Hi! If you're an old reader of mine, big hugs. If you're new, welcome!

This work is going to delve as deep as possible into the HP universe as possible, with as few personal changes as possible. If I make a mistake somewhere, feel free to let me know! I'm writing this for my future rainy days (comfort literature for when I'll want to disappear back to Hogwarts). I hope you enjoy it too.

Also, yes, the OC characters will be part of this story!


Chapter One: Lestrange Introductions

Death awaited Evie inside the Lestrange house—a dark, rustic monument of windows and levels cascading over themselves through the bare branches of the forest.

She had arrived by portkey and saw but a few of the lights turned on. Only the night sky rained starlight down from overhead. By now, she'd lost track of how long she'd been standing and waiting out in the cold, contemplating whether her impending murder would be borne of love or wrath. Leaves rustled as she took her bag in her sweaty hand and finally trudged up the steps. A weak knock on the heavy, ornate door was met with stony silence and the rustle of cold wind behind her. After a few awkward moments of waiting, the chilly wind on Evie's back, a tall, gaunt woman finally answered the door.

She scanned Evie thoroughly, her silver eyes like chips of icy glass. All her clothes were black as night, and her lips were tightly thinned. "Miss Nott."

"Miss Lestrange…" Evie addressed the woman with marginally less reproach.

While they stood and stared at one another, there was the thumping of feet down the vast marble staircase behind the woman. "Evie!" Freya—Evie's best friend—barreled around her aunt like a ray of sunshine cutting through dark clouds, and threw her arms around Evie at the doorstep. The momentum knocked over her suitcase, and Evie nearly went with it back down the stairs. She could barely muster a chuckle as she returned the hug.

Freya's aunt rolled her eyes disapprovingly before walking off, while Freya herself pulled back and smiled. "Oh it's so good to see you—come on, let's get you inside!" She grabbed her bag and went straight for the stairs, expecting Evie to follow.

Evie's steps into the Lestrange manor were far more reserved than usual. The house was a gothic vision of rustic forestry and luxury, and Freya's near-white hair fluttered behind her as they reached the top of the stairs and made their way toward her room.

"I can't tell you how dull it's been living here all summer—can't wait to get back to Hogwarts," Freya said, dropping Evie's massive suitcase on her bed with frightening ease. "I really don't understand why mum and dad sent me here to begin with. Even Lucretia spent most of the summer at home, why couldn't I just do the same? It's so dark and dank, even Atrius doesn't like to visit much."

Evie had been spectating from the doorframe, offering a weak smile. But at the mention of Draco Malfoy's eldest son, she slid her gaze her shoulder toward Atrius's door across the hall. Taken from the blackest wood and carved almost as large and ornately as the front entrance, it had its own lock—a great big warning against anyone that dared a look in its occupant's direction.

"He's not here," Freya spoke again. "You can relax. Atrius is at the World Cup camp already."

Evie straightened against the doorframe. "I'm relaxed," she said, but even she knew her tone was unconvincing.

"M-hm," Freya muttered, then looked down at Evie's lone suitcase. "Is this really all you've brought?"

Another shrug. "It's all I need."

"No problem. Bit surprising, is all," Freya said. "Mum and dad can hardly force us out of the house without us grabbing half our wardrobes."

Evie didn't have a wardrobe. She barely had half a proper one—it was no small accident that Freya had never seen her house during the summers.

Evie shifted uncomfortably, looking at her friend's happy expression and hating herself for what she was about to say. "Listen… there's something I wanted to tell you—"

"Freya!" Her aunt's shrill voice echoed from downstairs, always tinged with infernal madness. "Come down!"

Freya glanced into the hall and rolled her eyes. "That'll be dinner—sorry, what were you saying?"

Evie gritted her teeth—she'd need more than a few minutes to do this. "Never mind. Let's talk after."

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely."

Freya scanned her top to bottom and then shrugged.

