towards Wormtail hadn’t faded - on the contrary, now that she knew what it was like to have a loving family, she hated him more than ever for taking that away from her. But just as this James wasn’t her dad, just as this Remus wasn’t her professor, this Peter wasn’t the Wormtail she’d known. In this time, he hadn’t done anything yet. And if she had anything to say about it, he never would. 

“Talking to my sister before me?” James pressed a hand over his heart. “Not to mention leaving us behind in the dorms -” 

“It’s not my fault she’s so much nicer than you are,” Remus retorted. “And besides, I didn’t know if you lot would be awake before lunch.” 

“Lies and slander!” James declared. “Evie, don’t listen to him!” 

Evangeline snorted. “The only liar here is you, James,” she said. “I seem to recall you only waking up early on your birthday and Yule.” 

“Not true,” James objected. “I wake up early on your birthday, too.” 

“To stuff my pockets with frogspawn,” Evangeline retorted. “Which doesn’t count.” 

“I did that once-”

“Exactly,” Evangeline said smugly. “Which is why it doesn’t count.” 

James opened his mouth, then closed it again. All her other birthdays, he’d pranked her after he’d woken up at his usual time. 

Remus was snickering. “She’s got you there, James.” He tucked his book away and grabbed a piece of toast. 

Sirius was looking between her and James with a sort of wistful expression on his face. He hesitated, then blurted out, “How’s Reggie doing?” 

Evangeline blinked, surprised but pleased. “He’s doing well,” she said. “He’s more Ravenclaw than Slytherin, but no one’s given him any trouble.” 

Sirius relaxed, looking uncertain. “Good,” he said awkwardly. “That… that’s good.” 

James stabbed his scrambled eggs with a fork pointedly and scowled. “You’d know that, if you bothered to talk to him.” 

“He’s got friends,” Sirius protested, gesturing to her. It sounded like they were rehashing a previous argument. “He’s fine, isn’t he?” 

“He misses you,” Evangeline said bluntly. “Friends don’t make up for that. And, as his friend, I’m obligated to tell you that you’re being a prat for holding his house against him. He’s still your brother.”

Sirius scowled at her. Evangeline glared right back. He might’ve been her godfather in another life, but at this age, at this time, he was a prat and Regulus deserved better. 

“Sirius already agreed to speak to Regulus today,” James said leadingly. “Didn’t you? Since we agreed it was an arsehole move to ignore your younger sibling because of their house?” 

Sirius’ scowl darkened. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “I’ll talk to him, alright?” 

“Good,” James said. He glanced up and brightened, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, Evans?” 

A red-haired girl - Lily Evans, Evangeline thought, her heart clenching - glared at him as she sat down near them. Evangeline felt like she’d been punched and quickly masked it - this was the girl who, once upon a time, would’ve been her mother. This was the girl who would’ve given her life for her. She’d died for Rose, and now Rose was Evangeline, and she had the chance to stop that, to repay this girl for the sacrifice she’d never (had already?) made. 

Her eyes flicked to Evangeline and she blinked, looking surprised. For a split second, her eyes flicked to Evangeline’s Slytherin tie and then back to James, a confused furrow appearing in her brow. 

“Hello, Potter,” she said coolly, and Evangeline heard the echo of a woman’s voice. Not Rose, please, not Rose - 

She turned to Evangeline. “You’re Evangeline Potter, right?” 

“Yes,” Evangeline said, and gave her a smile that hid her inner turmoil. “You can call me Evangeline.” 

(Evangeline, she told herself. Not Rose. Not anymore)

(this was not that story)

Lily smiled at her. “You can call me Lily, then. How are you liking Slytherin so far?” 

James leaned forwards, obviously wanting to hear the answer to that as well. 

She took a breath.

(this was not that story)

“I love it,” Evangeline said honestly, and her heart calmed. She thought of the Slytherin common room, of its smooth lines and soft glow, of the light shining through the murky water of the lake, of the fish that flitted past the windows, peering curiously at the students. “It’s not as warm and cozy as the Gryffindor dorms, I don’t think, but it’s… nice.”

It was calm in a way Gryffindor had never been. Rose had loved Gryffindor, had loved the loudness and boisterousness, loved how different it’d been from the Dursleys. But Evangeline loved Slytherin, the calm and serenity, and it spoke to a part of her she’d always kept hidden. 

Lily smiled. “That’s lovely. Is it true that your common room’s under the lake?” 

Evangeline nodded, smiling. “Narcissa said that the merpeople drop by sometimes.” 

Sirius choked. “You’re on first-name terms with my cousin?” 

Evangeline eyed him, but he just seemed shocked, not disgusted or horrified. “Yes,” she said. “She’s quite nice.” 

Sirius grimaced. “You just don’t know her well enough,” he said, but it wasn’t mean-spirited. 

The war hadn’t yet begun, Evangeline remembered suddenly. From what she remembered, it hadn’t truly picked up until 1974, which was in two more years. Voldemort had made an open declaration of war in March when he and his Death Eaters had attacked a squib rights protest. The tensions were there, yes, but to Sirius, Narcissa was just his cousin. A blood-purist, yes, but his cousin nonetheless. They’d grown up together, and he hadn’t yet been disowned. 

She’d have to work quickly, Evangeline decided. Two years wasn’t that long in the grand scheme of things, after all. She needed allies in Slytherin - she’d take the next few months to establish herself, then claw her way to the top. It would be difficult, but she’d gotten used to political maneuvering in the few years she’d spent under Daphne Greengrass’ tutelage. She had her magic, she had her wits, and if, even after all that, it wasn’t enough, she had the ace up her sleeve. Hopefully, though, she wouldn’t need to use it - she didn’t want to draw Voldemort’s attention just yet. 

She chatted a bit more with Lily, who introduced her to her friends, Marlene McKinnon and Mary MacDondald. James asked her about her first day at Hogwarts, wrinkling his nose in disgust when she gushed about Potions. Lily, though, beamed at her and drew her into a discussion on the use of non-magical ingredients in potions. It was fascinating, because the magical inertness of non-magical ingredients meant they served as a sort of magical sponge, soaking up any excess magic in the potion. They were an excellent stabilizer as a result, and as they talked, Lily’s eyes grew brighter and brighter with excitement. 

“You should talk to Sev - Severus Snape,” Lily said eagerly. “He’s a Slytherin in my year, loves potions even more than I do - I’m sure you two would get along excellently.” 

It was here, though, that James put his foot down. “Absolutely not,” he scowled. “I won’t have my sister talking to Snivellus.” 

Lily scowled right back and opened her mouth to retort, but Evangeline intervened. 

“You’re not allowed to dictate who my friends are, James,” she said, but her tone was gentle. “I know you’re worried about me, but I can take care of myself. And it’s not nice to call people names,” she added disapprovingly. Lily looked at her, pleased. 

James flushed a little. “You don’t get it though, Evie,” he said. “Sniv - Snape is a greasy little git who -” 

“I’ll form my own opinion on him, thanks,” Evangeline said. She raised her eyebrows. “I’m a Slytherin too, same as him.” 

James scowled, looking away. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But when I say ‘I told you so’-” 

“You won’t,” Evangeline said sunnily. “Or else I’ll tell mum you’ve been calling other people names.” 

James sighed. “Alright, I get it,” he complained. “No need to go tattling to mum.” 

Evangeline smiled sweetly and nudged his foot. “Love you, Jamie.” 

James slumped. “Love you too, Evie,” he muttered. “Merlin, you’re embarrassing sometimes.” 

Lily was watching them with wide, surprised eyes. Sirius had an odd, wistful look in his eye, Peter was cooing, and Remus was hiding a smile. 

Evangeline caught sight of a head of wavy black hair and looked pointedly at Sirius. “Look,” she said. “There’s Regulus.” 

“You don’t need to point him out, I see him,” Sirius grumbled half-heartedly, hauling himself to his feet. “Oi, Reggie!” 

They could hear Regulus’ indignant, automatic response all the way from the Gryffindor table. 

“Don’t call me that!”

There was a pause wherein they all looked at each other as Sirius ambled over to his brother.

“Yeah,” James said, grinning. “They’ll be fine.”

~

Evangeline stayed at the Gryffindor table as it began to fill. Several Gryffindors sent her hostile looks, and she noticed James glaring right back. 

“Ignore them,” she told him. “It doesn’t matter what they think.” 

James scowled darkly. “They’re being prejudiced idiots.” 

Evangeline didn’t mention that he himself had been a prejudiced idiot until very recently. She recognized that look in his eye - someone, likely multiple someones, was going to get pranked. “Don’t get caught,” she said instead. 

James blinked his glare away when he looked at her, grinning. “Have I ever?” he asked, mimicking their conversation last night. 

“Yes,” Evangeline deadpanned. “You’re a terrible liar.” 

Next to her, Remus grinned. “Did he ever tell you about the time we flooded all the bathrooms in Gryffindor Tower? McGonagall asked him what he’d been doing at the time, and he -” 

“Hang on, now,” James said hurriedly. “There’s no need for stories -” 

“Oh, I remember that!” Lily laughed. “He said ‘How could I have flooded the bathrooms, Professor? I’m not even a real person. In fact, I’m actually a cat.’” 

James went red. “Listen -” 

“And then,” Remus said, speaking over James’ protests, “McGonagall just looks at him and James goes, ‘Meow.’” 

Evangeline’s eyes widened with all the glee of a younger sister discovering something embarrassing about her older brother. “No,” she said in disbelief. James had buried his head in his hands. Peter was patting him on the shoulder sympathetically, but that was undercut by his barely concealed sniggering. 

“Yes,” Remus said happily. “Best moment of my life. You should’ve seen McGonagall’s face, he got detention for a month.” He snickered. “Apparently, he forgot what animagus form McGonagall took.”

James let out an incoherent sound of despair as they all burst out laughing. When he spoke, his voice was muffled by his hands. “You’re all awful.” 

Evangeline was so busy laughing that she didn’t notice Sirius had returned until he sat down and clapped James on the shoulder. “What’re we talking about?” 

“The Great Meow Incident of 1971,” Remus said, and Sirius snorted. 

“I didn’t tell you about that, did I, Reggie?” he asked, and Evangeline realized that Regulus had joined them, sliding in on her other side. He looked lighter, somehow, his eyes happier, and she beamed at him even as he rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t call me that,” Regulus complained. “It’s bad enough you said that in front of the entire school -” 

Sirius fluttered his eyelashes. “But then how else would they know we’re related?” 

“Apart from the general everything?” Regulus deadpanned. He leaned over to steal a piece of Sirius’ toast and bit into it contentedly. Sirius just sighed, resigned, and stole a piece of fruit off Regulus’ plate. 

Remus looked bemused, looking between them. “You know, there’s a platter of toast and fruit right there -” 

“It tastes better if it’s stolen,” Regulus and Sirius said at the same time, before glaring at each other. 

“It’s a sibling thing,” James said sagely. “I’d steal from Evie if she didn’t eat so little to begin with.” 

She scowled at him. “I just don’t have an appetite in the mornings, we’ve been over this -” 

“Do you hear something?” James asked Peter, who looked vaguely terrified at being dragged into this. “Sounds like some sort of annoying insect -” 

“You’re infuriating,” Evangeline told him matter-of-factly, getting to her feet. She looked at Regulus. “I’ll be in the common room, away from irritating brothers.” 

Regulus blinked. “I’ll come with,” he said, and stole one last piece of toast from Sirius before standing. 

“It was nice meeting you all,” Evangeline added to Lily and her friends politely before they left. It hadn’t escaped her notice that Regulus hadn’t acknowledged Lily or Mary at all, except when he’d been forced out of politeness. 

Later, she told herself. 

She glanced at Regulus as they walked. “Had a good talk, then?” she asked, smiling slightly. 

Regulus glanced at her and flushed slightly. “Yes,” he said. He hesitated. “Thanks. I know… I’m not sure if he would’ve sought me out if it weren’t for you and your brother.”

“I think he would’ve, eventually,” Evangeline said. Now that she was here, Regulus didn’t seem to see the need to make friends with the future Death Eaters. He was a quiet boy, shy and a little awkward, and the mantle of heir hadn’t yet been thrust upon him. “James and I just gave him a push in the right direction, that’s all.” 

She wasn’t sure what had happened in Rose’s timeline - James hadn’t had a Slytherin sister to reconcile with. He and Sirius likely would’ve remained prejudiced against Slytherin, and Regulus… he would’ve drifted further and further away from his brother, and they would’ve each died never having reconciled. 

Her heart hurt. She didn’t know how close the two of them were, but she remembered the sadness, the wistfulness in her Sirius’ eyes as he spoke of his brother. She knew Sirius would’ve regretted it had he not spoken to Regulus, and she’d wanted them to reconcile for both their sakes. It was easier, now, before the war had begun - once people started taking sides, it would be more difficult, but at least they’d have a stronger foundation to build upon. 

“Nevertheless,” Regulus said, “you didn’t have to, but you did. Thank you.” His voice was soft but genuine, and Evangeline sent him a warm smile. 

“There’s no need to thank me,” she said. “It was the right thing to do. You’re my friend, and I’ll always try to make you happy.” 

Regulus’ eyes widened slightly and he flushed, looking away. “Likewise,” he said quietly. 

They fell into a comfortable silence. Evangeline tilted her head back, admiring the castle in the sunlight. The stones glowed, the windows shone, and it was quiet. Peaceful. 

(she remembered a time when the air had been filled with dust and screams, when the stones were illuminated by spellfire, when a high, cold voice had echoed in her very bones -) 

(no, she thought firmly. It won’t happen this time. I’ll make sure of it)

Chapter End Notes

I am in shock. You guys are incredible - almost 300 kudos?? And 20 comments??? I genuinely teared up from happiness - it's only been TWO CHAPTERS, and already I'm absolutely blown away. I'm so, so glad that you guys enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing <3 I can't explain enough how much it means to me
That being said, though, I've recently moved back home for the summer. Between spending time with my dad and my job, I don't have a lot of time to write, so I won't be able to update as frequently as I have been - just letting you guys know! Unlike my other stories, I don't have a backlog of chapters for this either, so I'll pretty much be posting as soon as I'm done writing + editing a chapter. I'm really sorry about this!

Chapter 4

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The day she first met Severus Snape in this life was, incongruously, a bright, sunny, cloudless day. Evangeline felt that perhaps a thunderstorm or, at the very least, ominous-looking clouds, would be more fitting, but it seemed the universe felt differently. She and Regulus were taking a walk by the edge of the lake after breakfast on the second Saturday of September. 

There they were, strolling casually along the lakeshore, when Evangeline suddenly heard a call of her name. She turned, a smile on her face upon recognizing Lily’s voice, which almost faltered when she saw the skinny, sallow-skinned boy next to her. Next to her, Regulus seemed to wrinkle his nose ever so slightly. 

“Hello!” Lily said brightly, slightly out of breath as she ran up. Her brilliant green eyes shone in the light, and the sun seemed to burn in her hair. Evangeline felt, not for the first time, a pang of gratitude that she’d kept her old eyes - Euphemia’s eyes, while also green, were duller, but her family had excused the difference as a simple genetic change and hadn’t thought much more of it. 

(but authors had always written that eyes were the windows to the soul, and perhaps they’d been right) 

“Hello, Lily,” Evangeline said warmly.

“Hello, Evie!” Lily beamed. She turned to the boy next to her as he joined them, and Evangeline felt her stomach clench with trepidation. 

“This is Severus,” Lily said, beaming. “Severus Snape. He’s a Slytherin in my year. Sev, this is Regulus Black and Evangeline Potter.”

Snape eyed them disdainfully. There was the beginning of dislike in his eyes - understandably so, considering how Regulus’ and Evangeline’s older brothers had treated him. Although, to be fair, Evangeline understood that Snape had dished it right back out, but still. 

It wasn’t yet the look of complete loathing he’d given Rose, once upon a time. It had only been a year, after all, and the incident by the lake hadn’t happened yet - would never happen, if Evangeline had anything to say about it. And - perhaps it was her imagination - but Evangeline fancied she saw a spark of curiosity in his eyes. He must’ve had firsthand knowledge of Sirius and James’ hatred for all things green and silver, and yet he must’ve seen Evangeline and Regulus join them for breakfast on weekends. So maybe, just maybe, he would give them a chance. 

Evangeline drew on every ounce of propriety her mother had taught her and sent Snape a bright smile. “Hello! It’s lovely to finally meet you - Lily’s told me so much about you. You’ve an interest in potions too, right?” 

Snape’s eyebrows raised minutely. “Yes,” he drawled. “And Lily’s mentioned the same about you, but I have a difficult time believing that any relation of Potter’s would have any interest, let alone talent, in potions.” 

Wincing internally, Evangeline instead let out a laugh, even as Lily opened her mouth to protest and Regulus drew back in offense. 

“That’s fair,” Evangeline said easily. “James has no interest or talent at all in potions - broke my dad’s heart, really. But while I can’t say anything about my talent yet, I can say that Potions is my favorite subject.” 

Snape eyed her coolly, clearly disbelieving her. “Mm.” 

“Sev!” Lily burst out, face flushed with embarrassment. She turned to them. “I’m so sorry, I told him not to be rude, but - I’ll see you all later, alright?” 

Without waiting for an answer, Lily grabbed Snape by the elbow and all but dragged him away towards the castle, very visibly scolding him. 

Evangeline turned to exchange looks with Regulus, but Regulus was too busy staring in the direction Lily and Snape had gone in with a complicated expression on his face. 

