Chapter Two
At eleven years old, Evangeline could rightfully call herself a student at Beauxbatons. At this time she was still very much a child: she wore her hair in two plaits, and she looked up to the older students. The school was every bit as beautiful as her mother had told her it would be. The floors and staircases were of Italian marble. Everything was decorated in silver and blue; even the students fit in, with their blue silk uniforms.
Although Evie's heritage was a mix of France (her mother) and England (her father), the school she would attend had never been up for discussion. Her mother, a spirited lady and sole heiress to a grand fortune, had always said no school was as charming as Beauxbatons. She glorified her own days there as a young girl, and seemed convinced the strict rules would tame her eldest child. Evie's father, Maximillian Foxworth, was very different. Unlike his wife, who was used to devoting her life to society, he devoted himself to Healing. As a bright young Healing-student he had fallen in love with Joséphine Cavallier; the only daughter to one of the wealthiest Pureblood families in France. He had met her while he did research in Paris, and they had been inseparable ever since. Their match was always seen as an unlikely one. Maximillian was very clever but his family was not wealthy, nor very well known in society. This had never stopped the young lovers, though, and they married within the year –delightfully ignorant of their families' protests. Together somehow their differences worked, and young Evie grew up with the Pureblood traditions on one side, and her father's more realistic view of the world on the other side.
She had always been a very serious child. Her mother was not very generous in showing affection, but she was the apple of her father's eye. Whenever he was home she was with him. She loved sitting on the rug in the library while he worked. She could stare for hours at the mature, leatherbound books. But most of all she loved the grand piano that stood in the middle of the hallway of the family's manor.
As a very young child she had devoted herself to music. It was encouraged at first; her mother greatly approved of raising her daughter the classic way: education, dancing, and music. She had a private tutor and was taught the basic skills of reading, writing and arithmetic, followed by history of the Wizarding world and her ancestry. Ballet was important for her posture and grace, and a musical instrument was simply deemed becoming for a young girl. That changed, however, when Joséphine noted her daughter's interest lay mainly with the piano instead of with her education. A mild interest was fine, but a professional interest, even at such a young age, was embarrassing to say the least. After all: people might think Evie's lack of interest in magic made her a squib. Evie's music was probably the only thing her parents ever argued about. If it weren't for her father's doing, she would no longer have been allowed to play at all. Maximillian saw the true joy his daughter got from playing. He knew denying her it would hurt her more than a young child could handle. And so Evie played, and played. And then came the day she would leave for Beauxbatons.
She had been there for three months now. In a way, she had fun. Evie never had trouble finding friends. The first eight years of her life she had been an only child, so she was used to having to go out to find friends to play with. Some girls in her year were snobbish, but there were a fair few she got along with just fine. Most of the lessons were interesting, too. Evie was a clever girl that had no trouble following along. Of course she had yet to prove herself in the exams to come at the end of term, but the first impressions overall was good. The worst problem were the teachers. Many of them pretended to be nice at first, but Evie quickly discovered they expected everything to be done their way. And to think their way. Unfortunately there was only one thing Evie hated more than being told what to do: being told what to think.
"Eva, are you coming?"
She turned to watch her two best friends, Odylle and Juliëte, waiting for her at the end of the hallway. There was a Charms class to attend.
"Five minutes," she promised them, drawn to the white piano by the window. She did not get to play as much as she would like to here at school. Not that Beauxbatons was music-less; there was a choir, and feasts were accompanied by a small orchestra. But it was all just that. Musical instruments often played themselves; the art of music reduced to a simple spell.
Subconsciously she took place on the piano stool. Her fingers , unstoppable, flew over the keyboard almost without thought. She didn't need sheet music. This was all she ever needed. She deemed herself alone, in her own dream world where there was only this. Some of the mean girls at school called her a pretend-squib, but that wasn't true. Evie liked magic. She liked this world, too, for it held many miracles and good things. But she wished it wasn't so narrow-minded. Why not have magic, plus a muggle-hobby? As far as she was concerned, there was magic in the piano, too.
"Evangeline!"
The magic was lost, and Evie abruptly ceased playing. Her teacher, Madame Délacroix, looked as angry as she had when the entire class failed the first ever test on her subject, Transfigurations. All students were most likely afraid of her, because of her eyes: an icy sort of blue that seemed to melt anyone they turned on. It did not help she was so tall she towered over everyone, including the older students.
"I was under the impression your class was supposed to be in Charms at this hour."
"I... yes," Evie stammered. She knew she was being stupid, coming late for class while she could have easily prevented it. Sometimes it was as if her mind just left her alone and caused her to do silly things.
"Then, what are you doing here?"
Teachers loved rhetoric questions. Evie suspected they only used them because they made the students uncomfortable.
"Playing piano, Madame," she finally answered.
"Would you rather attend a muggle school, Evangeline?"
Some day she would say yes. When she was older and more sure of what she wanted. Then she would say yes and enjoy the look of shock on her teacher's face. For now, as an eleven- year old without much choice, she could only shake her head.
"No, Madame."
