Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

~ ᴀᴇꜱᴛʜᴇᴛɪᴄꜱ ~

~ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇꜱᴛᴇ ᴄᴜʀꜱᴇ? ʙʟᴇꜱꜱɪɴɢ? ᴅᴜᴛʏ. ~

Between the fancy champagne and the obnoxiously massive ice sculpture in the middle of the ballroom held under preservation charms, Evaline wasn’t sure which one cost more. She eyed the crowd, spotting several familiar faces she had no desire to speak to tonight.

Or ever.

As the bitter liquid slid down her throat, her gaze drifting around the opulent Grand Ballroom. The magnificent space was aglow with the radiance of bright chandeliers, their crystal facets casting a dazzling display of light. At the center of the room stood an exquisite ice sculpture, meticulously carved with the emblem of the Italian Ministry. A tad overkill in Evaline’s opinion but they did have an image to maintain.

The atmosphere was alive with a sea of guests - Ministry officials, distinguished invitees, and journalists - all adorned in their finest attire. The air was filled with laughter, animated conversations, and the clinking of glasses. 

Behind those diplomatic smiles and courteous exchanges, there lurked a subtle undercurrent of tension. Each guest boasted about their accomplishments, seeking recognition and validation from their peers. But amidst the superficial camaraderie, contempt and rivalry hid in plain sight, masked by a veneer of politeness.

How utterly boring.

Her grandfather would’ve loved it, no doubt. Anything to do with political networking, her grandfather always had so much fun at events like these. 

“High Lady Este! There you are!” a familiar voice called her attention and her gaze snapped away from the crowd to the man approaching.

Arnaldo Vulpetti, the current Minister of Magic in Italy, was a tall man in his early 60s, with a commanding presence that demanded respect. His peppered hair added a touch of wisdom and experience to his appearance, and his sharp gaze hinted at the astute mind that lay beneath.

He possessed an innate intelligence of the political realm that allowed him to navigate the intricate webs of power with ease. His ability to use his resources and people effectively was unparalleled, and he knew how to play the political game to his advantage.

In short, he was not someone you would want to have as an enemy.

Having been recently reelected as Minister, Arnaldo Vulpetti's leadership had proven to be both effective and popular among the wizarding community. He understood the importance of diplomacy and maintaining a strong relationship with international allies, ensuring Italy's standing in the magical world remained solid. 

It was one of the reason’s Evaline had given him her vote as High Lady of the Royal House of Este in the recent election. The other reason was that he was fully funding her research. It was a win-win situation really.

Arnaldo reached her side, a glass of wine in hand, grinning broadly, “Congratulations!”

“This award is yours as much as it is mine,” Evaline inclined her head, diplomacy easily rolling off her tongue, “Honestly Minister, was this truly necessary?” 

Evaline found herself in a rather annoying position, standing in her Unspeakable formal uniform, adorned with her new obnoxiously shiny Order of Merlin, First Class medal with a Green ribbon hanging from her outer robes. The ridiculous honour and recognition bestowed upon her were a result of her groundbreaking work in creating the world's first international wards, a secret project funded entirely by the Minister of Magic, Arnaldo Vulpetti, which was only revealed publicly and officially tonight by a smug Minister.

Though Evaline had initially embarked on this research out of sheer boredom, the outcome far surpassed her expectations. She had successfully activated the revolutionary international ward around Italy's' boarders, a feat that would shape the future of magical protection on a global scale. However, Evaline had never sought public acknowledgment or accolades for her work; her primary motivation had always been to avoid boredom.

Her reluctance to accept the prestigious Order of Merlin medal was evident, but Arnaldo was insistent, recognizing the significance of her accomplishments and understanding the monumental impact it could have on Italy’s reputation and the wizarding world at large. 

The minister had insisted that such extraordinary achievements deserved to be celebrated and recognized. When that didn’t work, he threatened to charge her with treason, claiming she was disrupting Italy’s diplomatic advancements in the wizarding world by not having a massive party so he could show off his country to the rest of the world.

When that didn’t work, he promised to fully fund whatever her next project would be.

With the added promise to get new equipment for her research chamber, she had agreed pretty easily. 

“I’ll have none of that! Providing a couple of galleons is nothing compared to what you’ve accomplished for Italy!” Arnaldo waved his hand dismissively, that diplomatic smile was replaced by a rather smug expression when she shot him a look of disbelief.

A couple of Galleons? More like millions of galleons supplied each year of her research. Evaline had a very strong urge to lecture the Italian Minister on budgeting and financial awareness. Instead, she shook her head in resignation, honestly- this man was nothing if not charismatic.

“It was only a matter of time before you received an Order of Merlin. Your wards are more incredible than I imagined!” Arnaldo continued as he pointedly ignored her exasperated expression, leaning in with an excited hushed whisper, “Already, I’ve had eight Minister’s of other nations owl me! It hasn’t even been a full day since our official announcement!”

"....Congratulations" She says dryly.

Arnaldo beamed.

Giving up, Evaline returned to sipping her champagne, now with much larger sips, “I’ve been thinking about starting the selection process for the wards maintenance team.”

Arnaldo raised a brow, smugness dropping as he nodded for her to continue, immediately slipping into business mode, “I shall send over files of particularly notable people who work with wards and runes. Am I to assume you shall be selecting Unspeakables for your team?”

“Perhaps,” Evaline hummed, grateful for the shift in conversation, “Potentially some high class curse breakers as well. I feel they will work together quite well.”

“As much as I hate to say this; our ministry’s curse breakers are not the most impressive,” Arnaldo said, frowning, “Are you certain of involving them? I doubt you would want to go international.”

“I don’t plan on using Ministry Cruse breakers,” she scoffed, knowing very well those fools would not be able to comprehend the mere foundations of her warding research.

The Minister looked at her expectedly, “Then..?”

She tilted her head, a sly smile on her lips, “The original curse breakers are my target.”

A beat. He stared blankly, processing. Then-

“Goblins!?” Arnaldo yelled, attracting much attention.

She winced.

He hurridly lowered his voice, “But they absolutely refuse to work with humans-”

He sighed, resigned as he noticed the look on her face, “Nevermind. Merlin, if anyone could convince the goblins to work with us, it would be you, Lady Este.”

Evaline huffed, emptying the last of the champagne, “I’ll take that as a compliment, Minister.”

They stood in silence for a moment before the Minister looked around in confusion, “Say, I expected more reporters to be crowding you after tonight.”

For the first time that night, Evaline smirked, feeling rather smug at avoiding the million floating cameras and reporters tonight, “A simple ‘notice me not’ charm does wonders.”

The Minister levelled Evaline with an ‘Are you bloody serious right now? That’s what you’re smug about after tonight?’ look before he burst out laughing.

༺═──────────────═༻

Stifling a yawn, Evaline made her way through her childhood home.

Este Castle.

The corridors stretched out before her, illuminated by the soft glow of flickering torches that lined the stone walls at intervals. The ceilings soared high above, disappearing into the shadows, creating an eerie sensation as if the castle itself held its secrets close. The walls, constructed from weathered grey stone, bore the marks of time, with faded tapestries and portraits depicting long-forgotten faces and scenes.

Gothic arches and intricate carvings adorned the pillars, giving the castle an air of dark elegance. The chandeliers hung from the ceiling like twisted branches, casting a dim light that danced across the vast space, their flickering flames amplifying the mystique of the surroundings. Shadows lurked in every corner, playing tricks on the eyes and heightening the sense of foreboding.

To the outside eye, the castle’s architecture was imposing, terrifying, a nightmare to be trapped in and they can’t escape. Others found it terrifying. 

But to Evaline, Este Castle was home, her safe haven.

She had grown up in these halls, taken her first step in this castle and said her first words here. The Castle’s magic embraced her warmly, welcoming its owner as she pushed open the grand double doors to the Grand Portrait Room. 

Inside, a subtle enchantment stirred, causing the candles scattered throughout the space to ignite one by one, casting a soft, flickering glow that danced along the walls. Gradually, the grand chandelier suspended from the high ceiling burst into radiant light, illuminating the room in a warm and inviting ambiance.

The walls were adorned with portraits of her ancestors, some charmed to slumber while the few awake shifted their attention to her presence.

Evaline made her way to the largest portrait, a soft smile on her face as she saw the man snap his eyes open, "Grandfather."

High Lord Theodore Este.

Her grandfather. Her Nonno.

Her grandfather was a formidable man, a political figure of prominence during his time in the Italian courts. To many, he was a figure to be feared, but to Evaline, he was simply her beloved grandfather. He was the man who presented her a white daisy every morning with the goofiest grin she had ever seen, the one who lovingly braided her hair while telling her stories before bed.

He had raised Evaline after the loss of her mother at the age of three.

Upon her death, she had accompanied him to lay them to rest in the Este family graveyard near Este Castle, as the Este’s have always had private funerals, and he had reclaimed the title of Lord Este until he, too, passed away when she was thirteen. Since then, his portrait had become a guiding presence in her life, offering counsel and support through verbal means.

Evaline straightened, meeting his silver eyes with her own, confidence radiated from her. After a brief pause, the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled warmly, " Il mio tesoro. How are you?"

[My treasure.] 

"I'm well, nonno ," she says softly, returning the smile, "My wards are now active and standing strong around Italy’s borders as of last week."

"Congratulations, tesoro, " he nodded approvingly. His gaze drifted to her outer robes, where the gleaming medal adorned her attire. He raised a curious brow, "Arnaldo must be happy. An Order of Merlin?"

"First class," she murmurs, glancing down at the medal before meeting his gaze with a tired sigh, "The Minister was positively ecstatic. A little too much, if you ask me."

"I knew Arnaldo when he was a bambino ," her grandfather chuckled, reminiscing, "We used to call him little Arnie since he was always the youngest in the room."

[Little Boy]

Evaline raised an amused brow, "Shall I call him little Arnie next time I see him?"

“Not in public. Leave the man some dignity,” The man chuckled again, shaking his head, "He's a bravo ragazzo , he is. I'm glad he's keeping an eye on you in the Ministry."

[Good lad]

Feeling a little offended, Evaline huffed, crossing her arms childishly, "I'm 27 years old, I don't need someone to babysit me, nonno."

"Remind me again why you decided to delve into international warding?"

Evaline lifted her chin defiantly, but her expression softened as she looked away, "Because I was bored."

"And what happened the last time you were bored?" he prodded, clearly amused.

She sniffed pretentiously, and she answered with no hint of embarrassment, "I spiked the coffee machine at the Ministry, and all the officials could only talk in animal noises…right before an international conference with the Australians."

The man snorted with laughter,

"But! But- I was only like 11-"

The man just laughed harder.

She scowled, hoping to change the topic. She perched on the small bench in front of his portrait, sighing softly, "Anyways...I was thinking..."

His amusement faded, "What ails' you, child?"

"The curse...duty? Blessing?" She shook her head, "I still do not know what to call it- regardless, do you suppose this achievement will fulfil the conditions for it to be activated?" 

"I cannot tell you. No one knows but Lady Fates, child." He sighed, "You shall know if your time comes."

Evaline was acutely aware of her family's legacy and the weighty duty they bore.

Time Travel.

Thrown into a different time and era and place to fix a significant world problem that'll alter the timeline.

However, when it came to the specifics of their missions, she remained in the dark. The Este family's missions were veiled in secrecy, shrouded in mystery. All she knew was that each Este was sent to a different time, be it the past or the future, with a sole purpose—to alter a pivotal event before it unfolded.

The details of these events were kept tightly guarded, known only to those who had embarked on such journeys, and they were forbidden to share their experiences. Whenever Evaline sought answers from her family, their responses were frustratingly vague, repeating the same enigmatic phrase-

An Este must learn to hold calculation in chaos.

Undeterred, she persisted, "Say, if I end up in a time where you're alive, can I come to meet you?"

The room suddenly echoed with various voices as the portraits exclaimed with various volumes of panic, "No! Mai! Assolutamente non bambina! Oh, mi sento svenire!"

[Never! Absolutely not child! Oh, I feel faint!]

Evaline instinctively gripped her wand, dropping to a defensive position before she realised it was just her ancestors jumping out of their seats in their portraits, all with wide, horror stricken looks on their faces. Eyeing them in confusion, her posture eased as she looked back at her grandfather, "Okay...noted. No contact with Este’s of different eras. May I ask why?"

Her great aunt’s portrait, grandfather's sister Isotta Este, replied solemnly, "You cannot reach out to the Estes who are living in the time you travel to. Any actions you take outside your mission might detrimentally affect the Este lineage. People may not be born, extras might be born."

Evaluating Evaline's disappointment, her great aunt smiled gently, "And congratulations, prediletto , on your award. Well deserved."

[Darling]

"Thank you, Grand Aunt Isotta," Evaline replied softly with a small smile, her mind racing with questions. She sighed, her shoulders slumping a little, "So, when I do travel to another time to complete the Este duty, will I truly and utterly be alone?"

The portraits looked at her with knowing eyes, and her grandfather spoke with understanding, "However, if one of the Estes of the time you travel to wishes to assist you, they can. But it is always done indirectly- through a third party. You cannot ever personally come in contact with the Estes of the era you are in."

"Have you ever assisted another Este from a different era, Grandfather?"

"Now that would be telling, dear."

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline couldn't help but feel like every word she uttered was somehow coming back to haunt her. First, she had declined the Order of Merlin, yet it was bestowed upon her anyway, leading to a grandiose celebration she never sought. Then, her attempts to glean information about the Este mission from her grandfather had been met with resolute rejection.

And now, here she stood, face to face with Lady Fate and Lord Death themselves.

"Fate works in mysterious ways it seems," Evaline dryly mused, shooting an intrigued glance at Lady Fate, “Pleasure to finally meet you, M’lady.”

Lord Death cackled. Death, a figure cloaked in darkness and draped with an air of solemnity, bore an eternal presence that sent shivers down the spines of those who encountered it. Its eyes, hollow and unyielding, held the weight of countless passing souls. It was tall and shrouded with shadows that leave you in a trance if you looked at them for too long Swathed in shadows, it stood tall and imposing, a timeless witness to the cycle of life and demise. 

Lady Fate responded by shooting a deadpan look at both Evaline and Death. Lady Fate was a captivating figure, shrouded in an aura of timeless wisdom and ethereal grace. Her silver hair cascaded like a waterfall, and her piercing eyes with no pupils simply a glowing white, held an otherworldly depth. Clad in flowing silver robes adorned with symbols of destiny, she exuded an air of enigmatic power, as if she held the strings of the universe in her delicate hands. 

Had Evaline not been stupefied into a state of sarcastic irony, she would have been intimidated by the pure magic radiating from the deity.

Instead, Evaline raised an amused eyebrow at death’s grin with far too many teeth, murmuring under her breath, "Well, it seems we've discovered the one with a sense of humour. Quite different from what I expected, though."

Death cackled again and Evaline shot the being a curious look. The being responded with a curious tilt of the head to which Evaline narrowed her eyes.

"Evaline Este, your time has come to provide assistance in fixing the faulted wrongs in history," Lady Fate began, her voice resonating with a commanding aura that immediately made Evaline’s spine straighten.

"As an Este, you carry the legacy of righting the path of destiny when it strays," Lady Fate continued, her words carrying the weight of ancient wisdom. "Remember, people are not always what they seem, and magic is not merely a product of talent; it emerges from pain."

That was oddly specific. Evaline's eyes narrowed, a mix of caution and suspicion evident in her gaze. "Lady Fate, what exactly is my mission?"

Lady Fate gestured towards Death, indicating that the answer lies with the newly materialised figure. Confusion flickered across Evaline's face as she thought Death itself might be her mission. However, another figure appeared before her—a young man in his late thirties or early forties, strikingly handsome with dark hair, crimson eyes, and an aura of weariness surrounding him. The man reminded her of a ghost, his figure flickering in and out of existence. It dawned on her.

An incomplete soul.

"Who may you be?" Evaline asked, her guard up despite the man's transparent form. She sensed his danger, having dealt with enough criminals in her time.

The man grinned with cold amusement, introducing himself, "You may know me as Lord Voldemort.”

Evaline blinked slowly, lips parting, and her eyes widened in shock. "As..as in the vanquished Dark Lord of Britain?"

"The very same," he replied, his tone both smug and weary. "My human name is Tom Riddle. A pleasure to meet my soul’s saviour."

Evaline blinked once. Twice. Thrice. Then she drew in a long breath, steading her racing mind, "Okay, Tom Riddle, pleasure’s mine…I think. I'm Evaline Este."

