AN: So here's the sequel to Evie, sorry about the enormous delay. As some of you know, I haven't had a house for the past couple of months so my internet access has been patchy at best. Now I finally have both a house and the internet, updates should be reasonably regular. Just to remind you, this is set a year after the events of Evie at the beginning of Deathly Hallows. Sirius is a free man, having been declared innocent of his supposed crimes in a very public apology from the Ministry, and Evie's true identity as Harry's sister has been revealed to the wizarding world. Feedback would be greatly appreciated, hope you enjoy!

Maintaining Tradition

The summer had been unseasonably cold and damp. Instead of gathering outside pubs for cold drinks and companionship, people had been forced indoors, grumbling into their glasses as rain lashed against the windows. On some mornings, in the most unfortunate of places, people had woken to see a thin layer of frost covering the ground, and had returned to the warm cocoon of their beds shivering at the chill in the air as well as the bleakness of their thoughts.

At the end of July, in a small village in the south of England, there was a brief respite. The inhabitants of the village rushed into their gardens to celebrate the sudden, unexpected appearance of the sun with barbecues and games. By the time night fell everyone was so full and exhausted that they collapsed into their beds and slept soundly. Everyone, that is, except a young boy who had set his alarm to wake him up four hours earlier than usual. There was a slice of cake in the fridge that he had been eyeing eagerly for most of the day, and he wanted to get to it before his sister had the chance.

Stomach growling in anticipation, he crept silently down the stairs, freezing every time there was a break in his father's snoring. When he reached the kitchen and firmly shut the door he allowed himself to exhale a lungful of air he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Despite his burning lungs and racing heart, he made his way eagerly to fridge. His hand was on the door when a loud crack! drew his gaze to the window, and he saw two women standing in the garden where there had been no one only a second before.

His legs instinctively carried him out of the kitchen, a cry of warning building in his chest. He was halfway up the stairs when two things occurred to him, making him pause. Firstly, waking his parents now would mean having to admit that he was awake and raiding the fridge at an hour when he should have been in bed, something that was sure to result in the loss of sweets for at least a week. Secondly, the women couldn't possibly have just appeared out of thin air, and even if they had no one would believe him. His parents would say that he had been sleepwalking or imagining things, blaming the long day of games and rich food for overexciting him. The boy was already trying to convince himself that the women were a product of a tired mind.

Not wanting to get into trouble, concocting comforting explanations for the impossible thing he had seen, the boy returned to bed and resolved to tell no one of his late night wanderings.

Outside, the two women whispered "Lumos!" in unison. They held their wands aloft, sweeping the light that streamed from the tips across the garden floor. They remained silent for several tense moments until, nodding briefly to each other, they seemed satisfied and lowered their wands. At the same moment the boy scrambled with relief back into his bed, the women clambered over the fence that divided the garden from a small field. One of them made a small noise of irritation as her robe snagged and tore on the rough wood, while the other swiftly bent and fumbled awkwardly in the darkness for several long seconds before freeing her companion.

Gripping each other lest they become separated, the women picked their way carefully across the field, wary of any holes or ditches that could bring them crashing to the ground. From their rigidly straight backs and darting eyes, it was clear that a sprained ankle wasn't the worst of their worries. Every time the wind made the branches creak or a fox darted from the undergrowth they jumped and swung their wands in the direction of the disturbance, as if fearful of being followed.

Reaching the far end of the field, the woman who had ripped her robe drew her wand purposefully through the air, leaving a shimmering line in its wake. The air rippled and bent, and from nothingness a large stone door appeared. It gave a rumbling creak, shattering the silence of the field and making the women stare into the darkness fearfully, and opened.

Beyond the doorway was something entirely different to the field that surrounded them. It was a forest, some of its trees clearly centuries old. Although the field was lit only by the ghostly light of the moon, the forest was illuminated by bright balls of light hovering several feet from the leaf strewn ground. The women winced as this light flooded the field and glanced furtively around them before hurrying through the doorway. It closed noiselessly behind them while the village slept on, entirely unaware, with the exception of one small boy, of the impossible thing that had just happened.

