Chapter Five - The Strange Man

Evangeline found herself standing in a vast field of tall grass. It softly swayed in the cool breeze, brushing against her legs and hands, causing a tingling sensation to run through her fingers. Tall oak trees with blue leaves surrounded her, lined up in neat rows and columns. In every direction were the distant sounds of crashing waves and its salty smell as they roared tumultuously. Closing her eyes, Evangeline could feel how chaotically they moved, how each one tried to force the other to go their way, only for them to push each other back and try again.

She looked up, locking eyes with a white stallion that stood a few feet away. Evangeline stood completely still, watching as it cocked its head to the side in curiosity before taking a few hesitant steps forward. It kept looking at her, but not in the way a horse normally would. It wasn't trying to see if she was a threat, it was trying to recognize her but was finding it hard to.

Finally, it raised its head, showing it had made its decision. It turned around, gave her one last look, and galloped away.

"Wait!" Evangeline called out, her feet lifting themselves off the ground and sprinting after the stallion.

She tried anyway. Because of dream rules, she ran slower than normal, like she was getting pulled back by a strong wind and was trying her hardest to go forward. Evangeline soon lost sight of the stallion, but she didn't stop. She kept running and running, her eyes catching sight of different animals: a deer, a tortoise, an owl, a swan, a boar, a dove, a panther, a cow, a donkey, a lion, and an eagle that swooped down at her head, missing by mere inches.

Evangeline skidded to a halt, falling flat on her butt. The forest had changed.

Her brows knitted in confusion, her eyes scanning the temple that she found herself in. It was enormous. She felt like an ant in this place. The floor beneath her was miles and miles of polished marble, leading to limestone columns that were as tall and thick as a Centurion tree. In front of her were eleven magnificent thrones arranged in a U-shape, reaching half the height of the columns.

The circular hearth in front of her whooshed to life, heating up her face and almost singing off her eyebrows. Evangeline gasped in fright, startled by the sudden rush of flames, and she crawled back, gazing up at the seventy-foot-tall woman who had manifested from the flames.

"You've changed," the woman's soft voice echoed, reverberating off of the walls.

Evangeline stared at her with a dazed expression, eyes brimming with curiosity as realization dawned on her. However, it wasn't the normal kind of realization. This one was distant, so much so that it was practically a puff of smoke that dissipated every time she reached for it, desperately hoping it'd somehow solidify. She recognized the voice, she's heard it before but wasn't sure where.

When Evangeline looked up again, she found herself surrounded by six men and five women. Their arrival was followed by unintelligible whispers and pained sobbing. Her heart dropped, tears pricking her eyes as hopelessness loomed over her like a dark cloud. The sobbing got louder and louder, turning into wails of anguish that Evangeline had heard once before. It clawed its way into her brain. It filled her ears, being all she could focus on while her brain desperately tried to get her to remember something. Whether it was important or one of those memories that make you cringe with embarrassment, she wasn't sure.

Then, she heard it.

Evangeline turned, looking up to see the last person standing: a tall, muscular man dressed in fisherman's clothes and wielding a trident. His voice was much clearer now, and he gently said, "Persephone."

"Evangeline," a soft, baritone voice called. "Evangeline, darling, wake up."

Evangeline groaned tiredly, her eyes fluttering open. Her vision focused, and she found her deeply worried father sitting by her side, brushing the hair out of her face. "Daddy," she breathed out.

Snape's frown deepened. Anytime his daughter called him by that name, it always meant that she was in trouble or in pain. His hand shot up to caress her cheek. "How are you feeling, my angel?" he asked, his voice soft and filled with concern. "I heard what happened. If the pain is too much, I can –"

"I'm fine. You know this isn't the first time I've broken a bone."

"The only bones you've broken were your ankle, wrists, arms, and legs. This is the first time you've cracked a rib, and it could've been worse. That clumsy boy could have punctured your lung!" He was raising his voice now. "He could have killed you!"

"Father, I'm fine," Evangeline said reassuringly, squeezing his hand. Snape looks at her, his expression slowly softening. "Really."