“Are you sure?” Voldemort’s lips quirked, eyes judgmental, “You don’t seem very certain of that.”

The quirked amusement on Voldemorts's face didn't waver as his mocking tone snapped Evaline out of her shocked state. His crimson eyes studied her intently with newfound interest as she scowled at him, showing none of the cowering and fear he was so bored of.

"Just like your soul doesn't seem very complete?" she snapped back, her voice mocking and sarcastic, “Say, I heard you were quite the prodigy back in the day- what happened to your smarts the day you decided to create horcruxes?”

After the defeat of Lord Voldemort five years ago, the truth about his darkest secrets emerged as his followers attempted to save themselves from a one way trip to Azkaban. It was a desperate measure, leading to a revelation that shook the wizarding world to its core: Voldemort had created seven horcruxes, with his first one made at the tender age of 15. 

To make matters more astonishing, it was discovered that Harry Potter himself unknowingly became a horcrux, carrying a part of Voldemort's soul within him all his life until the Great Battle of Hogwarts. The shocking revelation rippled through international borders, and many dark arts masters sneered upon the former dark lord, going as far as claiming ‘even Grindelwald was better than that misguided buffoon that sullied the name of Dark Arts with his recklessness’.

Voldemort’s brows shot up in surprise, not expecting such a bold response. In the background, Death cackled continuously, seemingly enjoying the exchange while Lady Fate seemed to be pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. 

Voldemort's lips pursed, and his eyes narrowed as he regarded Evaline. "Rather bold, are you?" he remarked, not used to encountering someone who could challenge him so directly.

She raised an unimpressed brow, her gaze unwavering as she eyed his translucent soul with very obvious judgement, "It comes with the ego of having a complete and healthy soul, You wouldn’t know anything about it, I’m sure." They glared at each other for a moment before Evaline’s mind caught up with his words. She blinked, “Wait- did you say your soul saviour?”

༺═──────────────═༻

As Lady Fate finished speaking, Evaline waved her hand, "Wait, so in summary. You—" she pointed at Fate, "want me to go through the pain of school again but this time in the 1930s to stop this fool—" she pointed at a scowling Voldemort, "from making horcruxes?"

Lady Fate nodded, a hint of amusement in her eyes. Death was grinning broadly, as if thoroughly entertained by the whole situation. Evaline couldn't help but wonder if being the entity of death was a boring job or if he just found joy in such peculiar situations. She was also mildly concerned if Death's face hurt from smiling so much.

"What do you expect me to do? Buy the fool a book about horcruxes and their consequences?" Evaline asked with a dry tone. She really didn’t want to attend Hogwarts. She had been homeschooled all her life and she was not that curious to spend 7 years of her life in a sexist, bigoted era in Britain while attending a school of pureblood supremacists and their spawns.

Voldemort actually looked contemplative at the idea as he crossed his arms over his chest, adopting a thoughtful stance, "That might actually work. I was quite the genius, as you mentioned. If I had known a horcrux would destroy my looks and intelligence, I would've never considered creating one. But the book I found in the chamber didn't mention any consequences so severe."

“Is that so?” Evaline's expression turned mocking, eyes squinting as she retorted, "You're such a genius that you read one book and decided that was enough information to tear your soul apart seven times?"

“Children!” Lady Fate snapped and both Evaline and Voldemort clamped their mouths shut, the latter letting out a protesting sound of outrage. Fate levelled Voldemort with a warning glare that had him slightly unnerved and turned to Evaline with a nod, “Yes, you are to stop Tom Riddle from fracturing his soul. This will ultimately stop the second wizarding war in Britain and will lead to a significant improvement within Britain's Ministry. Do you have any questions?”

“Why?” she deadpanned, “I mean- it’s been dead five years. Why now?”

Death spoke this time. His voice sounded like he had swallowed a thousand shards of glass, “Foolish mortal’s soul is incomplete. Shattered and destroyed, he cannot move on, even after death. Foolish mortal is stuck in the limbo with nowhere to go.”

Voldemort looked like he wanted to crucio Death itself for the nickname but when Death even glanced at the man, he immediately grimaced a little. Evaline stifled a snort, which she had failed to do if Voldemort’s glare said anything, instead asking death, “And that is a problem why?”

Death went on to describe the requirements to ‘pass over’ after…well, death. One being a complete and whole soul is required. Evaline had a good few minutes laugh as she relentlessly tore Voldemort a new one for failing such a basic requirement. She was sure if the man had his magic, she would have been dead twenty times over.

“If I complete my mission and survive without him Avada’ing me,” Evaline asked after she had recovered from laughing at the Dark Lord, pointedly ignoring the snort from Voldemort, “Will I return to my time or remain there?”

Lady Fate nodded, “You shall return to the new future that prospers as a result of your interference in Tom Riddle’s life. However, there is an extent as to which his influence will change the future.”

Voldemort looked offended at the word ‘extent’ as though it was a deliberate jab at his capabilities. Ego, ego, ego.

“Meaning, my accomplishments and presence within Italy as well as the political situation in Italy shall remain undisputed upon my return. Less work to catch up on when I return,” Evaline concluded, nodding in thought and ignoring Voldemorts face as he realised he was being ignored. She mulled over her mission before another question popped in her mind, “Won’t people notice my absence? Who knows how long it will take to influence this psycho-”

“I have had just about enough of you-” Voldemort snarled, attempting to take a step forward but was chained down by Deaths’ magic, and was cut short as Lady Fate spoke over him.

“After your mission, you shall return the day after tonight. Two days, the latest,” Lady Fate informed patiently, “That is if you survive. If you die during your mission, you shall cease to exist from that time and your body shall be found in Este castle, in your current time, and cause of death will be determined as simply passing in your sleep.”

Evaline’s brows shot up at the casual mention of her death and paperwork set up, “You’ve planned everything out, huh? Nice to know how much faith you have in me.” she muttered under her breath.

Voldermort was now watching her with curious -his anger deflated so fast, Evaline wondered if the man was bipolar or had a personality disorder- assessing crimson eyes, “You do not seem to fear death.”

“How could I? Now that I’ve met the giggling monstrosity himself,” she mused nonchalantly as she sent Death a mocking salute, “He seems like a fun guy to spend eternity with.”

Death grinned, revealing far too many sharp teeth again, Merlin, she swore the deity did it on purpose as another shiver ran down her spine at the sight. "You do not tremble in my presence. You are an intriguing mortal."

“Thanks,” Evaline smirked at the blatant look of disbelief on Voldemort's face, “If death says I’m intriguing, It’s true. Try and deny it, Voldy Moldy. I dare you.”

When Voldemort looked just about ready to tear her a new one for that disturbing nickname, Death, with that eerily terrifyingly gleeful grin, took a step closer to Voldemort and the dark lord promptly shut his mouth with an audible click, schooling his expression to hide his scowl as he settled on glaring at her.

Evaline wiggled her brows mockingly, a huge grin on her face, feeling extremely smug at having the literal deity of Death defend her. Oh, she was definitely no longer bored.

Voldemort's hand twitched for his wand, as though he wished to send a crucio to her face this very second if only to wipe that smug smile off her face, “My younger self is going to find you absolutely tiresome.”

“I’m counting on it,” Evaline replied without missing a beat, eyeing his clenched fist with amusement, “If I have to attend… Hogwarts and deal with hormonal teenagers, a grumpy baby Dark Lord that hates the world, the very lacking British wizarding world and everything in it as well as propagated Light Leader Dumbldore - I might as well have fun while doing it.”

“And how exactly are you planning to gain my trust?” Voldemort snapped, eyes narrowed, “You know nothing about me.”

Evaline smirked, a calculating mirth gleamed in her silver eyes, “I’m an Unspeakable; figuring out things I should know nothing about is what they pay me for. Five minutes with you and I’ll have your younger self eating from the palm of my hand.”

Genuine interest gleamed in Voldemort's crimson eyes despite his sneer, “Your arrogance astounds me.”

The look she gave the Dark Lord was so glaringly pointed that the man rolled his eyes at the clear message in her eyes - ‘ look who’s talking’ . She straightened, immediately slipping into interrogation mode, “I’m flattered. Now, tell me, what’s your favourite snack? Fruits, Juices, sweets, alcohol- it could be anything!”

Voldemort’s pride was the only thing that kept him from gaping at the Unspeakable, “Out of everything, you want to know the Dark Lord Voldemort’s favourite…snack?”

“Former ‘Vanquished by a child…twice…eight times if we count your horcruxes’ Dark Lord Voldy,” Evaline corrected, grinning as she saw his jaw tighten, “And yes, what is your favourite snack?”

The man looked down at her, long and hard as though it would change her question, before he sighed, “I will tolerate you since you are to save my soul…I particularly enjoyed Pumpkin juice in my youth…not that I would drink it in public much. I had a reputation to maintain.”

Evaline looked absolutely ecstatic at the information. “The Dark Lord loved Pumpkin Juice! Who would’ve thought! Tell me, have you ever crucio’d someone if they spilled your juice?”

The glare she was receiving was enough of an answer and she barked out a laugh. She hadn’t had this much fun in ages! And now she got to mock the Dark Lord Voldemort? Life certainly doesn't get better than this!

Still grinning, she tilted her head, eerily similar to a predator staring at their prey, “Tell me, where did you spend your summer breaks at the end of the year during your time at Hogwarts?”

༺═──────────────═༻

Lord Voldemort's eyes narrowed as he recognized the shrewdness behind Evaline's initial question. Her clever approach intrigued him. Annoying as she was, Voldemort couldn't help but appreciate her intelligence and audacity. If he were still alive, he would have relished having someone like her in his ranks.

A true Slytherin—bold, smart, and cunning. Unlike Bellatrix, who was merely bold, or Lucius, who was only cunning in the realm of politics. This girl was what a real death eater was meant to be like.

A smirk slowly curled at his lips as he imagined the possibilities. Yes, young Tom Riddle would have admired someone like Evaline Este in his time. She was not a follower, no, he knew that. But she would make a fine ally.

But as an enemy, she would be an intriguing challenge—a puzzle he would relish breaking, if given the chance.

“Did you regret splitting your soul?” 

“No.” 

Her unsettling gaze latched onto him. A cruel smirk bloomed on her lips.

“Liar."

Chapter Text

"Your ancestors have been sent to infiltrate Monarchies, sent back to the times of Merlin himself…yet you find yourself here at a…school. ” The Sorting Hat cackled, gleeful.

Evaline scowled. ‘I’m here to prevent the Second Wizarding war-’

"Oh, preventing a war, are we? Well, that's noble and all, but remember, even Noble Hero’s have to do their time in school!" Condescension heavily coated its words, a wheezy laugh accompanied it.

Eye twitching in irritation, she rolled her eyes, “Royal heroes, If you are to ridicule me, do it correctly.”

“Enjoy your time babysitting, High Lady Este. Remember cursing children is illegal, no matter how much it is deserved. Better be…Slytherin!”

As she walked away, she swore she could hear cackling. She didn’t know if it was Lord Death or that stupid hat.

༺═──────────────═༻

“Better be...Slytherin!”

The boy hopped off the stool, eyeing Deputy Headmaster Dumbledore’s wary gaze that followed him as he walked off the stage. With measured steps he made his way to his new house.

Evaline’s gaze trailed his steps as he approached, chin perched on her palm. Despite his unbothered facade, the boy was not calm. Evaline could tell easily given the years she spent interrogating criminals.

The slight tenseness in his shoulders, the stiffness in every step and the way his fingers fiddled with his robes were all the signs Evaline needed. 

The kid was nervous. 

She watched as he sat directly across from her. To the untrained eye, his movements were a very good attempt at grace, an act to maintain his confident persona. But not good enough.

His actions were too rigid, too tense.

Too forced.

Her eyes drifted to his fingers as they tugged gently, almost absentmindedly, at the hem of his sleeve.

He was uncomfortable in his robes, she came to her conclusion. Of course he was uncomfortable, he had never worn wizarding robes in his life. He had grown up wearing muggle clothes.

From the corner of her eye she noticed the other first years shift away from him as though he was a disease. Curious, her gaze drifted to the boy, eager to see his response.

He noticed the other students too.

He didn’t react though, not that she expected him to. He wasn’t in the position to react. He was just thrust into a world he had never experienced before, he wasn’t aware why he was seemingly an outcast in this new world. 

But Evaline noticed the slight clench in his jaw, the flicker of raw rage in his eyes as he lifted his chin a tad higher even as he didn’t spare a glance to his disgusted classmates. He wasn’t going to remain outcasted for very long, Evaline mused silently.

The boy had brown hair, neatly combed and parted, his features were soft, like those any 11 year old child is expected to have. Yet, it was his eyes that truly caught Evaline's attention. A piercing shade of yale blue, they held a chilling aura, seemingly devoid of warmth or compassion. 

Almost unnatural on a child.

So very different to the crimson shade she was looking at earlier, the anger was replaced with curiosity, caution and a little nervousness. His Hogwarts uniform was immaculate, with his tie impeccably made, making it hard to believe that he was a poor orphan boy raised amongst Muggles.

Then his eyes snapped to her, narrowing ever so slightly in challenge. So subtle that if Evaline hadn’t spent most of her life analyzing intricate runes, she would not have noticed.

Well, at least she wasn’t bored anymore.

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom’s initial awe of joining Hogwarts was quickly driven away as he felt the looks he was receiving from the moment he sat down at the Slytherin table.

He had felt elated and eager when a Professor visited Wool’s and told him he was special, when he heard there were others like him and that he wasn’t a freak like the other kids at the orphanage said.

But now that he was here, he suddenly felt like he was back at the orphanage. The other kids shuffled away from him, distancing themselves like he was contagious. The looks of contempt he received from the older kids made him realise that they considered him an outsider.

Why? Why were they looking at him like that? Like he didn’t belong here?

He had magic, just like the rest of them. If anything, his magic was probably stronger, he was probably smarter. He had the right to be here just like any one of them, more even.

It infuriated him to be treated this way, as if he were somehow less than them. He had worked hard to prove himself, to rise above his humble beginnings in the orphanage.

The looks of scorn and dismissal he received from the Slytherins reminded him all too vividly of the disdainful glares he endured from the matrons and other children back at the orphanage.

It was a bitter taste he refused to endure again.

No matter, they will be dealt with in a matter of time, he thought grimly. He had learned early on how to control the children at the orphanage, to manipulate them into seeing him as a leader.

The same tactics should work with these Slytherins. They were nothing more than children, and he was already leagues above them in intellect and cunning.

As the Headmaster waved a hand, concluding his welcoming speech, a buffet of food appeared in front of him.

Tom’s eyes widened slightly, his mouth watered.

He had never seen this much food, this much variety in his life. He was already planning to slip a few bread rolls in his pockets in case he didn’t get food tomorrow. At the orphanage, the best he would receive was a slice of bread and a whole apple.

As eager as he was to start his meal, he could no longer ignore the eyes that had been on him from the second he was sorted into Slytherin. Steeling himself, he confidently met the girl's gaze, ready to defend himself. But to his surprise, the girl didn’t look at him with hateful eyes like he had expected nor did she look away at being caught.  

No, she looked more…interested? Curious?

Tom couldn’t fully comprehend what was going on in her mind, he couldn’t read her thoughts in her eyes like he could with the other kids. No, the girl’s eyes were completely blank, not a single emotion available to analyse.

He attempted to read her face, eyes narrowing slightly. She had her chin on her palm, assessing him. She was pretty, a voice whispered in the back of his mind but Tom quickly batted the thought away. He wasn't one to be swayed by superficialities.

Her black hair flowed in gentle waves down her chest, and her features were distinct with high cheekbones and a sharp chin, softened by a button nose. However, it was her eyes that captivated him the most. They were a mesmerising silver, a shade he had never seen before.

Suddenly, she stood and held out her hand, reaching over the table. Tom noticed her action caused most of the other Slytherins to look at the girl with baffled, shocked expressions.

But the girl didn’t seem worried in the slightest of being outcasted, relaxed as though she couldn’t feel the looks of the entire Slytherin house on her.

Instead, her lips quirked up ever so slightly as she held his gaze easily, “Evaline Este.”

Tom couldn’t help but feel a flicker of suspicion. Did she not notice the others' reactions to him or did she simply not care? Was she simply oblivious or stupid? 

But from the way she masked her emotions, the way her eyes were blank yet so confident made Tom believe she was not oblivious nor stupid. He felt a flicker of familiarity in her demeanour. She was like him.

