That Thursday, both Eva and Malfoy returned to class for yet another miserable school day. Eva still wore bandages around her torso and it was still uncomfortable to stand for prolonged periods of time, but the pain and discomfort was definitely easing by the day.
After their double Potions lesson that morning, Eva sat in the Great Hall finishing some of her Charms homework, sat between Daphne and Blaise. Since she'd missed a whole week of class, she had catch-up work to do on top of the already assigned homework tasks.
"Does it hurt terribly, Draco?" Pansy asked Malfoy softly as she leaned her head against his shoulder.
Malfoy lifted his injured arm to assess it from where he was sat opposite Eva. "Comes and it goes," he replied nonchalantly. "Still, I consider myself lucky. If it weren't for Madam Pomfrey, another minute or two and I, er, I could've lost my arm. Couldn't possibly do any homework for weeks. Please, no touching."
Eva rolled her eyes as she grumpily finished up the final few questions on her homework. "Oh poor Draco, poor ickle-wickle Draco," she mocked. "What about poor Eva? Poor Eva who was torn in half trying to save 'poor baby Draco' from being trampled to death?"
"Poor Eva," Daphne deadpanned as she continued scribbling down notes for her Astrology class.
"Thank you," Eva sighed as she took another sip of her glass of Essence of Dittany water. "At least he's pretty much healed, the lucky bugger."
"He's been sighted! He's been sighted!" Seamus shouted, running into the room with a newspaper.
Out of curiosity, Eva slid directly over the table rather than walking around it and perched herself at the Gryffindor table between Fred and George. They both quickly grinned at her before turning their attention back to Seamus' copy of the Daily Prophet.
"Who?" Ron asked.
"Sirius Black!" Seamus replied, catching virtually everyone's attention as they crowded around the table, Ron even leaning over Eva since she was so small and easy to dodge.
Hermione moved the paper to read it easier. "Dufftown?" she read. "That's not far from here."
"You don't think he'd come to Hogwarts, do you?" Neville asked nervously.
"With Dementors at every entrance?" another boy questioned.
"Dementors, he's already slipped past them once, hasn't he?" Seamus reminded them. "Who's to say he won't do it again?"
"That's right," a boy in Eva's year answered, "Black could be anywhere. It's like trying to catch smoke. Like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands."
In the photograph printed on the front of the newspaper was Black, aggressively thrashing away, almost screaming at the camera. His eyes were wide and feral, and Eva noticed how unsettled Harry was by the sight. And for good reason too.
That afternoon was their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson with their new teacher, Professor Lupin. He seemed friendly enough, with a warm smile and generally kind air about him.
Eva stood near the side of the class, leaning back against one of the stone pillars beside Malfoy. Her legs were already feeling quite weak after all the standing up she'd done during Potions, so she wasn't entirely sure how she was going to make it through that lesson.
At the front of the class was what looked like some kind of wardrobe, but with a mirror on the front. The cabinet shook violently, and it was clear something was inside, though Eva wasn't quite sure what.
"Intriguing, isn't it?" Lupin asked from the back of the class as he strolled his way to the front. "Would anyone like to venture a guess as to what is inside?"
"That's a boggart, that is," Dean Thomas responded.
"Very good, Mr. Thomas." The wardrobe rattled from side to side once more. "Now, can anyone tell me what a boggart looks like?"
"No one knows," Hermione replied, literally out of nowhere.
Ron glanced around confusedly. "When did she get here?"
"Boggarts are shape-shifters. The take the shape of whatever a particular person fears the most," Hermione explained, ignoring Ron's question. "That's what makes them so-"
"So terrifying," Lupin finished, "yes, yes, yes. Luckily a very simple charm exists to repel a boggart. Let's practise it now, without wands please. After me—Riddikulus!"
"Riddikulus!" the class repeated, most with very little enthusiasm.
Lupin nodded. "Very good. A little louder, and very clear. Listen: Riddikulus!"
"Riddikulus!" the group repeated with more confidence than before.
Malfoy scoffed beside her. "This class is ridiculous," he muttered.
"Ssh!" Eva hissed, elbowing him in the torso. "Let the man finish his explanation."
In response to that, Malfoy elbowed her straight back in the ribs, stupidly forgetting that he'd just elbowed her hard on her left, which happened to be her injured side. An insanely sharp pain cursed through her entire body like a shockwave, and Eva cried out in pain and grasped her midsection tightly. She staggered over, almost falling forwards if Malfoy hadn't caught her arm in time.
The entire class went silent and turned their heads as Eva wiped a few tears away from her eyes at the throbbing pain Malfoy had unintentionally caused her.
Lupin walked straight over and helped her stand up straight. "Eva, are you alright? Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?"
She shook her head. "C-chair, I j-just need a chair," she mumbled, her lip quivering.
