A/N: It has been a hot minute, but I have been working on Eve's story. I have the next few chapters written out and will be posting them weekly. The next few chapters will follow the same system - snippets of Eve's first year in the magical world. I hope to average about 10 chapters per each year Eve is at Hogwarts and those chapters will flow more like a chapter book than they do now. So sit tight, and enjoy the adventure.
Chapter 6: The Breakdown
(November 1989)
October jumped into November with a cold snap, and the desire to go outside had dwindled. Eve had spent several days indoors either humoring Ginny with some of her more girly activities. (Eve was currently sporting nail polish that changed with the weather.)
However, Ginny was feeling ill that afternoon, leaving Eve to play chess with Ron. The boy was incredibly skilled at the game and wasn't that bad of a teacher either. Eve had played non-magical chess before, but Wizard's Chess was far more entertaining as the pieces actually attacked each other when occupying the same square. As barbaric as it was, it was one of the more interesting indoor pastimes.
"And that's checkmate!" Ron smiled as his bishop trapped her king. Eve sighed and tapped her currently grey nails onto the table as she contemplated what she could have done wrong. She had been in a sour mood all day, though she couldn't exactly pinpoint the reason why constantly losing each round of chess to Ron was not helping her moral.
"You shouldn't be so protective for your pawns," Ron concluded. "Sometimes you need to sacrifice them to progress."
"But I don't want them to get attacked!"
"They'll be fine. It's what they do," Ron assured her, picking up one of her chipped pawns, though old and worn, was not in any discernible pain. "See?"
"Yeah…" Eve understood that, but there was still the primal sensation of wanting to protect her marble army. She didn't really like seeing them get hurt.
"Want to give it another go?" Ron asked.
"No thanks."
"Okay. I'll just read some more "Martin Miggs," then," he shrugged, grabbing one of the many comics on his mess of a bed.
"The "Mad Muggle" series?" Eve scoffed. "I hate those books."
"They're funny!" Ron said defensively.
"They're degrading," she said haughty, slightly proud to be using a word she had recently learned in her reading and writing studies. "Muggles are not that stupid."
"Well, Marvin is because he's mad!"
"Hmmph," Eve grunted, flopping onto Ron's bed. "As long as you remember that Marvin is just as real as the Harry Potter of these books." She held up the battered copy of "Harry Potter and the Golden Goblin" that Ginny had left in her brother's room.
"But Harry Potter is a real person."
"Yeah, but I doubt an eight-year-old could break into a goblin's treasure room!" Eve scoffed, "The author even has a note of its fiction on the first page."
"Yeah, well. He did defeat You-Know-Who. Who knows how powerful he really is?!"
But Eve did not "Know Who," her introduction to the wizarding world through the Weasleys had come with a brief history through Molly and Arthur, and the gushings of Ginny about the rise and fall of the latest Dark Lord - his life ending at the hands of the infant Harry Potter. But no one would give her a name; the Weasleys refused to say it, which Eve just found silly. This enigma of the nameless dark lord haunted her mind often as the mere notion of not knowing drove her crazy.
Then there was the unlikely hero. The year-old Harry Potter had defeated a looming danger only to then disappear from the wizarding world. Through this, a legend was born; Eve had had a hard time finding factual information about what happened to this Harry Potter - the adults didn't know. The only prominent existence of The-Boy-Who-Lived was in Ginny's children's books.
"Ugh. Whatever," she huffed, choosing not to argue with him, as that never went well. Eve had never had siblings, but in the months that she had been at The Burrow, she supposed that Ron and Ginny were the closest to siblings she would ever have. She actually enjoyed it overall; so what if they could be a bit obnoxious and loud and impossible to reason with? They were nice to her, kept her company, and taught her so much about their secret world.
From a further distance, Percy and Charlie had still kept in contact with her and the family by owl every few weeks. Even the twins recently sent a package to their youngest siblings and to her, which had included a fork for each of them along with a note that made a pun about "having a bite of Hogwarts" or something. Eve shook her head in disbelief, but she kept the piece of silverware, which was currently resting in her suitcase.
Then, of course, there was Molly and Arthur, who treated her like she was just another one of their children. Eve no longer receive the more civil politeness she had been shown when she first arrived at their home, Molly praised and scolded her like she would Ron and Ginny, and Arthur would ask her every third evening which book she would like him to read to the three of them before bed. Little things like that had eased Eve into the Weasley life.