His gaze darted from her offered hand, to her face, to the students looking at them. Her hand, and introduction hung in the air for a tense moment but her smile never flattered nor did her hand drop. She simply waited for his response. 

Slowly, he grasped her hand with his own, his expression giving away nothing as he nodded, “Tom. Tom Riddle.”

He tightened his grip painfully, eyeing her reaction. Would she react rashly, and scowl at him and make a scene or would she avoid him at all costs after this interaction, regretting ever talking to him?

She responded with a grin, her own hold on his hand tightening to rival his in challenge, a flicker of amusement in her blank eyes, “I have a feeling we’ll get along just fine, Tom.”

He was right. She was like him, not like those other foolish children in their house.

After a beat, a slow smile spread across his lips, “Likewise, Evaline.”

Maybe not all these children were fools.

༺═──────────────═༻

After Dinner, they were told to follow the Slytherin prefects to their common rooms. Tom couldn’t help but marvel at every and any detail around him as they were guided through the castle towards the dungeons, which was apparently where he was to live for the next seven years.

The castle was breathtaking, every candle, every hallway seemed to hold secrets, history and knowledge that Tom was eager to uncover. His gaze drifted to the girl walking briskly beside him, hands in her pockets and not at all impressed by the grand architecture.

Evaline caught his eyes and sent him a questioning look, a single brow raising. Tom opened his mouth to ask if she was already familiar with Hogwarts when Evaline was suddenly shoved, causing her to lurch a step forward.

Tom didn’t bother to stop her from stumbling or falling, simply watching what would happen.

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline cursed mentally as she lost her footing momentarily. She caught herself from falling at the last possible moment and smoothly straightened herself. Despite her magic, and her skills from her training, she was still in the body of a child, much to her annoyance.

She turned to face her so-called bully, and her eyes narrowed as she took in the sight before her. Two boys stood there, and she couldn't say she was surprised. 

One of them had a smug grin plastered across his face, as if he had achieved something worthy of an Order of Merlin by bullying a younger girl.

A sense of familiarity washed over her, though she couldn't quite place where she had seen him before. His platinum hair and grey eyes stood out, and the casual way he held his wand only added to his air of arrogance.

Yes, she hadn’t gone to Hogwarts but she had plenty of interactions with officials in the Ministry and the level of ridicule about the British Ministry that would go around in the break rooms and cafeteria were enough to easily identify the major players in the British Wizarding world.

Something clicked in her mind and she couldn’t stop the short snort of disbelief.

"How the Malfoys have fallen," she mused aloud, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "Resorting to shoving to prove their worth. How disappointing."

How childish.

Once again, Evaline was reminded that these future death eaters were just children right now. The worst they would resort to was a stinging hex or a physical shove. Not like the death eaters she was used to, those who would throw a crucio without so much a thought.

"So, you're aware of my identity, and yet you dare to address me with such impudence?" the boy sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance and entitlement, “Not to mention talking to a mudblood .”

“How rash of you. Are you sure you don’t belong in Gryffindor?” she drawled, eyeing the boy with no hidden disinterest, “Or are you simply incapable of holding a conversation without hiding behind your blood status?”

“Hiding?! I’ll have you know my entire family has been sorted into Slytherin-” Malfoy began, furious. 

She ignored him, attention drifting to the boy next to him. His features were sharp and finely chiselled, hinting at the aristocratic lineage that ran through his blood.

He had a strong jawline and high cheekbones and his dark, despite the baby fat clinging to his cheeks. His wavy hair fell in an unruly yet somehow controlled manner, framing his face in a way that exuded nobility. His eyes were a deep, intense shade of black, reminiscent of the night sky.

He was watching her with curious eyes, as though he couldn’t believe her audacity to talk to Malfoy with such disrespect. 

Interesting.

She tilted her head and met his gaze with confidence. Evaline Este reigned from a very powerful family and a select few in Britain know of the Este’s as they hailed from Italy. The Malfoy’s or Black’s were nothing compared to her.

Some of her confidence must have been displayed on her face because the second boy suddenly jutted out a hand, just the right amount of politeness injected into his tone, “Orion Black, Heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.”

Smart Boy.

Malfoy sputtered at Black’s sudden change in behaviour but they both ignored him.

“Evaline Este, of the House of Este,” she shook his hand, carefully keeping her status and house position out of her words.

Mostly because she didn’t want to disclose her status as High Lady and a little because she wanted to see how Black would react. Also because she wasn’t technically High Lady Este in this time and era.

Would he demand her title, reflecting an uncouth upbringing or would he not even notice?

Orion’s eyes narrowed, noticing the lack of information but he chose not to comment on it as he spoke casually, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Evaline.”

Evaine caught the challenge in his words. He greeted her with a muggle greeting testing her response, her level of education within the wizarding world about etiquettes to deem if she was worthy of his time. “Well met, Heir Black. A pleasure, indeed.”

The olde way of greeting.

His demeanour immediately brightened, satisfied by her response, “Well met, Ms Este. Apologies for my previous behaviour.” 

She nodded in acknowledgement, dropping her hand as her gaze drifted to Malfoy, “Were you not taught manners, Heir Malfoy or do you always resort to such mundane behaviours?”

Malfoy’s jaw tightened, his lips twitching, “Abraxas Malfoy, Heir of the Noble House of Malfoy. Well met, Ms Este.”

He refused to offer her a handshake and she raised a brow in amusement before dipping her head in acknowledgement, “Well met, Heir Malfoy.”

With that, she turned and resumed her spot next to Tom, who had been watching the interaction from a distance.

She didn’t miss the way he immediately distanced himself when she was shoved or the way he very smoothly avoided any interactions until he had more information on how to act in Slytherin House.

Gather information before acting up.

Very Cunning indeed, she mused to herself as they were ushered into the common room, very carefully avoiding Tom’s calculating gaze. 

༺═──────────────═༻

The second Evaline confronted the boys, Tom had immediately stepped away from the situation, opting to observe from a distance. The sudden confrontation gave him the opportunity to assess Evaline, her abilities and her mannerisms. Then, he would consider whether to keep her close or discard her.

"How the Malfoys have fallen. Resorting to shoving others to prove their worth. How disappointing ." she all but drawled.

Tom felt his brows rise at her tone. He expected her to be furious or annoyed but she seemed genuinely bored, given the sarcasm dripping from her words. Interesting.

So, she wasn’t easily intimidated nor was she afraid to stand her ground. She had also identified her opponent within a matter of seconds, taunting him with ease.

"So, you're aware of my identity, and yet you dare to address me with such impudence?" the boy sneered, “Not to mention talking to a mudblood .”

Mudblood? What is a mudblood? Tom could only assume it was a slur or an insult by the mere tone the boy was speaking in. He would have to properly research the term later and teach the boy a lesson if it was anything remotely insulting to Tom. 

Malfoy, the boy had confirmed Evaline’s assumption, was most likely someone of status if his arrogance was anything to go by with. Despite that, Malfoy seemed rash, conceited. He had easily taken the bait Evaline hung in front of him, making a fool out of himself.

The conversation continued but Evaline seemed to quickly lose interest in the Malfoy boy, instead turning to the other boy. Tom couldn’t see Evalines expression but something must have been on her face because the other boy changed his tactics, introducing himself with something akin to respect

“Orion Black, Heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.” he introduced himself. 

Heir?

Tom stored the boy's name and titles away for later research. It seemed the wizarding world was more different than he thought, if they were still utilising titles like Heirs. Tom noticed how Evaline’s own title seemed to be significantly beneath Orion Black’s with no mention of ‘heiress’ or ‘Ancient House’. 

Then, the boy - Orion - told her it was a pleasure to meet her. It seemed like a normal thing to Tom but his tone told Tom otherwise. And he was right when Evaline replied with, “Well met, Heir Black. A pleasure, indeed.”

Ah, so it was a test of some sort and Evaline had passed, it seemed if Black’s smile was anything to go by. The conversation flowed quickly after that, leaving Black with a curious smile, Malfoy with a bruised ego and Evaline with…

Nothing.

Evaline simply retook her place next to Tom and walked into the common room with curious eyes, avoiding Tom’s gaze, though he was quickly distracted as the prefect began talking, explaining the rules and expectations.

As Tom stepped into the Slytherin common room for the first time, his eyes scanned the surroundings with keen observation. 

The interior exuded an aura of elegance and grandeur, with plush furnishings adorned in deep shades of green and silver, befitting the house's noble reputation. The emerald velvet armchairs and polished mahogany tables spoke of a refined taste, and the Slytherin crest displayed proudly on the walls reminded all who entered of the house's ambition and cunning.

The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting the serpentine emblem of Slytherin, and the flickering light from the fireplace cast eerie shadows that seemed to dance around the room. The fireplace crackled with emerald flames, casting an eerie glow on the room's inhabitants. 

It felt oddly like home.

As the introductions came to the end and Professor Slughorn - the potions professor and Head of Slytherin House - had finished his…interesting introduction, they were to follow the prefects to their dorms. Tom glanced at Evaline and she gave him a farewell nod with a grin before she turned and followed the female prefect. 

Tom's eyes followed Evaline until she had vanished up the left set of stairs. He couldn't shake off the thoughts swirling in his mind, the encounter with the two boys and, most of all, Evaline Este. She was the only person who had greeted him without a hateful look, and that fact seemed to occupy his thoughts entirely.

The next morning, Tom descended to the common room with a flicker of anticipation. The previous night, he had met his three roommates; Orion Black, Sebastian Pucey and Abraxas Malfoy. When he introduced himself, Tom was met with a blank nod, an eye roll and a scoff before he was ignored entirely.

Tom didn’t entirely understand why he was being treated as such but he had managed to gather there was a significant difference in status between him and the boys. Clearly, given their titles and mannerisms. And it infuriated Tom. 

Just because he hadn’t a title didn’t mean he was incapable of doing the same things as them. If anything, Tom excelled in everything. He had already gone over all his textbooks more than twice a week before arriving at Hogwarts, and had already understood the theory. All that was left was to practise the magic practical component which he would easily master if it was anything like the readings.

༺═─────────────═༻

The next morning, Tom sat at the Slytherin table, glancing at the lavish amount of food with concealed eagerness. Swiftly, he picked up a piece of toast and buttered it generously before quickly taking a bite. 

He moved to pour himself a cup of water almost greedily but forced his movements to remain smooth, uneager. He couldn’t seem desperate in front of his enemies who already wanted something to hold against him. His pride simply wouldn’t let him, no matter how much he wanted to chug the entire glass down in one sip.

“You should try the pumpkin juice,” a voice interjected as he grasped the handle of the jug.

His eyes trailed to the girl across from him, halting. Evaline looked at him with a smile, her hair was tied into a loose bun with two strands framing her face. 

When he made no move, she took matters into her own hands as she leaned over, pouring a dark orange liquid in a goblet and sliding it to him. “Good morning, by the way.”

With that, she settled back into her seat and poured herself a cup of tea, handling the delicate teapot with practised grace. Tom's eyes followed her movements with a keen interest as she reached for the honey pot.

He observed how she swirled the dripper a few times before carefully letting three drops of honey fall into her teacup. The soft tinkling sound as the droplets hit the surface of the tea filled the air.

She met his gaze, one hand absentmindedly swirling her tea with a teaspoon, the other on the table in front of her chest. She nodded at the goblet, “Try it.”

His gaze shifted from the goblet filled with the vibrant orange liquid to Evaline, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. Slowly, he released his grip on the water jug he was holding and reached out for the pumpkin juice.

Tom had never had juice before. Life at the orphanage was anything but kind to Tom Riddle. The matron was a stern and unyielding woman, selfish, taking fundings for her own benefits and desires. Meals were meagre, and Tom often went to bed with an empty stomach, lucky to have even a sip of water to quench his thirst. 

With slight hesitation, he brought the goblet to his lips and took a small sip. The taste that greeted him was unexpected, as it didn't resemble the traditional flavour of pumpkin. Instead, it was a delightful combination of sweetness and coolness, gliding down his throat with a refreshing sensation. 

Setting the goblet down, Tom was met by Evaline's raised expectant eyebrow and licked his lips. "It's... different," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of surprise.

She smiled, her attention momentarily diverted as the boy from last night sat next to her.

The boy nodded his head in greeting, “Good Morning Evaline.” his gaze slid to Tom and after a beat, he nodded again, “Tom.”

Tom said nothing, distaste lingering on his tongue from the way the kid had disregarded his introduction in the dorm rooms last night. 

Evaline nodded blankly in greeting, “Orion.”

Any smiles or enthusiasm she had shown Tom moments ago were gone, replaced with a mask of indifference. 

There was a moment of silence as Evaline slowly sipped her tea, her gaze on something distant. Noises of cutlery and chatter filled the air as Tom returned to his breakfast, taking sips of the newly introduced pumpkin juice between his food.

Tom noticed from the corner of his eye that Evaline was comfortable in the silence but Orion looked incredibly awkward given the way he was fidgeting with his food. It seemed Evaline noticed too as her lips quirked up for a split second before she smoothed her expressions.

“So,” Orion spoke again, clearing his throat, “What classes are you looking forward to?” 

The boy’s gaze was on Evaline mainly but his eyes flickered to Tom occasionally. After a long moment of silence to the point Orion was getting fidgety, Evaline responded, “Ancient Runes. Though, I’m sure we won’t be studying that until 5th year.”

Dark eyes slid to Tom, awaiting his response. Tom, internally scoffed at the mere audacity of Orion. After shunning him and deeming him unworthy, he had the nerve to speak to Tom casually.

Feeling nothing but contempt for the boy, Tom replied curtly, “Potions.”

“Professor Slughorn is a remarkable teacher, I've heard. He has a mastery in potions and he’s been teaching for quite a while,”

Nodding, Orion continued, “I’m looking forward to charms. I went over the curriculum in advance and some of the spells seem interesting, rather practical as well.”

Tom watched Evaline suddenly quirk an amused brow, dragging her gaze to the boy, “I would’ve assumed your favourite subject is astronomy, Orion .”

Orion. Tom thought for a moment, trying to understand Evaline’s implications. Orion is a prominent constellation located on the celestial equator and visible throughout the world, commonly used as an aid to locate other stars.

Orion scowled, “I’ll have you know not all of the Black’s associate with stars. My aunt is named Lycoris, after a flowering plant associated with death in Chinese and Japanese culture.”

Ah, Tom quickly understood what he could gather from the bits of information. It seems the Black family named their heirs after stars or constellations…a tradition perhaps?

How utterly idiotic, Tom thought.

What was the purpose unless the family is renowned for their knowledge in stars? From what he gathered, the Black’s have no interest in stars apart from naming their heirs. Absolutely no originality nor meaning behind this tradition. 

“Lycoris means ‘twilight’ if translated directly from the Greek language,” Tom spoke for the first time, his voice confident and smooth, if only curious to see what Orion Blanck would do and how he would react to a little probing.

Orion’s gaze snapped to him, an expression of contemplation and scorn in his eyes. Evaline, on the other hand, smirked as she gestured to Tom, amused, “I hate to say I told you so Orion but…”

“It’s a family tradition, Este, and I take pride in it,” Orion sniffed, nose in the air as he refused to rise to the taunts like Malfoy so foolishly did the night before.

Evaline merely hummed, taking a sip of her tea as her eyes wandered around the Great Hall and Tom found himself wondering what was going on in her mind. 

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline’s eyes lit up as she eyed the blonde figure walk into the Great Hall with every bit of arrogance a Malfoy could muster. She watched, amused, as the boy strutted towards the Slytherin table and couldn’t help but wonder if the Malfoy’s ego’s were a genetic trait.

She had met Lucius Malfoy and his son very briefly when they had come to Italy for a vacation and Evaline happened to be with the Minister at the time. 

Malfoy sneered at a pair of Gryffindors as he almost bumped into them and the lions glared right back as he shoved past them.

Her finger twitched ever so subtly and Malfoy slipped on the hem of his robe, crashing straight to the ground with an undignified yelp.

He attempted to grab the bench near him to break his fall but ended up grabbing the robes of an older Slytherin girl and she toppled from her seat, joining the Malfoy on the ground.

Satisfaction gleamed from her eyes as she raised her teacup to hide her smirk. In doing so, her eyes met Tom’s narrowed ones and he raised a brow.

She winked, ‘An eye for an eye.’ she mouthed and Tom’s brows rose to his hairline as his gaze drifted to Malfoy, still on the floor and red faced, who was verbally getting ripped into shreds by the older Slytherin girl, who just so happened to be a prefect.

