The Other Evans
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Introduction to 'The Mark Evans Situation'
So, I'm taking it that more than a few people know of the 'Mark Evans situation' that had lots of people all excited and that JK Rowling said she would 'explain' on her site? (If you don't, go to and poke around to the FAQs section and its on page 3 in JK Rowling's own words.) If you can't be bothered to do so, I'll tell you now: there is a person named Mark Evans mentioned in the chapter 'Dudley Demented' of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. He is a Muggle boy that Dudley beat up with his gang, but there was a lot of hype among the fan community because his surname is that same as Harry's mother's: Evans. So there was a bit of confusion as to whether or not there was some significance to him, i.e.; relation to Lily, Aunt Petunia, etc. It turns out that there isn't any. He's just there, just a name, and not anyone of any importance.
Well, I've decided to try and make another 'Evans situation' with the creation of my own character. Her name is Emilie Evans, and to find out who she is…well, I can't tell you here. You'll have to read to find out.
Story perspective: First person narrative, with some 3rd person, maybe later on.
Disclaimer: I own Emilie Evans. Nothing (or no one) else.
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Chapter One: The Letter
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Emilie Evans is a young girl, with a pale face, some unruly freckles, and large hazel eyes framed by unremarkable lashes, though her mother said she would grow up to be beautiful. Her brown hair is slightly curly, and quite unexceptional, and falls past her shoulders. She is rather small for her age; she is almost always one of the last to line up in order of height at her primary school. Excuse me, was. Emilie Evans has just had her eleventh birthday two weeks ago. Now she is supposed to move on to secondary school.
Emilie Evans did not like primary school in her village. She did not like the other children, because she knows she was different, in more ways than one. She was made fun of because she was always talking of magic and spells and flying broomsticks and other such nonsense. She also has a slight accent, that she tries her best to keep hidden. It makes her speech slightly less smooth and flowing as her other classmates. They would laugh if she pronounced an a or an o differently when she let her guard slip. She didn't care. She had some classmates that could be her friends. And things always had a way of coming back to those that tormented her.
Like the one girl who always made her last to be picked in gym class. It bothered Emilie to the point where she complained to the teacher, but the teacher never got a chance to do anything about it. The girl came to school one day with green hair, and everyone made fun of her. The girl's mother was at a loss. The color did not fade for nearly a week, and by then, Emilie was not the last to be picked for teams for quite some time.
Or when some of the class decided to have a birthday party for two girls whose birthdays were on the same day. One of the girls Emilie disliked, the other could have been called her friend. When everyone decided to surprise one girl with cake and presents and not Emilie's friend, the entire class found that the writing on the cake had changed to wish Emilie's friend well, and the other girl never came.
Or there was the time that half the class swore they saw Emilie blow apart a window when she started to cry after being teased. The glass simply dripped from the pane and shattered, as her tears hit the table.
She is not a normal girl. Nor will she ever be. She became aware just how much that would affect her life when she was eleven years old.
How can someone know so much about Emilie Evans? Here's how:
You know an awful lot about someone when they're you.
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I remember that day very well. I suppose I should, as it was only yesterday. I had woken up as usual, (late, since it is the summer holidays) rolled out of bed, stubbed my toe on the corner of the bedpost, and staggered down the stairs to breakfast.
Mum was at the table, reading a book. One of her usual sappy romance novels, I think, and she didn't notice me for a moment. I coughed slightly, desiring to be acknowledged, and her eyebrows shot up over the cover. She hurriedly marked her page and pulled out her wand. She gave it a quick wave, and soon the toast was buttering itself.
"Good morning, Emilie, dear," she said, smiling in a nauseatingly mum-ish way as she redirected her wand to the kettle, which issued steam and poured itself.
"Morning, mum," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes and reaching for a bit of toast. The breakfast room was far too sunny and bright for my liking at the moment. I glanced out the arched windows to the view of the sun climbing higher over the mounds in the distance and fields—no crop circles today, I noticed. The little village of Avebury was just visible from where it was tucked behind the mound, with the standing stones casting shadowy pinpricks on the ground.