Eva noticed Hermione dart across the room, returning with a wooden chair and helping her friend to sit back down again. Eva took a few deep breaths and thanked both Hermione and Lupin while also playfully glaring at Malfoy who seemed rather guilty about the whole thing. She knew it was an accident, but either way couldn't help tormenting the blonde about it.
"As I was saying," Lupin continued, standing back at the front of the class, "what really finishes a boggart is laughter. You need to force it to assume a shape you find truly amusing. Let me explain. Er," his eyes scanned the group, "Neville, will you join me please?"
Neville glanced around the rest of the class nervously while everyone stepped back from him to allow him to walk to the front.
"Come on, don't be shy," Lupin urged, "come on." Neville walked up to Lupin nervously. "Hello. Neville, what frightens you most of all?"
Neville muttered something incoherent, but Eva had the feeling this would be funny nonetheless.
"Sorry?" Lupin asked.
"Professor Snape," Neville repeated slightly louder.
The entire class found that pretty hilarious, since they all knew just how brutal Snape was to Neville in particular. In all honesty, Eva didn't completely blame him, and she'd probably be the same if Snape wasn't so unthreatening to her.
"Professor Snape, yes, frightens all," Lupin chuckled. "And I believe you live with your grandmother."
"Y-yes, but I don't want that boggart to turn into her either," Neville stuttered, causing the entire class to laugh again.
Lupin shook his head. "No . . . it won't. I want you to picture her clothes," he instructed. "Only her clothes, very clearly, in your mind."
"She carries a red handbag," Neville said nervously, causing Eva to snort a laugh.
"We don't need to hear," Lupin told him. "As long as you can see it, we'll see it. Now, when I open that wardrobe, here's what I want you to do."
He stepped forward and whispered something into Neville's ear. Eva leaned back slightly in her chair, extending her legs out in front of her with her arms still holding her torso since the throbbing hadn't completely gone away yet.
The wardrobe shook once more and both Lupin and Neville pulled out their wands. "Yes, wand at the ready," Lupin commanded. "1 . . . 2 . . . 3."
With a slight flick of his wand, the door knob clicked open. The door to the wardrobe opened eerily slowly, and out of it stepped their Potions teacher, already glaring coldly at Neville. He paced forward with his hands together in front of him, and it was as if Eva could already hear him giving Neville a detention.
"Riddikulus!" Neville shouted, aiming his wand at Snape.
Surprisingly, Snape staggered back as his usual black robes morphed into an outfit Eva could definitely imagine Neville's grandmother wearing, complete with a red handbag. She laughed to herself at the sight, just wishing the actual Snape could see this for himself now.
"Wonderful, Neville, wonderful, incredible," Lupin laughed, "okay, to the back Neville. Everyone form a line!"
The class instantly began arranging themselves into a messy queue and shoving each other, all except Eva who was still a little too weak to be queuing up so roughly. "Um, Professor?"
Lupin glanced around for a moment, his gaze eventually settling on Eva who motioned to the chair she was sat on. "Oh yes, of course," he realised. "Eva, you may go first, if you are able to stand up for long enough."
Her legs still slightly shaky, Eva stood up from her chair and carefully walked over to the front of the line, just ahead of Ron. She held her left hand over her bruises on her left side and her wand in her right hand.
"Form a line," Lupin instructed to the rest of the class. "I want everyone to picture the thing they fear the very most, and turn it into something funny. Eva, you first."
With a nod, Eva took a step forwards towards the weird-looking Professor Snape. The boggart began to morph itself rapidly in front of her eyes, settling into a form that made her heart sink.
Pennywise, the clown from IT, that movie one of her friends had made her watch a few years earlier. The clown approached her slowly with a terrifying smile, holding a yellow balloon. At first, she had expected the people standing behind her to laugh, but instead she heard them all take a definite step back.
"Hiya, Eva," it said in the exact same raspy voice as in the movie. "Aren't you gonna say . . . hello?"
"Holy shit, that's realistic," Eva cursed under her breath, her hand trembling.
"Concentrate, Eva," Lupin instructed her, "have your wand at the ready."
"Oh, come on, bucko." It grinned with scarily sharp and yellow teeth as it walked towards her. "Don't you want a . . . balloon?" It held up a yellow balloon on a string in its right hand while its left reached out towards her arm.
"But it's so fucking scary!" Eva cried, taking yet another step back.
"Eva, shout Riddikulus," Lupin ordered.
"Oh, you all taste so much better when you're afraid," it snarled terrifyingly, only getting closer to her and its teeth only becoming sharper like razors lining its mouth.
With wide and fearful eyes, Eva pointed her wand at the clown. "R-Riddikulus!" she yelled.
The clown's outfit suddenly began to morph in front of her eyes, and instead of its usual clown costume, it wore a ballet leotard, tutu, and pointe shoes as it pirouetted in elegant circles in front of her. The entire class went into a fit of laughter, including Lupin who was barely even sitting up straight anymore.