Chapter Text

Lord Voldemort, previously known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, was the most feared Dark Lord back in her time. Rightfully so in Evaline’s opinion.

His unmatched magical prowess and prodigious talent made him a force to be reckoned with. Renowned as the brightest wizard of his era, he was a master manipulator, wielding his charm and charisma like a dangerous weapon. With a mere smile and a few carefully chosen words, Voldemort had heirs of powerful houses vying to serve him, drawn to his allure like moths to a flame.

But it was his knowledge of the dark arts that truly set him apart and instilled fear in those who opposed him. Voldemort's fascination with the darker aspects of magic was not inherently alarming to Evaline. After all, the wizarding world was vast and diverse, with many branches of magic to explore, even the ones considered taboo. However, the issue that deeply concerned her was the way he pursued the dark arts without proper guidance and supervision.

Voldemort had been pushed away from researching the dark arts, but such restrictions only fueled his curiosity and ambition. It was obvious when you told a child ‘no’, they were going to go above and beyond to defy that order.

So Voldy’s next steps weren’t surprising to include defying authority and convention; he delved into the dark arts blindly, without anyone to guide him or caution him about the dangers that lay ahead.

Evaline’s index finger tapped absentmindedly on the wooden desk as she blatantly ignored Dumbledore's introduction and welcome to Hogwarts and their first Transfiguration lesson.

It was their very first lesson at Hogwarts and she had silently seated herself next to Tom Riddle somewhere in the middle of the classroom, not that he had protested. She had no interest in Dumbledore or Hogwarts for the matter. Sure it was pretty and all but compared to Este Castle it really wasn’t all that impressive to her.

So when Dumbledore began speaking, Evaline tuned him out, her mind returning to her sole reason for being here. 

But why did Voldemort create Horcruxes? What had driven him to fall victim to cursed magic? 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Surely he was aware of the consequences of doing so, or perhaps when seeing the opportunity for immortality, he had hastily created a horcrux disregarding the after effects?

No. No, that can’t be right. Voldemort was many things but reckless was not one of them. Surely, if he read about horcruxes, he would have had to know that immortality doesn't come for free. There was always a price.

For every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction. Newton's 3rd Law.

That applies in terms of magic as well. For immortality, Voldemort had given up his intelligence, magic, charm and looks. From what she could see Voldy would never give up his intelligence willingly, no matter how desperate he was. That would be a fool’s errand. A likely possibility is that he was simply unaware of the consequences.

After all, Voldemort had limited access to information and resources. His only sources on dark arts were from his followers' libraries or Salazar Slytherin’s private library. That was nowhere near enough to fully grasp a firm hold on the dark arts which led her to her next thought. Why had he created a horcrux?

Tap. Tap.

For immortality, that she knew already. But, why had he craved immortality to such an extent that he tore his soul into 7 pieces? Why not only once or twice? Why take the risk with such limited knowledge? What did he desire so badly?

From what she knew, he resided in a muggle orphanage. A place by the name of ‘Wool’s’ if she remembered correctly. Apparently, Voldemort detested that place with a passion. But his detest leached into desperation around his second year as he pleaded with the Headmaster to stay at Hogwarts during break but was immediately denied. 

1939.

Voldemort’s second year at Hogwarts. He was 13 years of age at that point. What could have happened in 1939 to make him turn so desperate? 

Tap .

The muggle world war. War always had destruction, havoc. Death of innocents; children, men, women alike. War did not discriminate. 

Voldemort was a child - is a - child. He was scared. He was alone. Surrounded by allies who were nothing more than mere acquaintances, he couldn't trust anyone. Dumbldore had failed him, the staff had turned their backs on him and sent him back into the warzone. There was no one truly on his side.

Every year, he was forced to return to the orphanage, where the horrors of war were even more palpable. The close explosions echoed through the walls, accompanied by the heart-wrenching screams and pleas of innocent lives lost. Tom felt powerless, unable to use magic to defend himself without facing expulsion from the only place he had ever considered safe.

In the dim and squalid room, he would crouch in a corner, listening to the chaos outside, waiting for destruction to descend upon him. The fear of becoming just another unknown boy, another casualty of the war, haunted him day and night. No one would remember him, no achievements to his name, just an orphan left to fade away.

Voldemort was a child caught in the middle of a war with his greatest weapon of defence rendered forbidden from use. In his great fear, he grew desperate, looking for a way to protect himself. 

Evaline’s tapping stilled, finger freezing mid-air, as everything snapped into place. 

Voldemort led himself to his own destruction because he was so terribly and utterly alone, with no one by his side. Her mind briefly went to the red eyed Voldemort when he looked at her with curiosity.

‘You do not seem to fear death’ he had asked.

The war. His horcruxes. His paranoia about the prophesied child. He wasn’t merely interested in the allure of immortality. Lord Voldemort had Apocalyptophobia .

“Ms Este, care to share your thoughts with the class?” 

She snapped out of her pondering, her eyes meeting Dumbledore’s who had apparently stopped his lecture to scold her. All eyes were on her, both Slytherin and Gryfindors alike stared at her, some in amusement, some in annoyance. 

“Well?” Dumbledore prompted, and immediately she didn’t like the way his eyes twinkled. They were condescending as though he relished in embarrassing a child, or from the rumours she had heard from when he was Headmaster in her era, relished embarrassing a Slytherin student.

On her right, Tom’s eyes slid to her as she failed to provide a response and the class waited in silence. Tom looked somewhere between irritated and curious, as though the way she would handle this would decide her worth.

An opportunity. Evaline straightened, meeting Dumbledore’s gaze head on “Yes, In fact. I would like to ask a question… sir .”

Dumbledore’s eyes hardened. He really thought she would fluster or apologise and he would take off points from Slytherin. But he hadn’t expected her confidence, her lack of waver at the tone that toed the line of subtle disrespect.

“Is that so? Please, don’t hold back on my account.”

Evaline didn’t miss the way Tom’s lips twitched at Dumbledore's annoyed tone.

“With magic, it is known that the theory of equivalent exchange is prominent. Every action has a reaction and to obtain something, you must exchange something of equivalent value.” Evaline began, vaguely noting the gleam of interest in Tom’s eyes as he leaned a little closer, almost subconsciously, “That principle can be seen in spell casting, potions and alchemy but not in transfiguration. Transfiguration is an unequal exchange, yet has no consequences.”

She paused, wanting to see how exactly the famous Dumbeldore would react to a masters level topic and theory. Dumbledore was watching her curious and wary eyes, ironically. He tilted his head, “Why do you think so?”

Gesturing to the matchstick on her desk, “Transfiguring a piece of wood into a needle, for example. Wood for crafted metal; Surely that itself seems like an unequal exchange. Is it the spell we cast that balances the exchange, fueled by the caster’s magical core or is the art of transfiguration simply unequal therefore denying the accuracy of the theory of Equivalent exchange altogether?”

Dumbldore didn’t answer at first, instead just staring at her blankly. Nervously, the class glanced back and forth between the professor and the student. None of the kids looked like they really understood what she was talking about, but she didn’t really care. What Evaline did care about was whether Tom understood.

And from the way she could see the wheels turning in his head, the way he seemed to contemplate her words and look at Dumbledore in expectation, gave her all she needed to know. 

Hook, line and sinker.

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom had come to harbor hatred towards Dumbledore ever since their first interactions. The old man looked at him with a wariness that seemed reserved solely for him. Even when Dumbledore came to the orphanage, the man set his meagre belongings ablaze, leaving Tom with nothing but the diary in his pocket. It was a betrayal in Tom's eyes, a theft of his possessions, however meagre they may have been.

What annoyed Tom even more was the stark contrast between Dumbledore's attitude towards him and everyone else. It was as if Tom was the sole recipient of Dumbledore's suspicion, while others remained unbothered.

Tom observed from the corner of his eye as Evaline met Dumbledore's gaze head-on, displaying no flicker of admiration in her eyes when she spoke to him. Her confident response was laced with subtle tones of disrespect, a demeanour so different from how others would immediately fluster or be in awe of Dumbledore's presence. It was evident that she held no fondness for the renowned wizard, just like Tom.

His mind automatically went back to the scene from this morning, the amused look in Evaline's eyes when Malfoy tripped over himself and caused a scene in the middle of the Great Hall.

When he saw the boy stumble, Tom honestly thought Malfoy was just reckless or clumsy. But the look in Evaline’s eyes, the smirk she had hidden behind her cup that no one but Tom seemed to notice instantly told him the accident wasn't a mere accident.

Malfoy had shoved her the previous night and Tom first thought Evaline was just happy seeing the boy make a fool of himself. But then she had mouthed, with absolutely no shame, ‘An eye for an eye.’ 

Tom realised, at that moment, that Evaline had somehow been behind the entire fiasco. How? He wasn’t totally sure because he hadn’t seen her say a spell or her wand in her hand.

Amusement flickered in Tom's mind, and he found himself liking Evaline a little more. She didn't seem to have any hidden agendas when approaching him, and she treated him like an actual human being, unlike the others in Slytherin who regarded him with disdain for reasons Tom had yet to fully comprehend.

At first, Tom had been cautious of Evaline, but with every interaction, she seemed to capture his interest. And for a moment, not for the first time, he wondered if perhaps they were more alike than he had initially thought.

The Theory of Equivalent Exchange.

Tom's curiosity piqued. The phrase sounded familiar, reminiscent of Newton's Third Law but in the context of magic. Was this a well-known concept in the magical world? He glanced around at his classmates, but their puzzled expressions revealed their lack of understanding.

It became clear that the Theory of Equivalent Exchange was not common knowledge among them. Not even those of status, such as Malfoy or Black who seemed just as confused as everyone else, although Black hid his confusion behind a blank face while Malfoy outright sneered at Este for having the audacity of knowing something he didn’t, not that she seemed to care or notice.

Tom bit his tongue to hold back his own sneer as he ripped his gaze away from Malfoy, annoyance surging. The boy had such a status that he had no problem in boasting about yet he couldn’t act accordingly, blatantly displaying his every thought and emotion?

Absolutely disgusting.

The flicker of surprise in Dumbledore's eyes further confirmed that it was an advanced concept. Yet Evaline spoke of it with unwavering confidence, as if it were second nature to her. It was intriguing to witness such depth of understanding and familiarity with the topic.

Tom made a mental note to delve deeper into the theory. If it held such significance and had eluded the majority of his peers, it was certainly worth exploring. For now, he listened intently to Evaline's brief explanation and her question.

"Transfiguring a piece of wood into a needle, for example. Surely that itself seems like an unequal exchange. Is it the spell we cast that balances the exchange, fueled by our magical cores?" she had asked, though she looked utterly bored by her own question.

Tom found himself grappling with his thoughts, attempting to comprehend and formulate an answer. However, his limited knowledge on the topic left him uncertain, and he instinctively looked at the Professor for the response, extremely curious about magical theory now and vowing to add it to the list of things he needs to research.

He observed the shift in Dumbledore's eyes, from annoyance to a deep wariness directed towards Evaline. It was the same look Dumbledore often gave Tom—an expression of suspicion and scrutiny. But it wasn’t entirely hateful. It was a look of caution.

After what felt like hours, Dumbledore finally responded, "You are correct, Ms. Este. Indeed, while the physical materials may seem unequal, the caster's magical core compensates for the disparity. Thus, for more challenging transfigurations the caster must possess considerable magical strength."

Evaline tilted her head, processing the information. "I assume that's why not all witches and wizards can achieve an Animagus transformation?"

Dumbledore pursed his lips, his eyes studying Evaline intently. "That is rather advanced thinking for someone your age, Ms. Este."

He would also have to figure out what an Animagus transformation was and master it. Tom observed Evaline's reaction and couldn't help but be amused. She looked wholly unfazed by the suspicions against her and drawled, "I like to read read... sir ."

As Tom observed Evaline's calm demeanour and the slight flicker of amusement in her eyes, a realisation jolted within him. She already knew the answer to her own question. She was playing with Dumbledore, testing his knowledge, and toying with him. It was all a deliberate act to see how the professor would respond.

He made another mental note to keep a closer eye on Evaline. She was not just another student in Slytherin; she was someone worth watching, someone who could potentially be a valuable ally or a formidable adversary. And for Tom Riddle, the prospect of such a challenge was exhilarating.

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline leaned comfortably against the bench, a book propped up on her knee, while Tom sat across from her, diligently writing on a parchment. After classes, for the first time, Tom initiated the conversation with her, asking if she would like to study in the library together.

She had agreed, and within 30 minutes, she finished her transfiguration, potions and charms homework effortlessly. Of course, it was children's work for her – she was an accomplished Unspeakable at the age of 27 for Merlin’s sake. So, she picked up a book on advanced ancient runes and delved into reading, ignoring Tom's curious glances and questioning looks that she could feel burning into the side of her head.

He hadn't commented on how quickly she finished her homework, nor did he remark on her choice of reading or her interaction with Dumbledore. But Evaline knew it was only a matter of time before his patience ran out. He was still a child after all; a curious child recently introduced to the new world of magic. It was only a matter of time. She flipped a page, eyes trailing the words at lightning speed.

Tom finally spoke a few minutes later, placing his quill down by his parchment, "Evaline." 

About time, she was beginning to get bored. Evaline hummed and looked up, meeting his gaze.

"I hope you don't mind if I ask you a few questions," Tom said, flashing her a charming smile.

Evaline resisted the urge to snort at the kid’s attempt of being charming. Merlin, she was about to witness Tom Riddle begin his charismatic persona that he would use for the next seven years to charm any and every person he encounters to carry out his bidding. How cute.

"Go ahead”

"You see, I was raised without the knowledge of magic, only being recently introduced to it when I got my Hogwarts letter," Tom began, watching her carefully, "so there are a few things here at Hogwarts that are new to me."

She nodded, her face showing no emotion as she snapped her book shut with an audible ‘snap’ and placed it on the table, giving him her full attention. 

"Yesterday, I noticed the atmosphere was a bit...hostile, even amongst my dorm mates. You were the only person to speak to me. Why?" Tom asked, genuinely curious.

The question caught Evaline off guard. She expected him to ask about the theory or the hierarchy or something. She didn’t expect Tom Riddle would ask why she was being nice to him.

And for the first time, it hit Evaline that this boy wasn’t Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord. This was Tom Riddle, a paranoid little boy new to the magic world who hadn’t experienced a friendship or a positive relationship. 

Tom Riddle wanted   a  friend. 

He really, truly did but he would never admit it in fear of seeming desperate. But he was cautious, extremely cautious- even suspicious why someone would be friends with him without a benefit of gain.

Evaline recognized the golden opportunity that had presented itself. She knew that she needed Tom to trust her. What better way to do it by making him rely solely on her for information about the wizarding world he was just recently introduced into. If she provided him with knowledge of such depth and complexity, any other source would pale in comparison.

That was the first step in making the future Dark Lord dependent on her guidance and influence. After all, he was still a young and impressionable boy, easy to mould.

She placed a hand on the hardcover of her book, her index finger tapping rhythmically. Tom’s eyes darted to her finger and she knew the subtle gesture made sure she had his attention. With a measured tone, she began to explain, painting a vivid and detailed picture of the magical world and its intricacies.

"In the British Wizarding world, one must first comprehend the concept of 'purebloods'. Purebloods are individuals whose.."

As she spoke, Tom listened intently, his curiosity piqued. He was like a sponge, absorbing every piece of information she presented. 

Evaline knew that knowledge was power, and by positioning herself as the gatekeeper of information for Tom, she was setting herself up as an indispensable ally. She needed to become someone close to Tom Riddle, someone who can influence him. Sure, she didn’t feel pleased about manipulating a child but she wanted to see just what greatness Tom Riddle could bring to Britain if he hadn’t fractured his soul.

And if that meant she had to manipulate the future Dark Lord then so be it.

Tom's rage simmered beneath the surface as he absorbed Evaline's words. How dare they look down on him, treat him as if he were beneath them just because of his bloodline? Blood didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of destroying them. Under the table, he clenched his fists, his anger hardening with each passing moment.

They will pay for their arrogance. They will all eat their words soon enough.

Tom will rise soon. He will make them pay. A future where he would rise to power, where he would command respect and fear from those who had once looked down on him. He would make them kneel before him, begging for mercy, just as they had made him suffer.

