She tried not to keep checking the garden. Evie pulled the woollen blanket up tightly around her shoulders, breathing in the smell of home. The manor itself was dusty and saturated with unused rooms - though gorgeous, filled with matching furniture sets and oriental rugs, everything was covered in a fine layer of dust.Įven in the second living room, warmth was a luxurious and hard to come by commodity. The garden's trees and shrubbery had grown tangled and wild, reaching up the stone face of the house and tapping their crooked fingers against the glass. While not entirely decrepit, Rothchild House had seen better days. When they glanced up at the house, and a bored Evie peered down from the window, they saw a decaying estate that would soon be forgotten. There was nothing much of interest out there, apart from the occasional muggle walking their dog along the country lane. From where she had pressed her face to the window, a clear porthole appeared to reveal the overrun garden. Though it was only the end of August, the Scottish Borders had grown so chilly that the glass was slick with near frozen water. Tucked amidst the velvet boundaries of the window seat in the second living room, reclined in that dark and frosted space, it was easy to feel her eyes glazing over. " Cashmere, cologne and white sunshine / Red racing cars, sunset and vine / The kids were young and pretty / Where have you been? Where did you go?"Įvangeline Rothchild leant her cheek against the windowpane, the cold condensation between the thin panels of glass broke her out of a daydream. “You’ll never need to be afraid of me.” He swore. Evie leant into his embrace, resilience melting as those steady fingers smoothed through her long dark hair. A compass against her skin, the unicorn core pointed home. “I’m still your father, and your mother, she-”Īll the same, he took her new wand from Ollivander’s out from the stiffened linings of his pockets and placed it into her small hand. After all, he was not the person she thought he was.
As he reached out a hand to comfort her, Evie flinched. The movement was strange, utterly uneasy in his dark suit and formal, unbending leather soles. He crouched down, casting back the ripples of his cloak. “Fear and vigilance is what keeps us safe, Evie. “You’re scaring me!” She snapped, as though it would make a difference. They were her family, her friends, her father. She knew more about dark wizards than any eleven-year-old should. Not under veritaserum? Legilimecy? Or even cruciatus?"Įvie wiped her eyes, faint beneath her quivering. "Not some new friend at Hogwarts? Not by mistake when you're afraid, or angry? You must know that there have always been rumours about us, about you – the whispers, half-truths, they’ll follow you. “But I won’t tell anyone!” She protested. Shadows passed behind his eyes as he watched her weep. Andrew Rothchild, the legendary Auror, the wizard so many rightfully feared a Death Eater spy, loomed above. This was not the man she knew he was not her father. You’ll never have the chance to divulge any of this.” “As secondary secret keeper, you’d be safe Evie.
The Dark Lord might be dead, love, but that wouldn’t stop them. “Or else they kill you, they hunt you down. “What you’ve learned, seen, it can never leave this room.” They were alone in the heavy darkness, lit solely by the vial of liquid thought clutched in his shattering grip. The hessian curtains of the study were tightly drawn, the house elves sent away. “We don’t have a choice.” He frowned down jaw set rigidly in his stern face, a towering figure of a man robed in black. Silver memory clung in the air, in her lashes, her lungs.
With nowhere to run, no place on earth where he could not find her, she sunk to the waxed oak floor and tucked her knees to her chest. The young girl, Evangeline Rothchild, let out a sob as her back collided with the cold stone column of the pensive. "I hope she'll be a fool - that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool."
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