There was a moment of silence. 

“Well, that was a terrible first meeting,” Evangeline said casually, gazing in the direction Lily and Snape had gone, before she paused thoughtfully and shrugged. “Actually,” she amended, “It could’ve been worse - he could’ve called me a dunderhead and asked me advanced questions on Potions that I couldn’t possibly have known.” She glanced at Regulus again, grinning.

“He had no right to say that to you!” Regulus burst out. Evangeline blinked. He looked furious, brows drawn, lips turned downwards in a frown. 

“That - that filthy half-blood doesn’t know anything about you! All he knows is your brother, and he has the gall to think he knows you because of that? You’re very obviously not your brother, you’re two separate people! Is he so dimwitted that he can’t tell the difference? Is he unaware that two siblings are not exactly the same? Does he have trouble differentiating between family members in general?” 

Evangeline hesitated. She bit her lip as Regulus finished his outburst, breathing hard and glaring in the direction Snape had gone. 

“I’m not sure what his being a half-blood has anything to do with it,” Evangeline said before she could think. Immediately after, she cursed herself - she’d only known Regulus for two weeks. Two weeks wasn’t enough time to make a change - she should’ve waited, should’ve hid and struck when the time was right, but hearing the disgust in Regulus’ voice, hearing that sort of prejudice coming from someone she cared about, struck something in her that she couldn’t ignore.

Regulus blinked at her. “I beg your pardon?” 

Evangeline swallowed. She took a breath. She was committed now. “I mean… his blood status doesn’t have any bearing on his personality, does it? I agree that he was terribly rude, and I’m grateful for your support, I just don’t see what being a half-blood has to do with it.” 

He frowned at her, looking confused. “Well… I know your family’s Neutral, but even you must agree that half-bloods and mudbloods are barbarians, mustn’t you? They’re related to muggles, after all, and muggles are far less civilized than us.” 

Evangeline pressed her lips together. “I don’t agree, actually,” she said slowly. “I think that half-bloods and muggleborns are, at their core, the same as us pure-bloods.” 

Perhaps she’d been a fool to think she could mask her political opinions. She’d never been the kind of person who’d been able to sit back and do nothing in the face of prejudice. It seemed there was still some Gryffindor left in her, after all. 

“But they don’t know anything about magic at all,” Regulus protested. He didn’t seem angry anymore, just bewildered. “They come to Hogwarts with their muggle ways, imposing their holidays on us real magicals, while meanwhile they’ve never seen magic before in their lives.” 

Evangeline pursed her lips. “I do agree that magical holidays and traditions should be preserved,” she said. “But hating an entire group of people based solely on their heritage doesn’t make sense to me. It’s not their fault they don’t know anything about the magical world. No one’s ever taught them, after all. They come from an entirely different culture.”

Regulus pressed his lips together. He looked conflicted. “I… suppose you have a point,” he said slowly. “I just… I don’t know.” His frown deepened. “I suppose Evans is at the top of her class.”

Evangeline exhaled, relief flooding her. She’d known that seventeen-year-old Regulus had disagreed with Voldemort, but eleven-year-old Regulus was something else entirely. He’d grown up his whole life being taught this by his parents, after all. “It’s alright if it takes you some time to think,” she said gently. “You’ve been thinking one way your entire life. And if you come up with any more arguments or questions, please don’t hesitate to tell me, and we can talk over them together.” 

Regulus blinked, staring at her in shock and a hint of fear. “You’re not angry?” he asked. “That we argued?” 

She startled. Why would she - but then it hit her. Regulus had also spent his entire life growing up in a place where the slightest disagreement would get him punished. Of course he would think she’d be angry. Her heart broke for him - he was only eleven. No eleven-year-old should be frightened of such a thing.

“Diagreements aren’t necessarily a bad thing, Reg,” Evangeline smiled. “When handled well, I see them as opportunities to learn. Of course I’m not angry.” 

“So…” Regulus flushed, looking terribly embarrassed, but took a deep breath. “So, we’re still friends?” His voice had a hint of nervousness to it - it was endearing. 

Evangeline smiled at him and took his hands in hers. “Of course we’re still friends, Reg,” she said warmly. She cocked her head and smiled mischeviously. “Who else am I going to bond with about annoying older brothers?” 

Regulus returned her grin, ducking his head in an effort to conceal it. “I don’t suppose Olivia has an annoying older brother?” 

“No, she doesn’t,” Evangeline said emphatically. “And even if she did, I’d want to be friends with you anyway. I think you’re brilliant.” 

And she did. Regulus was funny, with a dry sort of wit that had had her howling with laughter more than once. He was loyal, as shown in his heated - albeit prejudiced - defense of her just now. They got along wonderfully, and Evangeline hadn’t realized until now just how scared she’d been of losing their budding friendship. 

Regulus was staring at her with a sort of muted awe on his face. “You do?” he whispered, as if saying it louder would make it untrue. 

“Of course,” Evangeline said, squeezing his hands. 