There was a sad look in Snape's eyes. He couldn't understand how she could get hurt over and over again, and treat it like it's normal. She was such a brave girl, but he was concerned that she was pretending to so he and her mother wouldn't fuss over her.

"Here – I brought you dinner." He placed a plate of cut up roast beef, cornish pasty, mashed potatoes, peas, and gravy, along with a cup of coke, on the bedside table. "And your mother has sent you sweets."

Evangeline's entire face slowly lit up with joy, her grin spreading from ear to ear, at the sight of a dozen blue chocolate chip cookies packed neatly in plastic, wrapped up with a bow, and finished with a note from her mother. Get better, sweetie, it said. Evangeline reached out to grab the box, and it was quickly pulled away by her father. "Darling," he said, a tinge of warning in his tone, "you know the rules. No dessert until after dinner."

She groaned in annoyance, rolling her eyes, but grabbed her dinner and began to eat. Snape sat down by her bed, watching as she ate to see if there were any discrepancies in her breathing. His face was blank, but inside he was angry. Angry at Neville, at Evangeline, at himself. He feels somewhat responsible for this, even if he truly wasn't. Since she was four, Evangeline has been keeping her parents on their toes because of the sports she'd play. She would worry her parents silly with each bruise, cut, and cracked or broken bone. Snape and his wife never had to worry about their son because he preferred staying in his room and studying new ways to improve his skills, but Evangeline was a daredevil.

Snape would always watch with bated breath, hoping that she wouldn't land wrong and would be fine, and when she boxed, he wanted to pull her out of the arena. At some point, the injuries didn't bother her, but he just couldn't get used to it. Seeing her hurt pained him, made him want to force her out of gymnastics, out of boxing, and into safer sports such as soccer and baseball. He couldn't understand why his daughter would put her body through so much abuse. Especially when these skills would serve her no purpose in the Wizarding World.

"I heard you had a meeting with McGonagall over a disagreement with Percy, your House's prefect," Snape said, giving his daughter the same look of disappointment that she had seen many times.

Evangeline looked away. Having just lost her appetite, she absentmindedly picked at her food. She didn't look back up at her father, knowing full well what that look meant and what he'd say, and right now, she wasn't in the mood to get lectured by him again.

"Evangeline," Snape spoke in a low murmur, his stern tone not softening even as the tears shone in her eyes, "you promised me. You promised that you wouldn't get into trouble." His daughter still didn't look up at him, actively avoiding eye contact. Snape let out a long sigh, "I don't want you to get expelled again."

"I'm not going to get expelled," Evangeline firmly replied, making it sound as though the act of getting expelled was a nonexistent one. "And I promised you that I wouldn't get into any more fights or talk back to the professors. What Percy and I had was a harmless spat."

There was a long pause. "What were you two fighting about?"

"My shoes."

Snape blinked in surprise. "Your shoes?"

Evangeline nodded. "Percy told me I couldn't wear my sneakers during the school day because they "went against uniform regulations", or something like that."

"And let me guess, you were angry that he wouldn't let you wear the shoes you wanted?"

"No-o-o, I only got angry when he told me that he'd be very upset if our House lost the House Cup because of me in that stupid, fake voice people use when they're trying to sound nice. I told him I understood, so I wore the Mary Janes, but then, he got angry at me because they were blue and not black. Then, I told him that - that the rulebook only said I had to wear Mary Janes, there was nothing in there about them having to be black." Evangeline rolled her eyes, scowling and crossing her arms over her chest. "He didn't like my "tone"," she continued, "so he took me to Professor McGonagall's office."

Knowing his daughter, Snape asked, "Did you sass him?"

"Well," Evangeline started to say, stopping herself and rethinking her words at her father's stern gaze. Her voice lowered, "maybe."

"Evangeline, what have I told you about sassing others?"

He waits patiently for her answer as she sulks, her face in a pout as she sinks deeper into the bed, groaning in annoyance. "Other people find it disrespectful," Evangeline grumbles.

With a pleased smile, Snape gets up from his chair and kisses his daughter's forehead. "That's right," he says, running his hands through her hair. "I may find it charming, but others won't be as lenient as I am when your temper spikes. Now, quit pouting, you're much too old for that."