"Why do you speak to me?" Tom's voice carried a sharp edge, his eyes piercing as he sought answers, steeling himself for betrayal. "Are you a half-blood or Muggle-born?"

Evaline met his gaze with an unreadable expression, her composure unwavering. Tom's fists clenched tighter as he awaited her response. Did she associate with him because she, too, felt like an outcast? Did she truly believe they were on the same level? Did she think he would accept his fate and remain at the bottom of the social ladder?

Then, to his surprise, she shrugged, her demeanour nonchalant. "I don't know, honestly."

His thoughts halted, confusion etched on his furrowed brow. "What do you mean?"

"I don’t know my blood status. I told you before," she said, perching her chin on her palm, "blood purity is only relevant in the British wizarding world. I hail from Italy, and no one there cares about blood purity. About fifteen generations ago, people simply stopped keeping track of such matters."

Tom's anger subsided momentarily as he considered her words.

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline watched the gears turning in Tom's head with a mix of satisfaction and intrigue. How interesting to see that infamous intelligence of the young prodigy at work. This was the moment she had been waiting for, the perfect opening to delve the need for a changed society deeper into his mind.

"Every society has a hierarchy," Tom began, his eyes calculating, "No society is truly equal. There are always those who hold power over others."

Ah, there it is.

What she had been waiting for.

She smirked as she saw him grasping the concept she had subtly presented to him earlier.

"In Italy, the strongest rise to the top based on their skills and power," she continued, locking eyes with him. "There's no place for the weak or those deemed unworthy. It's a world where true strength dictates one's position, not some misguided notion of blood purity. You can gain a Noble title if you wield the power to do so and you can lose your title if you can no longer wield that power."

Evaline could see the spark of understanding in Tom's eyes, the realisation that the traditional notions of blood purity were nothing but empty words but what really mattered was your competence.

"There is only power, and those who take it," she reiterated, subtly drilling the notion into his head, very well aware every word she said would be the foundations for the future dark lord with a whole soul, "That's the rule we live by, and it's a rule that can't be ignored."

As his intrigue deepened, Evaline knew she had successfully planted the seeds of a shared vision in his mind. This was the beginning of a dangerous partnership, one that could potentially shape the future of the British wizarding world.

"May I ask you a question now?" she said, smiling sweetly and leaning forward with a glint of amusement in her eyes.

Tom's gaze sharpened, and after a moment of consideration, he nodded. With a smile, she pointed to the black leather-bound diary with his name engraved in gold stating ‘Tom M. Riddle’.

"What does the 'M' stand for?" 

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom frowned, his eyes snapping to his journal and lingering on the golden engravings. Tom had bought the journal from a muggle street a few blocks from the Orphanage after he found out he was attending Hogwarts.

He was absolutely brimming with excitement as he took all his saved pounds and bought the personalised journal. It was the very first time he owned something that was solely his, from his own money, and not stolen from the other children. 

Surprise gnawed at him, caught off guard by the question. Tom was fully prepared to hide his weaknesses from the girl’s question, he was ready to defend himself if she dared to frown upon him for his muggle upbringing. He had expected her to ask about his Muggle upbringing or something more probing, but instead, she was simply curious about his middle name?

"Marvolo. Tom Marvolo Riddle," he answered slowly, still slightly taken aback by her interest.

"Marvolo," she repeated, as though savouring the taste of it on her tongue. Evaline tilted her head, scanning his face thoughtfully. "Marvolo suits you more than Tom.”

A small, genuine smile curved her lips, one that seemingly was reserved only for him he had come to notice, not the fake ones she showed to Orion Black or Dumbledore. She nodded confidently, as if agreeing with the thoughts in her mind, "I shall call you Marvolo from now on. If you’ll let me of course."

Tom's mind reeled as he blinked in surprise. He didn't know what to make of her unexpected request. Evaline was looking at him differently, treating him as though he was worth being seen and acknowledged.

Not to mention she was asking for his permission, making sure she didn't cross a boundary he might be uncomfortable with. A strange warmth spread through him, something he couldn't quite explain.

As Evaline gazed at him expectantly, he couldn't help but feel a little dazed by the whole interaction. But something in him urged him to nod slowly, giving his permission for her to call him Marvolo.

Evaline's grin widened, triumphant as though she had just received a Christmas present. "Marvolo it is then."

At that moment, Tom didn't realise it, but he had unconsciously accepted Evaline into his life. Years later, he would look back and realise that on this day, he had made his first and only true friend.

Chapter Text

For a moment, Tom no longer felt in control of his body. Correction, he was not in control of his body. 

Tom blinked in surprise as he was briskly dragged through the crowded sea of students. He had no idea what had possessed Evaline to yank him out of the library and bring him with her, after forcing him to put on his warmest robe and neck scarf. Her gleeful expression was something he had never seen before and in his brief moment of shock, Evaline took the opportunity to drag him along.

Her grip on his arm was surprisingly strong, making him wonder what she had for breakfast this morning because despite all the shoving and pushing in the crowd, she kept an ironclad grip on him, easily slipping through. He decided not to protest, in mild fear of being trampled by the crowd, and allowed her to lead him to wherever she was dragging him to.

As they reached their seats, she released him and he rubbed his arm where her grip had been, mildly impressed and slightly bewildered by her enthusiasm while trying to regain some composure as he sat down next to her. 

"Ravenclaw and Gryffindors are playing today," Evaline explained, her eyes sparkling with excitement as the stands began to fill with students. "Whoever wins today will face Slytherin after the next match."

Tom eyed immense glee in her expression, her smile so big, he couldn’t help but wonder if she slept with a hanger in her mouth. But before he could comment, his attention was drawn to the teams as they flew onto the field, clad in their Quidditch uniforms, hovering at dangerous heights.

As the game began, 4 different balls were released into the air and a Ravenclaw boy's voice echoed through the pitch, providing commentary. Next to him, Evaline provided her own comments in a quiet voice, expertly explaining the different balls and player positions.

He let her talk, mostly because he had no idea what was going on.

"That boy over there, number three," she pointed at a Ravenclaw boy who was zooming through the pitch with a ball under his arm, "is a chaser. The ball he's holding is called a quaffle, and there are three chasers on the team whose job is to score goals through the big hoops."

Tom's attention was firmly fixed on number three as he swiftly threw the quaffle into the highest hoop, inciting a cheer from the crowd. The boy soared back to his teammates, exchanging enthusiastic high fives along the way and Tom wondered if the boy had sticky charmed himself to stay stable on the broom.

"Each goal is worth 10 points," Evaline explained as the game resumed, her eyes following the swift movements of the players.

She gestured toward the Gryffindor who skillfully blocked the Quaffle with his broom. "Number 7 is a keeper. He's essentially a goal keeper."

“What about the ones with baseball bats?” Tom found himself asking, despite his initial disinterest in what seemed to be a dangerously stupid game.

He nodded towards a Gryffindor who wacked a rather aggressive ball that went sailing towards the Ravenclaw keeper, who barely dodged. Tom suppressed a grimace as the keeper let out a sigh of relief, eyeing the bludger that nearly knocked him off his broom for a moment before his attention was back on the game.

"He's a beater," Evaline clarified, her gaze following Tom's as they both observed the player in action. "The ball he hit is a Bludger. They're nasty little things, charmed to knock the players off their brooms. The beaters keep the Bludgers away from their own teammates. How exciting!"

Nope. Absolutely not. Not exciting. Death defying, dangerous and foolish? Yes. Exciting? hell no. This game was so full of unnecessary risks. Tom would never be found on a broomstick even if someone paid him.

At Evaline’s response, Tom nodded to let her know he heard her but completely disagreed with her, his eyes tracking the Quaffle as it was intercepted by the Ravenclaw team, completely shifting the momentum of the game as another goal was scored.

The score was now 40-30 with Gryffindors in the lead, though the Ravenclaw team was getting sneakier with their strategies, quickly catching up.

"If the Bludger hits an opponent," she continued with a sly grin, her tone nonchalant as her eyes tracked one of the bludgers that hit a chaser on the arm, "well, two birds with one stone, I guess."

Tom was mildly impressed and a little unnerved of the viciousness in her smile. Suddenly a cheer erupted and the Gryffindor students in the stands jumped to their feet in smug victory.

“And Gryffindor has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor has caught the golden snitch!” the commentator's voice echoed with a tinge of disappointment, “Gryffindor wins the match by 160 points!”

༺═──────────────═༻

As Gryffindor was declared as the first winners of the season, Evaline tsked in annoyance, leaning back in her seat, “Just when it was getting interesting.”

Of course, they would end the game just as the Ravenclaw team began to pick up the pace in scoring goals. When Evaline heard about the Quidditch game during some breakfast chatter, she couldn't contain her excitement, having momentarily forgotten about the mere existence of quidditch in this era until now. 

Filled with glee, she reflexly sought out Marvolo and forcibly dragged him with her, just for the sheer sake of it. She was excited to see a quidditch match at Hogwarts. Sure, she had been to the world cup and all but to see it at Hogwarts was a different experience.

This was the only thing that probably excited her about Hogwarts. Other than that, the education was mediocre, the architecture wasn’t bad and the staff were biased.

As she scowled at the Gryffindor team celebrating their victory -she was mad that they robbed her of a good game- Marvolo’s voice broke through her thoughts, as he asked, "How did they win by 160 points? Didn’t they just have 40 points?"

Realising she had temporarily lost herself in annoyance and forgotten about the boy she brought along, Evaline stood up, pointing at number 11, the Gryffindor seeker, "He's a seeker. See the golden ball in his hand? It's called a Golden Snitch, worth 150 points, and the game ends when it's caught. It's incredibly fast and an annoying thing to be stuck looking for. Gryffindor must have realised that Ravenclaw was gaining on them, so they ended the game while they were still ahead."

As they walked back to the castle, Evaline grinned, "Say, Marvolo, will I ever have the privilege of seeing you on a broom?"

Marvolo scowled at her, clearly not amused by the idea, “Maybe when hell freezes over.”

"Come on," Evaline teased, nudging him lightly, "I'm sure you'd look quite dashing up there, soaring through the air like a true wizard. Girls would fall off the stands just to get a good look at you."

He rolled his eyes at her, "I assure you, I'll look just as dashing with both feet firmly planted on the ground," he replied with a hint of arrogance.

His defiance only fueled Evaline's amusement, and she couldn't resist pushing a little more. "Oh, I'm sure you'll be the very picture of elegance," she goaded, "Unless, of course, you plan on failing our flying lesson tomorrow?"

His scowl deepened, his pride taking over. "Failure is not a word in my vocabulary," he stated firmly, “I shall do the minimal requirements and pass the class with ease.”

Evaline's grin widened, finding immense joy in finding something Prodigy Riddle seemed nervous about. "Well, then," she said, matching his pace, "I can't wait to see you on a broom tomorrow, proving me wrong like the great wizard you are."

He glowered at her, picking up his pace as they approached the castle entrance. But Evaline wasn't one to be outdone; she laughed and darted forward, effortlessly catching up with him.

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom had come to discover in his first flying class that, he in fact, was not suited for flying. Well, it was predicted of course but Tom didn’t think he was completely hopeless in the flying component.

His frustration grew with each passing moment, his scowl deepening as the broom refused to budge even an inch from the ground. Tom glared at the broom as if it had personally insulted him.

It had.

He couldn't understand why he was struggling with such a basic task, not when he had managed to top every one of his classes, either by a point more than Evaline or equally tied with her.

Next to him, he watched as Evaline's broom gracefully soared into her awaiting hand. She wore a triumphant grin, and she shot an amused look at Malfoy, who stood a few feet away, gaping at the broom in her hand. Tom's annoyance only intensified, and he narrowed his eyes at the stubborn broomstick, as if his glare would will the blasted thing to move.

Evaline's chuckle pulled him from his concentration, and he turned to glare at her as well. She leaned closer, her voice a hushed whisper, and Tom was very certain he was about to be mocked. 

"You know, Marvolo," Evaline started, eyeing him with a knowing look, "sometimes the harder you try, the more the broom resists you. Broom's have a bit of an ego, you could say. Don’t think you’re commanding it, you are merely guiding it."

His scowl deepened, not used to being lectured or given advice. Yet, a small part of him acknowledged that she might be right. Evaluating his approach, he relaxed his stance and took a steadying breath. He cleared his mind of frustration and focused on the broomstick before him, imagining it moving into his hand with ease. “Up.”

Nothing.

Just as Tom was about to snap the cursed stick in half out of sheer frustration, Evaline spoke once more, this time her tone a little more encouraging, “Try it again.”

He shot her a dark look to which she merely raised a brow. After knowing Evaline for a day, he had come to realise that his dark looks and glares did not, at all, intimidate the girl like it scared all the other kids into obedience. Evaline, instead, would be thoroughly amused- which, as much as Tom hated to admit it, had made his respect for the girl rise by a smidge.

She nodded at the broom encouragingly and Tom sighed, before focusing on the blasted broom once more. “Up.”

To his astonishment, the broom trembled and then lifted into the air, albeit only a few inches. Tom's eyes widened, and a sense of accomplishment washed over him. He looked back at Evaline, who had a small, proud smile on her face and nodded at the broom once more in encouragement.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy’s broom move as well and determination surged in him. Tom was not going to be outdone by Malfoy. Never in a million years. With a deep breath, he cleared his mind of any doubts. "Up!" he commanded, trying to muster all the authority he could. 

The broom shot to his hand. After a moment of shock, he instinctively looked back up at Evaline, beaming. She gave him a wide grin of her own and he felt that odd warm feeling in his chest again. He noticed Malfoy’s broom shot to his hand just a second after his own and he couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at the hateful glare Malfoy was sending his way.

Evaline gave him a knowing smile, “Not bad. Still second to me after all.”

He scowled, looking away from Evaline and kept a firm grasp on the broom, just in case it decided to run away. Under his annoyance, Tom didn’t mind being outdone by Evaline. At least she was someone on par with his intelligence. There were worse people to be equal to.

Like Malfoy.

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom was definitely not pouting. Absolutely not.

He was not at all disappointed that Evaline was going home for the Christmas holidays and was leaving Tom all alone with Dumbledore at Hogwarts.

He watched as she lugged her small trunk down the stairs, trying to hide his frown. She was wearing casual black robes with stitched patterns on the collars. Evaline had once told him that the patterns were protection runes and could vary depending on what the wizard or witch wanted embroidered. He was immediately captivated by the notion and secretly wanted a few pairs for himself.

As Evaline caught sight of Tom, her face broke into a smile. "Don't pout, Marvolo," she teased.

"I am not pouting," he retorted a little too quickly, secretly preening inside at the way his name rolled off her tongue so naturally.

There was something warm and comforting about the way she said it. Unlike the suspicion and scorn in the Matron’s or Dumbeldore’s tones. Not to mention she was the only one who called him Marvolo. Why she did so, Tom had no idea and he didn’t plan to question it anytime soon.

“I don't want to leave, but I have some business to sort out, Marvolo,” Evaline shook her head gently, her wavy hair bouncing on her shoulders. "I'll owl you, I promise."

He couldn't help but sniff in nonchalance, trying to hide his disappointment as he quickly snatched her trunk from her and carried it, walking side by side with her through the Hogwarts halls until they reached the carriages. 

Tom tsked and batted away her hand when she tried to take her trunk back, instead offering a hand and helping her up into the carriage himself. He didn’t know why he was doing such things but the thought of letting another boy help her made him feel a little offended. Once she was seated, he passed her trunk to her, their gazes locked in a silent exchange of understanding.

Evaline leaned down, reaching out to brush his fringe away. He scowled and slapped her hand away almost instinctively, but she only smiled in response, not at all offended. "Take care of yourself, Marvolo. I'll see you in two weeks."

He clasped his hands behind his back, straightening his posture, looking slightly unsure. After a few moments, he sighed and nodded, speaking quietly so only Evaline could hear, "Owl me."

“I will.”

As the carriages pulled away, Evaline waved from a distance and while Tom did not indulge in such a ridiculous looking gesture, her smile still lingered in Tom's mind. Once they were out of sight, he let out a deep sigh, feeling the weight of her absence settle upon him. He turned back to the castle with heavy steps, trying to ignore the feeling of longing.

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline stepped off the Hogwarts Express and onto the busy platform, only narrowly avoiding Orion Black and his attempts to introduce her to his parents. With confidence, she pulled her hat to cover her face and swiftly navigated through the bustling crowds of students and parents reuniting, until she found a shadowed corner away from prying eyes. There, she spun on her heel and with a snap, she apparted away.

