Author's Note: This fic is based on a self-insertion fic I found in my files- it's basically my idea of what happens to the children of convicted Death Eaters. It's fairly light at the moment, but will definitely get a lot darker in the future, so if you find that sort of thing absolutely sickening, this is probably not the story for you. You have been warned. . .
Author's Note II(self- plugging portion of the program): If you are reading this, please review! I live off feedback. . .
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or his world. That's JKR and Warner Bros.
Alere Flammas
Chapter One
Evelyn shivered, feeling the ferryman's large eyes on her back. Steely-grey water sloshed against the side of the boat, mirroring the sky; a cold wind blew her thin mop of white hair into her face. She pushed it back with a small, pale hand.
"Sir?" she ventured, attempting to make conversation. "Sir, is the castle far from here?"
"Not far." The old man's voice creaked out, nearly lost in the howling of the wind.
They carried on in silence for another ten minutes, Evelyn trying to keep her hands warm in her sleeves. It was all Simon's fault, she thought miserably. If the cook hadn't told, she might still be living at Arrington Place. . .she might have still had a future. . .
***
Evelyn Miranda Jane Nott had been a lady's maid, working for an old couple living in Ireland. They had taken her in despite her. . .questionable heritage, and had taught her to read and write in return for her work. The tasks they gave her were light- fetching tea, helping Simon, that sort of thing- she had been perfectly happy, unenvious of the rosy-cheeked private school children that came past the Arrington's house every day. Until her secret had been told...
Simon was a good cook, but he had some unfortunate tendencies. On his free evenings, he would go down to the pub and drink himself blind- Mr. Arrington often took it upon himself to go bring him home when Simon's mates forgot or didn't bother. This had been a matter of great controversy between the two of them, but the cook had never done anything worse than that- until one day, he found out about Evelyn's father.
Mr. and Mrs. Arrington swore him to secrecy, but that very night he had gone down to the pub and told every man in the place that the Arrington's new maid was the spawn of a Death Eater. Evelyn could still see the scene, still see what it had looked like when she had opened the pub door- everyone leaned forward, listening, and Simon, face as red as his hair, whispering. . .
The Arringtons had hurried him home early and tried to hush the whole thing up- but a week later, two men from the Ministry of Magic had come knocking on the door. The men had taken her away. They'd called her a devil. And finally, they had brought her here.
***
The nose of the coracle ground against a gravelly shore and the chill in the air peaked. Evelyn struggled out and found herself ankle-deep in freezing cold water. "Is it always this cold?" she chattered as they waded up to the relatively dry beach. There was no answer. She rubbed her hands together and kept walking. After what felt like centuries, the dark shape of a castle loomed out of the fog. She felt her heart sink. This couldn't be where she was going to stay.
The battered wooden sign hanging over the castle door read, "Saint Augustine's Centre for Criminally Abandoned Children,", but whatever St. Augustine's original intentions had been, they seemed to have been tossed aside for the more attractive prospect of saving money. The windows had no glass, and the stone of the wall was crumbling and, in some places, covered in ivy. Through the mist, she could just make out a hazy figure standing on the steps; at a glare from the ferryman, she tried to quicken her pace.
Her numb feet dragging on the rocky ground, Evelyn trudged up to the crumbling castle steps and found herself staring at the hem of a set of priestly robes. Above the robes, she could see a face- a round, pasty -looking thing with tiny brown eyes. Its nose was very small and unimpressive, but the owner of the face had made an effort to give it a refined arch, giving it the look of a poodle trying to imitate a Great Dane. The mouth, in contrast, was long , with very thin lips, and several years of self-righteousness and enforced purity made it (and the rest of the face) appear a little too haughty for anybody's liking. It spoke, revealing a set of very small white teeth.
"Welcome. We are pleased you have nominated to reside at St. Augustine's, at least, for the time being. I am Father Orham. The other wards-" Evelyn noticed he avoided saying children "are at present playing in the northern courtyard, but I am sure you will meet them at this evening's mass. Mr. Styx, you made escort Miss Nott to her rooms."
The old ferryman smiled, revealing a set of rotting yellow teeth. "Yes, Father. Right away." Lifting her trunk with surprising ease for such an old man, he followed the priest inside.
Evelyn came after, pulling her wet cloak more tightly around her shoulders.
Boom. The minute she stepped onto the threshold, the enormous double doors closed behind her. Evelyn shivered. The sound of her future, flickering away. . .
"Miss Nott!" At an indignant shout from Father Orham, she pulled back her hood and continued through the main hall.
She was seven years old at the time. . .
A/N: :wincing: Yes, I know it's a bit short. Sorry! It will get longer, never fear. . .anyway, please read and review!