"Very well," Madame Délacroix nodded, appearing pleased. "Now hurry to class before I change my mind."
1998
"Mum, I think she's waking up."
"Good, it's about time she actually tastes something of my chicken broth."
Evie struggled to open her eyes. Strange voices had roused her from a seemingly deep slumber. The first thing that hit her was pain. A head-splitting head ache that seemed to affect even her stomach.
"I think she's about to throw up," said the younger girl's voice.
"Oh good heavens, Ginny, just hand her a pot."
Briefly, Evie opened her eyes. Her mind was covered by a thick fog; she had no clue where she was or how she got there. The room was dimly lit and she did not appear in immediate danger. There were two red-headed women standing by her bed. One young, the other older. Mother and daughter, possibly. She was in too much pain to think about that. One of them helped her sit up. Her stomach played up immediately. She could lean to the side just in time to vomit on the floor, rather than on the bed sheets.
As she struggled to sit up, she managed to utter a few words of apology. "Sorry about the carpet."
"That's all right dear," said the older woman, who took her wand from her apron and cleaned the carpet with a single flick. "How are you feeling?"
It was a good question. Despite the pain, she was not so sure. Confused could be a decent answer. She had no clue how she got here, or even who these people were. Tired would be an answer, too. Just the effort of sitting up had left her exhausted. Quickly she allowed herself to sink back into the pillows.
"Head ache," she managed.
"I'm sure, dear, you hit your head pretty hard. Ginny, get her some more of that potion will you? I left it on the left kitchen shelve."
When the girl, apparently named Ginny, left the room, Evie turned to older woman. "Where am I?"
"Goodness, you don't remember anything, do you?" she fidgeted nervously with her apron.
Evie, alarmed now, brought herself up to a sitting position again. It made her dizzy, but she ignored that. There was something wrong. Forcing herself to think of her last memory, she started to panic. "I need to know."
"I'm Molly Weasley," said the woman, sensing Evie's panic. "You're with the Order of the Phoenix, at Headquarters. You're safe with us. Do you know who you are?"
"Evangeline," said Evie, slowly, settling somehow. She knew who she was. "Call me Evie, or Eve, whatever. Anything goes."
Right at that moment Ginny returned with a small, silvery potion. She handed it to Evie, who did not hesitate to drink greedily. It couldn't make her feel worse than she was now, and if it helped she might be able to think harder and remember.
"What's the last thing you remember?" Molly inquired.
"I don't know..." Evie shook her head. It felt like something very heavy was pressing down on her chest, alarming her something was wrong.
"It's all right dear, you've got a concussion. You were in freezing water for Merlin knows how long, it was a miracle Tonks and Remus found you in time. It was no surprise you became so ill, the fevers took you out for almost a week."
A week. Freezing water. Fevers. Somewhere along the line, Evie had missed something entirely crucial. Her last memory...
" I remember graduating," she started, encouraged by Molly's nods. "I studied piano in France. Came home, I remember coming home," she paused, clutching her hands around the teacup Ginny had handed to her. "My parents hosted a party for me. A stupid party, because I didn't really know anyone of the guests. Except my mum and dad, of course. And my little brother."
Molly looked very serious, and turned to send away her daughter. "Ginny, go check on the preparations for dinner, will you?"
Ginny left after only a slight protest, but Evie hardly noticed.
"They're dead. Aren't they?" she whispered. It had hit her when she remembered the party on her parents' yacht. One moment they had all been looking their best, drinking champagne and talking of the future. And then suddenly, they had appeared out of nowhere. Dark cloaks. Green flashes. Avada Kedavra. Deaths.
"I'm so very sorry, dear," Molly sat on the edge of the bed and took Evie's ice-cold hands in her own. "We were all so very shocked. There must have been a leak in the security somewhere."
Evie pulled away from the offered embrace. "I'd just really like to be alone right now," she whispered.
Molly stared at her as if in doubt whether it would be safe to leave her alone, but nodded eventually. "Of course. I'll be right down the hall if you need me."
Dead. Her mum, her dad, and Sébastien, her little brother. He was just fourteen. He wanted to become a Healer, like their father. They couldn't be really dead. It had to be a misunderstanding. And how could she not have remembered?
When she was certain Molly's footsteps had disappeared down the corridor, Evie sank back down. It was so much to take in, she felt empty. She wanted to cry, scream, tear down these hideous curtains across the room, but when she opened her mouth no words came out. No tears came out, either, no matter how hard she tried. For once in her life she wanted to be normal and react like anyone would. She curled up in a ball, hugging her knees to her chest in her attempt to stop shivering. She laid there, unsure how much time passed, waiting to feel. She was still waiting, long after the sun had gone down and the room had gone appropriately dark. And she was waiting still when Molly returned, offering her dinner she wouldn't eat. Molly brought a sleeping draught, too, for which Evie was terribly grateful. She could not drink it soon enough, welcoming the few hours of oblivion with open arms.
Author's Note: Please Read & Review, it's very appreciated! I understand the story calls up a lot of questions, but I assure you, all blanks will be filled in!