Regulus ducked his head, then looked up at her through his eyelashes shyly. “For what it’s worth,” he said softly, “I think you’re brilliant, too.” 

~~~

Regulus pressed his lips together, deep in thought. He lay in his four-poster, curtains drawn, and turned the day’s events over in his mind - could it really be possible that mud- muggleborns and half-bloods were just as good at magic as purebloods? How could it? 

He supposed, grudgingly, that he could accept that half-bloods could be. Some of them had grown up around magic, after all. But muggleborns? They barely knew which end of the wand to hold! 

That’s not fair, Reg, Evangeline’s voice said, unbidden, in his mind. You said so yourself that Lily Evans is top of her year, and she’s a muggleborn, isn’t she?

Well, yes, Regulus supposed she was, but perhaps Evans was an exception. He needed more data. Perhaps he could go through the past school records, find the top students in each year. Yes, that was it - he could tally the blood statuses of each of the past year’s top students. 

It just didn’t make sense that muggleborns could be just as good at magic. Purebloods often had tutors - Regulus knew he certainly had. They might not learn wanded magic until they turned eleven, but before then, there was plenty of theory, which would of course put them ahead. 

But that doesn’t speak to how good purebloods are at magic, mind-Evangeline pointed out. It just means purebloods are more privileged and have more opportunities. Therefore, your idea of tallying the top students by blood status doesn’t make sense, since the purebloods have an innate advantage. 

Regulus’ frown deepend. That… didn’t seem fair to the muggleborns. It also made the muggleborns who did succeed even more impressive, considering everything they had working against them. Evans, for instance, hadn’t had any private tutors at all, and yet she was top of her class anyway. 

Regulus felt a grudging respect for Evans begin to grow. She had the odds stacked against her, and yet she succeeded anyway. Meanwhile, there were purebloods like Crabbe and Goyle who really didn’t know which end of the wand to hold. If purebloods really were innately better than muggleborns, then how could muggleborns like Evans, and purebloods like Crabbe and Goyle, exist? They might’ve been exceptions, yes, but the more he thought about it, the more ‘exceptions’ seemed to pop up. He could name, off the top of his head, at least six purebloods who’d come close to failing out of Hogwarts, and many more who were close to failing classes, and they’d had every advantage. He wasn’t sure about the muggleborns, but that data wasn’t reliable anyway, considering they were actually at a dis advantage. 

The point was, there were too many exceptions for them to be considered as such. But if Evangeline was right, then that meant that Regulus’ parents were wrong. He’d always known they could be wrong about things, of course, but this… this was big. This was huge. He wondered if he should talk to Sirius about this, but immediately scoffed. Sirius would just say something derogatory about their parents and roll his eyes at Regulus’ naivety. He was biased - but then, so was Regulus. He realized, with a start, that he was terrified of his parents being wrong. Because if they were wrong, then… then there’d be a deep divide between them. This wasn’t a divide that could be ignored - it was big, bigger than Sirius getting Sorted into Gryffindor. If Regulus decided that his parents were wrong about this, he was turning his back on them. 

But if he went against logic - and he knew it was logic now, it was undeniable - and disagreed with Evangeline… he wasn’t sure what would happen. She wouldn’t get angry, he was fairly sure, but would she be disappointed? Almost certainly, Regulus thought, his stomach sinking. If she knew that he knew what was right and went against it anyway… he didn’t know that she’d be his friend anymore. And she was his first friend from outside his family - he didn’t want to lose her. She was warm and kind, like the first ray of sun after a heavy rain. Being with her, Regulus felt at peace, content, safe in a way he’d never felt at home. It was selfish, but he couldn’t lose her. 

But it looked like he’d have to choose. His parents, or Evangeline. And his parents were family, and family came above all else, but - he felt safe with Evangeline. 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, before an idea occurred to him. He - he didn’t have to choose right now, did he? He could pretend to follow his parents’ ideals at home, but follow what he knew to be right at Hogwarts. He knew he’d have to choose eventually - of course he did, he wasn’t stupid. But no one was holding a wand to his head forcing him to choose right at this moment. 

Regulus exhaled a breath of relief. Good. Good. This was good. The tension that’d been gripping him melted away. He could please both his parents and Evangeline for now, and have the best of both worlds. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, pleased at the thought. 

Chapter End Notes

Sorry about the long, long, long wait! I don't know if anyone's even following this anymore, but if there is, this one's for you!

Chapter 5

In the days following her and Regulus’ disagreement, she noticed a subtle change in him. When they sat at the Gryffindor table, he actually acknowledged Lily and Mary. Evangeline fancied she even saw a glimmer of respect in his eyes when he looked at Lily. He was kind to her when Lily fell over herself apologizing for Snape, and even sent Evangeline a tentative look afterwards, like he was looking for approval. 

“Did I… I wasn’t rude, was I?” Regulus asked nervously as they walked out of the Great Hall. “To Evans, I mean.” 

“Not at all,” Evangeline said warmly. “I can tell you’re trying, Reg. I really appreciate it - I know it must be difficult.” 

Regulus flushed. “It is,” he said. “But… well, once I thought about it, what you said made sense. There are plenty of purebloods who aren’t good at magic, enough that they can’t be counted as exceptions. And even if, on average, muggleborns do do more poorly, then that can be attributed to the private tutors the purebloods get before school.” Regulus made a complicated face. “Of course, I’d have to do the math to really be certain, but I don’t know how to account for all the variables.” 

Evangeline blinked at him, surprised, before a beaming smile overtook her face. “Yes, that’s it exactly!” she said. “You know, there are researchers who’ve done studies on what you’re talking about - pureblood privilege, they call it. Once you quantify everything, then the private tutors some purebloods get really does account for their higher grades on average, compared to muggleborns. The purebloods who don’t get private tutoring do about as well as muggleborns.”

Regulus’ eyes were wide. “There are studies? ” he breathed. “I simply must see them. Why haven’t I heard of them before?” 

Evangeline gave him a look, and Regulus deflated. 

“Right…” he muttered. “Purebloods tend to be more politically powerful, and enough believe in pureblood supremacy that they’d have hushed it up.” He grimaced. “Merlin, this is so - so - insidious!” 

“Isn’t it?” Evangeline agreed. “But I’m sure the library has copies of the studies - Hogwarts subscribes to every magical journal in the world, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes,” Regulus agreed. “They do.” He gave her a hopeful look, reinvigorated at the thought of looking at research. Evangeline hid a smile - this boy was such a nerd. “Might we - would it be possible to go -” 

“Now?” Evangeline grinned. “No time like the present.”

Regulus beamed at her and grabbed her hand, hurrying to the library. Evangeline, giggling, followed. They whispered greetings to Madame Pince before diving straight towards the bookshelves that held journal copies. Evangeline frowned, tapping her chin with her free hand. 

“Let’s see…” she said thoughtfully. “I believe it was published around three years ago, in Pens and Quills. I don’t suppose your parents ever let you even hold a copy?” she grinned, slanting her gaze over at Regulus, whose eyes widened in horror. Pens and Quills was a pro-muggleborn rights journal, run almost exclusively by muggleborns, half-bloods, and ‘blood traitors’. 

“No, definitely not,” he said fervently. “And if it’s all the same to you, I’d really much rather they never find out.” 

“Of course,” Evangeline agreed readily. She quickly found the correct edition, and she and Regulus sat in a corner of the library. It was a Saturday morning in September, and so the rest of the library was empty, but they didn’t want to take any chances. She flipped to the correct article, and slid it over to Regulus, who, at that moment, seemed to realize he was still holding her hand. He let go of it quickly, a deep flush on his face, and bent his head over the article. 

Evangeline giggled. Regulus raised his head and scowled at her. 

“Shut up.” 

She poked his cheek. “I can’t help it, Reg,” she cooed. “You’re so adorable when you’re excited about something.” 

His scowl deepened, as did his flush. “I’m not adorable,” he said, sticking out his bottom lip a little. 

“You’re pouting!” she gasped. “Oh, this is wonderful!” 

“Shut up,” Regulus complained. “Let me read in peace, you villain.” 

Evangeline burst into another fit of giggles. Villain? He called her a villain! He was so incredibly cute, like a kitten trying to growl. She was so fond of him that she felt her heart might burst. Instead, she ruffled his hair, and Regulus immediately ducked his head, scowling at her.

~

Perhaps, in retrospect, it was unsurprising that the bullying had slipped by her so easily. She spent most of her time with Regulus and occasionally Olivia Rowle, shifting between the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables as well as the library. She only really spent time with the rest of the Slytherins in public, where they put up a united front, and so perhaps she could be forgiven for her oversight. 

Perhaps. 

~ 

It first became apparent in Charms. Olivia, who usually sat beside Samantha Haversham, instead sat beside Valeria Avery. Valeria Avery’s old partner, Evan Rosier, was instead sitting next to Damien Wilkes, and so on. There’d been some sort of shuffle, and now Samantha Haversham was sitting alone, with Valentina Rosier, Evan Rosier’s cousin, squeezed at a table of three. 

Evangeline blinked at the shuffle. It was two weeks into school, and already Slytherin politics were making themselves apparent, it seemed. She frowned from her seat next to Regulus and leaned over to Olivia, who sat at the table beside her. 

“Did Haversham get dragon pox?” Evangeline asked. “Or did she insult your ancestors?” 

Olivia blinked at her. “Oh, I suppose you wouldn’t have heard yet,” she said, and wrinkled her nose. “Valeria - she’s Haversham’s roommate - found out that Haversham’s a mudblood. ” Olivia shook her head disdainfully. “Really, can you believe it? A mudblood in Slytherin. Valeria thought she might’ve been a half-blood, at first, but no. It’s shocking, isn’t it?” 

Evan Rosier, overhearing, laughed. “Bet she’ll be pulled out of Hogwarts by Yule.” 

Evangeline blinked. She felt like she’d been slapped in the face. She’d expected prejudice - hadn’t she been dealing with Regulus’? But this - this was bullying. Regulus might’ve looked down on muggles and muggleborns, but at least he was still polite to them. It was an extremely low bar, and yet, somehow, her fellow first year Slytherins hadn’t crossed it. 

Carefully, she let her disappointment show on her face. Olivia frowned at her. 

“Not a mudblood-lover, are you, Evangeline?” she asked. 

“I suppose I’m just confused,” Evangeline said slowly, neither confirming nor denying it. “If Haversham drops out of Hogwarts, who will teach her magic? Who will educate her on magical customs?” 

Rosier looked at her like she was stupid. “No one, Potter,” he said. “That’s the point.”

“But Haversham still has magic,” Evangeline pointed out. “If she leaves, and it’s left uncontrolled, wouldn’t she then be a risk to the Statute? And,” she added, “aren’t magical customs fading because muggle-raised people don’t understand their importance? Doesn’t shunning Haversham then, therefore, add to that? She could be an ally on the importance of preserving our celebrations.” 

Olivia blinked at her, looking thoughtful. “I’d never thought of it that way before,” she said slowly. “But what use would she be as an ally? She hasn’t got any connections.” 

“She’s still powerful enough to have gotten accepted to Hogwarts,” Evangeline said reasonably. “She’s been doing alright in our classes, too, despite not having known anything about magic beforehand. She has enough ambition and cunning to be in Slytherin. Isn’t that a commendation in and of itself?” Hopefully, an appeal to house pride - an emotional argument - as well as a logical one would prevail. 

Dismantling their prejudice would be slow work. First, she needed them to see muggleborns as useful. That would give them a reason to speak with muggleborns, and hopefully, after that, they’d slowly realize that muggleborns were the same as purebloods. Emotional arguments, like the ones the Progressives made in the Wizengamot, stating muggleborn equality as a foregone conclusion wouldn’t work. Many Traditionalists simply didn’t see muggleborns as humans in the first place, making such arguments null and void. 

Olivia looked conflicted. Rosier looked skeptical. 

“She’s still a mudblood,” he said. “What happens when she takes up the usual mudblood opinions? Wanting non-human creatures out of her sight, discriminating based on skin colour and gender?” 

“She won’t,” Evangeline said confidently. It was true that those raised in the magical world didn’t discriminate based on appearance or gender, but that was because magic was an excellent equalizer - instead, they discriminated based on blood, but Evangeline wasn’t about to point that out. Instead, she addressed Rosier’s concerns. “Because we’ll teach her the way things work in the magical world. She’ll go back to her muggleborn friends and teach them, and then suddenly we’ll have a whole crowd of muggleborns who support the preservation of magical culture.”

She could’ve said more - could’ve said that the muggle world had a lot to offer the magical one in terms of advancements. Could’ve said that their technology was increasingly mimicking magic’s capabilities. Could’ve said that the discrimination in the muggle world would lessen over the years, though not disappear completely. But she didn’t, because the first step was for them to see muggleborns as useful. The second step was for them to see muggleborns as human. Then the two steps would have to be repeated for muggles. 

The single most important thing, though, was to make sure none of the people she tried to convince saw her as an enemy. That was why she emphasized their shared goals in cultural preservation, why she never raised her voice or insulted Rosier for his views. Because once things got hostile, then all open-mindedness was lost.

It was a lofty goal. A challenging one. But if she didn’t want to see another Voldemort in her lifetime, it was a necessary one. 

Rosier made a complicated face. “Do you really believe that?” 

“I do,” Evangeline said. 

“Then show me,” Rosier challenged. “Prove it.” 

Evangeline lifted her chin. “I will. Once I prove it with Haversham, you’ll believe me about muggleborns being useful?” 

“If you prove it with Haversham,” Rosier corrected, arching an eyebrow. 

Evangeline smiled. “Shall we shake on it, then, Rosier?” she asked, keeping her tone friendly. 

“We shall, Potter,” Rosier said. 

~ 

Afterwards, the first-year Slytherins sent her guarded, evaluating looks. She hadn’t been classed as a ‘blood-traitor’ yet, as she hadn’t spouted the usual arguments - instead of declaring muggleborns equal, she’d declared them useful. Furthermore, as a pureblood coming from a Neutral family, she was in a position of privilege. The same argument, coming from a muggleborn, likely wouldn’t have gone over as well - it would have been dismissed simply based on its source. But instead, it had come from her, a Potter, a Slytherin - one of them . Furthermore, Evangeline’s closest friend was Regulus, a Black, a member of the oldest and most powerful family in Britain, and he hadn’t said a word against her, lending her arguments his implicit approval. The weight of their positions had balanced the absurdity of her words. 

Now, all it hinged on was Haversham.

Chapter 6

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

After dinner, Evangeline stood when she saw Haversham leaving. Regulus looked at her, blinking. 

“Are you going to speak with Haversham now?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Evangeline said. 

“Want me to join you?”

She smiled. “I appreciate it, but I’m alright. I don’t want her to feel like I’m ganging up on her.” 

Regulus furrowed his eyebrows. “Ganging… up?” 

“Yes, you know, like pressuring her with other people.” 

His expression cleared. “Ah. And I suppose it’ll help, as well, if you don’t have a person from a notoriously anti-muggleborn family along with you?” 

Evangeline grimaced, caught, but to her surprise, Regulus only smiled. 

“It’s alright, Evangeline,” he said kindly. “I understand. It’s sensible.” 

“Right,” Evangeline exhaled. “Thanks. Well then, I’ll be off.” 

“Good luck,” Regulus said. 

~ 

Evangeline caught Haversham in an empty corridor. 

“Haversham, may I have a word?” 

Haversham turned. Her brown eyes were guarded, with a vague hint of hostility. “I wondered when you’d approach me.” 

“So I take it you caught my conversation in Charms, then?” 

“Yes.” Haversham’s eyes narrowed. “And I think it’s awful of you to use me as a tool to further your own goals.” 

“I agree,” Evangeline said.

“And I think that - what?” Haversham blinked, looking surprised. “You agree?” 

“Yes. It is awful of me - it’s awful, manipulative, and presumptuous. I’m not denying any of that.” 

“Then why do it?” Haversham asked bluntly. “Or do you just not care?” 

“Why?” Evangeline echoed. “Because it was the first step to getting the prejudiced bigots in our year to see you as a fellow human.” 

Honesty was the best policy here. Haversham had overheard the conversation, a scenario Evangeline had considered to be a possibility. She currently saw Evangeline as an enemy, and as long as that held, no compromise was possible. So Evangeline needed to get Haversham to see her as an ally, and the best way to do that was to tell the truth, to give context to the manipulation. 

She’d never told anyone her goals before, though. Not even her family. She hoped, with a desperate, clawing sort of edge, that it would work. 

“... I’m not following,” Haversham said slowly. 

“The ultimate goal is, of course, to dispel all the anti-muggleborn prejudice in our school,” Evangeline said. “But I can’t just walk up to them and order them to treat you like a fellow human - the Progressives in the Wizengamot have been trying that for decades, and it’s only strengthened the prejudice. I need to try a different approach, one that starts with dismantling the prejudice of the first-year Slytherins and that will hopefully expand to prejudice in all years of all houses. Right now, most of them see you as subhuman. Trying to force them to see you as you really are would never work - I need their cooperation, as people only truly change when they wish it. And it must be done in small increments, too - trying to force too large a change will only end in failure. And so, the first step is for them to see you as useful. The next step is for them to see you as human. The third step is for them to expand that view to all muggleborns. Are you following me?” 

Haversham looked bewildered. “Well, yes, but… you’re a pureblood, aren’t you? Why on earth do you care so much that you have a multi-step, multi-year plan?” 

Evangeline blinked. “I just… I just despise prejudice,” she said helplessly. “It’s so pointless, you know? Hating someone for something that they can’t control is foolish and unfair. It’s true that I’m a pureblood, so I don’t suffer directly, but isn’t that all the more reason for me to do something about it? They see me as one of them, which puts me in the ideal position to change their minds.” She smiled slightly. “Isn’t there a muggle quote that goes, ‘The only thing necessary for evil to triumph in the world is that good men do nothing’?” 

Haversham stared. “I… I don’t know if you’re being genuine or just pulling my leg.” She shook her head rapidly. “Alright, let’s say you’re telling the truth. What does me learning about traditional magical holidays have to do with anything?” 

“Because the given reason for the prejudice against muggleborns is that they are the reason why magical traditions and culture are fading,” Evangeline said. “Well, it’s less the muggleborns themselves that are the reason and more Progressive efforts to make the majority-Christian muggle population less uncomfortable.”

Haversham’s mouth fell open. “But none of that is my fault! And what’s all this about magical traditions and culture? From what I’ve seen, it’s basically a backwards version of the muggle world, isn’t it?” She hesitated. “No offense.”

“I’m aware that none of this is your fault,” Evangeline agreed. “But it’s a common mistake among those raised by muggles to just see the magical world as backwards. One of the reasons you came to that conclusion is likely our usage of quills and parchment, yes?” 

“Well… yeah,” Haversham said bashfully. 

“The reason we use quills and parchment instead of pen and paper is because they channel and carry magic more effectively,” Evangeline said matter-of-factly. “Quills, being feathers, and parchment, being animal skin, are both parts of living beings, usually non-magical. This means that they’re essentially sponges - they soak up magic. They’re easier to enchant and cast spells on. That’s how you can have self-writing quills or anti-cheating parchment. If you tried to do the same with pen and paper, the magic only has a 50-50 chance of working, less so if the materials have been heavily processed. Something in the processing of materials lessens their ability to hold magic - that’s why we don’t use artificial fibers in clothes, either.

“And as for culture, magical cultural norms are very different from muggle ones. Magic being an excellent equalizer, there’s very little sexism or racism in the magical world. Of course, there’s the blood discrimination, as well as species discrimination, so it’s not all perfect. And though Hogwarts and some Progressive households celebrate muggle holidays like Christmas and Halloween, fifty years ago everyone celebrated pagan holidays like Samhain and Yule. There’s been a big push in recent years to accommodate muggleborns, but instead of adding muggle holidays to existing ones, people got rid of the existing holidays entirely, and a lot of people find that unfair.” 

“... Oh,” Haversham said faintly, looking overwhelmed. 

“Sorry,” Evangeline said. “I know that was a lot - I shouldn’t have overloaded you with that much information -” 

“No, it’s alright,” Haversham said, looking a little steadier. “I just… I can understand that. If I’d been born magical, and had been celebrating pagan holidays my whole life, but then was suddenly told that I had to stop and celebrate different holidays instead? I’d be angry too.  And I’d direct my anger at the most obvious target.” Her expression turned contemplative as she looked at Evangeline. 

“So you told me your goals with pureblood prejudice,” she said slowly. “What’re your goals with the other side, then?” 

“Well,” Evangeline said, “the first step is to educate muggleborns on magical culture and traditions. Of course, they’re free to choose whether or not to follow those traditions, but I think they shouldn’t be left in ignorance. I’d also like to gain muggleborn support for adding magical holidays to muggle ones - people would be able to choose which ones to celebrate, and neither one would be pushed to the sidelines. 

“But above all,” Evangeline added, “my ultimate goal is tolerance. I don’t want there to be this ‘us versus them’ mentality anymore - I just… I just want everyone to see each other as human beings. I know we’ll never agree on everything, and that’s alright. There’s a difference between disagreeing with someone based on what they believe and hating someone for something they can’t control.”

Haversham was quiet. She studied Evangeline, her eyes open and curious. “I can get behind that,” she said softly. “I don’t know that it’s possible, but… I’m willing to try.” 

Hope rose in Evangeline’s chest, like the unfurling of gentle wings. “Yeah?” 

Something in Haversham’s eyes firmed. “Yeah.”

~ 

As she and Haversham walked back to the common room, Evangeline had to hide a skip in her step. She was still a little numb with disbelief that it’d actually worked - she’d been planning out her steps for dismantling prejudice for so long, that the plan’s early success had seemed unreal. 

She and Haversham - “Call me Sam” - chatted about lighter things, classes and their lives before Hogwarts. Evangeline learned that Sam had grown up in London as the daughter of an interracial couple, and so was especially sensitive to prejudice in all its forms. She’d been delighted when Professor McGonagall had told her that she would face no discrimination for her sex and race at Hogwarts, but that had only made the disappointment of being discriminated against for her blood all the more devastating. 

“I had no idea that the magical world was more like a different country than an extension of the muggle one,” Haversham said quietly as they sat in a corner of the common room. She gazed around the common room as if seeing it in a new light. “It makes sense, I just… I wish someone had told me earlier.” 

When Regulus walked through the door, Evangeline waved him over. He approached, looking cautiously hopeful. 