Within seconds, Evaline reappeared in Strada Vecchia , the Italian equivalent of Diagon Alley. The name Strada Vecchia quite literally translated to 'old street,' and it was a place where Italian wizards and witches conducted their magical business, in - you guessed it, very old, heritage worthy stores that were held up by sheer magical stability charms.

As the sounds of bustling marketplaces and shoppers, Evaline felt a sense of familiarity and comfort in being back on the streets she knew so well. At least something was familiar to her own time.

With a flick of her wand, her appearance shifted back to her 27-year-old self. Evaline let out a contented sigh. It felt like a relief to be back in her trained and mature body, no longer constrained by the limitations of an 11-year-old. She stretched her limbs, revelling in the sense of power and strength that came with her true form.

"I miss my trained body," she murmured to herself with a small grin as she wandlessly shrunk her trunk and stuffed it in her pocket. "It was incredibly hard being an 11-year-old again. I don't know how I managed it the first time."

With a deep breath, Evaline threw herself into the crowd, letting the natural flow of wixen guide her to the doorsteps of Gringotts. The Italian Branch of Gringnotts wasn’t too different to the branch in Diagon Alley, except this one had a manticore chained to its roof and not a dragon.

“Next!”

Evaline stepped up to a counter with a grumpy looking goblin, removing her hat as she inclined her head respectfully, “May your coffers never be empty. Well met, Sir goblin.”

The Goblin’s sneer lessened by a little and he narrowed his eyes before slowly replying, May your enemies always perish. Well met, ma’am. What can I help you with?”

Mentally relieved the Goblin had attempted to inject some politeness in its tone, she flashed her Ladyship Ring, levelling the Goblin with a knowing look, “I was told the Goblins will be worthy of my trust during my time here.”

The Goblins’ eyes narrowed, gaze darting to the ring and back to her face. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded, ducking behind the counter as he shuffled through his drawers before he laid a small blank parchment in front of her, “One drop to confirm identity and…original era.”

Evaline raised a brow at the sceptical tone but did as instructed, wandlessly pricking the tip of her finger and dropping one drop on the parchment. She watched as the unfamiliar parchment spread her blood before using the blood as though it was ink to spell out

‘Lady Evaline Adrina Este of the Royal House of Este (2001; Aged 27)’.

༺═──────────────═༻

It had been a while since Evaline had left, and Tom found himself holed up in the common room, the only Slytherin who had chosen to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. He had no home to return to, and Hogwarts had become his refuge. Determined to keep himself occupied, he focused on finishing all the holiday homework assigned by the professors.

His quill glided smoothly across the parchment, his mind racing with ideas as he completed the last of his Charms essay. Leaning back in his chair, he called out to Evaline, asking about breakfast, only to be met with silence.

He glanced at the armchair where she usually sat, where her legs would dangle over the armrest and a heavy tome would rest in her hands because she had somehow always managed to finish her homework faster than Tom, only to find the armchair empty. The reminder hit him like a punch to the gut.

Evaline had gone home for the holidays, leaving Tom in his solitary state. Without her annoying humour and carefree attitude, the common room felt strangely empty, despite it being literally empty. Tom allowed himself a moment of vulnerability, despite himself, groaning and rubbing his face in frustration.

Since when had he cared about another's presence? He was used to being alone so why was he remembering her?

As he reflected on his first semester at Hogwarts, he couldn't deny that in every event he recalled, Evaline was almost always present with a grin on her face. Amidst the hateful glares and disdainful looks from others due to his blood status, she had been a constant variable with her silver eyes gleaming in amusement, unphased by the judgments and never afraid to voice her opinion, no matter how inappropriate. It was a stark contrast to his own cold and focused demeanour.

Tom recalled the amount of times when Evaline's completely unhinged comments had nearly made him crack a smile, a genuine smile of amusement for the first time in years. He had to admit, even if only to himself, there was a strange comfort in having someone by his side. For the first time, he found himself eagerly awaiting someone's return.

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline's eyes scanned the parchment in her hands, her brow furrowing with intrigue and surprise. The Blood Inheritance Test in this time was unlike any she had encountered before. There was no mention of any of her esteemed ancestors who resided in her original time. Furthermore, the majority of her access to the Este family's properties and vaults were blocked off, ensuring that she wouldn't disrupt the family lineage era with her actions in this era. 

She frowned.

- - - 

Current Era: 1938

Original Era: 2001

Name: Evaline Adrina Este

Date of Birth: October 1st 1974
Status: Witch, Alive

Father: Emiliano Este (Status: Alive in Original Era. Current status: Undisclosed.)
Mother: Belladonna Adrina Este nee Robustelli (Status: Deceased in Original Era. Current status: Undisclosed.)

Siblings: N/A

Blood Relatives: Undisclosed. Identities of living relatives will not be revealed in this era as time travellers are not destined to meet family in case of disrupting the natural flow of family legacy.

Titles: 

- High Lady of the Royal House of Este (Original Era; 2001. Inactive currently.)

- Heiress of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Robustelli (Original Era; 2001. Inactive currently.)

- Order of Merlin, First Class (Original Era; 2001. Inactive currently.)

- Head Chief Unspeakable, Unit 3 of Border Defense Planning (Original Era; 2001. Inactive currently)

Vaults:

- Royal Este Main Vault (Currently not accessible)

- Royal Este Duty Vault (Accessible; 10 Million Galleons.)

- Noble Robustelli Heiress Vault (Currently not accessible)

- Evaline Este Personal Main Vault (Opened by Evaline Este in 1992. Currently not accessible)

- Personal Expense Vault (Opened by Evaline Este in 1993. Currently not accessible)

Properties:

- Royal Este Castle, Italy (Currently not accessible)

- Este Manor, Italy (Currently not accessible)

- Este Manor, France (Currently not accessible)

- Este Villa, Italy (Accessible)

- Robustelli Manor, Italy (Currently not accessible)

- Robustelli Manor, Sweden (Currently not accessible)

- Robustelli Cottage, Britain (Accessible)

- - - 

The goblin king had warned her about the potential dangers of meddling beyond her mission's scope, repeating the same words of her Great Aunt and Lady Fate. Consequently, her access to anything unrelated to Tom Riddle and her purpose in this era had been deliberately restricted. It was a precaution to prevent any significant ripple of change in the events of this world.

Evaline sighed, realising that she had to be cautious and discreet in all her actions. The stakes were high, and the consequences of even the slightest misstep could have far-reaching implications. She understood the importance of maintaining the delicate balance of time and ensuring that her presence in the past didn't cause irreversible alterations to the future.

She eyed the two estates she could live in and decided on the more appealing one. Hell, if she was going to live here for who knows how long, she wants a good view out her window every damn morning.

"I would like the documents regarding the ownership of the Este Villa," Evaline declared after a thought, "And my access keys to the Royal Este Duty Vault.”

The goblin king nodded in confirmation, his sharp eyes focused on her. With a swift motion, he snapped his fingers, and the requested documents materialised in front of Evaline. She reached out, taking the file in her hands, and quickly began to scan through the papers, absorbing the information about the Villa ownership in this era.

Meanwhile, the goblin king moved to a nearby compartment and retrieved a small box which adorned the Este Family crest in silver. 

Evaline recognized it as the access keys to the Royal Este Duty Vault—a vault that held precious artefacts, knowledge, and resources collected and safeguarded by the Este family throughout the ages. The vault was purely reserved for Este’s who were sent on missions so they had some access to resources and money to fall back on. After all, Este’s always look after their blood.

The goblin king held out a box with the Este Crest to Evaline with a respectful bow. "These are the keys to the Royal Este Duty Vault, Lady Este. Only those of the Este bloodline with rightful claim can access its contents."

With a steady hand, Evaline pressed the tip of her wand against her palm and drew it downward, a thin line of crimson trailing in its wake. Carefully, she allowed a few drops of her blood to fall onto the ornate box's surface, watching intently as the crest absorbed the blood. The box shimmered with a mesmerising silver glow, as if awakening to the presence of her blood.

As the seconds passed, the crest within the box began to move and rearrange itself, shifting its intricate patterns with a soft hum. Evaline's eyes widened as the crest transformed, leaving a perfectly shaped and empty gap in the middle.

After a moment, the empty gap on the box slid open midway on its own, and a small, ornate ring and bangle gracefully ascended from the depths. Its intricate design bespoke its significance, and Evaline couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation.

Evaline’s eyes didn’t leave the ring and bangle. She carefully plucked the ring from its small stand, turning it over with her fingers as she observed the runes meticulously. It was a pure silver band, bearing the Este crest engraved in the center and a small blue jewel at its heart. Inside, a small inscription read 'La storia è scritta dai vincitori.'

[History is written by victors.]

A grin played upon Evaline's lips as she read the inscription on the ring over. Amusement surged through her veins, and she couldn't help but release a breathy chuckle.

With a deft movement, she slid off the Ladyship Ring from her own time. Its ancient magic had dimmed upon her arrival in this era, a perfect reflection of her current status, or rather, the lack thereof, as Lady Este in the eyes of magic during this era.

She observed the ring with the inscription for a moment before sliding it onto the same finger that had once adorned her Ladyship Ring. With a graceful movement, she returned her own ring to its rightful place inside the box. The box accepted the ring as an authentic replacement, and the Ladyship Ring vanished within the cube chamber.

She would have to return to Gringotts to retrieve her Ladyship ring when she returns to her normal era.

The transformation was immediate. As the ring slipped onto her finger, Evaline felt a surge of ancient power coursing through her. It was as if a missing part of herself had been restored. The runes on the ring glowed faintly before settling into a steady, comforting hum.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips as the family magic embraced her, soothing the nerves that had been on edge throughout the semester at Hogwarts. Shifting her focus to the bangle, she delicately removed it from its stand, her eyes scrutinizing every intricate detail.

A small smile graced her lips as she tucked it securely into the pocket of her robes.

The goblin king smirked, his eyes glinting with respect. "Welcome, Evaline Este, to the year 1938. The goblin nation wishes you the best of luck in your missions. We are here to help."

༺═──────────────═༻

At the same time, in the same era, up In the grand halls of the Royal Este Castle, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the Lordship ring adorned by the current head of the Este family grew exponentially hot, its silver surface pulsating with family magicks. 

High Lord Alexius Este, a man of poise and authority, paused mid-bite during his dinner, his gaze snapping to the ring that adorned his index finger. The clatter of his fork against the porcelain plate was a stark contrast to the hushed atmosphere that settled within the hall.

A warm smile began to play upon his lips, casting a rare expression of intrigue upon his composed features. His son, the heir to the Este legacy, voiced the question that was mirrored in his cautious eyes. "Father?"

The patriarch's eyes shifted towards his son, a spark of amusement glinting within their depths. "It seems we have an unexpected visitor."

The young man's curiosity intensified, leaning slightly forward in his chair. "What do you mean?"

Meanwhile, just a few seats away, his daughter, perceptive and observant, wore a knowing smile. The Lordship ring, a symbol of their ancestral lineage and authority, had reacted with a brilliance that bespoke a profound change. Her gaze flitted between her father and the ring.

High Lord Este's fingers gently brushed against the smooth metal of the ring, the surface having cooled after its momentary flare. The excitement that danced in his eyes was a rare glimpse into the depths of a man who often concealed his emotions behind a facade of regal calm. With a soft chuckle, he turned his attention back to his children.

"It seems," he began, his voice carrying the weight of tradition and significance, "that another Este has joined our time."

His son leaned forward, his eyes alight with understanding. "Can we meet them, Father?"

His daughter, always quick to assert herself, rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh. "No, Theo, you cannot."

“Isotta!” With an almost comically disappointed pout, the young heir shot a wounded look at his sister. Yet, beneath his playful expression, there was genuine curiosity and eagerness to connect with this enigmatic newcomer.

Lord Este's smile remained warm, crinkling the corners of his eyes as he looked between his two children. "Perhaps not in person," he mused, knowing the potential complications of such a meeting.

"But," he continued, his gaze settling on his daughter, "we can explore other means of communication, for Este's always ensure the welfare of their own blood."

His son's face lit up again, a bright grin replacing his previous pout. "Can we really, Father?"

Isotta nodded, her demeanour softening as she exchanged a knowing glance with their father. "Yes, of course. La famiglia prima di tutto."

[Family above all]

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom's annoyance had been simmering for a whole week. Evaline had left him alone at Hogwarts, promising to correspond, yet there was no letter from her. His stubborn nature prevented him from reaching out first, waiting for her to make the first move.

With a huff, Tom got up and went to the bathroom. He went through his usual routine, showering, spending a completely…normal and not at all what Evaline calls an ‘absurd’ amount of time on styling his hair and changing into a fresh set of clothes. Since it was break, they weren't required to wear uniforms so he settled on a white dress shirt and black pants with his Hogwarts robe.

When he returned to his dorm, he noticed a package sitting on his bed. His eyes narrowed, instinctively gripping his wand and he was certain that package hadn’t been there before. Wand in hand, he cautiously approached the package and levitated the letter on top to float in front of him. 

"Wingardium Leviosa," he muttered, almost smugly, as the letter floated toward him effortlessly. His caution quickly melted away when he recognised Evaline’s elegant handwriting.

The cursive words ‘To Marvolo’ looked up at him and he snatched the letter out of the air. His previous annoyance at Evaline began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of excitement. He eagerly opened the envelope and greedily read its contents.

- - - 

Dear Marvolo,

Please accept my sincere apologies for sending a letter so late. Getting your gift proved to take a little longer than I anticipated. I do hope you like it, it took me a while to figure out what you might like.

Anyways, how have you been faring? Make sure you are taking care of yourself—eat meals on time, sleep accordingly and perhaps put down your book every once in a while and take a walk outside. Fresh air can do wonders sometimes. If I return to Hogwarts and find you sleep deprived and ill, I swear to Merlin I will ask Dumbles to supervise you next time. 

Moving on, the oddest thing happened to me earlier. This morning, I found myself engrossed in our potions homework, and strangely enough, I could almost hear you ranting on about the properties of the Wiggenweld Potion. I suppose that means I miss you. 

Speaking of which, I do hope to hear from you soon. You do remember that owls work two ways, correct? I expect a letter from you soon!

And before I forget, Happy Yule, Marvolo! It's our first Yule since we met, and I can't help but wish we were celebrating together. In Person. But alas, perhaps we’ll get the chance to do so next year. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the gift I’ve gotten you. 

Until we meet again, 

- EE

- - - 

Tom couldn't contain the excitement bubbling within him as he held the letter in his hands, a small smile gracing his lips. It was his first personal letter ever, and it came from Evaline. 

As he carefully folded the letter to save, his attention then shifted to the beautifully wrapped box resting on his bed. With eager anticipation, he picked it up and couldn't resist giving it a childish shake, trying to guess what could be inside. It was the first present he had ever received, and it filled him with a sense of wonder.

Carefully settling on his bed, he placed the box on his lap and gently lifted the lid. A deep emerald fabric instantly caught Tom's attention. As he picked it up, he noticed intricate black stitching adorning the collar and chest, forming what seemed like runes. 

Upon closer examination, he realised that these were similar runes that Evaline had on her own robes. The very robes he had secretly wished for, enchanted with protection magic. He could feel the faint tingle of Evaline's magic emanating from the runes.

A sense of excitement washed over him as he moved to stand and draped the robe over himself. To his surprise, they fit him perfectly, magically adjusting to his measurements and flowing elegantly around his form. In the mirror, he looked every bit like the confident and powerful wizard he aspired to be.

But his curiosity was piqued by the rolled parchment he spotted at the bottom of the box. Unrolling it, he discovered that it contained a detailed explanation of each and every rune adorning the robe.

Evaline's neat handwriting covered the parchment, accompanied by diagrams and instructions on how to infuse and activate the runes with his own magic. It also mentioned that the robe will magically adjust itself as he grew and they were charmed to be water repellent and fire resistant as well as tear proof. 

Tom sat cross-legged on his bed, the emerald robe spread before him, his wand in one hand and the instructions in another. He carefully held his wand and placed its tip on the collar of the robe, just as Evaline's instructions had indicated. Eyeing her written spell, he spoke the incantation with a focused and determined tone.

"Enserit animus vestis," he murmured, pouring his magical intent into the words. As the spell left his lips, he felt a surge of power emanating from his wand, flowing through the runes on the robe.