Inside the forest, the women huddled together, keeping their heads lowered to watch for roots that might trip them and, although neither of them would acknowledge this, to avoid looking at the trees that pressed in on them from all sides. Through the branches healthy trees, laden with green leaves and fruit, could be glimpsed. Closer to the entrance, however, there was something clearly wrong with them. The fruit they bore rotted on the branches while the black roots were twisted and gnarled, as if they had been blighted with disease. If they were willing to look closely the women could have seen that the trunks were inscribed with softly glowing writing, but nothing could induce them to move closer to the sick or dying trees.

They kept up a punishing pace, never swerving from the dirt path, until finally the older woman stopped, grinned and pointed to a particular tree. Bizarrely, it had vibrant purple leaves. As they moved closer the inscription on the trunk came into focus. It read: Nymphadora Tonks and as they approached the letters grew brighter, as if in greeting.

"I should have known your tree wouldn't be normal," said Evie, her lips twitching.

Tonks flashed a grin in response before dropping to her knees before the tree, steadying her grip on the wand that had been slipping against her sweaty palm since their arrival in the village. Glancing fleetingly over her shoulder she said, "Remember, we weren't here. If Remus asks, we-"

"Celebrated your hen night in the traditional fashion," finished Evie. "In fancy dress with a dozen cackling witches. I still don't understand why he would prefer that version of events to the truth."

"This is a family tradition," said Tonks ruefully, sweeping her arm in a wide arc to indicate the forest. "He's afraid one of the more unsavoury relatives will be waiting here in ambush. But there's nothing to worry about. Bellatrix is too mad to remember her own name most of the time and I doubt Narcissa will be sending the Death Eaters after us."

Evie raised her eyebrows, incredulity overcoming the lump of ice that formed in her chest whenever Bellatrix's name was mentioned. "I wouldn't count on familial loyalty if I were you," she cautioned.

Tonks smiled mirthlessly. "I know better than that. Dear aunt Narcissa hasn't planted a tree for Draco. She must have forgotten the place or she doesn't think the family traditions are important enough to bother with. Either way, I think we're safe."

She turned back to the tree and raised her wand purposefully, and Evie took her cue to fall silent. As Tonks worked, Evie found herself idly wondering whether Sirius's tree was still in the forest. In Tonks's family it was traditional to come to this place, guarded from the sight of muggles by a dozen protective spells, and plant a tree to mark the birth of a child. The tree grew as they did, its changes in appearance marking the decisions in that person's life. But Walburga Black, in her attempts to eradicate every trace of her firstborn son from her life, may have destroyed Sirius's tree.

Glancing at Tonks and seeing that she was still absorbed in her work, Evie slipped quietly away to investigate. The newer trees were closer to the entrance, Andromeda having set her daughter's tree further away to avoid contact with her wicked aunt's, and so she began to retrace her steps. She stopped when she came to Sirius's generation and found herself staring at the most twisted, blackened tree in the forest. She didn't need to read the name on the trunk to know who it belonged to. Shuddering with an all too familiar mixture of fear and loathing, she pushed past Bellatrix's tree.

A short way behind it was a tree that seemed out of place. Whereas almost all of the others appeared strong and sturdy, this one was slender, shivering gently in the breeze. It looked as if a single hard gust of wind would snap it in two, but when Evie laid her hand against the bark she sensed a strength that belied its delicate appearance. She ran her hands carefully over the silver trunk, probing for the inscription with her fingertips.

"Evie!" Tonks's voice rang through the air, not quite panicked yet, but clearly worried. Casting a regretful look at the silver tree, Evie turned away and ran through the trees, quickly retracing her steps back to Tonks.