“I don’t believe you two have met, have you?” Evangeline smiled. “Sam, this is Regulus Black. Regulus, this is Samantha Haversham.” 

“It’s a pleasure,” Regulus said, holding out a hand. 

Sam shook it and smiled. “Likewise.”

Chapter End Notes

fdkjsla;fjdsa sorry there's a bit of repetition of Evangeline's plans, I just had more details I wanted to add. and this is a very dialogue/monologue-heavy chapter, rip XD
and sorry I haven't gotten around to replying to everyone yet, I'm in the middle of a depressive episode and it's kinda hard to do anything right now :'))))
hope you enjoyed the chapter! not much reg in this one, unfortunately :')

Chapter 7

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The reaction of the rest of the Slytherins to Sam’s slow education was subtle, yet stark. Evan Rosier, who seemed to have become the leader of the Slytherin first-years, sent both Evangeline and Sam appraising looks when he thought neither of them were looking. He was still, understandably, cautious - the best, longest-lasting change came slowly, organically. To force Sam’s so-called usefulness down Rosier’s throat would be extremely counterproductive - she had to let him come to the conclusion himself. 

Evangeline had planted the seed in bringing up the possibility - now she had to step back and let Rosier water it. 

Sam proved herself to be curious, open-minded, and understanding. She asked insightful questions when Evangeline would tell her about facets of the magical world, wrinkling her nose at the rampant discrimination and prejudice on all sides in the Wizengamot. The Progressives, led by Dumbledore, aligned firmly against Dark creatures and Dark magic. The Traditionalists, led by Malfoy, aligned firmly against muggles and muggleborns. The Neutrals, led by Greengrass and Potter, were somewhere in the middle. 

In turn, Sam spread the word to her other friends and acquaintances in the other Houses, most of whom were muggleborn. Not immediately, and not all at once - it had to be organic. Little comments like, “Are you planning on celebrating Samhain, Halloween, or something else?” or “You know, I learned the most interesting thing the other day.” Not so frequent that the others would get suspicious, but also not so rare as to allow the differences between Muggle and Magical to not make themselves clear. 

Balance. That was the most important thing. 

~

Evangeline and Regulus were studying in the library when Lily approached them. Evangeline blinked and looked up from her notes, greeting the girl with a warm smile. At that, Lily looked relieved. They hadn’t spoken since Snape’s insults by the lake. 

“Listen,” Lily said, “I just wanted to apologize for Sev’s behaviour. He just…” Lily grimaced. “ Really dislikes your older brothers.” 

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for,” Evangeline said, smiling. “His behaviour isn’t your fault.” 

Lily gave her an odd look. She opened her mouth, flushed, then closed it again. 

“You look like you want to say something,” Evangeline said, tilting her head. 

“Yes, well -” Lily turned pink. “I do hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re really not what I expected James Potter’s younger sister to be like.” 

Evangeline couldn’t hold back her giggle, and Lily looked relieved that she wasn’t offended. 

“We get that a lot,” Evangeline said freely. “James is silly, obnoxious, and has the biggest head I’ve ever encountered. I, on the other head,” she said, looking down her nose a-la-snobby-pureblood, “am perfect.” 

Next to her, Regulus grinned. “Is that why you made a bonfire out of all Damien Wilkes’ underpants in the common room?” 

Lily’s eyes widened. Evangeline narrowed her eyes at Regulus. 

“Well, I didn’t get caught, did I? And he insulted Sam. It’s only fair.” 

“Yes, we all know how Hufflepuff-like you are, valuing fairness above all else,” Regulus said, his voice dryer than the Sahara desert. “And besides,” he added, grimacing, “you didn’t consider the smell, did you? We had to evacuate.” 

“That was you?” Lily burst out, before immediately covering her mouth. 

Evangeline grinned sheepishly. “Well… yes.” 

Lily removed her hand from her mouth. Her face contorted, and for a moment Evangeline was terrified she was about to be yelled at or told on. But then - 

Lily let out a giggle. 

“Good,” Lily said, still giggling. “He’s very rude, even to us second-years. I had noticed that he’s been better lately, though - was that you as well?” 

“It’s possible there was a threatening note involved that may or may not have outlined exactly what he’d done to deserve that retribution,” Evangeline allowed. 

Lily gave a fun-on laugh, and Evangeline preened a little, pleased. “Oh, that’s brilliant.”

“You didn’t have to smell it, though,” Regulus groused. “Is no one on my side here?” 

Evangeline patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. He pouted. 

“Entertaining as this has been,” Lily said reluctantly, “I should get going. It’s been lovely talking with you two though. See you both later!” 

With that, she was gone. 

Evangeline looked down, a small smile on her face. She promised herself that, this time, Lily would live to see her twenty-second birthday. 

~

Time passed. September turned to October, and before Evangeline knew it, Samhain was upon them. 

Samhain was a unique holiday in that each person and family celebrated it differently. It was a deeply personal time for honoring one’s ancestors, as it was the day the veil between life and death was at its thinnest. 

Rose had always had a special dislike of Samhain - bad things always seemed to happen on that day. The troll-in-the-dungeons incident, the Chamber of Secrets incident, and, of course, James and Lily’s murder. 

But for Evangeline, Samhain was her favorite holiday. She’d always felt a special connection with death and the dead, and the Potter Samhain tradition only emphasized it. The Potters had always had a deeper connection with the earth than the other magical families, and that was most clearly delineated in their name. And thus, it was tradition to take a walk outside, feet bare and in contact with the grass and soil. Her family usually did so at sunset, as the last rays of light painted the sky red. 

The walk would be spent in silence and contemplation. After that, as the stars began to twinkle in the sky overhead, her parents would light a bonfire and share memories of those they’d lost, her and James listening intently. There would be sadness, yes, but also joy. There had been something so soothing about the crackle of the flames, the feel of the earth beneath her feet grounding her. 

She’d asked her mother, once, if she ever missed the Rosier way of celebration. Her mother had given Evangeline a small, bittersweet smile. 

“I do,” Euphemia had said honestly. “Which is why, when the fire’s sputtered out and all that’s left is glowing timber, I’ll go to my flowers and tend to them. Why do you think there are roses all around the firepit?” 

Evangeline’s eyes had gone wide with understanding. While the Potter family’s history lay in clay and earth, the Rosier family’s history lay in flowers, having originated in the Savoy region of France nearly a thousand years ago. She’d never noticed this connection her mother maintained with her birth family - she’d always gone to sleep long before the bonfire died. But there was something poetic and beautiful in imagining her mother tending to her blooms by a dying fire. 

“Thank you for telling me,” Evangeline had said quietly. Her mother had smiled at her fondly. 

“There’s no need for thanks. It’s not a secret.” 

~

Funnily enough, Samhain morning dawned on a Saturday, which meant she, Regulus, and Sam were sitting at the Gryffindor table. Evangeline smiled brightly at James when he sat down, yawning. 

“Where do you want to meet, later? I looked it up and sunset’s at 5:05 pm, which means we should meet at about 4:45 if we want to make it.” 

James blinked blearily. “Oh - uh, I dunno, maybe the Entrance Hall? We could walk on the grounds.” 

Regulus tilted his head, looking extremely interested. “Is this part of your Samhain celebration?” 

“Yes,” Evangeline said, giving a soft, contented sigh. “It’s beautiful.” 

“It’s alright,” James said diplomatically. 

Evangeline wrinkled her nose at him. “You just prefer Yule because it involves more food.” 

James looked deeply offended. “And how is that a bad thing, exactly?” 

Clearly sensing an oncoming, oft-repeated argument, Regulus intervened. “How interesting. It involves a walk?” 

“Yes, and a bonfire, usually,” Evangeline said. “But I already asked Slughorn - fires aren’t allowed on the grounds for any reason.” 

Regulus looked aghast. “Not even for Samhain?” 

“For any reason,” Evangeline repeated miserably. 

“That’s terrible,” Regulus declared passionately. Evangeline nodded in agreement. 

Peter, sitting across from James, looked a little uncomfortable. Evangeline decided to address it directly. 

“Is something wrong, Peter?” she asked kindly. 

Peter’s discomfort visibly deepened. “It’s just… well… Samhain’s a rather gloomy holiday, isn’t it?” 

Regulus puffed up like an angry bird, but Evangeline only smiled. 

“I can see how it gets that reputation,” she said. “But I find it rather beautiful. It’s about the dead, yes, but it’s for the living. It’s a celebration of life, really.” Putting it more concretely, she continued, “For those who celebrate it, it’s a time to honor our ancestors. In my family, we end the night with a bonfire and remember those we’ve lost. It can be sad, yes, but also happy - we remember the good times while acknowledging the bad. Like Uncle Charlus and Aunt Dorea - they were wonderful, even if they were extremely stubborn about things, like their insistence that James and I learn pottery.” 

Peter blinked. “Pottery?” 

“Yes,” Evangeline grimaced. “You know - for Potter.” 

James grinned in memory. “We were both awful at it.” 

“For different reasons,” Evangeline added, in case anyone got the wrong idea. “James was always more interested in creating more of a mess - I actually tried, but they always broke in the kiln.” 

Peter looked like he was trying not to laugh. “... Right. A bit on the nose, innit?” 

She wrinkled her nose. “Yes, quite. I’m glad that’s behind us.” 

James’ grin broadened. “You never know - a pottery wheel might just mysteriously appear in the mail one day.” 

“And should that happen, I’m sure that you’ll find your room smelled overwhelmingly of licorice the day after,” Evangeline shot back. James hated the smell and taste of licorice. 

He gave her a skeptical look. “You don’t even know where the common room is.” 

“Don’t I?” Evangeline said archly. “You ask the Fat Lady about me sometime and see what she says.” 

James’ mouth fell open. “You - you -” 

“Me,” she agreed smugly, preening. Thank you, Rose. 

“How?” James burst out. “We haven’t even found the entrance to the Slytherin common rooms yet, and we’ve been here for over a year! You’ve been at Hogwarts two months!”

As Evangeline puffed up further in pride and James continued to sputter, she kept a covert eye on Peter. He was laughing along with the rest, looking completely at ease. He hadn’t converted to paganism - that wasn’t her goal, anyway. Her goal was simply to encourage him to accept it, to stop seeing it as ‘gloomy.’ Even if she hadn’t succeeded, that was okay - these things took time, after all, and she’d already helped him take the first step.

Chapter End Notes

*cries in the corner*
You guys... I am SO SORRY for the long wait ;-;;; I just could not for the life of me find any ideas. I've always had canon to guide me in my other fics, so they're a lot easier to write, but here I'm going solely off of my own imagination, and it was... lacking, to say the least.
I hope you'll all forgive me ;-;
(also, if you have questions on how muggleborns celebrate Samhain, should they choose to - that'll be answered in the next chapter!)

Chapter 8

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Evangeline, Regulus, and Sam spent the afternoon outside, enjoying the sun. Evangeline was laying on her back, eyes closed, relishing the warmth of the light on her skin. Regulus was sitting cross-legged, leaning back on his hands, and Sam was laying on her stomach, playing idly with the grass. 

“You know,” Regulus said thoughtfully, “You never did tell us how you were planning on celebrating, Sam.” 

His voice was quiet and unaccusing, a stark change from their earlier interactions, where Regulus had clearly been making an effort but ended up stiff and falling back on old manners. 

Evangeline opened her eyes to look at Sam, shielding them from the sun with a hand as she turned her head. She was curious, too - the few muggleborns who celebrated Samhain could celebrate it however they wished, with the freedom to begin their own traditions. 

At Regulus’ question, Sam smiled. “I didn’t, did I?” She paused, thinking over what she wanted to say. “Well, I’ve never lost anyone close to me - I’m rather lucky in that way. I think I’ll just meditate this year and see where my thoughts guide me.” 

Evangeline smiled. “That sounds lovely.” 

Sam laughed. “I suppose it is, in a way, but I have to admit I’m rather envious of you and Regulus - it’d be nice to have an established tradition.” 

Regulus tilted his head. “I see where you’re coming from, but I think Sirius would disagree. He’s never liked our family tradition - mostly because he’s not all that fond of our parents. I think, once he turns of age, he’ll make his own tradition, like you. Forge his own path, you know?” 

Sam blinked. “Huh. I didn’t know that about your brother - won’t it be a scandal, if he does?” 

“Oh, definitely,” Regulus sighed. “It’ll be horribly chaotic. I’m sure the Prophet’ll have a field day.” 

Evangeline grinned. “Sounds just up Sirius’ alley.” 

He made a face at her. “Yes, but not mine.” 

Sam patted him on the back. “Poor Regulus.” 

~

At half-past four, fifteen minutes before she was due to meet James in the Entrance Hall, she, Regulus, and Samantha parted ways. Samantha left for her room to meditate, and Regulus left for his room, as well. He’d told her, privately, that he was rather sad at being unable to celebrate in the traditional way - usually, the Blacks would gather at the estate, where there was a winding river, and meditate in the moving water in private, from youngest to oldest. Being that students weren’t allowed to leave the castle grounds for Samhain anymore, he clearly couldn’t do that, and so he’d decided to just make like Sam and meditate in his bed. 

So it was that she stood alone in the Entrance Hall, waiting for her brother to arrive. He did, surprisingly on-time. He grinned at her, and she smiled back, and together they walked down the front steps of the castle. At the bottom step, before reaching the ground, they reached down and took of their shoes and socks, placing them in their bags, and then their feet were on the earth. 

Evangeline sucked in a sharp breath of surprise when her toes met the ground. There was magic there in the earth, strong magic. She closed her eyes, focusing on it, and for a moment, she could see in her mind’s eye a long line of every Potter who’d ever stepped foot on the castle grounds. The line stretched into the white mist, and she could almost feel them, feel the peace and harmony they themselves had felt, feel their family magic, stretching back into time. She felt their joys and sorrows, felt the entirety of their lives, simultaneously massive and minuscule, and most of all, she felt their presence in the air around her, filled with love and welcome.

And now her vision changed, blurring as it shifted, and she Saw her and James, making this very same walk each Samhain for the next six years. She Saw Sirius and Regulus, older, sitting next to each other in an empty classroom. Sirius said something, grinning as he elbowed his brother, and Regulus rolled his eyes and sighed. She Saw herself, Regulus, and Sam, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, in Hogesmeade, and saw the joy on their faces. 

She opened her eyes, feeling as though she might burst with the magnitudes she’d just Seen. Something similar happened every holiday, but it was especially strong on Samhain, and seemed especially strong at Hogwarts. On this day, the veil between life and death was at its thinnest, and divination magic was strong. And here, at Hogwarts, where thousands upon thousands of students had lived, loved, and learned, the very air, stones, and earth were steeped in magic. 

All that had happened in an instant. She looked at James, realizing there were tear tracks on her cheeks, and he offered her a handkerchief. She gave him a grateful smile and took it.

~

When their walk had come to a close, when the stars had begun to twinkle in the night sky and the moon shone down upon them, James finally spoke. 

“Were they good?” 

Evangeline knew he was referring to her visions, and smiled slightly. “They were, but that never means anything, you know that.” 

He did, and nodded quietly. They both knew her visions were influenced by her mood and recent events - if she was happy, her magic sought happy visions. And if she was sad, her magic was attuned to that, and searched for sadness. It had a strange, compounding effect, and it wasn’t yet over - her dreams on this night would be prophetic, too. Her magic would search for things, in the past, present, and future, and show her what it had found. 

But also, just because she’d Seen something didn’t necessarily mean it would come to pass. The future was what people made of it - it was determined by a thousand tiny actions and thoughts and words, and it was always in flux. What her visions showed her were simply possibilities. Some possibilities were stronger than others, it was true, but all had an element of chance. 

They parted ways at the grand staircase, James pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead beforehand. Evangeline began to make her way back to the Slytherin common room, before she paused. Her magic was urging her elsewhere. 

This had never happened before, though she’d read the journals of past Seers and had known it was possible. A Seer’s magic seemed to ebb and flow with magic itself. In a nonmagical area of London, surrounded by concrete, it was possible her Sight would be blocked entirely. But here, sitting at a crossroads of ley lines, resting in a seat of the world that was soaked in magic, on a day when Death magic was at its strongest, it made sense that her Sight would try to guide her. 

And so she followed, curious, as her feet led her to the one place she’d been refusing to think about.

~

Evangeline had been five when she’d first tested it. It’d been on another Samhain. She’d gone to bed early that night, but sleep had eluded her, and so, ten minutes to midnight, she’d decided to go on a walk through the gardens. 

She’d been among the forget-me-nots when she’d heard a small voice from among the flowers. 

Who goes there?

She’d looked down, knowing before she saw it what she would see. There, in the earth, lay a small grass snake. She’d stared at it, shocked into silence, and it had stared back. 

Then she’d turned on her heel and fled. 

~

She had told no one of her ability. How could she possibly have explained it? And - and this had been the real reason - she had been deeply afraid, terrified to her very bones, that her family would not react well. This was Before - before she’d been placed in Slytherin, before she’d discovered the strength of James’ love for her, before she’d found out that her parents had known her House all along. 

Now, though, things were different. She was planning on telling them all when she and James went home for Yule. But just because she was planning on telling her family didn’t mean she was ready to use it. Rose had, for her entire life, rejected this part of her soul. Even after Voldemort’s horcrux had been removed, the Parseltongue had stayed, for no soul could be melded to another for sixteen years without taking on some form of its shape, and so the horcrux had left its mark. For Rose, it had always been a reminder that she was different, tainted, wrong in the deepest sense.

Evangeline was not Rose. They were different, but this was a sign that they shared a soul, and not simply memories. That made her fearful - fearful that she would share Rose’s fate, fearful that a prophecy would be made about her instead, fearful that, somehow, Voldemort would take one look at her and know.

And so she’d shut it out of her mind, because thinking on the implications of this had frightened her, and at her core, she was still a child who shied away from things that frightened her. But now she stood in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, staring at a carving of a snake on the pipes. 

She could leave - she knew she could. Her magic would be unhappy, but it wouldn’t stop her. She could leave, and put this out of her mind, and never think about it again. 

But, in her heart of hearts, she knew she couldn’t. This was an advantage - Voldemort had once nearly shut Hogwarts down with the basilisk. In Rose’s time, he’d nearly done it again. And beyond that, the basilisk was dangerous. It obeyed Voldemort and Voldemort alone, and allowing it to live was an oversight of the greatest order. Should Voldemort one day find a way into Hogwarts, he could unleash death on the students. 

More than that, her Parseltongue was an advantage. It was the ace up her sleeve, something she could reveal in her darkest hour, if she and hers were ever threatened, and in order for her to do that, she needed to accept it. Slytherins were perceptive - if she showed anything even resembling discomfort with her ability, they would know, and it would be for nothing. 

And so, she inhaled, allowed herself a moment of gratitude that Myrtle was elsewhere, and envisioned that snake in the flowers she’d encountered so long ago. 

Open.

Chapter End Notes

hehehe
bet y'all weren't expecting *that*, were you?

Chapter 9

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Being in the chamber was like being in a waking dream. There was a strange unreality about it, like it was simultaneously all in her head and yet also real. The stones themselves glowed with an eerie green light, and the ceiling was so high and shadowed that she couldn’t see it. 

The only sound as she walked was the crunch of bones beneath her feet and her light breathing. Her wand was warm in her hand, and it comforted her as she followed the guiding touch of her magic. 

A stray thought floated through her mind - her family would be worried sick if they knew what she was doing. In fact, when she told them during Yule, they might very well yell at her, something they’d never done before. 

But she was too far gone to turn back now. She walked down the corridor in a sort of haze, wondering if she was imagining the flickering of her shadow on the ground. 

After passing the set of snake guardians with another hissed Open, she was at last in the chamber proper. Salazar Slytherin’s statue towered over her. She could hear the trickle of water. The moment she stepped foot in the chamber, torches all along the walls were set alight with fire. 

Evangeline inhaled, rolling the air across her tongue. The magic here was ancient, older than anything she’d ever been exposed to except in books. It hung heavy in the air, mostly dormant, but… not quite. No, some part of the magic here was positively humming with anticipation, brimming with excitement. 

The magic stirred the air around her, swirling around her feet, and she got the impression of… happiness. 

Happiness? 

Her own magic surged in response, not in defence, but in welcome. And then the two magics seemed to gently nudge her towards Slytherin’s statue. 

Evangeline walked slowly towards the statue. His face was long and narrow, cut from harsh lines, but there was an expression on his face that was almost sad. 

With each step, she could feel the ancient magic grow ever more excited. The air around her grew heavy with anticipation. The wind picked up, and on it she heard a faint hiss. 

At last...

She reached the foot of the statue. Her arm rose of its own accord, and she reached out and touched the hem of Slytherin’s robes. 

All of a sudden, the world vanished. She was in a void of inky darkness. She could still feel her feet, clad in her socks and shoes, standing on the floor of the chamber. She could still feel her outreached hand, touching cold stone. And yet there was a feeling of great distance between her mind and body. 

Out of the darkness, a voice emerged. 

Who enters my chamber?

Evangeline sensed, somehow, that she should speak only truth. 

A student of Slytherin house.

There was a pause, as the voice considered this. 

What do you seek?

I seek many things. I seek harmony between magicals. I seek safety and happiness for my loved ones. I seek to prevent a future that should not and cannot exist. 

Ambition, the voice purred. Such ambition. But are you cunning? Let me see.

She hesitated. This was a supremely bad idea. She didn’t know what would happen if she refused. She felt a tendril of magic prodding at her Occlumency shields. 

But she had to pass this test. She had to know what came next. And so she took her memories of her plans and carefully pushed them outside her shields. 

She felt a shiver of approval. 

Cunning indeed. 

Another pause, as the voice came to a conclusion. 

Very well. You may pass.

Then Evangeline was back in her body, eyes blinking open, and her fingers, which had previously been pressed against stone, now passed through it. 

There was complete silence in the chamber. The magical guidance had gone silent, as if holding its breath. The wind had stopped. 

She took a deep breath, and walked through the statue. 

~

The first impression she got of the room was awe. Not because it was particularly grand or ornate, but because of what it contained. 