Dinner with the Lestranges was like having dinner a pack of well-bred, well-mannered wolves. A small chandelier was the only source of light from above, setting an eerie atmosphere across the table. Sitting across from Freya's aunt and cousin Lucretia, each of them was as sharp with their words as they were their eyes. At any moment, one wrong word could have plates thrown across the room like sharp projectiles, precisely aimed at one another's throats.

Evie mostly kept silent in their presence for that very reason.

Her family—the Nott family—was pureblood in its roots and had allied with the Dark Lord after his rising. A fact which earned her far less favor among many of the families of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but it was mercifully enough to have her tolerated as a silent monument at the Lestrange table.

"I heard they've announced the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts this year," Freya's aunt an icy stare across the table, and she withered where she sat. "Are you going to enter?"

Evie looked to her left at her best friend, seeing her features twisting a bit. She'd never seen Freya more nervous than in the presence of her family. "Well, I—I don't think I'd like it very much…"

"That's hardly a reason." Ms. Lestrange spat in that condescending lilt of hers. "Even Atrius intends to enter. Isn't that right, Lucretia?"

Freya's knife slipped on her piece of meat. And across the table, Lucretia nodded with a venomous smile. "Yes, aunt."

"And what about you, Ms. Nott?" the woman spoke again.

Evie fiddled with her fork nervously, still staring at Freya. "Nope. Absolutely not," she—lied.

Despite her best effort, Evie's voice lilted in that way it did when she was lying.

And Freya had noticed.

The poor girl choked, pieces of meat flying from her mouth. Thrown into a coughing fit, Freya's eyes teemed with disbelief when she turned them on Evie. "Beg pardon?"

Evie blinked a few times. "I'm…not planning on entering."

Silence. "No, because that'd be a preposterous notion, wouldn't it? A suicidal one?"

"Erm…" Evie swallowed thickly. "Yes, of course."

"Quite contrary to Atrius's sentiments on the matter," Ms. Lestrange cut in. "He seems to think it's a great challenge and an honor to be selected. You would know that if you spoke more to your cousin, Freya."

Freya shifted uncomfortably. In the corner of her eye, Evie could still see her best friend's eyes burning holes into the side of her head. This wasn't exactly how she'd planned on telling Freya, but at least it was out in the open, now.

Later on, in Freya's bedroom, the two of them sat with a floating oil lamp between them, little sputters of fire flickering light. Freya's room was a great deal nicer than any hotel Evie had ever stayed in. It was darkly reminiscent of the fine royal drapes and furniture she'd once seen at the palace of Versailles—so tastefully arranged with comfort and decadence in mind.

"I wish you'd told me sooner that you'd lost your mind and wanted to throw your life away," Freya muttered, leaning against her bed. "Honestly, if you wanted to die that badly, I could just kill you myself."

"Thanks for the support, Frey. Much appreciated."

"How can you expect me to reasonably support this decision?" Freya's brows creased with worry. "People die in this tournament, Evie. They die. Believe me, I've had plenty of time to think about it—I had this same reaction when Atrius announced his intent to enter the damn thing."

"The 'damn thing' is more than just a tournament," Evie explained, staring into the flames. "There's all these benefits to it. After we graduate, it'll be that much easier for me to become an auror. Never mind the monetary prize—"

"What's a monetary prize compared to the value of your life?" Freya cut in. "What amount of money could possibly drive you to even consider entering such a homicidal tournament?"

"They've got more regulations now since the last one, you know," I explained. "It's not like they want to go picking off students left and right."

Freya scowled. "One of these days, your lust for danger is going to get you killed."

"At least Atrius will have occasion to rejoice," Evie mumbled under her breath. "Perhaps he'll dance on my grave."

Freya grew utterly still. "Evie… how could you say something like that? My cousin may have vile manners, but he's not like that."

Evie sat and stared at her without a word, letting the air grow awkward until she sighed in acquiescence. "You're right," she said, though she hardly meant it. "I'm sorry. "

Freya ran a hand through her hair. "Suppose you were expecting me to kill you myself when you broke this news to me, weren't you?"

"I'm not going to die," Evie assured her. "Not by your hand, nor the tournament's. I promise, everything's going to be just fine."