Yes, Eve was happier than she had been in a long time; it was as though she had been unquestionably adopted into the large family. And though she would ever admit it aloud, she sometimes wondered what she would look like with red hair.
The two of them read in silence for a few minutes (a blissful, rare occasion with Ron) as Eve thumbed gingerly through the book and rolled her eyes at the cartoon illustrations that were animated with choppy movements. She felt bad for the real Harry Potter, who would forever be compared to this goofy rendition of himself by the children of the wizarding world. However, their quiet reading was soon interrupted by Molly, who had appeared in the doorway.
"I had to make sure all my children hadn't disappeared," she chuckled when she saw the two of them reading. "A quiet house with children in it is almost never a good sign."
"We're not Fred and George, mum," Ron said, setting his comic book back onto the small stack on the floor.
"Yes, those two hardly know the meaning of quiet. But, they also remembered to feed the chickens each morning." She said pointedly. Ron's ears went red as he stood up quickly. Eve wanted to snicker; Ron was often forgetful about chores.
"Sorry, mum."
"Go on and do it, and check for any eggs."
"Yes, mum."
"Eve, dear, you also promised me last week that you would assist me with brewing a wood-polishing potion and help me clean the mantel today."
"Oops," Eve gasped, feeling her own face heat up with embarrassment. "Sorry, mum."
"Well, go and -"
But Eve couldn't hear the rest. She dropped the book in her hands as every muscle in her body froze, the air was caught in her lungs and she couldn't breathe. The world around her felt like it had gone cold. She felt horrible. She was horrible. A terrible daughter.
Neither Molly or Ron seemed to had noticed her biggest mistake. Worse than any poor performance or a forgotten chore. Eve felt her stomach churn.
"Eve, you okay?" Ron asked just before she bolted to the bathroom.
Eve had spent several minutes emptying the content of her stomach into the toilet. Her limbs shook slightly as she stood up to wash her hands. She had been under the watchful eye of Molly since she had entered the bathroom; she had held her hair back when she had thrown up, eliminated the smell with a wave of her wand, and conjured her a glass of water for her after the ordeal.
"Oh dear," Molly tutted as she reached out. Eve tried to shrink away, but the woman was persistent.
"You do feel a little warm, perhaps you caught was Ginevra has, or maybe something at breakfast didn't agree with you…"
Eve's eyes narrowed. Molly still didn't understand, and that made it worse.
"Why don't you go have a lie-down and I'll bring you a potion to soothe your stomach?" Molly insisted in her most maternal voice.
"No!" Eve hissed harshly, pushing the woman away. She didn't want to feel better, nor did she deserve it. Right now, she needed to be as far away from Molly and the Weasley children. She pushed by the bewildered woman and rushed down the stairs to Bill's room.
Slamming the door behind her, her eyes let loose the tears that she had been holding. How could she call another woman her mother? It hadn't even been a year since…
A strong chill ran down Eve's spine as another realization hit her, and she found herself scrambling over to the desk in the far corner. Eve flipped through the Chudley Cannons calendar on the wall that she had been neglecting since it self-marked the days. Still on the month of September, Eve flipped to November where Keeper Rory Twillis dived to catch the quaffle. Eyeing through the marked dates, Eve noted that today was the 17th. Her heart sank.
Her mother had died November 14th of last year.
The anniversary of Renee's death had been three days ago and Eve had managed to forget. Even worse, she had just called another woman her mother just days after the anniversary of that tragic day.
Eve felt like the worst child in the world. She had become so absorbed in this magical life that she hadn't really thought about her mother in the past few weeks. The realization of the date came crashing down on her, overwhelming her in with emotion. The wound of her loss had been reopened, and her faux pas had become the icing on top of it all. It stung worse than it did the day she died and the weeks that had followed it.
She heard Mrs. Weasley knock on the door.
"Go away!" shouted over her shoulder. She did not want to see anyone right now, especially her. Thankfully, the woman did not force the issue and eventually left.
She had dismissed Mrs. Weasley an additional three times that afternoon, rejecting her coaxing with snacks and dinner. She begged Molly to leave her alone each time, the woman sounding increasingly worried about her with each attempt, but continued to respect her space even when she refused supper.