Books. Shelves upon shelves of books and scrolls, ancient in their looks and feel. The walls were lined with shelves, and in the center of the room was a simple desk with many drawers. A chandelier on the ceiling lit up when she entered.

The preservation magic in the room was so powerful she felt light-headed. Carefully, she walked up to the nearest book, and reached out a tentative hand towards it, afraid to believe what she’d found. 

Gently, she pulled out the book. It was bound in untreated leather, clearly aged, but the words written in ink on the cover were still clear. She stared at the words, in complete and utter disbelief. 

This… this was Northumbrian Old English, the language spoken in what was now Scotland over a millenia ago. 

Evangeline stared at the book in shock. She’d never thought to learn the language, since so few surviving texts existed, but this was confirmation of what she’d scarcely been able to believe. 

This was a library. A private library. Salazar Slytherin’s private library. 

Holy shit. 

~

She spent several hours there, cataloguing the books, scrolls, and sheets of parchment. The cataloguing itself was quick - they were already neatly organized by subject, from what she understood of the titles. Most of the books were in Ancient Greek and Latin, but there were a number written in Anglo-Saxon, Anglo-Norman (a relative of French), Egyptian, Sumerian, Akkadian - the sheer number of languages represented seemed infinite. The books not written in Latin, Greek, or a dialect of Old English had what appeared to be translations written in Latin, neatly shelved alongside each text, all in the same narrow, slanted handwriting. 

When she realized that she was likely holding translations done by Salazar Slytherin, she nearly fainted. 

This… this was huge. This was incredible. This was a discovery the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the founding of the spell upon which the Statue of Secrecy rested. It was akin to discovering a miniature library of Alexandria. 

Overcome with awe and shock, Evangeline sank weakly down in the chair at the desk in the center of the room, putting her head in her hands. 

Had Voldemort found this room? Surely not - he seemed the type who would have burned the library after he went through it, uncaring if its historical significance. Furthermore, he surely would’ve taken some for himself, and there were no empty spaces on the shelves. There was a scattering of open books and parchment on the desk, a quill still standing in its bottle, as if Slytherin had left in the middle of something and could return at any moment. 

She checked her watch. It was nearly 3 am, but there wasn’t a chance she’d be able to sleep after this discovery. She glanced over the open book on the desk curiously, skimming the page, and her mind blanked when she absent-mindedly translated the Latin. 

Godric and I had another argument today. Things have been growing more and more tense, but I will not stand down. Magical children born to non-magical families must be removed. They are at risk - the non-magicals are great in number, and the children are defenceless against their families and villages. How many more times must I receive news that yet another of my children has been killed? 

Helga is struggling. She sympathizes with both Godric and me. Neither of us will force her to make a choice - it would be too cruel. Rowena persists in trying to find a compromise. I do not know that we can. Families that seem kind at first can turn hateful after anything - a bad harvest, a death, a disappearance. Godric insists we give them a chance, but I have given so very many chances. It is unkind, but I cannot help but think that, had he seen his younger sister burn at the stake by his own parents, he would feel differently. 

Evangeline stared at the page. She read it again. 

Godric. Helga. Rowena. And the author, who could only be Salazar. 

Holy fucking shit. This was Salazar Slytherin’s diary. And, if he was truthful in what he’d written… history had been wrong. The argument between him and Gryffindor had been about muggleborns, yes, but not about allowing them to study at Hogwarts - it had been about protecting them, and their differing ideas on how to do so. 

Circe. This was insane. This could change everything.  

And that bit at the end, about Salazar’s sister - oh, Merlin, that was awful. The first edition of Hogwarts: A History had speculated on Slytherin’s past, and cast doubt on his true feelings towards muggleborns, but with no definitive proof, nothing could be said for certain. 

Until now. 

~

Her mind in a daze, Evangeline spent the next several hours combing through Salazar’s diaries - yes, plural, because she’d found several more filled books in the desk drawers.

It seemed Slytherin had begun keeping a diary as a young boy. His uncle had been a member of the clergy, and had taught him Latin at a young age. Young Slytherin had thought that writing in a different language was the height of fun, a sort of code, as he and his uncle were the only ones who could read and write in Latin in the entire village. His early entries were stained with mud and dirt, with frequent misspellings, grammatical mistakes, and run-on sentences. 

One thing that was clear, however, was young Slytherin’s love for his family. He wrote extensively about his parents, his uncle, and his younger sister, Elsa, whom he called Elsie. 

Elsie is five summers old today. I took her picking berrys in the forrest. She ayte many. Mother and father lafed when they saw her face. It was stained purrpel. 

It was sweet. It was heartbreaking. And she went cold when she read the entry she’d known was coming. The very next entry, after Elsa’s fifth birthday, the page was stained with tears and ash. The only thing written was this: 

They killed her. Now they are all dead.

The rest of the book was blank.

Chapter End Notes

oooOOOOOOOO well that's not ominous at all

(yes I know the "Slytherin's library" and "Slytherin's journals" thing is very overdone. But I wanted to write it, and so I did. Basilisk is coming soon, probably, haha)
(also I have a linear algebra exam next Thursday and I still have 3 chapters left to learn that I've been procrastinating on, pls send thoughts & prayers ;-;;;)

Chapter 10

Chapter Notes

this chapter brought to u by the National Museum of Scotland, which IMMEDIATELY inspired me to come back to this fic just so i could flesh out ravenclaw and hufflepuff's backstories!!!!
(so sorry for the late update ;-;;;)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Are you alright?” Regulus’ grey eyes were concerned. They were sitting at a secluded table in the library. It’d been two days since her discovery of Slytherin’s library, and it had never been far from her mind since. “You’ve seemed off ever since Samhain.” 

Evangeline blinked, roused from her thoughts as she looked up from the book she was reading - a biography of Slytherin written three hundred years after his death, the most recent one she could find. In the years before Hogwarts, the author had written pure speculation - no primary sources. “Hm? Oh, yes, I’m fine.” She turned her eyes back down to the book, missing Regulus’ hurt expression. She made a face at the book and closed it in disgust. Really, was there not a single document out there about Slytherin’s pre-Hogwarts years? 

“You’re not,” Sam said crossly, making her look up again. “You’ve been distracted and lost in thought. It’s very obvious. If it’s something you don’t want to tell us, that’s alright. Just don’t lie about it.” 

Evangeline blinked again, this time in surprise. She glanced between them. Sam’s face was open and honest, and Regulus was nodding.

She decided to take the offered olive branch. 

“You’re right,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t lie, especially not to my friends. Something has been on my mind since Samhain, but I’m not quite ready to talk about it yet.” She hesitated, hedging her bets. “I’m not sure if I ever will be.” 

They both nodded. 

“Let us know if it’s anything we can help with,” Sam said with a smile.

She felt warm all over, and couldn’t help beaming at her two friends. “I will.” 

~

The last entry she’d read in Slytherin’s first journal haunted her all week. It killed her to stay away, but she needed to sleep on weeknights in order to attend class in the mornings. That didn’t mean she didn’t think about the entry, though, and what it could’ve meant. 

They killed her. That was self-explanatory - someone must’ve discovered Elsa’s magic, and her parents had burned her at the stake for being a witch. It hurt to think about - the girl had been five. And such a betrayal, by their own parents no less, must’ve left deep scars on a young Slytherin. But it was strange, in a way - Salazar had never mentioned magic in his journals. It wasn’t uncommon for two muggleborns to come from the same family - just look at Colin and Dennis Creevey - but surely magic would warrant a mention or two? It was possible that Slytherin had been worried that someone would read his journals and discover them, though, so she put the minor mystery out of her mind.

Now they are all dead. Now that was the bigger mystery. How could the burning of one little girl kill an entire village? The obvious answer was, of course, Slytherin - having watched his sister die at the hands of their own parents, he murdered the village in a fit of rage. But that begged the question of how? He would’ve been eight years old at the time - one eight year old, even if he was magical, didn’t stand a chance against an entire village. And could one crime, albeit heinous, really turn him against his parents? 

She supposed it didn’t really matter. It’d happened over a thousand years ago, after all. But she couldn’t help but feel for Slytherin. He’d only been a child, and she’d always had a soft spot for children, even though she was technically a child herself. 

It was an undeniable mystery - and she’d always had a weakness for those.

~

Friday, Evangeline was walking to the Chamber two hours before curfew when she heard a small explosion come from an abandoned classroom, followed by a series of curses. She blinked, and before she could question it, she was knocking on the door. 

It was then flung open by a familiar-looking boy. His straw-coloured hair was singed and lightly dusted with soot, his blue eyes narrowed angrily. 

“What,” he demanded. 

Evangeline blinked once at Barty Crouch Jr., cursed herself for forgetting him, collected herself, and smiled. 

“Is everything alright?” 

Crouch sneered at her. “You’re not a prefect, why do you care?” 

She tilted her head. “Am I not allowed to be concerned about the welfare of others?” 

He gave her a flat look. “No.” 

Evangeline blinked. “Because I’m a Slytherin?” she guessed. 

“No,” Crouch said, surprising her. “Because you’ve got nothing to gain from faking concern about me.” 

“Well that’s just not true at all,” Evangeline said. She concealed her sadness - this boy was eleven. What had happened to him to make him so… jaded? “Altruism has a number of well-documented benefits - for one, it gives people a sense of purpose and belonging. For another, it reflects better on the community as a whole, if people make a habit of caring about strangers. Essentially, since helping others strengthens society, I’m really being very selfish.” 

Crouch stared at her for several long moments. Evangeline kept her head tilted, a patient smile on her face.

Then, he snorted. “That’s probably the most self-centered argument I’ve ever heard for altruism.”

She laughed. “It is, isn’t it? Does that mean you’ll let me help you?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, then, since you feel so strongly about it.” 

“I do,” she assured him. 

Crouch stepped aside, letting her into the empty classroom. She smiled at him as she walked in. 

“What were you trying to do, anyway?” 

He made a face. “It’s stupid.” 

“It’s not if you care about it,” Evangeline shot back. 

“Alright, Hufflepuff,” Crouch sneered, but there was no heat behind it. “But I doubt you’ll be able to help me anyway. I’m trying to learn the Shield Charm.” 

She grinned. “You’re in luck, then. I can help.” 

He gave her a skeptical look. “Can you? It’s fifth-year material.” 

She sniffed, summoning her wand from her holster with a flick of her wrist. 

“Protego!”

A shimmering translucent shield appeared three feet in front of her, going from above her head to below her knees.

Crouch’s mouth fell open. Evangeline’s grin broadened. 

“Go on, cast a spell at it.” 

He gave her a look, like, are you sure?  

She nodded. 

He shrugged, raised his wand, and said, “Rictumsempra!”  

It bounced harmlessly off the shield with barely a ripple. He had to duck to avoid the rebounding spell, and it dissipated harmlessly against the stone wall behind him. 

Crouch straightened, eyebrows raised. “Huh.” 

She laughed at the look on his face. “So? Have I earned the right to provide aid to His Majesty?” 

To her surprise, he played along, lifting his nose in the air and sniffing imperiously. “You have, peasant.” 

Her answering grin was genuine. “Alright then, show me what you’ve done so far - and how on earth you managed to make the Shield Charm explode.” 

~

In the end, she didn’t end up going to the Chamber. She and Crouch ended up working on the charm until curfew, when she insisted they stop. He’d managed to create a thin, holey, weak shield, but at least there were no more explosions. 

“Never thought I’d meet a goody-two-shoes in Slytherin,” Crouch said, tilting his head. “Worried about breaking curfew?”

“I live to break expectations,” she grinned in response. 

The grin he gave her made her light up inside. “Yes, I suppose you do, don’t you?” 

~

The following morning, Evangeline caught Crouch’s eye in the Great Hall and sent him a smile and wave. He heaved a visible sigh and rolled his eyes. 

Regulus gave her a curious look (Sam always slept in on weekends). 

“Who’s that?” 

“Barty Crouch Junior,” Evangeline said, hearing the echo of Snape’s voice in her mind. “I think he’s a promising friendship candidate.” 

He stared at her. “A… promising friendship candidate,” he repeated slowly. 

She gave a firm nod. “Yes.” 

He looked at her for a long moment before decisively turning back to his plate. “I don’t want to know.” 

~

December came, and with it, the first snow of the winter. The latent warming enchantments the founders had carved into the stone walls activated, and the corridors and classrooms stayed toasty, save for the Potions laboratory. Potions, as Evangeline had learned, could be interfered with by nearby enchantments - hence why a self-stirring rod would never quite make as perfect a potion as a manual one. For the average magical person and for most potions, the difference was negligible - but for NEWT-level potions, it could be the difference between success and failure, and Slughorn wanted to hammer in good habits from a young age. So, the students shivered and huddled close to their fire-heated potions, their bare arms - having rolled up their sleeves so they wouldn’t drag - sending constant complaints to their brain. At least their hands were gloved. 

They were making an antidote to common poisons today. Evangeline’s high from receiving actual teaching in Potions had long since worn off, and she often found herself bored in class. She’d done her best to mask it, but Slughorn was surprisingly perceptive, and had noticed within the first two months. He’d pulled her aside one day in mid-October after class, a rueful smile on his face, and told her that, while he couldn’t give her more complex potions during class without having to split his attention, he could give her additional, more advanced essay questions, which he’d count as extra credit. She had agreed for the sole reason that Slughorn would give her access to the Restricted Section - for now, it would only be to a select few Potions-related books, but she had hope of eventually talking him into giving her unrestricted access. 

At the end of class, Slughorn assigned them an essay comparing and contrasting bezoars and the antidote to common poisons. He’d already given Evangeline a list of the additional essay questions he was assigning her in advance and the freedom to complete whichever ones she liked at her leisure, and so she packed her things and re-entered the warmth of the rest of the castle with the others. 

Regulus was still shivering slightly ten minutes later as they sat in the library. 

“I told you you should’ve worn a scarf,” Evangeline chided, frowning slightly. “This happens every time, Reg, you’re awful with the cold.”

Regulus stuck his bottom lip out in a slight pout. “But my only scarf is itchy.”

She huffed. “Then we could’ve swapped!” 

He looked at her with complete horror. “But your only scarf is red!”

“And?” 

“I’m not a Gryffindor,” Regulus declared passionately. 

“It’s just a scarf!” 

“It’s not ‘just a scarf’ -”

They were interrupted by Sam. 

“As much as I’m enjoying this conversation,” she said politely, poorly masking her snickering, “I actually have a question about Slughorn’s essay. You know, the reason we’re here?” 

Evangeline and Regulus both flushed. 

“Yes?” they said simultaneously. 

~

More days passed. Evangeline poured over Slytherin’s library. She focused on the journals - they were far more fascinating than the books and scrolls at first glance. Slytherin seemed to have resumed journaling sometime in his twenties, after he’d already met Godric Gryffindor. The bond between them was undeniable, and yet the knowledge that they would one day end their friendship added a layer of tragic irony to her reading. She squealed when she got to the passage describing their first meeting with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. 

Met two women today - magicals. One is a woman from the isle Iona of Dál Riada, and the other is Black Helga. Indeed, the mercenary is not what I expected. Her famous battleaxe is meticulously clean - I suppose, in hindsight, that is unsurprising for a mercenary of her reputation - but she is strangely… overbearing instead of bloodthirsty. She said I was too skinny - skinny! The audacity!

Well, she did say that period of her life had passed. 

Godric, the battle-obsessed fool, of course immediately challenged her to a duel - her axe against his sword. Hufflepuff simply replied that such a duel would be unfair to Godric, as he would immediately and certainly lose. She delivered that response with such sincerity and apology that the idiot actually began to nod in agreement before her words got through his thick skull, after which he immediately doubled down. 

Hufflepuff eventually agreed to duel on the condition that she be unarmed. Godric, scoffing at what he perceived to be arrogance, reluctantly agreed. And so they dueled. 

Black Helga, of course, won almost immediately. Somehow. It was a truly glorious sight to behold. Never have I seen Godric so thoroughly humbled. I do think he has developed a slight fancy for her, though - and I confess that I myself am not entirely unmoved, either. It was really something, seeing an unarmed woman have Godric at the tip of his own sword in five seconds flat. 

The Dál Riadian was unable to contain herself at this point and burst into laughter. “A formidable warrior you may be, Gryffindor, but it seems you are not a match for my dearest friend!” 

Godric only laughed good-naturedly. “Indeed, it seems so, my lady.” 

At this, Black Helga scowled, and Godric and I shared a look of confusion, which the former mercenary of course caught. 

“Have I offended you with my weakness?” Godric asked, looking concerned. 

Instead of answering, Black Helga simply looked to Ravenclaw, who smiled, a little ruefully. 

“Helga is simply angered on my behalf,” she said softly. “It is a lengthy tale, one I do not know that you have the patience for.” 

“I assure you,” Godric said, lying through his teeth, “I am far more patient than I appear.” 

Ravenclaw looked skeptical and changed the subject. 

~

The four of us decided to travel together. Ravenclaw is extraordinarily accomplished in the arts of warding and spellcrafting, while Hufflepuff is adept at not only warfare, but herbology and the Druidic Arts as well, being ethnically Saxon. When I politely inquired as to how a Saxon woman found herself the leader of Viking mercenaries, Hufflepuff smiled pridefully. 

“I killed Eric Bloodaxe, King of Norway, King of Northumbria with my bare hands,” she declared. 

“Was it not Maccus son of Onlaf who killed him?” I asked, very clearly remembering being taught about Maccus’ treachery by my uncle as a child. 

Hufflepuff snorted. “It most certainly was not. Did you never wonder about the Norse etchings on the blade of my axe?” 

“You took his weapon,” I concluded. 

“And the raiders he had with him,” Hufflepuff added. 

~

It was at the end of the journal that Ravenclaw’s background was revealed. 

~

It seems our merry little gang of magicals has, somehow, become stranger. Ravenclaw at last shared her background after several months of traveling together. Even then, it was not she who initiated - Helga accidentally called her Little Princess and then immediately looked horrified. At Godric’s and my own expectant looks, Ravenclaw sighed.

“My father is the King of the Picts and Dál Riada Kenneth MacAlpin. My mother owned a tavern. She named me Rowena, for her mother. She told me of my father, though I never met him, and taught me what magic she knew. My father had left her with enough money for her to teach me how to read and write but wanted nothing more to do with his bastard daughter. When my mother died, I traveled north, whereupon I came across a band of Vikings.” At this, she gave Black Helga a fond look. “I thought I would be killed or sold into slavery, but little did I know that that group of Viking mercenaries were led by none other than a fellow witch.” 

She met Godric’s eyes, smiling. “The mercenaries are the ones who named me Ravenclaw - Raven’s claw. Raven, for they are symbols of knowledge and memory and they recognized my immense intellect; and claw, for my tactical prowess.” 

~

Awe turned Evangeline’s chest feather-light and she went dizzy. This - this was incredible. No one knew how the Founders first met - until now. No one knew any of their histories, save some of Helga Hufflepuff’s - the connection between Black Helga and Helga Hufflepuff was easy to make, and the axe she’d taken off Eric Bloodaxe as her own hung in the Hufflepuff common room to this day - until now. She was likely the only living person who knew Ravenclaw and Slytherin’s histories, though. It was humbling.

But the journal didn't end there - there was one paragraph left.

~

And so here we are: a bastard daughter of a king, a Druid-turned-mercenary-turned-traveler, an idiot former knight... and me. A man with no known magical ancestry, no noble lineage, and a single change of clothes. It ought to trouble me, to be in the presence of nobility, and yet I find myself unfazed, for we are all equals in our power and aptitude. After all, it is ability, not blood, that matters. 

~

Wait. 

What? 

Evangeline reread that last paragraph. 

'A man with no known magical ancestry'... 'it is ability, not blood, that matters'

Holy shit. Holy shit. Here was proof - solid evidence that Slytherin was, if not muggleborn, at most from a Squib line. And that last line - ability over blood. 

She stared at the journal. 

This... this was huge. This was enormous. The Magical World might just explode if this information came to light. Traditionalists, Neutrals, Progressives - political alignment didn't matter. The whole of the magical UK held the same beliefs about Slytherin's own beliefs - and here was proof they were wrong. This, combined with Slytherin's last journal, which she'd found on her first trip into the Chamber, was, at last, proof that history was wrong.

Her eyes fixed on the last line, and a slow, sinister smile crept onto her face.

Chapter End Notes

Historical notes (the former from books + Wikipedia, the latter from solely Wikipedia haha):
* Kenneth MacAlpin (Kenneth I) is known as the first king of Scotland as we know it today. He inherited the throne of Dál Riada from his father in 841 AD (a Gaelic kingdom encompassing western Scotland + northeastern Ireland) and then conquered the kingdom of the Picts in 843 AD (potentially "the painted ones" after their tattoos - they were a tribe first recorded by the Romans. They were found in Scotland north of the Firth of Forth in what historians call Pictavia). The two kingdoms combined formed the Kingdom of Alba, later replaced with Scotia and then Scotland (incidentally, the Canadian province of "Nova Scotia" means "New Scotland"). I don't refer to it as Alba here since Alba doesn't start appearing in the records until 850, but mainly I just thought "Kingdom of Dál Riada and Picts" sounded more impressive, haha. Kenneth I died in 858 AD
* Eric Bloodaxe, or Eric Haraldsson and Brother-Slayer, ruled as King of Norway from 932 to 934, and twice as King of Northumbria: from 947 to 948, and again from 952 to 954. He killed his half-brothers to solidify/claim to the throne. He was killed by Maccus son of Onlaf in Stainmore, traditionally in Westmorland and administratively in Cumbria. Maccus is little-known in the historical record - Anlaf/Onlaf is a common Scandinavian name whereas Maccus is Middle Irish. Eric Bloodaxe was probably in exile at the time he was killed, hence why he was in Stainmore.

Harry Potter Lore:
* the HP wiki states Hufflepuff was Welsh and I just gave her Druidic connections/ancestry because herbology + earth magic (which I'll go further into in the future)
* HP wiki also says Ravenclaw was Scottish and I made her Kenneth I's illegitimate daughter because I'm so interested in the early Middle Ages period and wanted to fit him in somehow haha