Evangeline stayed silent while her father ran his hands through her hair, dissecting the strands into three sections before beginning to braid. "You don't have to do that, you know," she tells him with a calm tone of voice. "I can do it myself."

"I'm aware. I've just missed braiding your hair before bed."

A smile tugged at Evangeline's lips, a wave of nostalgia washing over her as she remembered her bedtime routine as a child. On certain nights, she'd be too tired to stand and often fell asleep while her father bathed, dressed, or brushed and braided her hair. Most nights, she'd be too hyper to sleep. She'd make giant splashes in the bathtub, would have to be held down while she was dressed and having her hair brushed and braided, and Snape would spend an hour and a half or more chasing her around the room.

Snape raised the hem of her shirt, reaching his hand up and gently tapping the side of her ribcage. "Does that hurt?" he asked.

Evangeline shook her head.

"Do you think you'll be able to walk back to your dorm?"

"My legs aren't broken, so yeah."

Snape chuckled at her smartass comment. "Back and forth, Evangeline," he ordered, his voice soft yet still filled with authority.

She got out of bed, begrudgingly walking back and forth to convince her father that she could walk just fine. To further convince him, she walked to the back of the Hospital Wing, broke into a sprint, reached her arms out, and proceeded to do three front flips, turning around and giving her father a look that said What did I tell you? I'm fine.

A smile tugged at the corner of her father's lips as he grabbed the box of cookies. "Showoff," he muttered, gently placing his hand on her back to turn her around and follow him back to Gryffindor Tower.

On any other night, Evangeline would be displeased with having to be led to her room like some little girl. Even if she was little, she still wouldn't like it. However, Hogwarts is bordering a forest that is littered with monsters that could make their way inside using any one of the secret passageways, and Evangeline had promised to not get into any more trouble at school, so she sucked up getting led to her room like some mischievous girl.

On their way to Gryffindor Tower, the two were stopped by Filch. The caretaker raised his lantern, and he could see clearly in the dim light how similar Evangeline and Snape were. He had heard the rumors, but he couldn't fathom the idea that a man such as Snape, who often complained about how stupid his students were and expressed his distaste for children, could have a child much less two. However, in the dim light of the lantern, Filch could swear he was staring at an older and younger version of Snape.

"What is it, Filch?" Snape asked coldly, knocking the caretaker out of his stunned trance.

"Uh, the Headmaster has called a meeting."

Snape's face contorted into disbelief. "Now?"

"Yes," the caretaker nods, "now."

Snape sighs, becoming very annoyed that his night was ending with a hastily planned meeting that would indefinitely leave him with a headache and get him into bed by midnight. Just the thought was giving him a headache. "Make sure she makes it to Gryffindor Tower," he orders, forcing himself to roughly push Evangeline towards Filch. Evangeline takes the box of cookies out of her father's hands as he returns to his cold and bitter facade. "I better not see you aimlessly wandering the halls again, Ms Prince. Being injured doesn't mean you can shamelessly break the rules."

She bites back a sassy retort. "Sorry about that, Professor Snape. It won't happen again."

Snape watches as Filch leads his daughter away. He felt like running up and saying he changed his mind, that he'll take Evangeline to Gryffindor Tower and head to the meeting later. Frankly, he didn't care if he was late to it. It wasn't that he didn't trust Filch, it's just that no one knew his daughter like he did. Snape couldn't stop worrying about Evangeline's injury. What if it was worse than Madam Pomfrey said it was? What if Evangeline had made it worse by doing those front flips? What if it's starting to get worse? Not only that, but Filch is a Squib, which meant he had no magical abilities at all. He wouldn't be able to protect her should the situation arise.

Snape took a deep breath to calm his nerves, and when he looked up, Evangeline and Filch had already rounded the corner. A part of him wanted to run after them.

Snape climbed up the circular staircase with a scowl, hoping this meeting will go quickly so he can get a good night's sleep. With how his week has been going and his daughter's injury, he can't afford to spend Friday fatigued. He smirked as he rolled his eyes, imagining what his wife would say if she heard that he didn't sleep well again.