Ron even tried to come in at one point, but Eve shouted at him, causing the young boy to scurry off in a huff. Eve instantly regretted shouting, but could hardly take it back.
Eve was now camping under Bill's bed along with half a Gobstones set and some empty boxes of Bertie Bott's Beans. Ever since she could remember, Eve enjoyed hiding under the bed. She had done it when she had been afraid of thunder at the age of six, during the rare occurrence that her mother would ground her, and she had spent a lot of time under her bed at the Jensen's when she wanted to escape their insanity. It was a strange source of comfort for her.
Eve hugged the pillow that she had taken under the bed wither her. She had stopped crying a while ago, but it was still damp on the one side. With her free hand she held a severely worn and creased photo of her and her mother the summer they went to an amusement park. Both of them were smiling at the camera, obviously being held by some kind stranger or park worker. Even at the age of eight, she had not been too much shorter than her mother, who was incredibly short for a grown woman. She wondered if she was as tall as her now...
The sound of the door handle rattling broke the calm quiet of the room. It was followed by a soft click and the slight creak of the door. Eve supposed it was Molly, ready to force-feed her supper if necessary, or perhaps Arthur who would just have recently returned home, as he was always good at diffusing tense situations. She couldn't see past the bed skirt but could hear the sound of footsteps entering the room and approach the bed. They paused, only to be replaced by the sound of the desk chair moving. She heard them sit down without a word. The air quickly grew heavy in her hiding spot as the intruder remained silent for several moments.
"You're either under the bed or hiding in the wardrobe," a harsh and familiar voice said. "Is there a reason you're choosing to hide?"
Eve froze. She had not been expecting the footsteps to belong to Severus Snape. Though she supposed that it wasn't too strange that her father had made an appearance, the thought that Molly would contact him over her bizarre behavior had never crossed her mind. Tucking the photograph into her pocket, she mustered the courage to move.
With another shaky breath, she crawled out from under the bed. She stood up, taking great care to not turn towards her father and opting to stare out the window instead. The sun hung low on the horizon, the clouds in the sky reflecting the beautiful oranges and red colors. It was later than she thought.
"Sit down." It did not sound like a suggestion.
Eve sat crisscrossed on the bed, still refusing to look at the man. She did not want to face anyone right now.
"Look at me."
Eve shrunk into herself. She feared that if she looked at him, she would start crying again.
"Molly said you were suddenly ill this morning, then you locked yourself in this room and that you have refused all visitors and suggestions to leave, and that everyone is unsure why. Do you mind explaining yourself to me?"
Eve struggled to form words. Would he be just as disgusted with her as she was with herself? She could feel his eyes upon her, pressing her to answer.
"I -," she started, fumbling with the words that came out of her mouth. "I called Mrs. Weasley 'mum'."
There was a long pause that filled the bedroom with uncertainty.
"An easy slip of the tongue," Severus Snape said, finally breaking the silence. "Molly is a mother of seven children, all of whom call her that. Since she is caring for you alongside her other children, it is not unexpected that you subconsciously picked up on calling her 'mum'. There is no fault in that."
"You don't understand!" she shouted, finally looking the man in the eye. Anger boiled in her gut, and she had the slight satisfaction of seeing her father's expression change to one of mild surprise.
...It was three days ago!" Eve continued, pointing to the calendar next to him. "My mom died one year and three days ago, and I managed to forget it! So many things have changed this year that it feels like she died so long ago. I feel like I'm forgetting her - and now it's like I'm replacing her! What kind of daughter does that make me?!"
Her shouting had dissolved into a croak as she buried her face into her hands, feeling more tears building up in her eyes. The bed began shaking violently underneath her. A lifetime ago, she would have been terrified, but now the bought of accidental magic just made her feel more enraged; it could crash through the floor for all she cared.
"Evangeline...Eve. Stop." She felt her father's hands grip her shoulders tightly. "Breathe."
The steady coolness of his voice coaxed her to calm herself down. Slowly, the bed stopped moving. She felt his grip loosen and then retreat, but she still kept her eyes covered, too drained to open them. She heard her father sigh and felt the bed shift as he sat down next to her.
"The human kind."
Eve sniffed and wiped a sleeve across her red and blotchy face.
"What?" she sniffled.