* if you've read my other fic series, "in another life"/"If I Should Die", you might recognize Black Helga! I fleshed out her and her axe a lot more here and gave her an interesting backstory because I love the idea of a fierce, famous, feared female mercenary turning her back on violence for the sake of money and instead embracing violence in the name of protecting those in her care. But what happened to Helga's merry band of Viking mercenaries???? I haven't decided yet, but it'll be something suitably tragic!

Chapter 11

Chapter Notes

TW: mentions of suicide, animal cruelty

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The train ride back to King’s Cross flew by. Evangeline felt a pit of unease in her stomach, though, and it grew as they pulled into the station. How would her family react to her Parseltongue? To the Chamber? To what she’d discovered? 

She hated uncertainty. So much. 

But then, as she said her goodbyes and stepped off the train, she was immediately enveloped in a pair of warm arms. The familiarity of the hug swept her worries away in a tide of affection and belonging, and she smiled gratefully at her mother’s beaming, slightly teary face. Next to her, Fleamont was trying to wrangle a struggling James away from his friends, and they both ignored them. 

“Oh, darling,” Euphemia said thickly. “I’ve missed you.” 

Evangeline, hugging her mother back automatically, had to blink back her own tears. “I’ve missed you too, mum.” 

Euphemia sniffled. “Oh, none of that, please,” she said. “Or else I’ll embarrass myself. Come on, sweetheart, let’s go home.” 

She smiled. There was a part of her that wanted her parents to meet her friends, but there would be time for that later - Regulus and Sam were coming over during the holidays, after all, and really, selfishly, she wanted her parents all to herself first, and so she nodded. 

Euphemia smiled down at her, took her hand, and after an awful squeezing sensation, they were back on the grounds of Potter Manor. A moment later, Fleamont appeared, hand on the shoulder of a grumpy-looking James. 

“Oh, don’t look like that, James,” Evangeline sighed, looping her arm through her brother’s. “Isn’t it nice to be home?” 

James looked at her, then at their parents, then at the manor, wreathed as it was in gently falling snow, and exhaled, softening. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I suppose it is.” 

~

They ate dinner together. Though Evangeline had done as she’d promised and written each week, James had not, and Evangeline told their parents in great detail exactly what sort of shenaniganery he and his friends had gotten up to.

Or, at least, she’d been planning to, until she’d gotten halfway through the first sentence and James had turned to her with such a look of fear, pleading, and betrayal that she couldn’t bear to continue on any longer, and closed her mouth. 

Euphemia watched the exchange with raised eyebrows. Fleamont had very nearly choked on his soup. 

“Er,” Evangeline said, desperately scrambling for something to change the subject to, “Um. Uh.” 

Euphemia’s lips twitched, and she took pity on her daughter. “Anything interesting happen this semester that didn’t make it into your letters?” 

Immediately, Evangeline thought of the Chamber, but now wasn’t exactly the best time for it. She’d wanted to ease them into it, somehow, but then it dawned on her that she’d actually been trying very hard to Not Think About It and the actual plan had never, in fact, been made. 

“Evangeline?” Euphemia prompted. “You’ve got your panicked thinking face on.” 

“I haven’t got a panicked thinking face,” Evangeline blurted out, deeply offended but forgetting to deny it. Somehow, she thought ruefully, her family always seemed able to strip her of all her cunning and way with words. 

“You do,” James assured her. He screwed up his face, squinting his eyes and wrinkling his nose. “It looks like this.” 

“You look constipated.” 

“Well, that’s what you look like!” 

Evangeline drew herself up. “I do not! Regulus has never once said -”

“Well, he wouldn’t, would he, he’s your friend -” 

“I bet Sirius tells you that you look constipated all the time!” 

“Just because - wait, how’d you know -” 

“Children.” 

They both fell silent out of habit, looking up at Euphemia guiltily. She wasn’t even trying to hide her smile. 

“James, don’t tease your sister. Evangeline, I promise your panicked thinking face does not look anything near what James did.” 

“But I have got a panicked thinking face?” Evangeline pressed, crestfallen. She stared at her mother, who only smiled sympathetically. 

“I’m afraid so.” 

“But that’s terrible! Is it very obvious?” 

“Yes,” James said immediately. 

Euphemia shot him a stern look before turning back to Evangeline. “Only to those who know you very well, dear.” 

“Oh.” 

James sniffed. “So when I tell you you’ve got a panicked thinking face, you insult me, but when mum does it -” 

Evangeline opened her mouth to cut him off, but then they both remembered their mother’s warning and fell silent.

“So,” Fleamont said, breaking the silence, “what were you thinking about, Evangeline?” 

Asked so directly, she couldn’t possibly lie. Not to her family, not to their faces. She bit her lip. 

“So… you know Parselmouths?” 

James blinked at her in confusion, though she noticed both her parents pale slightly and exchange a look. What was that about? 

“You mean the people who can talk to snakes?” James asked guilelessly. 

Evangeline gave a strained smile. “Yes.” 

“What about them?” 

“Well… it seems that I’m a Parselmouth.”

There was a moment of split silence, during which the only thing her family did was look at her. Her parents, she noticed, had now paled considerably, and something clenched in her chest. 

But then James spoke. His eyes were wide. “For real?” 

“For real.” 

He stared at her for a moment, and Evangeline felt nothing but terror. How would he react? It was seen as a dark trait, speaking to snakes, and she remembered how he’d reacted to her Sorting all too well. She didn’t think she could bear it if he rejected this, if he rejected her, not when her parents looked like they’d seen a ghost and were staring at her with horror in their eyes - 

“Wicked.”

What?

Evangeline blinked. Had she heard right? She looked at James. “I’m sorry?” 

“That’s so cool,” James said, his eyes distant and dreamy. “Merlin, the pranks you could pull - you could put snakes in people’s beds - you could put snakes in Slytherin beds -” The life came back to his eyes all at once, and he leaned forwards, face lit with an unholy glee. “Hey, Evie, d’you think some Slytherins are scared of snakes?”

She stared at him. “You do realize how Parseltongues are seen?”

James waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Yes, yes, dark magic and all that evil nonsense, but c’mon, Evie, I know you - you’re as evil as Peter, and Peter still cries whenever he steps on an ant by accident!” 

Evangeline burst out laughing, both from relief and also from the irony. Once upon a time, she’d believed Peter to be the incarnation of evil. To be held up against him now as a paragon of goodness was a level of irony that’d make even Snape crack a smile. 

“Thanks, James,” she said affectionately. He’d diffused the tension in the room so well it seemed to have relaxed even her parents. The color had come back to their faces, and they exchanged a rueful look. 

“He’s right, sweetheart,” Euphemia said, smiling slightly. “We all know you. And the prejudice against Parselmouths is unfounded, anyway,” she added. “Most of them have been perfectly ordinary people.” There was a slight tightness around her eyes, though, and with a start, Evangeline realized - her mother had likely gone to Hogwarts alongside Tom Riddle. She’d been a Slytherin, just like him. Maybe that was why she and Fleamont had looked so tense when the subject had been brought up = not out of prejudice, but out of remembered fear. Riddle being a Parselmouth had been a well-kept secret, but even so, there had to have been some who’d known, and potentially let slip. Euphemia, as a pureblood from a Traditionalist family, likely hadn’t been seen as someone worth hiding the truth from, anyway. 

Evangeline swallowed. If she was right, and Riddle was the reason why her parents were behaving so strangely, they really wouldn’t like this next bit. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “But, um, that’s not all.” 

James’ mouth fell open. “There’s more?!”

She smiled slightly, though it quickly died. “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I also… well. During the most recent Samhain, I felt a sort of guidance. I’ve read about it happening to seers in the past, so I trusted it and let it lead me to where it wanted me to go. The place it led me to happened to be the library in the Chamber in Secrets.” 

She waited. 

Euphemia and Fleamont went white. James goggled at her. 

“I thought that was a myth!” 

Evangeline gave a tight smile. “Yes, well… it isn’t. And it has a library. And - and this is the biggest reason why I’m telling you all this now - that library has journals written by Salazar Slytherin that could upend the entire political world as we know it.” She inhaled. “You see, according to these journals, Salazar Slytherin was muggleborn. And the reason he was eventually driven from the school was because he wanted to protect muggleborns from muggles by removing muggleborns from their parents.” 

Three pairs of wide eyes stared at her. Fleamont looked close to fainting. Euphemia seemed to have quickly gotten over her shock and was half-focused to see if Evangeline had anything she wanted to add, while the other half of her brain rapidly processed the ramifications. James, meanwhile, had his shock quickly switch to concern. 

“You’re serious?” he asked. 

“Dead serious,” Evangeline confirmed. 

James looked at her, uncharacteristically solemnly. “Alright.” He inhaled. “Alright,” he repeated, trying to ground himself. “What do you want to do?” 

In that moment, as her parents gathered themselves and looked to Evangeline for what she would answer, she felt an overwhelming surge of love for them. They didn’t disbelieve her, not immediately. They knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t lie about this if she truly believed it. And they allowed her to have a say in what the next steps would be, to have the very first word on the matter, and she knew that whatever she said, they’d respect it. If it wasn’t logical, or if they saw consequences that she didn’t, they’d point them out, but they would never, ever shut her down entirely. 

She’d always had some kind of impression of this, of course, of the respect and love that her family held for her, but never had it been so clear as it was now. 

Evangeline swallowed the lump in her throat. Now wasn’t the time - there would be time to express her appreciation for them later. 

She took a deep breath. “I want to publicize the journals,” she said. “I think we all have some idea of what this would do to anti-muggleborn prejudice. But I don’t know who we’d contact to get them certified, or how we’d control the media attention, or how we’d control the fallout.” 

Euphemia and Fleamont exchanged one of those wordless looks where an entire conversation was had in the span of a few minutes. Euphemia cocked a brow, and Fleamont nodded. She smiled, satisfied, and turned back to Evangeline. 

“Allow me to address your concerns” Euphemia began. “While neither myself nor Fleamont have close contacts in the International Magical History Society, he is a well-known member of the International Potions Association, and I am a proxy on the Wizengamot. We can both put out requests for names of Magical Historians certified in document verification and magic analysis, under the pretext that we’d like to verify some recently-purchased books. I assume, of course, that these journals were under heavy preservation magic?” 

Evangeline blinked. “Yes, of course.” 

Her mother’s smile widened. “Excellent, so we will emphasize the magic analysis certification. Once we find someone, we will of course draw up a binding contract - I believe the office of lawyers we keep on retainer has someone who specializes in contract law, but I must double check. Once the analysis has been completed, and assuming that the journals are verified, we must then publicize them. There are several options on how we can proceed, depending on how much you want to reveal. For instance, would you like to reveal that you are a Parselmouth and that you discovered the Chamber of Secrets?” 

Evangeline paused. She’d prepared for the first question, but was - somehow - utterly blindsided by the other. 

“I’d like to reveal that I’m a Parselmouth, yes, and in an ideal world I’d also like to reveal the Chamber, just to keep the story easier to verify, but there’s a rather… large problem.” 

Euphemia blinked. “Larger than the problem of verifying and revealing Slytherin’s journals?” 

Evangeline gave a sheepish, embarrassed smile. “Yes. You see, I may have forgotten to mention something very important.” 

~

Four has become five. We came upon a man who’d been breeding basilisks for profit. He would hatch them and, before the snakelings turned three years old and developed their deadly gaze, he would harvest their venom. But before they turned three, he would skin them and sell their parts. 

I heard one screaming as we passed his home, deep in the forest. It was as if a madness overtook me - my mind went black, and by the time I came back to myself, I stood before the corpse of a man, a pile of dismembered snake parts, and a young basilisk on the brink of death.

The others tell me I killed him quickly. I wish I had not. Helga, bless her, managed to heal the young basilisk. I will be forever grateful to her for that. The basilisk is barely out of infancy. She tells me she watched the man skin her fellows alive, and tried desperately to stop him. But he had drained her of her venom, and she could barely wrap around my wrist. Nonetheless, she had been the eldest of them, and somehow, in a stroke of luck, her magic manifested her gaze early, and she struck the man down where he stood, though not soon enough to save her siblings. She begged me - begged me - to put her out of her misery and let her rejoin her siblings in death. 

I couldn’t do it. She is so young, so incredibly young. And something about this situation touched me. I have seen death before - I have killed before. And yet I was moved to tears by the story of this tiny snake, and I wept as the realization came to me. 

This young snake reminded me of myself. Myself as I was after Elsie. When she, my family, and our entire village had perished, I had longed for death myself, for in death I could rejoin my sister. There was no vengeance to be dealt, no one to save. All that was left was myself, and so I laid down upon the ashen ground and waited to die. 

And then Godric found me. He saved me. Though I hated him for it at first, though I fought him with everything I had, he still saved me and became my dearest friend. He made me want to live again, and as I looked at this little snake, I realized I wanted to do the same for her, even if she hated me for it. Because, even though I had lain on ground soaked with the blood of the family that I’d murdered, even though my own magic had manifested too late to save Elsie, Godric still saw something in me worth saving. And now, even though the only human this young snake has ever known was the one who murdered her siblings, she somehow neutralizes her gaze for me so I might look into her eyes, see her pain, and grant her wish. 

But I will not. I refuse. For I see something in her worth saving, too.

I think I understand, now, what Godric meant when I asked him why he saved me, all those years ago. 

“You’re human, aren’t you? You deserve to be saved.”

Chapter End Notes

ok so I was gonna wrap the whole discussion up in this chapter but I realized I'd completely forgotten about the basilisk (somehow?!?!?), and then I wrote the journal entry where Slytherin discovers her, and it just felt like such a right place to end the chapter at, so I did, even though it's so short ;-;;; sorry guys
god I love writing the journal entries. It's so interesting doing a deep dive into history and characters that I don't often explore. Lowkey trying to figure out a way to have Helga/Rowena and Salazar/Godric become a thing while still giving them biological heirs (blood adoption???) because GUYS I SHIP IT SO HARD!!!!

Chapter 12

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

After Evangeline had effectively derailed the conversation with the whole basilisk bombshell, they slowly got back on track. It was decided that Euphemia and Fleamont would proceed with the first part of the plan immediately - that is, put out feelers for a magical historian. Preferably either from the continent - House stereotypes were, understandably, extremely prevalent in the UK - or who had a history of striving towards being unbiased in their writings. 

At the same time, Euphemia would write to Newt Scamander and request a meeting, purportedly about being a potential source of funding for his research. However, during that meeting, if the Potter family deemed him trustworthy, they’d reveal to him the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets and Evangeline’s Parseltongue ability, and concoct a plan. Either way, Scamander would be getting his funding - Euphemia thought it unseemly to lie about something like that - so the only thing in question was whether or not he was trustworthy. 

With luck, Scamander would be able to meet them before the winter holidays ended. If not, they’d set up the meeting to be during a future school holiday, so Evangeline could be present. 

All in all, things had been set into motion now. It frightened Evangeline - everything had, up until this point, been entirely theoretical. She’d made small steps, yes, but her plans had been in their infancy and she’d operated solely independently. But now, her family was involved. They didn’t know everything, not yet, but they knew more than they had before. Adding them, asking them to do things for her, asking for help, terrified her. It meant she was no longer in complete control of what happened. She trusted her family, she loved them more than anything she’d previously thought possible, so why was she feeling like the rug had been pulled out from underneath her? 

The thoughts and emotions swirled inside her like a whirlwind as she lay in bed that night. She couldn’t sleep, so she rose to her feet and went to the kitchen. 

To her surprise, her mother was already there. Euphemia didn’t notice Evangeline immediately, and Evangeline took a moment to study her mother. She was gazing out a window. The witchlights were dimmed, and the moonlight streaming in from the windows illuminated Euphemia’s profile. Her mother seemed lost in thought, brow furrowed slightly, and Evangeline was struck by how beautiful her mother was. Long dark hair streaked with gray, Romanesque nose, high cheekbones. She looked like a queen. 

Evangeline didn’t make a sound, and yet her mother must’ve sensed her presence somehow, because she turned, eyes focusing on her, and smiled. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” 

Mutely, Evangeline shook her head. 

Euphemia’s smile softened. “Care for a cup of tea?”

“Yes, please,” Evangeline said quietly. 

Soon, she was sitting across from her mother at the family dining table, cups of warm tea cradled in both their hands. Though they were barely three feet apart, Evangeline felt as if she and her mother were separated by a great chasm. It was strange - by all accounts, she ought to be feeling closer to her mother than ever. She’d just shared a secret - several secrets - with her and the rest of the family, and yet they felt further apart than before. 

She could hear crickets chirping, the sound drifting through the open window next to them. The window faced the gardens, and she looked through it, making out her mother’s rosebushes in the light of the full moon. The magic infused in the manor and wards swirled around her lazily, as it always did. Cradled in its warm embrace, safe in the arms of the magic that’d protected her and her family for hundreds of years, she almost felt peaceful. 

Almost. 

Evangeline stared at her mother’s rosebushes and at the forget-me-nots surrounding them. There was the place where she’d found out she was a Parselmouth in this life, too. And yet, though she’d loved her parents and trusted them, she hadn’t told them until her plans could benefit. Until she could benefit. The shadow of the Dursleys, of the rejection of Rose’s peers time and time again, of her past life, had loomed large, and she’d been afraid. She’d overcome that fear, but only when she’d gotten a push, a push that’d taken over half a decade. If she’d never found Slytherin’s library and thus his journals, would she have ever told her family? 

Evangeline didn’t know. And that terrified her more than anything. 

That wasn’t who she wanted to be. She didn’t want to be the kind of person who trusted no one but herself, especially when she was all too aware of her own flaws. She was manipulative to a fault, she trusted both far too easily and not at all, she was a mess of contradictions, and at the end of it, she was only human. 

She wanted to be known in her entirety, but to be open was to be vulnerable, and Evangeline didn’t know if she was capable of that anymore. She’d built unconscious walls around her most precious secret without realizing, and even now they loomed, built with bricks of fear and shame. 

Because that was the core of it, wasn’t it? She was ashamed of her memories, of Rose’s past. She had been so stupid, so naive, so easily controlled. She’d gotten so many people killed because of her own idiocy, and she was terrified because her family saw her as clever and competent and she knew they’d see her for what she really was if she told them everything: a fraud. 

How could she show her mother everything she was, everything she’d once been, when telling her would mean losing her? She stood at the edge of the chasm between them. It was so wide, so deep, and she wondered if she was the only one who saw it. Did her mother know? 

She must, Evangeline realized. Her mother was the smartest person she knew, and Euphemia must’ve realized that there was a chance she’d known about her Parseltongue before discovering the Chamber. Known, and not told her family. 

Evangeline swallowed. So that was her choice, then: tell her mother everything and risk losing her, or watch the chasm grow ever wider, ever deeper, until it could no longer be bridged - and then she’d lose her mother anyway. 

At least, Evangeline reasoned, if she told her mother, then there was a chance things could be fixed. If she didn’t, then her chances were zero. 

That didn’t make it any less terrifying. Her heartbeat quickened, her palms grew damp, and her throat went dry. 

“Evangeline,” her mother said, her voice soft. “What’s wrong?” 

She looked at her mother, then. Euphemia’s brow was creased with worry, her eyes concerned. They were green, but not as luminous as hers - yet another reminder of Evangeline’s past, of the truth of her soul. 

Evangeline took a breath. It was now or never. She gazed at the walls within her, and brought them down for the first time in her life. 

“I wasn’t always Evangeline,” she said quietly. “In my past life, I was Rose Potter.” 

The words came pouring out of her. Who she’d been, when she’d lived, the things she’d said and done. Now that she’d started speaking, it was suddenly as if she couldn’t stop. It was as if a dam had broken, and she spoke until the moon was high in the sky, until her mouth had gone dry, until her tea had gone cold. 

And then the words stopped, and Evangeline fell silent. She’d gotten to the end of her story, of Rose’s story. 

“And then I died,” she said quietly. “And was reborn. Here, in this time.” 

She swallowed, looking away. “I’m sorry I never told you,” she whispered. Her eyes burned with shame. “I was just… I was afraid. Of how you’d see me. Rose wasn’t - she wasn’t clever or wise. She was a silly, stupid little girl and she got so many people she loved killed. She -” 

Evangeline heard a small, choked gasp, and looked up. Euphemia was crying. Her mother put her hand over hers, shaking her head. 

“Don’t say that, darling,” Euphemia said, her voice choked. “Please don’t say that about yourself.” 

“She’s not me,” Evangeline said immediately. “We’re different, I won’t make her mistakes, I’ll do it better this time -” 

“Rose did her best, sweetheart,” her mother said softly. “What more could you have wanted from her? It’s cruel to expect perfection, even from yourself.”

Evangeline fell silent. She knew, intellectually, what her mother was saying was true, and yet everything inside her rebelled against the idea. Expecting people to make mistakes was alright when it was someone else - when it was her, when her mistakes had gotten people killed, how could her mother possibly say that was alright? She looked away. 

“Evangeline,” her mother said, and she looked back. Euphemia had brushed her tears away, and her eyes were gazing into hers, imploring.

“No matter who you once were,” her mother said, “no matter what mistakes you think you’ve made, you will always be my daughter, and I will always love you.” And then - oh, Merlin, and then - her mother smiled. “Thank you for telling me,” she whispered. 

Evangeline stared at her, her eyes wide. This was more than anything she could’ve hoped for. Her mother still loved her, would continue to love her, even though Evangeline had hidden so much from her, even though she’d lied? And her mother had thanked her for it. 

She stood without thinking and, moving to the other side of the table, wrapped her mother in a hug. Euphemia stood, too, and pressed her cheek against the top of Evangeline’s head. Evangeline was crying, she realized, soaking her mother’s dressing robe with her tears. 

“Thank you,” Evangeline whispered. 

She felt Euphemia smile. “No, sweetheart,” her mother said softly. “Thank you.”