Suddenly, the runes glowed with a soft, shimmering light, reacting to his magic. It was as if they were coming to life, embracing and absorbing his essence. Tom's heart skipped a beat as he witnessed the connection forming between him and the robe, and a sense of satisfaction washed over him.

He continued to recite the spell, allowing the magic to weave and intertwine with the runes, embedding his own essence into the fabric. As he finished the final stroke of the spell, the glow of the runes subsided, and the robe felt distinctly different under his touch. It was as if a part of him had become one with the fabric, forging a deep bond that exuded a sense of protection and power.

Satisfied with his work, Tom laid the robe down on his bed, admiring the subtle aura it now emitted and tucked the parchment with Evaline's instructions safely away. He couldn't wait to see her again, to show her the result of his efforts.

He placed the robe and parchment along with the letter into his trunk and began to make his way to the Great Hall for Dinner, contemplating on the way what he could send Evaline in return.

Chapter Text

A soft pop resonated through the room and Evaline looked away from the book she was reading. Her lips curved into a smile as the Dark Elf bowed his head in respect. Norril was a great elf and was absolutely captivating to engage in conversation with. 

Obviously being a Dark Elf, he was not the typical house elf and didn’t cower or stutter in front of her. Instead he stood tall at his 6 foot height and spoke with confidence that she had come to immediately appreciate.

A week ago, when Evaline arrived at the Villa in Italy, she was greeted by Norril, the house elf who had faithfully maintained the residence until the new Este master's arrival. Evaline was escastic when she saw him, as Norril had been her personal elf in her normal era at Este Castle. She was so very glad to have someone she was familiar by her side, even if Norril had never encountered her before.

With his tailored suit donning the Este family emblem, pointy ears, dark grey skin, and white hair neatly tied in a small bun, Norril exuded an air of grace and loyalty that immediately put Evaline at ease. She introduced herself as the Lady Este from the future, hailing from the year 2001, and Norril understood her without needing further explanation, already well-versed in the Este family duties.

The Villa, which Norril had explained was solely designated to accommodate the Estes that travelled through time for their missions, delighted Evaline with its beauty. Norril led her on a tour, and she admired the bright architecture adorned with large windows that provided ample natural light and excellent ventilation. 

The colour scheme of white, silver, and Russian green shades alongside the Aspen wood timber added a touch of elegance throughout, perfectly complementing the traditional design. Situated in the picturesque region of Sicily, the Villa offered views of the Mediterranean Sea.

On the other hand, Este Castle presented a complete contrast. Perched majestically atop a mountain, the castle boasted imposing gothic architecture. Surrounding it were dense forestlands and a perilously situated river, adding an air of mystery and intrigue. Inside, the colour schemes of dark greys, silvers and royal blues was complemented with the castles tall, daunting ceilings and long corridors that Evaline had grown fond of over time.

Currently, Evaline sat in the Villa’s sunroom, which she had quickly decided was her favorite room. The sunroom of the Villa was a stunning circular space, enclosed by walls of clear glass and white metal frames that gracefully converged into a pointed glass roof. Bathed in natural light during the day, it offered breathtaking views of the scenic Sicilian landscape and the shimmering waters of the Mediterranean Sea. 

The heart of the sunroom was occupied by a magical fireplace, its flames dancing gracefully without consuming any wood, radiating a warm and comforting glow. Surrounding the fireplace were plush couches.

The glass windows, charmed to be see-through from within but impenetrable from the outside, provided stunning views of the picturesque landscape. However, only those granted access to the wards could witness the beauty of the scenery from within. 

To add to the room's enchantment, one of the walls possessed the ability to slide open, revealing a small private beach that led directly to the sparkling waters of the Mediterranean Sea. So, yes, the room had quickly become Evaline’s preferred place to be in when she was not sleeping or eating.

“ Signorina Evaline, a letter and package for you from one Tom M. Riddle,” Norril produced the envelope from his suit, drawing her attention out of her memories.

[Lad y]

“Thank you, Norril. Leave the package on the table,” Raising a brow, she took the letter, eyeing the familiar writing, “And a cup of tea if you could?”

Norril nodded, gently placing the package on the coffee table before disappearing with a small pop, leaving Evaline to examine the letter. The envelope bore her name, elegantly written in Marvolo's distinct handwriting. 

- - -

Dear Evaline,

I hope this letter finds you well. I want to express my gratitude for the thoughtful gift you sent me. The robe is truly exquisite, and I must admit, they have quickly become my preferred attire. The protection magic embedded within the runes is impressive, and after following your instructions and embedding my magic in them, I feel a sense of strength whenever I wear them.

Your explanation of the runes, along with the diagrams and instructions, was incredibly interesting and had led me researching the subject of ancient runes. Your mention of the sleeve runes with the capability of summoning my wand if it ever leaves my hand during a duel prompted me to do further research of similar spells.

As such, I have spent the past few days studying and practising the summoning spell with the incantation of ‘Accio’ which also happens to be a 4th year charms spell. It has become my latest interest, and I find the complexities of magical manipulation fascinating.

Yes, in regards to your concerns, I have been eating well and going to bed at a reasonable time. On your request, I even took an hour-long walk along the Black Lake before lunch today. There is no need to involve Dumbledore, I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. I’m also certain your relentless nagging from your letters is enough motivation without the threat of Dumbledore.

Moreover, I do not rant about potions. I merely advise. 

As the new term approaches, I find myself looking forward to your return to the castle. Until then, I await your owl. 

I also hope you are satisfied with your gift, it was made on short notice, and with whatever resources I had managed to salvage from within Hogwarts.

Sincerely,

Tom Marvolo Riddle

P.S. I was confused when you addressed the holiday as ‘Yule’ while Dumbledore insists on calling it ‘Christmas’. I have attempted to research at Hogwarts Library about the Yule holiday but have come up short. It seems the books on this particular topic are banned from Hogwarts, which I find positively absurd. If you could provide information on this topic, it would greatly be appreciated.

- - -

Evaline couldn't help but grin as she read Marvolo's letter. The contrast between his stiff and formal tone and the detailed content made him seem incredibly adorable. It was almost comical to think that this young boy would have one day become the feared Dark Lord.

She could tell he tried to restrain himself from sharing everything, but his passion for magic and his frustration with Dumbledore's research still seeped through the lines.

The last part of the letter, where he went on a short rant about Dumbledore and his Yule research, only added to her amusement. It made her want to pinch his cheeks and coo at him like a little child. How interesting it was to see this side of Marvolo, the supposedly future Lord Voldemort, who could be both brilliant and endearing at the same time.

Evaline couldn't help but be amused by Marvolo's newfound interest in the summoning spell. It was remarkable how a seemingly simple gift had sparked such curiosity and determination in him. She could easily envision him mastering the fourth-year spell by the time she returned to Hogwarts. A prodigy, indeed.

Evaline's curiosity piqued as she glanced at the small present resting on her table. It was a black box, and a silver ribbon was tied around it with elegant precision. Intrigued, she delicately tugged at the ribbon, allowing the lid to slide open smoothly. Inside, she discovered a small plank of wood and a rolled parchment neatly placed within.

Confused, she opened the parchment first, her eyes scanning the words.

- - -

Place your wand on the silver snitch and cast ‘lumos’. It is charmed to flip your pages once you are done reading them, and automatically bookmark. 

Merry Yule, Evaline.

- - - 

Evaline’s brows rose with each word and she glanced at the wood. She turned it over to find an engraved snitch, with the colour changed from gold to silver. Curious, she pressed her wand. “Lumos.”

To her surprise, the glowed snitch came to life, its wings fluttering as the wood unfolded itself to be big enough to hold a book. It was a book holder, she realised, tilting her head to examine it.

She placed one of the books she was reading on it and like Marvolo mentioned, it was indeed charmed to hold open books at eye level, flip each page and bookmark when she was finished. 

Evaline loved it. It was amazing. Especially for someone who had only been introduced to magic four months ago.

It was not only practical and incredibly useful, but it also showed Marvolo’s advanced magical prowess. As a first-year student, the fact that he had managed to transfigure a regular piece of wood into a functioning, magically expanding book holder was impressive.

The inclusion of the lumos activation spell and the aesthetic design featuring Quidditch motif just gave Evaline a glimpse of the rumoured prodigy of Tom Riddle.

If he wanted, this could easily become a hit on the market, a very intriguing business establishment.

What surprised Evaline the most was that Marvolo had remembered her love for Quidditch. She knew he was observant and keen sighted but it made her smile to think that he had taken the time to consider her interests and incorporate them into the gift. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about what the young boy could have become if only he had someone on his side when he came to Hogwarts.

However, the path Voldemort was shoved upon was quite different than to what it was this time around. Instead of being nurtured and supported, he was met with rejection and prejudice from the purebloods in his own house and even some of the trusted professors.

It was disheartening to see how Lord Voldemort, once capable of such thoughtfulness, resorted to the only way he believed he could gain respect - through a reign of tyranny and fear.

In that moment, Evaline was reminded once more that Marvolo was not Voldemort. No, not yet, and not ever if she had anything to do with it.

A surge of anger welled up within her towards Dumbledore. How could the man, who claimed to be the "good guy," simply sit back and watch as Voldemort turned into the dark lord he became? Surely he didn’t believe that Tom Riddle, a mere child, was already too far into the path of darkness? 

Had Voldemort received the support he needed, perhaps he could have walked a different path, and his thoughtful nature might have flourished instead of being consumed by darkness and tyranny.

Is that what Lady Fate meant when she mentioned that she would return to a ‘Britain with significant improvement’? Was Marvolo going to be Minister or something?

Regardless, Evaline tsked, leaning back in her seat as she slowly traced her newly acquired ring in thought. The family magic rolled over her calmly as she contemplated. Well, now Marvolo had her on his side, and she sure as hell wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Not until she had completely steered him away from the path of horcruxes. Not until she had finished her mission.

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast and paused briefly at the threshold, taken aback by the new seating arrangements. Gone were the four separate house tables; instead, a large table stood in the center, with professors and students sitting together. The Great Hall was now adorned with a magnificent Christmas tree, its branches adorned with twinkling lights and festive decorations. 

Pursing his lips, he concealed his annoyance and made his way to the empty seat between Slughorn and a first year Ravenclaw girl. Quickly surveying the table and with relief that Dumbledore was not anywhere in sight, Tom began his breakfast.

Ignoring the girl, Tom flashed the professor a charming smile, "Good morning, Professor."

Slughorn beamed, "Tom! Good morning, Merry Yule!"

"Merry Yule to you as well, sir," Tom inclined his head politely, reaching out for a goblet of pumpkin juice. Ever since Evaline made him try it, Tom had become quite fond of the juice and drank it whenever given the chance.

Lifting the goblet to his lips, Tom's eyes followed the various owls that made their way into the Great Hall. Among them, a majestic Great Horned Owl caught his attention as it let out a fierce screech before landing with surprising grace in front of him.

Blinking in surprise, Tom realised that this must be Evaline's owl. It was his first time seeing the owl up close, and he was impressed by its size and proud demeanour.

Ignoring the yelp of surprise from the girl next to him, Tom reached out for the letter attached to the owl's leg. However, he pulled back with a scowl when the owl pecked at his hand.

Perplexed, Tom tilted his head, trying to understand what the owl wanted. Then, he had an idea. He cautiously offered a piece of bacon from his plate to the owl. To his amusement, the owl munched on the bacon and then extended its leg willingly, clearly granting him permission to untie the letter.

Caught between amusement and wary, Tom quickly untied the letter before the bird had a chance to peck him again. As Tom opened the envelope, he noticed that the words "To Marvolo" were once again looking back at him.

Curiosity piqued, he unfolded the letter to read its contents, but he couldn't help but notice that the majestic owl was still standing there, waiting patiently. Its large, expressive eyes were trained on Tom, seemingly observant of his every move.

Tom stared right back at the owl, unsure of what to do with this insistent creature. He furrowed his brow and inquired, "What do you want?"

The owl responded with a hoot, its yellow eyes fixated on Tom. There was a sense of purpose in its gaze, as if it was waiting for something. Slowly, unsure of how to proceed, Tom tentatively extended his hand and gave the owl a stiff pet on the head.

To his surprise, the owl let out a content hoot and then nudged the letter in his hand. Glancing at the letter, Tom raised an amused brow, "You want me to read it?"

The owl hooted again, almost as if affirming its request. Tom blinked, not expecting an actual response from the bird. It hooted once more, this time much more forceful, pecking at his still outstretched fingers and he let out a startled chuckle, "You're as persistent as your owner, you know that?"

In a show of defiance, the owl puffed its chest, as though proudly acknowledging Tom's observation.

This elicited another chuckle from him, "Just as smug as your owner, as well."

However, the owl responded with an aggressive hoot this time, as if taking offence at the comparison. Suppressing a full blown grin, Tom nodded in amusement, "Alright, alright, you’re not smug. I'll read it. Now, away with you."

Despite his words, the owl remained firmly where it was, showing no sign of leaving. Tom sighed, deciding to offer it another piece of bacon as a gesture of peace.

The owl seemed pleased, taking the bacon and holding it in its beak, but still refusing to move. Eventually, after a brief standoff, the owl took off, soaring out of the hall, bacon in beak.

Tom watched the owl depart, still a little bewildered by the whole interaction. The creature was undoubtedly impressive, with its oddly receptive behaviour. It was like no other owl he had seen before, and its behaviour had caught him off guard. Just like Evaline.

Like Owner, like owl, he supposed.

"That was an... interesting owl," the Ravenclaw girl sitting next to him remarked, clearly intrigued by the encounter if her wide eyes said anything.

Tom glanced at her and after a moment of contemplation, flashed a charming smile, "Oh good, so I didn't imagine that. I was starting to wonder if I was still dreaming."

The girl immediately giggled, blushing and Tom had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes as he couldn’t help but think of how pathetic her behaviour was.

A smile was all it took for her to lose her composure? Did she have no pride? Evaline would never lower her guard for something like that, Tom thought idly.

As the girl fell into a blushing mess, Tom took the opportunity to shut down any further conversation as he opened the letter.

- - - 

Dear Marvolo,

I trust this letter finds you well and with a minimum of owl-induced drama. The owl who delivered this letter to you goes by the name of Edgar. Yes, named after Edgar Allan Poe, mostly because he's dramatic and enjoys causing discomfort.

Just a fair warning, he has a bit of an attitude, so watch out for his mood swings. He's also got a flair for theatrics, though I’m not sure where he learnt it from.

Anyways, I'm thrilled that you liked the present, and I had a sneaky suspicion the runes would pique your interest. You've always been a curious one. And as for the summoning spell, I have no doubt you’ve probably cast it perfectly within the first few tries. Mastering magic seems to be a recurring motif of yours, after all.

As for your gift! It's absolutely brilliant! The silver snitch was an unexpected touch, and it brought a smile to my face. I’ve used it constantly and have already placed it under a preservation charm to make sure it doesn't get damaged.

By the way, have you truly decided to grace the world with your presence beyond the confines of the library? Well, well, it seems you're learning to be a bit more human after all.

Also, about your curiosity with Yule, I've sent a book directly to your dorm that explains everything about Yule and the olde ways of magic. I’m sure Dumbledore won’t be happy I’m sending you ‘forbidden’ materials so I had it placed on your bed. Don’t ask how.

In regard to Dumbledore's odd insistence on calling it Christmas, it’s just his way of pandering to the majority masses, i.e., muggle-borns and half-bloods. He thinks the olde ways are too "dark," which is ridiculously close-minded, in my very humble opinion.

Until we meet again,

- EE

P.S. You most certainly do rant. Especially when it comes to potions. 

- - -

Suppressing a grin -and ignoring the last comment- Tom carefully tucked the letter into his robes and picked up his pumpkin juice, eager to start his research on Yule. After all, anything Dumbledore doesn’t like- Tom was determined to master.

༺═──────────────═༻

Five days later, Tom stared at another letter in his hand, mouth agape in a very undignified manner. Not that he would ever admit it. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief, wondering if he stayed up too late last night, and read the letter again.

- - -

Dear Marvolo,

Happy 12th Birthday! I hope this letter finds you well. I vaguely recall you mentioning that your birthday falls around New Year's, so I wanted to be the first person to wish you another great year!

I wish I could be there with you to celebrate in person, but alas. However, I do promise to make it up to you once I return. Now, about your birthday present- I have a little magical surprise for you. Pun intended. 

Point your wand at the present I sent and say 'Accio Evaline's attention'. Trust me, it's worth it. And no, you can't change the incantation - I made sure of it!