"Excellent, Eva, brilliant, so very amusing," he laughed, almost crying from how hilarious the sight was, "but next time, do be careful about the language you use. Next!"
Eva sat back down in her chair across the room as the boggart continued to morph into peoples' biggest fears. Ron's became a giant spider which ended up with roller skates on its eight legs, and Parvati's became a giant hissing python which she managed to turn into a jack-in-the-box.
Once it got to Harry's turn, however, things went south. The jack-in-the-box somehow turned itself into a Dementor. Eva could recognise those tattered black fabrics and scaly, bony grey hands from a mile away.
Before it could come for Harry, Lupin suddenly leapt in front of him, causing the boggart to become a full moon for whatever reason. Lupin pointed his wand at the image and shouted "Riddikulus!", causing the moon to become a white deflating balloon which whizzed around the class before flying straight into the wardrobe.
Lupin spun back around to the class breathlessly. "Right, well, sorry about that, er . . . that's enough for today. If you'd all like to collect your books from the back of the class, that's the end of the lesson, thank you."
The class all grumbled defeatedly as they turned back around to grab their things. Eva was just glad she wouldn't have to face Pennywise the clown anymore for that day. She quickly snatched up her bag and left the class, heading straight back to the Slytherin dungeons for a long, well-deserved lie down.
Just as she was walking through the halls, Malfoy caught up with her. "'Aren't you gonna say . . . hello?'," he mimicked, his accent so startlingly perfect that Eva jumped backwards with her hand over her chest.
Malfoy, of course, found this hilarious, howling with laughter as he walked back alongside her with his bag slung over his shoulder.
"Quit it, it's not funny," Eva grumbled with a sad pout, holding her books close to her chest as if hugging herself.
"Oh no, I beg to differ," Malfoy taunted. "That right there was truly ridiculous."
"Like your boggart would be much better," she snapped. "Actually, what would your boggart have been then?"
Malfoy paused for a moment. "Oh, that's easy, it would've . . ." he glanced up at her but then shook his head as if changing his mind about telling her, "never mind," he muttered as he stalked off ahead of her towards the Slytherin common room.
That Saturday was the day of the Slytherin Quidditch team tryouts. As far as Eva had heard, there were only two other boys trying out for the empty spot on the team—a boy in her year, Graham Montague, and a boy two years older than her, Adrian Pucey.
So, she dressed warmly in a large grey hoodie, thick black leggings, and white Converse shoes which she knew she'd probably end up regretting later. Her hair was pinned out of her face with a few hair clips so that it didn't obscure her vision and she'd re-bandaged her torso so that it was secure enough for her to play.
The entire Slytherin team plus Montague and Pucey were already on the Quidditch pitch, with Flint stood at the front.
"As you know, we have one slot for Chaser this year," Flint told them just as Eva joined. "Infernum, you might as well leave now."
The boys all erupted with laughter, but Eva stubbornly stayed put, holding her broomstick upright in her hand. "Nice try, Flint," she forced a smile, "but I'm not leaving. Nowhere did you ever state that I can't try out because I'm a girl or because of my height."
He rolled his eyes. "Very well," he sniggered. "Initially, I planned to skip this process and offer the place straight to Montague, but now I'm curious as to how Infernum's attempt will turn out. The aim of this is simple.
"Each of you will have 15 minutes to score as many goals as possible. You'll effectively be playing 3 vs. 1, but that shouldn't be an issue if you have the skill." Flint aimed this at Eva, but she simply smiled falsely at him, which he did straight back. "The candidate who earns the most goals in the stated time period will be allocated the empty spot on the team. Questions?" Eva and the other two shrugged. "Good. Montague, you're up first."
Eva stepped off to the side of the pitch as Montague took off into the air, followed by Flint and Warrington, the current Chasers, and the Keeper, Bletchley. Malfoy held a stopwatch in his injured hand and used it to begin timing.
"3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . ." Malfoy blew the whistle around his neck loudly.
One of the Beaters tossed up the Quaffle, which Montague quickly snatched from the air and began carrying towards the goal posts. Beside Eva, she felt someone tap her on the shoulder and spun around to see who it was.
Hermione was watching Montague beside her, her hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun. With her were both Ron and Harry, who smiled at her supportively.
"You came? Seriously?" Eva laughed.
"Well yes, of course we did. These Slytherins," Hermione and Malfoy both gave each other dirty looks, "are known to cheat, and their recruitments are always unfair, so it only made sense if we came here to stick up for you."
"If you don't make this team, there's something wrong with this system, because you're bloody brilliant at Quidditch for someone who learnt it so soon," Ron added.
Eva sighed and nodded. "Yeah, they kinda all hate me, the bunch of misogynists, so I don't really have my hopes up to be honest."