Tonks smiled, clearly relieved, when Evie came back into view. "I thought you'd gotten lost or been kidnapped," she said, trying and failing to inject a note of reproach into her voice. She was usually very slow to anger, and tonight she had a very good reason for being happy. If she was irritated with Evie for disappearing without a word, it wouldn't last for long.

"Sorry," said Evie. "I was trying to find Sirius's tree."

"Any luck?"

"No. How did things go for you? Have you done it?"

Tonks's grin widened as she pointed at the tree. Beneath the inscription of her name, Remus Lupin has been carved painstakingly into the wood.

"Very good," said Evie approvingly. "You should show it to him when he'd be less angry with you for wandering the country at night."

"That could be a very long time in coming," said Tonks, her smile faltering. The wizarding world had been disconcertingly quiet since Dumbledore's death. With the exception of the disappearance of Charity Burbbage, a teacher at Hogwarts, there had been a sharp drop in the number of unexplained disappearances and sudden deaths. This was no comfort to the Order. If anything, everyone was more on edge. They all knew that Voldemort would strike before long; it was just a matter of time. In the mean time they were left to wonder who or what he would target, and lead lives shadowed by fear.

Tonks shook her head, as if trying to dispel the melancholy that had settled on them. When she smiled again it lacked its former brightness. "Let's hope it's sooner rather than later," she said softly. Rising to her feet, she brushed off the dirt and twigs that clung to her robes and said, "We better leave. It can't be long before dawn."

Walking shoulder to shoulder, they quickly made their way back to the doorway. Despite the fact that this place was well known to their enemies, it had seemed safe, or at least safer than the exposed field. Even though they had not said his name, the thought of Voldemort had dispelled any feelings of comfort or sanctuary from the magically shielded forest, and they didn't want to linger there a moment longer than necessary.

When they went through the doorway into the field, the sky was already beginning to lighten. Drawing out her dented and scorched pocket watch, Tonks let out a strangled cry of shock. "We're going to be late!" she said, and without further words grabbed Evie's hand. They turned together into suffocating darkness and Evie found herself wishing that she had braved a broomstick, although in these dark times to fly at night was to risk one's life. This was particularly true for Order members, and doubly so for those bearing the name "Potter".

The pressure constricting Evie's lungs eased and the darkness veiling her eyes lifted. To her surprise, they had arrived not at Tonks's small home atop Willow Hill, but somewhere entirely different. She had little time to gather her senses before Tonks began dragging her towards the unfamiliar house, muttering under her breath. A figure waited for them at the gate, their features almost indistinguishable in the eerie pre dawn light. As they drew closer Evie saw dark eyes glittering in the gloom, and she choked on fear because those were Bellatrix's eyes penetrating her, Bellatrix's eyes smouldering with hatred. The cool voice of logic told her that Tonks would never endanger her by bringing her to that evil woman, but it was drowned out by a shrill, panicked voice urging her to run, to save herself, and another ordering her to pounce, to deal to Bellatrix blow by blow every ounce of pain she had caused her.

It was only when Tonks rushed forwards to hug the woman that Evie understood who she was. The woman's eyes softened as she returned the embrace, and Evie saw in her face features that reminded her strongly of Tonks. This had to be Andromeda Tonks, Tonks's mother and Bellatrix Lestrange's sister.

"Mum, this is Evie," said Tonks, releasing Andromeda.

Andromeda spared Evie a tight smile before returning her gaze to her daughter and asking, "Is it done?"

Tonks nodded. "And we didn't run into any trouble."

"Good, I can tell your father to stop worrying. We better hurry," said Andromeda, taking Tonks by the arm and leading her up the path to the house. "There's a lot to do in very little time."

Evie followed the pair into the house. There was something about Andromeda that unsettled her, but she pushed it to the back of her mind. As Andromeda had said, they had an awful lot to do and Evie would need to concentrate fully on Tonks if she wanted to help her prepare for her wedding. It wasn't until much later that Evie realised that although she had imagined that Bellatrix was waiting in the darkness for them, the hatred in Andromeda's eyes had been real.