The mounds and the stones were somewhat of a joke to the neighbors—at least, the wizarding ones. Muggles were forever jumping to the bizarre conclusions that they were made by aliens, and put there to mark something about Earth energies and such. What rubbish. Mum says the stones are there to keep some charms on all the Muggles working, and have been that way since the twelfth century. I think it's very strange. That and the crop circles. Dad is always going on about how it is a wonder that the Muggles haven't discovered all the wizards living here. The crop circles are really just the evidence of all the magic in the air. I sighed. Muggles. Honestly.
But there was no time to ponder crop circles and Muggles. There were more pressing matters on my mind.
"Where's the siblings?" I asked, now reaching for the orange juice.
"Your sister is at the village, at a friend's house, and your brother is with your father today," Mum said as she poured milk in her cereal. (I have two younger siblings: my sister, Alynne, who is eight, and a brother Andrew, who is four.)
"I see," I said, not really caring. I chewed my toast in a sort of bored way. "Mom, I was wondering if we could get to Diagon Alley today; Andrew broke my chess set yesterday because he got hold of some Floo Powder and sent the queen's rook and three pawns to who knows where."
"Did he now?" Mum mused, looking vaguely concerned as she returned to her book. "Well, I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait until—"
There was a loud rapping noise coming from over by the window.
"But we already got the paper this morning," Mum said, wandering over to the window and opening it to admit a large barn owl. It swooped in, knocked over my orange juice, and placed a parchment envelope on my plate.
"Thanks, clumsy bird," I said irritably, patting my napkin down to stop the orange flow from spreading along the table. The owl glared at me, stole the crust of my toast, and flew off.
"Hey! What the—!" I began, but I was distracted by the letter. It was addressed to me:
Miss E. Evans
The Breakfast Table
House-on-the-Hill-Overlooking-the-Village
Avebury
Wiltshire
"Open it," Mum insisted.
I turned it over. There was a large purple seal with the letter H surrounded by an eagle, a badger, and a snake on the front. I broke the seal (Mum leaning over my shoulder most annoyingly) and pulled out the first of two papers.
Hogwarts School
of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Miss Evans,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find an enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
(And here was a thin, strict signature)
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
"Oh my g—" I began, but mom cut me off.
"Oh, you've been accepted to school! Fabulous! You're the first of your brother and sister, how exciting!" she grabbed me round the shoulders and kissed my face fiercely. "Go on, there's another paper—"
I wiped spit off my face, and picked up the other paper, which turned out to be a list.
Hogwarts School
of Witchcraft and Wizardry
UNIFORM
First Year students will require:
Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllidia Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Defense by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS
"Wish you didn't have to see that last bit," I said. I want a broomstick sooo much. Mom would let me have one, but dad doesn't think I'm responsible enough. The few times I've actually been allowed to borrow one, I'm a decent flyer, though I really only know how to play Quodpot, but Quidditch can't be that hard. I just get in trouble because I like to go fast—
"Yes, well, never mind that," Mum mused, breaking my thoughts and taking the list away. "Send an owl to your father and let him know the good news, why don't you? And then to your grandmother and grandfather, and the aunts—"
"Mom!" My accent burst out in my exasperation.
She gave me a rather nasty look. "This is important, Emilie! You've just been accepted to what is quite possibly the best wizarding school in the country! You should be happy!"
"I am happy," I said, though I didn't really believe myself. "But I really don't know anything about Hogwarts."
"Well, I can't say that I do, either, I went to Salem Academy," said Mum. "Oh, how exciting!" and she lapsed off into more gushes of affection.
I managed to escape about ten minutes later, with a promise that we would go to Diagon Alley tomorrow. I got dressed, and then went into the garden.
Yay. I get to go to Hogwarts. Shouldn't I be excited or something?
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I later realized that going to Hogwarts was probably one of the single most important things I would ever do. It started everything…
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A/N: Please let me know what you think. I can't promise I'll make any changes from comments, except to spelling and such. But it's worth the ten milliseconds it takes to click that little button.