The lively, hushed conversations abruptly stopped once the professors noticed Snape's arrival. The suddenness of it was not lost on him, but he was too tired and annoyed to care. However, as his eyes glanced at his coworkers, Snape noticed their change in behavior. They avoided his gaze and stepped away from him when he got close, whispering and muttering under their breath. It was the sort of behavior he expected from Quirrell, but when Minerva wouldn't even look at him, he began to wonder what exactly the meeting was for. And what they have just discovered.

"Severus," said Dumbledore, "you're late."

"I was busy," Snape replied, wrapping his cloak around him. "Grading papers and such. May I ask what is the cause of this meeting?" Glancing at the green-skinned man who stood proudly beside Dumbledore, clutching a book bound in strange leather, he guessed the meeting had something to do with him.

Dumbledore gestured to the man. "This is Konstantinos," the man bows, "and he has come in search of the daughter of Poseidon."

"Yes, and I was hoping she'd be at dinner tonight," Konstantinos breathed out in disappointment. "But she'll show herself to me in due time."

"Why can't you just tell us her name?" Flitwick suggests. "Wouldn't that make things easier for you?"

"Oh, I already know her name." The Tritone confidently smiles, raising his chin in that 'I'm a very important person' manner. He looks over at Snape, who does not return the sentiment, and says, "However, my lord has informed me I'd have much more trouble with her adoptive father than with finding her."

Shocked gasps erupted in the office, an uneasy silence washing over the room as Konstantinos and Snape stared at each other, the professors glancing between the two as it slowly dawned on them what the Tritone was implying. Snape managed to hide his simmering fury behind a stoic facade, pretending to not know what the Tritone was implying while feeling his blood boiling at the implication. It didn't matter how truthful Konstantinos statement was, to be regarded as Evangeline's adoptive father rather than father pissed him off greatly. He was the one who raised the girl, supported her dreams and hobbies, comforted her when she was scared, read her bedtime stories, disciplined her when needed, taught her everything she knew — Snape has more than earned the title of father.

A chill went down Konstantinos spine, his smile faltering at Snape's icy-cold glare. He squirmed under his hostile gaze, one that told him that he would mysteriously disappear and his body would never be found. The only thing Poseidon had told his courtier was that Snape was a loving and doting father to Evangeline, so Konstantinos had been expecting a kind wizard who wouldn't give him too much trouble when it came to bringing the demigod to Camp Half-blood. However, as he forced himself to keep eye contact with Snape, he could feel his dark eyes boring into his, peering into his soul and his deepest, darkest thoughts, and promising a death that will neither be quick nor painless.

Konstantinos cleared his throat, finally looking away and nervously rubbing the back of his neck. Dear gods, he thought to himself, he's as scary as Hades. I'm curious to see how Evangeline turned out. "So, um, when can Evangeline meet up with her father?"

"Never."

The Tritone was taken aback by the swiftness of Snape's reply. "Um, shouldn't you think about –"

"I have nothing to think about," Snape firmly said, his tone leaving no room for an argument. He glances at each of his coworkers. "It's clear to me that I can't hide my relations to Evangeline anymore, and if you saw her, you'd clearly see that she is my child. For you to assume she isn't is nothing short of an insult."

"Lord Poseidon was very clear in his orders –" Konstantinos exasperatedly starts to explain before he's cut off.

"His orders have nothing to do with me or my child. Frankly, I have reason to suspect that you have come to Hogwarts for a much more sinister reason."

Konstantinos scoffs, a smirk tugging at his lips as he rolls his eyes. "The only reason I'm here is to make sure a demigod doesn't die because her mortal parent can't let her go."

"She is not going to die because she is not a demigod." Snape's voice rose in irritation, his hatred for the Tritone evident in the way he glared at him, daring him to continue his protests.

The Tritone looked to Dumbledore and all of the other professors for help, his desperate and exasperated expression showing that it could spell trouble for him, the school, or even Evangeline herself if Snape continues to be as stubborn as he is right now. A few of them found it hard to believe Konstantinos claims, as the idea of a god, much less a child of one, existing in their midst seemed unimaginable. Then again, everything they do is unimaginable to Muggles, so it's possible that gods do exist.