~~~

Her daughter had gone back to bed. Evangeline’s step had been lighter, her smile easier, her very posture changed. It made Euphemia both happy and sad. Happy, because her daughter was so relieved. And sad, because she’d had no idea. 

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d had some idea. She and Monty both. They were Evangeline’s parents, after all. They’d both known that Evangeline had been hiding something from them for years, but had assumed she’d tell them in her own time. 

After today, Monty had assumed it’d just been the Parselmouth thing, but Euphemia had known it was more than that. She’d seen the hesitations, the carefulness with which Evangeline had chosen her words, and known there was still something she was hiding. But she hadn’t pushed. She’d never pushed. She’d always allowed her children to come to her, on the assumption that they knew her love for them was unconditional. 

She’d been wrong. 

Evangeline hadn’t known. Her child, her only daughter, whom she loved with everything she had, hadn’t known. She’d been afraid of telling Euphemia something. And oh sweet Circe, how that hurt. 

In hindsight, it was obvious. Whenever Evangeline had made a mistake, there’d always, always been a flash of fear before owning up to it. It had faded with reassurance, but Euphemia should’ve been more concerned about how it had been there to begin with. And she should’ve been more concerned about how it might’ve only faded when it came to small mistakes, not big ones. 

Her daughter had been terrified of telling her this secret. It’d cut through Euphemia like a knife. She had never, in her entire life, seen her child this afraid of something, and that something had been Euphemia’s reaction.

What kind of mother was she, that she could be so blissfully unaware that her own daughter was keeping something from her because she was afraid of how Euphemia would take it? 

Evangeline had asked her not to tell anyone, not even Monty. Euphemia had agreed immediately, though she’d reassured Evangeline that no one would take it badly. James would likely think it strange, but he’d still love her, obviously. Obviously.

But it wasn’t obvious. Not to Evangeline. And that had broken Euphemia’s heart.

Chapter End Notes

cut this chapter in half cuz it was getting very very unwieldy haha
but!!!! EVIE FINALLY TOLD SOMEONE ABOUT HER PAST!!! AND EUPHEMIA IS FUCKING HEARTBROKEN FOR HER BUT LOVES HER ALL THE SAME AND AHHHH I LOVE THEM BOTH SO MUCH ;-;;;;;

Chapter 13

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The next day passed in a haze. Evangeline floated through it, still riding the high of her mother accepting her. She even walked right into one of James’ pranks for the first time in several years, shocking them both. Her hair had been slicked with greenish goop outside her bedroom the next morning, James had stared at her, mouth open that she’d actually been caught by it, and she’d only laughed and congratulated him before excusing herself to shower. 

The day after that, she came back down to earth. She was firmly Not Thinking about having to tell her father and James the truth as well - she told herself she would, eventually. Eventually. In the meantime, though, Sirius, Regulus, Remus, and Peter were set to visit the manor today, so she busied herself with that. 

Normally, there would be house-elves to help, but the Potter family didn’t have house-elves. Euphemia thought the idea of house-elves too akin to slavery, and liked the idea of keeping the estate private, so the task of everyday cleaning and maintenance fell to the shoulders of the family. 

It wasn’t so bad, now that she had a wand. It hadn’t been that bad even when she’d had to do everything by hand. Rose had been used to manual labor, and Evangeline found it rather soothing, to be taking care of her own home instead of someone else’s. 

James, of course, had complained, but he’d never made her do his share of the work. Evangeline rather suspected it was all a ploy on Euphemia’s part to instill a sense of hard work in her children. 

Anyway, that meant that the sweeping, dusting, and mopping fell to Evangeline and James - especially since it was their friends who were coming over. At least there wasn’t any weeding to be done, since the grounds were covered in a thick layer of snow. 

Evangeline and James rose early in the morning to get started on cleaning. Or, at least, Evangeline had risen early, and James had followed soon after because he knew she’d do his work for him if he slept in. They split tasks - Evangeline would sweep, James would mop, and then they’d dust together. James played music from a sound crystal and sang along shrilly. 

It was far more fun cleaning than Rose had ever had at the Dursleys, but even then she was still grateful when it ended just before noon, since their friends were coming at half-past one and they still needed to make and eat lunch. It gave them time to assist Euphemia in the kitchen. 

But when they hurried there, they found lunch already prepared. Euphemia smiled at their twin looks of shock. “I know how hard you two have worked all morning,” she said affectionately. “Consider this a thank-you.” 

They both beamed at her and thanked her profusely, before hurrying back upstairs to their rooms to get changed and scarfing down the food.

~

At precisely one-thirty, Remus stepped neatly out of the Floo. Evangeline and James were there to meet him, both dressed in casual day robes. Remus, having been to Potter Manor a few times already, nonetheless looked around with wide eyes. 

“I always forget -” 

“How rich I am?” James finished smugly. 

“How much of a ponce you are,” Remus deadpanned. 

James mimed a blow to the heart, staggering backwards. 

Evangeline sighed. “It’s lovely to see you again, Remus,” she said. “I’d apologize for James’ lack of greeting, but we both know he’s an uncultured swine.” 

“That we do, Evie,” Remus grinned. “It’s lovely to see you, as well.” 

They both ignored James, who’d collapsed to the floor dramatically. 

The Floo flared green, and Peter stumbled out. He took one look at the scene and began sniggering. 

“Not sure what I expected,” he said. “But it was definitely close to this.” 

At one-forty, Regulus stepped out of the Floo. He took one look at what was happening and sighed, evidently resigned. James had grown bored and had begun doing the worm.

“Do I want to know?” he asked the room at large. 

Evangeline, Remus, and Peter exchanged looks. 

“Just ignore him,” Remus advised. 

“That’s what we’re all doing,” Peter added. 

“Paying attention to him only encourages him,” Evangeline finished. 

James stopped doing the worm and lifted his head, evidently confused by the lack of Sirius. “Where’s -” 

Regulus made a face. “Mother,” he said by way of explanation, and all three Marauders winced. 

“Ah,” James said. “How much longer, d’you reckon?” 

Regulus sighed. “It’s really hard to tell,” he said. “She won’t want him to be too late, that would be unseemly, so likely around n-” 

Sirius appeared in the Floo, evidently mid-yell. 

“-AND FUCK YOU TOO, YOU OLD - oh, hello everyone! What’d I miss?”

They all looked at him with wide eyes. 

Sirius shifted a little, evidently uncomfortable. “What, not gossiping about me, were you?” 

The Marauders all seemed to come to a silent agreement. 

“Nah,” James said. “Would we ever?” 

“Yes, you absolutely would,” Sirius said, trying and failing to hide his relief, before doing a double-take. “James, why’re you on the floor?” 

James made a face. “Nevermind that, want to play quidditch before lunch?” 

Sirius’ face lit up as Remus’ and Peter’s faces fell. “Oh, do I ever -” 

“Brilliant,” James beamed. He turned to Evangeline and Regulus. “I know Evie’s game, but how about you, Regulus?” 

Regulus blinked. “Well, yes, but -” He looked at her, evidently shocked. “You play quidditch?”

James snorted. “Funny.” 

Evangeline blinked at Regulus. “Did I… never mention it?” 

“No,” Regulus said, very emphatically. 

“Wait, you were being serious?!” James yelped at the same time. 

Sirius grinned. “Siriu-” 

“Shut up, Sirius,” James, Regulus, Peter, and Remus said automatically. 

Sirius pouted. 

~

Remus and Peter elected to sit out the game - or, rather, Remus decided to read on a bench and Peter decided to play referee. Evangeline wasn’t too sure how well the reading would go, though, since Remus had a habit of being distracted each time James or Sirius yelled - which was often. 

They mounted their brooms - the Potter family had a set of four Cleansweep Fives - and Peter, who’d procured a whistle from somewhere, blew sharply, and they all took off. 

It was James and Evangeline versus Sirius and Regulus, all playing Chaser since there weren’t enough people for proper teams with designated Seekers. Instead, the snitch would be flying about freely, and anyone could catch it if they managed. There was a set of mock Bludgers on the field, too, to “spice things up a little,” according to James, which were just regular Bludgers that were far less dangerous. 

It was fairly evenly matched in the beginning. James and Evangeline worked fluidly together, and while Sirius and Regulus worked together less well, Evangeline had half her focus on looking for the snitch, and so she ended up fumbling the Quaffle several times. In the end, though, she ended up snatching the snitch from behind Peter’s left ear, making him shriek with shock when she suddenly dove for him under the guise of dodging a bludger. 

When they all landed, Regulus leveled Evangeline with an accusing look. 

“I cannot believe you never mentioned how good a quidditch player you are!”

James and Sirius snickered. Evangeline winced. 

“It never came up!” 

“Never came - ” Regulus stared at her, open-mouthed. “We’ve talked about quidditch before, surely?” 

She blinked thoughtfully. “I don’t think we have, actually.” 

He looked stricken. “But that’s terrible!” 

She couldn’t help herself - she grinned. “I had no idea you were such a fanatic, Reg.” 

“I am not -” 

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Right, and I suppose the fact that you’ve wallpapered your room with Puddlemere posters is because you like the colours?”

Regulus flushed hotly. “That’s not the point -” 

“And ,” Sirius continued loudly, “I suppose the fact that the fourth word you ever said was ‘broomstick’ is simply because you’ve a passion for cleaning?” 

“Sirius -” 

“And I suppose,” Sirius said, grinning evilly, “I was simply imagining how you almost pissed yourself with excitement over -” 

Regulus let out an incoherent noise of pure fury and tackled Sirius to the ground. They wrestled for a moment before Sirius eventually gained the upper hand and rubbed Regulus’ face in the snow, cackling. He sat on Regulus’ back and raised both arms in the air in triumph. 

“Sirius: 37, Regulus: 5!” he crowed, before being abruptly flattened by James. 

“James: 38,” her brother said proudly. 

When Sirius spoke, his voice was muffled. “This doesn’t count!” 

“Please get off me,” Regulus begged.

Evangeline stared, wide-eyed, before turning to Remus and Peter. 

“Does this happen often?” she asked faintly. 

Remus nodded gravely. “Seventy-five times and counting between James and Sirius alone.” 

“It’s a time-honored tradition at this point,” Peter agreed. 

She shook her head in disbelief. “I’m so glad you two, at least, are sane,” she said fervently.

~

They trooped back inside, whereupon Euphemia gave a fond, exasperated sigh at how three of the boys had been thoroughly soaked by their wrestling. She hit them with a drying charm that left James’ hair standing on-end even more than usual. Sirius and Regulus, meanwhile, looked unfairly normal, and were insufferably smug about it. 

Evangeline ended up dragging Regulus away before he and Sirius could get into another argument. 

“Honestly,” she said, amused, “I thought James and I were bad, but our arguments are nothing compared to yours and Sirius’.” 

Regulus scowled, every inch the annoyed younger sibling. “It’s not my fault Sirius is such an arse.” 

She laughed. “He is, isn’t he?” 

“He really is,” Regulus said emphatically, before looking at her curiously. “Where are you taking me, anyway?” 

Evangeline grinned. “The Potter family library.” 

Regulus’ eyes went wide. “Oh, Circe, yes please,” he said like a prayer. 

~

“You have A History of Druidic Magic?!” Regulus screeched, pulling at his hair. “There’s only two copies in existence!” 

She felt unbearably smug. “That’s correct.” 

“Merlin,” he breathed reverently. “May I - may I please read it? Or even - or even just touch it?” 