"It makes you a human; you have experienced several drastic changes in a year, enough to make anyone's head spin," her father clarified. "No one would fault you for such things."
Eve pondered his words. What he said sounded logical, but the sinking feeling still gripped her tightly.
"But do you know if she would forgive me?"
"No, I suppose not." Severus Snape sighed and the deafening silence returned. Eve felt silly because she knew her mother was a loving and easygoing person; she probably would have found it funny. Despite this, there was a small nagging voice inside Eve that wouldn't let the issue go. She wrapped her arms around her legs and stared at the floor in contemplation.
"How...how can I help you?"
Eve peered at Severus Snape through her peripheral. Had he just asked her how he could help? Weren't parents just supposed to know what to do?
Lifting her head from her knees, she studied the man. She had become used to the slightly-aged faces of Molly and Arthur, complete with faint creases and lines of wisdom. Her father looked much younger than them despite his sallow appearance, and in that moment, his expression was not one of sternness or the strong confidence of a parent, but that of confusion. He looked just as lost as she felt.
"I…" Eve trailed off. What would make her feel better? She wished she could see her mother and talk to her one more time, but that was impossible. There was, however, something that could feasibly be done.
"I want to visit my mother...Her grave, I mean," Eve said slowly. She hadn't been to the cemetery since the day they buried her mother. It just felt right to go and visit her, and now that she had said it aloud, it had become her greatest desire. She knew it was a long shot since Wisconsin was practically on the other side of the world. For a minute, her father stared out the bedroom window, the last hints of light had now morphed into inky blackness.
"I can do that," he said finally.
Eve sniffed again, but this time there were no tears.
"Thank you."
Her father nodded. "Now make sure you're up early Saturday morning and that you dress warmly. We'll be spending the day in Wisconsin, after all." He got up from the bed and began to walk away.
Eve couldn't help but smile, her fingers traced the edges of the photograph in her pocket. She was going to see her mother and she got to see a different aspect of her father; he was more than just an intimidating school teacher, and it felt good to know that.
They left The Burrow just after breakfast Saturday morning and used the Weasley's fireplace to floo to the International Floo Station.
Eve had been through the International Floo Network before; it was a large building with long lines and checkpoints and could be best described as a windowless airport. They had to provide yellow-bound passports and forms of identification in order to receive tickets. Her father paid for the tickets up front, and from what Eve had learned about wizarding money, she realized her father was paying a rather large sum to travel directly to Wisconsin. Eve found herself blushing with embarrassment and thanked him again, to which he only nodded in return.
The fireplaces of the International Floo Network had countless fireplaces of various sizes, but all of them appeared larger than the average fireplace. They found themselves walking into a huge fireplace the size of the Weasley's living room with dozens of other people, and had to cram themselves into the space filled with people and their luggage. Eve had to stand next to an older witch with some pink ermine-looking creature on her shoulder. Eve smiled at the creature,but it returned her gesture with a gurgling growl, and Eve found herself practically stepping on her father's feet to get away from it.
The travel was practically instantaneous. One moment they had been in the UK, and the next they were in the United States. This Floo Station was just as large as the last, but the New York Station had a skylight that showed the inky blackness of the night sky. Eve dragged her feet as she stared at the beautiful full moon. Severus roughly grabbed her wrist and chastised her about the potential of getting lost as he led her to their next Floo transfer. Where they had to wait several hours in uncomfortable chairs for their Floo to Wisconsin, but unlike the mundane atmosphere of an airport, the station was filled with colorful characters and creatures. She was fascinated by a group of Australian teens near them that were part of a Gobstones team and were practicing in the waiting area while they joked around. One of the girls even showed her how to properly launch a Gobstone after Eve had bucked up the courage to ask her about the game. She got to play the game for a little while before the teens had to leave for their destination.
Then there was the circus that came through, at least that's what she assumed since it was a large group of people dressed in flamboyant clothing, each of which was either carrying cages or leading animals on leashes. She wanted to ask her father about each creature that passed by, but she settled on asking a different question.
"Do you have a book on magical creatures I could read?"
"I may; I'll take a look," her father said without looking up from his newspaper. Eve nodded; she was usually hesitant about asking him questions, except when it related to potions or books; he usually answered positively to those types of questions.