Snape had begun to think that as well. Cassandra never told him who Evangeline's biological father was, and for some reason, he never bothered to ask. He had assumed her father was a Muggle – either a deadbeat or someone Cassandra had used the Memory Charm on – and believed it'd be better if he never contacted him. Even then, Snape had grown so attached to the infant that he dreaded the thought of separating from her. He still has nightmares about that happening – his daughter wailing as she is ripped from his arms, and he is unable to do anything about it. And he isn't going to let that nightmare come true.

Dumbledore decided to intervene. He turned to the Potions Master and carefully advised, "Severus, perhaps you should hear him out? The last thing you want to do is anger a god."

Snape's attention turned on the headmaster, his expression hardening and irritation lacing his tone. "Hear him out? He has just insisted that my daughter is not mine, and belongs to some . . . deity, which, for all we know, could just be an excuse he made up to sneak in here. Even if the deity existed, which Konstantinos has no proof of, it is obvious he does not care for Evangeline if he decided to send a scout rather than come see her himself."

"Lord Poseidon does care for his daughter –" Konstantinos tried to say before he was interrupted.

"Then, why isn't he here? Surely, he'd want to see his daughter after so many years. Unless he doesn't exist."

"He does too exist!"

Snape chuckled softly, his lips curling into a smirk as the Tritone reverted to a childish form of argument. He felt a bit of nostalgia as he reminisced how Evangeline would stomp her feet, cross her arms, and pout every time she didn't get her way.

"Evangeline belongs in the ocean!" Konstantinos screamed, his green face turning yellow in anger as he got into Snape's face. "She is Atlantean royalty, and she's been on the surface long enough."

Hiding behind Snape's stoic expression was a simmering anger, showing itself through the twitch in the upper corner of his lip and his fingers itching to grab his wand. Evangeline belonged with him, not with some random fish who barely knew her.

The meeting ended soon after that. It didn't matter how many threats Konstantinos threw at him, how hard he pleaded and begged, Snape remained firm in his decision: Evangeline was not the daughter of Poseidon and she would not be going to Atlantis. None of the other professors tried to argue with him. Evangeline was not only a spitting image of Snape, but she hadn't shown any indication that she was a demigod. There wasn't any reason to be on the Tritone's side when he had no proof to his claims.

Evangeline made the slow, weary trek to her dorm in Gryffindor Tower. She quietly steps inside, being careful to shut the door at a pace where it doesn't slam nor creak as it closes. A soft click echoes out, mingling with the sound of the rhythmic breathing of the three girls who slept soundly in their beds. Streams of bright moonlight filtered into the room, casting a dim shadow of the windows, and creating a very soothing atmosphere.

Evangeline could feel her legs trembling beneath her, begging to collapse on her comfy bed and fall asleep. However, a quick sniff of her armpit told her a shower should be her first priority.

Dear Merlin, she thought to herself as she made her way to the bathroom, a disgusted frown on her face, I barely did anything today, and yet I smell like a wet dog.

She removed her clothes, dumping them in the laundry bin before turning on the shower. Evangeline put her hand under the stream of water, turning it back and forth as she felt the temperature before sliding in and grabbing the shampoo.

As Evangeline washed her hair, her train of thought split into several sections and stopped at different stations. First, she wondered if she'd get a second chance to fly a broom. She may not be good at it, but there's nothing wrong with trying. Then, she began worrying about Neville. Evangeline knew he felt guilty about cracking her rib. It wasn't the worst pain she's ever experienced, and it definitely wasn't in the top ten.

Her mind was beginning to make up a scenario, where Neville would nervously approach her or send her an owl, profusely apologizing, and he's wailing and unconsolable, and –

Evangeline's hand prods around the right side of her ribcage, pressing down as hard as she could, her eyes narrowing in confusion when she didn't feel anything. She looked down, stretching her skin to find the redness and swelling that had been there moments before. There was nothing. No swelling, no redness, no soreness – nothing.

She couldn't believe it. How could her injury not be there? Madam Pomfrey had told her the swelling and soreness would stay for a couple of days, not disappear overnight. How could she heal that fast? Maybe Madam Pomfrey hadn't used that potion much and just forgot its effects. Yes, that's most likely it. Much like other things, healing potions have their limits, but this one is very effective.