"Well you should have your hopes up, because I know for a fact that you're better than everyone else here," Harry encouraged.
The remaining 15 minutes for Montague seemed to go pretty smoothly. He was knocked quite a few times, and almost lost control of his broom once, but all in all he didn't do that badly, although Eva knew she could do way better herself. He earned a total of 18 goals, but one was taken away since he cheated by making obvious contact with the goal post, so his total was brought down to 17.
Pucey went next, but his went even worse than Montague's. Only 4 minutes in, Warrington managed to knock him straight off his broom, causing him to spiral out of control and land in a crumpled heap on the ground. One of the Slytherin Beaters helped him over to the hospital wing back inside, and his total was at 3.
Finally, it was Eva's turn to try out. To ensure Malfoy didn't give her less time than the others, Hermione rolled up her sleeve and timed Eva using her watch exactly.
Eva stepped calmly into the middle of the field. She kicked her right leg over the handle of the broom and took off into the crisp autumn air, gliding in circles below the clouds.
She stopped in front of the other 3 with her hands grasping the handle firmly and an eager smile on her face. She'd played a similar game to this with the Weasleys before and ended up tying for first with George at the end.
Malfoy began counting from the ground. "3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . ."
The whistle blew and the Quaffle came flying upwards towards her. Eva grabbed it with one hand and instantly started forward towards the goals with it tucked under her right arm. Flint and Warrington both made efforts to catch her out, but she stealthily managed to swerve downwards before looping back up almost upside down and successfully tossing the Quaffle through one of the hoops.
She heard Hermione cheering excitedly below her and flew down for the Quaffle again. Eva circled up towards the hoops and made for the tallest one but just before she reached it, Bletchley dived in front of her.
Fortunately, she managed to make a harsh turn to the side, narrowly missing flying straight into the shortest hoop as she threw the ball through.
The points just kept coming from there, and she could tell that she was doing better than Montague from how irritated Flint was becoming. With only a minute left, she was now on 17 points. She only needed one more to officially make the team.
This time, the Quaffle was barely thrown in the air. With an irritated groan, Eva nosedived towards the ground and pulled the handle up at the last minute, allowing her to snatch the ball from the air and knock the Beater over in the process.
She whirled around to face Flint, Warrington, and Bletchley. It was clear they particularly didn't want her in, so she knew this would be her most difficult shot so far.
After sending an evil smirk their way, she weaved past them agilely, and her tiny size meant that none of them were able to reach for her when they tried to pull her off her broom. The broomstick spun upside down before righting itself, and the Quaffle accidentally flew out of her hands in the process.
Just as Eva's eyes widened in shock as she glanced around for the ball, a loud ding sound came from one of the hoops where it had just flown through. She sighed of relief and smiled widely.
Malfoy blew the whistle below her. "That's time!"
She could hear Hermione still cheering for her as Harry and Ron enthusiastically applauded her performance. Eva leisurely flew back down to the ground and hopped off her broom, walking up to the Quidditch team with as much swagger as she could muster.
"So, how did I do?" Eva asked Flint, although she already knew the answer to that question.
"Well, I can't give you that last point," Flint informed her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
She heard Harry storming forwards from behind her. "And why not, Flint?" Harry demanded. "You saw how well she performed out there, way better than the other two."
"No one asked for your input, Potter," Flint argued. "Anyway, she lost grip the Quaffle and dropped it, so that goal shouldn't count."
Ron scoffed. "Yeah, dropped it into the goal, you numpty! That's the whole point of the game!"
"What evidence do you have of me actually dropping it, hm?" Eva asked with her arms crossed, stepping right up into Flint's face. "For all you know, I tossed it in with excellent precision."
"I saw you drop it," Bletchley added.
Eva shook her head and rolled her eyes. "No one asked you, Bletchley. Look, I won fair and square. Deep down, you know I won fair and square," she told Flint. "You know I'm better than Montague, even if he's your friend and you'd rather it be him on the team. So it's about time you act like a grown-up for once in your life, be a man, swallow your stupid pride, and put me on this goddamn team!"
Flint stepped back with his hands up in mock surrender, looking her up and down with an expression which mirrored disgust. "Alright, Jesus, you psycho. Welcome to the Slytherin Quidditch team, Infernum."
Eva's face lit up as she squealed excitedly and jumped up and down on the spot. She launched herself at Hermione as the pair hugged tightly.
"I made the team! HA!" She pointed directly at a startled and confused Malfoy. "In your greasy-haired face, Malfoy!"
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Author's note: Haha, Eva's a badass Chaser on the Quidditch team, yay, and the only female too! You have no idea how much research I had to do to understand how people even play Quidditch, but I hope this whole tryout concept actually made sense.
Anyway, thank you so much for reading, stay safe, and ily lots!