Her lips twitched. He was such a nerd. “I’m not so cruel as to say no.” 

He stared at her with stars in his eyes. “Thank you,” he said breathlessly.

~

All too early, their guests left. Regulus had almost cried at being separated from the book, but he perked up considerably when Evangeline promised to let him read it every time he came over. She had to hide a coo - he was adorable. 

The next day, Euphemia received a response from Scamander, thanking her for reaching out and asking if she would be available next week for a meeting. After a brief discussion with the family, Euphemia had written back with an invitation to Potter Manor. 

The day after that, they celebrated Yule. They ate the traditional Yule foods and burnt the log at sunset, and it was as lovely as ever. 

That night, Evangeline dreamed. She Saw herself, back in the Chamber, standing in a sea of green scales. She Saw Evan Rosier shaking Samantha Haversham’s hand, a rueful smile on his face. She Saw her mother, speaking with an unfamiliar dark-skinned woman dressed in blue.

And then she saw Voldemort, waxy-skinned but still handsome, setting a newspaper on fire.

~

She woke with a start, chills running down her spine. She’d never had a vision of Voldemort before. It disturbed and heartened her at the same time - surely it meant that Slytherins journals would eventually be published?

She dearly hoped so. Either way, anything that made Voldemort angry would be an asset.

Chapter End Notes

have some fluff after the heavy last chapter <3 next chapter, newt scamander!!
also I just wrote the first meeting between the basilisk and evie and can i just say that i CANNOT WAIT for that chapter to be posted, it's gonna be DELICIOUS

Chapter 14

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Newt Scamander was a tall man on the older end of middle age. His wavy blond hair was streaked with grey, but the light in his eyes and spring in his step lent him an undeniable air of youthfulness. 

Scamander, Euphemia, and Evangeline were in one of the sitting rooms specifically for receiving guests. Scamander had cast Evangeline a curious look when she’d sat down, likely questioning the reason behind her presence. Euphemia diverted his attention, as was planned, and started making small talk. 

“How have you been, Mr. Scamander?” 

Scamander grimaced. “Please, just call me Newt,” he said. “But I’ve been well. Just got back from studying occamies in India last week, so your letter came at the perfect time.” 

“Oh?” Euphemia said interestedly. “Would you mind elaborating?” 

Evangeline watched, fascinated. She wanted to be exactly like her mother one day, Euphemia was excellent at this. She listened intently as Scamander talked animatedly about the paper he was going to write on the social habits of occamies - apparently, they were far more social than anyone had expected, but only during certain weather events, for some reason. 

“Perhaps this is a foolish question,” Euphemia said, “but is it not difficult, trying to study creatures with whom you cannot communicate?” 

Scamander smiled, sipping his tea. “Oh, it certainly can be,” he said agreeably. “But that’s part of the fun, the challenge, that is. But India actually has a rather high population of Parselmouths, and some work as official translators for conservatories.” He paused, clearly gauging Euphemia’s reaction.

“Have you ever worked with a Parselmouth?” Euphemia asked, clearly intrigued. Scamander relaxed - he seemed to have been worried she’d be offended. He also seemed to have forgotten that Evangeline was there, but that was part of the plan, too - all the better to observe him with. 

“Oh, yes, many times,” Scamander said earnestly. “It’s fascinating, actually - Parseltongue is both a hereditary trait and can also result randomly due to certain genetic and magical mutations. It’s well studied in India, of course, but much less so in the rest of the world, especially the UK, where the prejudice is still strong. But yes, I’ve worked with Parselmouths directly in the past - not during my most recent trip, unfortunately, but I am in correspondence with a few.” He paused again, searching Euphemia’s face. 

“May I be frank for a moment?” 

“By all means,” Euphemia said. 

“May I inquire as to why the sudden interest in my research?” Scamander asked. “It’s just, I don’t recall either you or Mr. Potter ever having a particular passion for magical creatures.” 

Evangeline made her decision. Perhaps she was being rash, but Scamander seemed to have a rather positive view of Parselmouths, and though they hadn’t probed his thoughts on basilisks yet, she deemed him trustworthy enough for this. She and her mother had agreed that, if she chose to tell him, to tell him the entire truth. The situation was far too specific otherwise, and he’d likely guess at some version of the truth anyway. It was better to give him the whole picture rather than simply pieces of it - that way, he would better understand the importance of secrecy. Furthermore, the show of trust would make him more inclined to keep her secrets. Reciprocity, Evangeline was learning, was a powerful thing. 

“They don’t,” Evangeline cut in. “But something’s happened, and I need your help.” 

She thought he’d appreciate the bluntness. There was a time and place for niceties, but given Scamander’s own bluntness just now, she figured he preferred that. And indeed, though he raised his eyebrows and leaned forwards, there was no offense on his face. 

“Oh?” he said, intrigued. 

“I assume you’ve heard of the Chamber of Secrets?” Evangeline asked.

“I have,” Scamander said, visibly intrigued. “Why?” 

“I found it on Samhain,” Evangeline said. “Salazar Slytherin kept his journals there, and in them he describes his basilisk familiar. From what I understand, it is extremely likely that the basilisk remains in the Chamber under an enchanted sleep.” 

Scamander stared at her. Very slowly, he set down his teacup. His hands were trembling. 

“Are you quite certain?” he asked, his voice low. 

“I am.” 

He inhaled. “Well. That’s… that’s certainly something,” he said slowly. “And you came to me to find out how to kill it?” His face was unreadable. 

She swallowed. “Only if absolutely necessary,” Evangeline said quietly. She took a breath. “You see, I’m a Parselmouth. If there’s a way - any way at all - for me to communicate with the basilisk safely, I’d like the opportunity to speak with it and ascertain its intentions.” 

He looked at her searchingly. “You are aware of the dangers of waking up a creature designed to cleanse the school of non-magical-born individuals?” 

“That’s the thing,” Evangeline said softly. “From what Slytherin wrote in his private journals, he never had any intention of doing that. He wrote that the basilisk was meant to be a protector - of all magical children. The argument he had with Gryffindor over muggleborns was because Slytherin wanted to remove them from their families to keep them safe from persecution.” 

Her heart was beating rapidly. She’d deemed him tentatively trustworthy, but she’d been wrong before. If she was wrong this time, if he turned against her, if word leaked out - her plans would be in ruins. But this was a test for her, too - if she couldn’t stomach political risk-taking, if she only ever acted when the outcome was certain - well, she’d never get anywhere in that case, would she?

Scamander studied her. His face was perfectly blank. There was a long pause, and then - 

“I see,” he said at last. “Well, that certainly changes things.” He tilted his head in thought. Evangeline remained tense, not daring to hope. 

After another long pause, he finally spoke. “Basilisks,” Scamander said slowly, “are some of the most dangerous creatures on this planet. There are no known ways of subduing a fully-grown adult peacefully - their scales are the most magically resistant material known to man. Most spells cast on basilisk hide will simply slide right off, and their eyes are so powerful and magically sensitive that any amount of foreign magic would destroy them. Not even the blindfolding spell would work - you’d need a non-magical blindfold applied manually, which would put you within range of its fangs.”

Evangeline swallowed. It looked like Scamander would help them, which would’ve made her relax had his words not been so disappointing. But - 

“You said ‘most’ spells,” Evangeline noted. “Which spells are effective?” 

Scamander looked grim. “The Unforgiveables, namely,” he said quietly. “Along with several other spells that target the mind and soul.” 

Evangeline faltered. “I see. Is there a way to find out its intentions with such a spell?” 

“No,” Scamander said. “If it existed, it’d be one of the most useful spells in existence. But you say you’re a Parselmouth, so that changes things.” He paused, examining her. “I believe the only way to find out its intentions is to speak with it. I’m not sure if Veritaserum would work on a snake, but I imagine not - it’s carefully calibrated for human magic and minds, not magical creatures. The Imperius Curse could work, it’s not illegal to use it on magical creatures, but it’s rather unsavory to use it on thinking beings.”

 “... I see,” Evangeline said slowly. “Then what precautions would you suggest I take?” 

He thought for a moment. Euphemia watched them, her face blank. 

“A sound crystal of a rooster would be absolutely necessary should things go wrong,” Scamander began. “And further research into this ‘enchanted sleep’ you mentioned - more specifically, how to put the basilisk back underneath it.” He paused. “Are you planning on involving the Headmaster in this as well?” 

Evangeline paused. “I’d prefer to delay it as long as possible,” she said cautiously. “He’s not the biggest fan of Slytherins or the house’s founder. I’m afraid he’d react with unnecessary force.” 

“To be fair,” Scamander said neutrally, “there is a thousand-year-old, potentially murderous quintuple-X creature in his school.” 

“But it’s still a sentient being,” Evangeline argued. Some part of her was deeply amused at the irony of her defending the creature that’d nearly killed her in another life. “And if a peaceful solution is possible, I will stop at nothing to find it.” 

He smiled for the first time since Evangeline had spoken. Had it been a test, then? 

“Well said,” Scamander said approvingly. “I agree. Just remember that peace may not be an option in this case.” 

“Of course.” Evangeline nodded. 

He studied her. “Well, then. What’s your current plan?”

She paused. “I’ll take you up on your recommendation to have a sound crystal, of course,” Evangeline said slowly. “And I’ll also research the enchanted sleep. But when it comes time to wake the basilisk and speak with it, I think it’s best I do so on my own.” 

From her peripheral vision, she saw her mother’s face tighten. Scamander frowned. 

“Is that wise?” he asked. 

“It’s just a feeling I have,” Evangeline said vaguely. She hoped her mother got the message - in the vision she’d had of herself and the basilisk, she hadn’t seen anyone else. And it just felt wrong, somehow, to bring another person into the Chamber. The Chamber felt terrifyingly like hers.

At that realization, she paused in alarm. She considered the Chamber hers? What a ridiculous thought - she ought to be scoffing at the very idea, and yet… it felt strangely right. 

Evangeline shelved that train of thought for future perusal. Now wasn’t the time. 

Scamander was looking askance at Euphemia when Evangeline tuned back in. “Do you agree with this?” he asked. 

Euphemia looked very unhappy. Her lips were a thin white line on her face. “I don’t,” she said curtly. “Evangeline, this is a thousand-year-old deadly creature, and you’re still a student.” 

“This is something I need to do alone,” Evangeline insisted. Everything in her rebelled at the idea of taking someone else into her place. 

Her mother pursed her lips. “We will speak on this further,” she said, a promise in her voice. Scamander looked uncomfortable, whether it was because of the tension or because he, too, didn’t like the idea of an eleven-year-old confronting a dangerous magical creature, Evangeline wasn’t sure. 

“Well, should you wish to have an adult present,” Scamander said pointedly, “know that I will be happy to invent an excuse to visit Hogwarts and join you. I’ve had a standing invitation to come as a guest lecturer for decades now.” 

“I think that would be best,” Euphemia said firmly, looking Evangeline in the eye. Evangeline understood, from that look, that her mother wouldn’t budge on this. This was non-negotiable. “If you’re so very insistent that no one can join you, at the very least request him to wait outside.” 

Evangeline thought for a moment. There wasn’t any feeling that that would be wrong, so she nodded easily. “Alright. Thank you, Mr - I mean, Newt.”

Scamander smiled slightly, visibly less tense. “Of course. And, should the basilisk turn out to be friendly, I would be honored if it would deign to meet me.”  

~

The conversation wrapped up soon afterwards, with Euphemia writing Scamander a hefty check, with promises of further funding in the future. Scamander left, and Euphemia turned stern eyes onto Evangeline. 

“Just because your magic is urging you towards a choice does not mean that choice is always the best option,” Euphemia said, very firmly. “Confronting a potentially insane, definitely dangerous magical creature alone  is, in no world, ever the best option. Do you understand me?” 

Evangeline grimaced. She knew when to back down. “I understand.” 

Her mother studied her for another moment before softening. “I was just worried about you,” she said gently. “I still am, even with the reassurance that Mr. Scamander will be waiting outside. This is dangerous, foolhardy, and incredibly reckless.” 

“It is,” Evangeline agreed. “I’m sorry. If I didn’t have a feeling that having someone with me would ruin everything, I wouldn’t be doing this alone.” 

Euphemia exhaled. “I understand. Just - please, please be careful, alright? Promise me.”

Evangeline smiled reassuringly. “I promise.” 

~

James was, completely unsurprisingly, extremely against the plan. Fleamont had backed down after a look from Euphemia, but James was obstinate in his overprotectiveness. 

“You’re not doing it,” he said firmly. “Not alone, at any rate.”

“But my magic -” 

“Magic shmagic,” James scoffed. “I don’t care what your magic wants, it’s far too dangerous.” 

“What would make you feel better?” Evangeline asked tentatively. 

He scowled at her. “Having Scamander with you.” 

“... Apart from that,” Evangeline said, apologetic. “I’m sorry, but that’s non-negotiable.” 

His frown deepened. “But -” 

“James,” Euphemia said gently. “I know you’re worried. I’m worried, too. But we’ve always trusted Evangeline to know what’s best for her.”

“She’s eleven!” James looked flabbergasted. “I can’t believe you’re on her side, mum!”

“There are no sides here,” Euphemia soothed. “We all want Evangeline to be safe. Perhaps you could help us come up with more contingency plans?” 

“I…” He looked uncertainly between their parents. Euphemia held his gaze reassuringly. 

“Alright,” he said slowly. “I suppose… you know those two-way mirrors you gave me, Dad? I gave the other one to Sirius, but I can ask for it back for a night and lend the pair to Evie and Scamander.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” Euphemia said warmly. “Is there anything else?” 

“The invisibility cloak,” James said. “How does the gaze of a basilisk work, exactly? If the basilisk can’t see Evie’s eyes, would that help?” 

Evangeline blinked. She looked at her parents, who looked equally befuddled. It seemed James’ pranks made him very good at thinking outside the box. For the first time, Evangeline was grateful for James’ tendency towards chaos and mischief. 

“I’d have to write to Mr. Scamander,” Evangeline said at last. “I’m sure it’s been looked into, though.”

“Alright,” James said. The disapproving frown seemed to ease a fraction, but he still looked uncertain as he took her in. “... Alright.” 

~

James sought her out that evening, knocking on her bedroom door just as she was about to change into her pyjamas. Evangeline opened the door and smiled hesitantly at him. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi,” James said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can - may I come in?” 

Her lips twitched. James only ever turned formal when he was uncomfortable, but it was so uncharacteristic of him that she couldn’t help a twinge of humor each time it happened. 

“Of course.” 

She stepped aside, and he entered, standing stiffly in front of her as he closed the door. 

“May I help you?” she asked, unable to keep the note of teasing from her voice. 

“Yes, I - oh, stuff it,” James said irritably, giving her a glare. 

Evangeline giggled, pleased as James relaxed at her jab. His shoulders eased and he leaned against the door as he eyed her irritably, but the faint, repressed grin on his lips told her he appreciated her trying to help him feel more at ease. 

“I just wanted to clear the air,” he said slowly. “I - I’m just worried about you, you know?”

“I know,” Evangeline smiled, feeling warmth blossom in her chest. “Which is entirely reasonable, considering I’ll be confronting a dangerous magical creature all on my own.” 

He groaned. “Don’t remind me,” he begged. “You’re going to send me into conniptions, Evie, honestly. I just -” He sighed, expression turning earnest. “I just want you to promise me that you’ll be safe, alright? You’re - you’re my little sister. I’m supposed to protect you, and I hate that I can’t, this time.” 

She felt her expression soften. “I’ll do my very best to stay safe,” she promised. “I promise.” 

He nodded to himself. “Alright. I suppose that’s all you can promise, isn’t it?” 

“Yes,” she said apologetically. 

He smiled at her, a little strained, clearly still worried, and she couldn’t help it - she pulled him into a hug. He relaxed in her hold, going boneless as he slumped against her, and she needed to brace herself against the sudden weight. 

“I love you, Jamie,” Evangeline said quietly, her voice slightly muffled by the press of James’ shirt. 

“Love you too, Evie,” he sighed. His hold on her tightened. He seemed to be trying to absorb her into himself. “Be safe.” 

“I’ll try.” 

~

They were in the family sitting room, the night before she and James were meant to leave for Hogwarts. It was cozier than the other sitting rooms, which were only ever used for entertaining guests. The walls were covered with off-white wallpaper dotted with painted bluebells, enchanted to sway gently in some invisible breeze. Witchlights clustered the ceiling, arranged like muggle string lights, and every now and then one of the fairies that always took up residence in the manor during winter would balance daintily atop one. The fireplace, stocked with ever-burning smokeless logs, crackled happily against the far wall. Around it grouped a large, plush sofa and several armchairs. Steam wafted from the cups of hot chocolate each of them held, filling the air with the scent of cinnamon. 

Evangeline sighed softly, setting her mug on a side table. She curled up more snugly against her mother, who ran an absent-minded hand through her hair as she read. James, sitting between Evangeline on one side and their father on the other, was gazing at the fire, lost in thought. Fleamont, like Euphemia, was also reading. 

Time felt hazy and stretchy and sweet as the hot chocolate still lingering on her tongue. If only this moment could last forever. If only she could spend eternity here, warm and comfortable, safe within her family’s embrace. Here, her worries fell away - her mind wasn’t filled with thoughts of her plans, of what state the basilisk might be in, or anything of that ilk. It was just her, her family, and the warmth that came with knowing she had their unconditional love. 

Slowly, without her realizing it, her eyelids fluttered shut.

Chapter End Notes

have some plot but also some fluff <3

Afterword

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