The skylight showed the inklings of the orange-red of the rising sun when the Floo was ready to depart. This particular fireplace was much smaller than the last, and the only other occupants were a young couple and an ancient looking wizard who smelled of burnt sugar.
The Wisconsin Floo station was jarringly small compared to the other two; there were only a small handful of other fireplaces, and a single receptionist sitting at a desk with a bored expression on her face.
"Are you apperating to your destination, or should I call you a cab?" she asked them when they approached her. To her surprise, her father ordered a cab, and the young woman reached for an ancient woodbox telephone that Eve had only seen in black and white movies. She spoke for a few minutes on the phone before telling them to wait for a few minutes for the taxi to arrive.
The air greeted them with a crisp and cold chill as they stepped outside. The fallen leaves danced with each blow while the scant few still clung to their branches. Eve breathed deeply; she had missed Wisconsin so very much. The station behind them was an old church, with a sign on the door that read: "Condemned", and she wondered how many abandoned buildings in the world were actually hiding magic.
The cab itself appeared to be completely normal and the driver wore jeans and sweatshirt. He waved them in and her father stepped into the vehicle unceremoniously, but Eve found herself rooted to the ground; she had developed an unhealthy fear of cars since the accident and was quite happy that wizards did not seem to use them.
"You okay, kid?" the driver asked in his familiar midwest accent. Eve could see her father staring at her from behind the young man's shoulder.
"Uh, yeah…" Eve exhaled shakily. She had been in cars since her mother's death. She knew she could do it. Shutting her eyes tightly, she swung open the door and sat down haphazardly in the seat, only opening her eyes to buckle herself in.
Eve tried to keep herself calm the entire ride by keeping her head down and her eyes shut. She intently listened to the driver as a distraction as he began a spiel about blending into "No-Mag" society and basic proper etiquette for the area. She debated telling the driver she had grown up here and didn't need the lecture, but she held her tongue since she knew her father was wearing his usual black robes. Otherwise, the ride had been blissfully uneventful.
"Well, this is your stop," the driver said after what felt like an eternity for her. She opened her eyes as they pulled up the wrought-iron fencing of the cemetery. "Will you be needing a ride anywhere else today?"
"No thank you," her father said. "We know our way to the station now." Eve sighed with relief. The less time she had to spend around cars, the better.
The driver nodded and held out his hand to be paid, her father dropped a few Galleons in his hand as Eve stepped out of the car and stared at the rows of graves just beyond the fence as took a deep breath. She heard the taxi pull away and the soft crunch of her father walking behind her. As he stood beside her, she noticed that his robes were now replaced with black pants and a dark coat - appearing much more mundane than just minutes ago. They shared a glance, and Eve led them forward.
They walked through the dusting of snow upon the grass, leaving a brownish-green path behind them. Eve had only been in this graveyard once before, but she knew exactly where her mother was buried.
Her mother's grave was a nondescript marble stone that was low to the ground near the center of the cemetery. She stared down at the polished hunk of rock that now represented the remains of Renee, saddened by what a wonderful person and mother had been reduced to. Her father stood next to her with his usual unreadable expression as he stared down at the grave.
"Did you love each other?" Eve blurted the second the thought crossed her mind.
"No," he replied firmly. Before she could question further, he turned away from the grave towards a nearby bench, leaving Eve alone with her thoughts. She found herself sobered by the notion; she supposed love wasn't necessary to produce a child, but it still saddened her and added a layer of curiosity to how she came to be, but she didn't dare ask. At least, not now.
Eve sighed and knelt down in front of the grave, the snow dampening her legs as she made herself comfortable.
"Hey, mom," she croaked before clearing her throat. It felt weird to talk to a grave, but it also felt right. "I've got a lot of things to tell you."
Eve wasn't sure how long she had talked to her mother's grave, but it was long enough for her legs to feel completely frozen over. She had told her mother everything that transpired over the past year; from her stay in foster care, her discovery of magic, her father and their home at Spinner's End, her second home at the Weasley's, and everything in-between, including the catalyst for her visit. It felt good to tell her mother everything whether or not her mother could actually hear her. As she ran out of topics to discuss, the chilling pain of her legs drove her to stand back up. With a final glance at her mother's grave, Eve walked away feeling lighter.
A/N: I wanted to touch more upon Eve's grief of losing her mother; it will always be a part of her and how she approaches the world around her.