Until we meet again,

- EE

- - -

Tom couldn’t believe it. A part of him refused to believe it, to not get his hopes high lest it turn out to be a hallucination or mere wishful thinking. Yet the evidence was right there in his hand. And in a small box placed on his bed. Evaline had remembered his birthday.

Not only was she the first person like she had hoped, according to her letter, but she was the only person to wish him Happy Birthday. Ever.

Sure, he had mentioned it casually during one of their conversations, but he hadn't expected her to recall the exact date. A small, flat box with a green ribbon sat on his bed. It had been placed right next to the letter in his hand.

After dinner, Tom had returned to his dorm, planning to stay up and re- read the book on Yule that he had received 5 days ago. But to his surprise, another gift and letter was waiting for him.

Tom was in a state of very uncharacteristic shock. He had never received a birthday present before, never had anyone celebrated his special day. His birthdays were just another reminder of his hellish existence at the wretched orphanage.

But now…now he had someone remember him and send him a gift. It was an odd feeling he didn’t know how to comprehend.

Hesitating for just a moment, before cautiously reaching for the box, Tom carefully untied the ribbon, afraid the gift would vanish if he wasn’t gentle enough. Lifting the lid, it revealed nothing but a round mirror with a long engraving of a snake around its border.

Confused, he examined the mirror, then the box, half-expecting to find a parchment or a note of explanation like Evaline had sent in her last present, but there was nothing.

Then, remembering the ridiculous incantation the letter had mentioned, he frowned and retrieved his wand from the bedside table, holding it up to the mirror.

With great reluctance and a smidge of exasperation, he muttered, "Accio...Evaline's attention."

Almost immediately, the mirror grew warm in his hands, the snake came to life, slithering around the border and his own reflection faded away, revealing Evaline's grinning face. 

“Happy Birthday, Marvolo!”

Tom’s jaw dropped. 

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline sat in the glass room, her eyes fixed on the words in the book under the enchanting starlight. A warm cup of tea rested in her hands, its steam swirling gently in the air. Despite her focus on the book, her mind wandered back to her own time, and memories of her grandfather filled her thoughts. She longed to know if he existed at this time, if he was somewhere out there, but her great aunt's warnings echoed in her mind - she must wait for him to reach out first. 

Lost in contemplation, her attention was suddenly drawn to the vibrating mirror on the desk. A grin spread across her face as she quickly put on her glamour, making herself appear as an 11-year-old girl, and picked up the mirror.

Marvolo's stunned face appeared on the other side, and Evaline couldn't help but chuckle. "Took you long enough!" she teased. "Happy Birthday, Marvolo!"

His expression shifted from surprise to a genuine smile, and for a moment, Marvolo looked like an ordinary 11-now-12-year-old boy, full of innocence and nothing like the calculating cold character he had built around himself as a defence.

Marvolo's mouth opened and closed for a moment before he managed to say, "Evaline... what?"

Evaline couldn't help but find amusement in his bewildered expression. She had never thought she would witness the day Marvolo would lose his composure to such an extent.

"It's a Communication mirror," she explained with a grin, "and only you or I can activate it. Pretty neat, huh? I thought it'd be much better than sending Edgar out every night to get you a letter."

His eyes widened in realisation, and a hint of that familiar, burning curiosity crossed his features. "So... so we can communicate whenever we want?”

She nodded, one hand holding the mirror, while her thumb subconsciously traced her ring on her left index finger, "Exactly! No more waiting for owls to arrive or worrying about letters being intercepted.”

"Thank you, Evaline, for this and the robes you sent for Yule," Marvolo finally managed to gather his wits and speak coherent sentences.

She waved a dismissive hand, a smile on her lips. "Don't worry about it. What are friends for!”

Marvolo didn't return the sentiment, which didn't surprise her. It was much too early for him to declare her to be his friend, not with all the caution he had. It had taken Marvolo four weeks before he spoke to her casually during breakfast.

Normally, he would simply listen to whatever she spoke of, only providing one word answers or ignore her altogether. So the fact he thanked her was more than enough progress. 

After all, it wouldn’t be any fun completing this mission without a challenge.

“Tell me what you’ve been up to, Marvolo,” Evaline prompted.

Marvolo dove into a long rant, recounting his activities, Evaline listened amused, letting him go on about his day. He rambled about his studies, achievements, and even the frustrations he faced. He ranted about the wary looks Dumbledore would send him during meals and the hours he spent in the library researching the 4th year summoning spell.

“...I spent the rest of the day practising the spell,” Marvolo concluded, looking a little smug.

“Show me then!" she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling with amusement, “Prop the mirror up somewhere and summon something.”

Marvolo raised an eyebrow, questioning her request. "Isn't that a tad odd?" he replied.

"You're odd," she shot back with a raised brow. "Now show me!"

He let out a heavy sigh, seemingly exasperated by her antics, but he complied nonetheless. He propped the communication mirror up, and she could see he was in his dorm room, the beds behind him empty.

He frowned, looking around the room, wand hanging loosely from his hand. "I feel ridiculous," he muttered under his breath.

Evaline chuckled, already thoroughly entertained by the sheer awkwardness he was displaying. "And I'm getting bored. Accio something already!"

Rolling his eyes, he pointed his wand at something she couldn't see. "Accio pillow," he muttered.

The pillow flew into the frame then into his awaiting hand, catching it just before it could hit his face. Evaline clapped her hands with a grin, "Well, colour me impressed, Marvolo!”

༺═──────────────═༻

Three days later, Tom sat at the Slytherin table, his gaze fixated on the grand doors. Thankfully, the seating arrangements had reverted back to normal since everyone was returning to Hogwarts after the holidays.

Students poured in, and Tom's eyes darted from one face to another until he finally spotted the familiar pair of silver eyes. Her gaze met his, and she offered him a smile, waving but her attention was diverted as she turned her head to speak to someone.

Tom's eyes narrowed slightly as he saw Orion lean in and whisper something to Evaline. She smirked in response and muttered something, causing Orion to burst out laughing. An odd sensation akin to displeasure spread in his gut, but it quickly vanished as he watched Evaline shove Orion away with a roll of her eyes and make her way towards Tom. 

Gracefully, she slid into the seat next to him, grinning. "It's been so long since I saw you, Marvolo."

Tom raised an eyebrow. Ever since Evaline had sent him the communication mirror, they had called every night after dinner. Sometimes Evaline would be telling him a ridiculous story while Tom was reading or doing work or Tom would be explaining his research in ancient runes while she was eating dinner.

"Is that so? Who was I talking to last night then?"

Evaline eyes narrowed, a hint of amusement in her eyes, "You've been talking to someone else? Marvolo! After all we've been through!"

Tom rolled his eyes, trying not to let the smile tug at the corners of his lips. He picked up his cutlery as the food appeared on the tables. “Well, whoever I was talking to was very interesting if I do say so myself.”

“Marvolo! How could you?” Evaline sniffed, pretending to wipe a fake tear from her eye, “Well, as long as I’m the only person you’re annoying with your rants about Dumbledore.”

“I don’t rant,” he tried but it fell to deaf ears. Tom sighed deeply, shaking his head as he served himself some food. How did he get here? In this situation?

Oh, right.

Evaline was irritatingly persistent and Tom reluctantly admitted that she was…interesting to be around. Not to mention she was smart, which was why Tom convinced himself that he tolerated her presence. 

Yes, she was smart and will later be a useful asset. Not at all because he liked conversing with her and found himself waiting for their next interactions.

"So, I hope Dumbledore hasn't been annoying you?" Evaline asked, making Tom snap out of his self-gaslighting session. 

Taking a moment to delicately slice the chicken on his plate, he replied with a slightly sour tone, "I spent most of my time in the common room or the library. Figured, I had less of a chance of running into him."

Evaline hummed thoughtfully, her fingers drummed softly on the table as she propped her chin on her palm. She reached for an apple and took a loud, satisfying crunch.

Pausing with his fork midway, he caught sight of her empty plate "You're not going to eat?"

Surprised, Evaline glanced at him, then at the food on the table before taking another bite of her apple, "Such greasy food doesn't sit well with my stomach."

Tom frowned, scanning the table for non-greasy options and finding only bread and fruits. Was there really no alternatives for students with delicate diets? "So, you've been relying on fruits for all our previous meals?"

Evaline chuckled, taking another bite of the apple. "Of course not. I usually eat in the kitchens before meals and then join you here to keep you company. I don’t eat breakfast anyways so it’s not that big a deal. The elves are more than happy to accommodate."

༺═──────────────═༻

The crackling of the fire was the only sound in the common room as Evaline sat alone, well past midnight, settled into the plush armchair, her legs tucked underneath her, and a steaming cup of tea held between her hands.

Unblinking, she stared into the dancing flames, feeling an overwhelming sense of homesickness wash over her. It was the first time since she arrived in this era that Evaline was hit with such a longing for her own time.

She missed her grandfather dearly—the warm smiles, the morning chats with his portrait after breakfast or after work. Hell, she even missed the Minister, with his annoying habit of popping into her office at the most uncanny hours, and would take the initiative to finish all her snacks while he wasted an hour of her time.

At some point, Evaline had started to demand compensation for her missing snacks, much to the amusement of Minister Arnaldo. But in her next paycheck, there was an extra thousand galleons deposited into her vaults.

Evaline also missed her Unspeakable Unit. She was the head of the Unspeakable unit assigned to national security matters -more specifically border security research- which was why she was interested in the international wardings project in the first place. Her unit consisted of four people, including herself.

Emanuel Rezzlo. Aged 36, with a wife named Isabella and a daughter on the way. He was a prodigy at potions, capable of making anything from rose perfumes to rose scented poisons. He ran the biggest potions business in Italy, unanimously acclaimed, and acted as the mother hen of their group, making sure every member was dragged out of their offices for every meal and he would pop by all three peoples offices at least once everyday to check on them.

Then there was Cara Pesci, aged 33, who had a rather fiery temper.

She was the best dueler anyone could come across, a skilled battle mage often selected for the minister's personal security team. Evaline had met her back when they were both aurors. Cara excelled in battle strategies. At the age of 29 and in a fit of rage, she had accidentally vowed on her magic to remain unmarried for the rest of her life.

That had been an ongoing amusement for anyone who was present to witness it. Cara, however, had now fully come to terms with it...after moping about for a year. She had made it her personal mission to epitomise the image of a "rich single bachelor " – stylish, wealthy, and always ready to get drunk.

The last member of their unit was Evaline's best friend, Dante Argento, who was ironically the oldest of the group at 37. He was married to a lovely witch named Elena, who worked as a lawyer. Dante was their runes specialist, capable of analysing and providing comprehensive reports on various types of runes within a matter of minutes.

He was a bookworm and would often forget that sunlight and fresh air even existed. With him being the oldest and Evaline being the youngest, it was a miracle they had gotten along, bonding over quidditch out of all things. He liked analysing the strategies on the ground and she liked utilising the strategies in the air.

Evaline herself was a specialist in warding and defensive duelling, making her research into international warding matters her top priority. She collaborated closely with Cara, exchanging strategies - Cara focused on offence while Evaline provided valuable defensive insights.

Her work with Dante involved the intricate combinatorial possibilities of runes and warding, utilising their expertise to strengthen magical protections. As for Emanuel, Evaline assisted him in testing his new potions, which more times than less led to chaotic conclusions, mostly involving explosions that rattled the building. 

Which was why the Unspeakable unit had been given their own building by the Minister after an explosion caused a chandelier in the Main Lobby to fall. It was a bloody miracle nobody got hurt. The building was impressive, with its own lobby, kitchen and dining area, duelling rooms, potions and experimentation labs and library filled with forbidden books. 

Despite his one week suspension, Emanuel had taken it upon himself to congratulate himself for providing them with such a privilege as his actions led to this unexpectedly positive development. Cara had cheerfully joined him with a bottle of firewhiskey, thanking him like the man was merlin himself while Dante could be seen banging his head on the newly made marble pillar and Evaline laughed herself to a stomach ache.

The four of them had met at the Ministry after Evaline had graduated and taken an auror apprenticeship there. Cara was also an apprentice with her while Dante and Emaneul already worked for the Unspeakable department, well into their careers. At that time, being both the youngest and shortest among them, they often took delight in reminding her of the fact, much to her annoyance. Over time, they had become inseparable.

Evaline missed them terribly.

Her life seemed so dull without their presence. Sure, she had Marvolo and occasionally Orion entertained her, but they weren't the same. They were kids, and she was, in reality and mentally, 27 years old. Sometimes, she couldn’t help but feel like a babysitter.

"Have you been here all night?" 

As she sat lost in her thoughts, a fifth-year boy had quietly taken a seat on the nearby couch, observing her. He was in his Quidditch uniform, number 7, and had a parchment laid out on the table. Dusty brown hair and dark brown eyes defined him.

Evaline blinked, looking up at the boy. "If it's morning, then yes," she replied after a moment, realising that the cup in her hands had gone ice-cold a long time ago, vanishing her cold tea with a wave of her hand.

“It’s 5 am in the morning,” The boy’s eyebrows rose, but he didn't press further nor did he comment on the use of wandless magic, instead introducing himself, "Anthony Macmillan, Quidditch Team Captain."

"Evaline Este," shaking his hand with a smile. "I'm guessing you're up early for training?"

He nodded, gesturing towards the parchment on the table, "Coming up with new strategies to crush the Gryffindors. Can't have them stealing our House Cup."

"Thank you for your service, Captain," she mock-saluted him, grinning when he bowed mockingly. "So, what position do you play?"

"Chaser." Anthony replied instantly, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he observed her closely.

Evaline narrowed her eyes, "Liar. You're a Beater."

His eyes widened in surprise, before he broke into a wide grin, "How did you know?"

"Your body proportions aren't suitable for being a Chaser," she mused as she eyed his upper arms and shoulders, "Your handshake was substantially more sturdy than other people's, and your hand had calluses from previous blisters, likely from the rubber wrap on bat handles. Also, I watched the games last term."

Evaline's deduction about his position stemmed from her own experience as a Beater during her youth. Evaline had been homeschooled, much like every other person of the Royal Este Lineage but that didn't stop her from playing quidditch. It was ironic to think she was forced onto her broom the first time and now she had to be forced off her broom.

It had been after the death of her grandfather that left her with a surplus of pent-up emotions that needed a safe outlet. When exploding training dummies became dull, and she had grown extremely desensitised from torturing and killing dummies, her friend Stefano Valti, had decided to take matters into his own hands and presented her with the opportunity to play quidditch.

Stefano Valti was the Heir of the Noble House of Valti. Evaline’s Grandfather had always told her if anything was to happen and he wasn’t there to help, the House of Valti was the one to contact. They were the closest allies of the Este House and always have been. 

Lord Valti was the first one a 13 year old Evaline had reached out to when her grandfather passed. She had stumbled into the Valti Manor, sobbing and pleading as she barged into the man’s dining room and promptly dragged the worried man to the floo, begging him to bring back her grandfather. 

Once she got those words out, he followed her almost immediately with his wife, Lady Valti, as she pulled them through Este Castle and to her grandfather’s cold corpse. Lord Valti was the one who arranged the private funeral, which only five people attended; Lord & Lady Valti, Stefano, Andrew (their second son) and Evaline herself.

As per request from her Grandfather's will, Evaline was allowed to remain alone at Este Castle even when Lord Valti had legally taken her as his ward until she was of age. After the funeral, the family often visited Evaline in the castle.

Lady Valti would floo over every morning before heading to work to make sure she was alright, Stefano and Andrew would floo with their tutors so they she didn’t have homeschooling lessons alone.

Lord Valti would floo over for dinner after he finished his work at the ministry and would attempt to engage her in different types of conversations. He would talk about the new laws and tell her gossip about those in the ministry if only to get her to giggle childishly with him. 

All in all, Evaline was extremely grateful for the Valti House. If she needed to sacrifice her life for them anytime in the future, she would do so without hesitation. They were the closest thing to family she had, and they all made sure she survived to become the woman she was today.

If it wasn’t for Lord Valti and his family’s kindness and generosity, Evaline was sure she would have taken a very unfortunate route after her grandfather's death.

So when Stefano became concerned when her depression wasn’t getting any better, he pushed her onto a broom and threw angry bludgers in her direction. It turned out hitting angry bludgers with bats and directing them towards the opposing team was incredibly cathartic for her. As she continued to play, it became more than just an emotional release; it became a thrilling passion. 

So when Anthony claimed to be a Chaser, Evaline's instincts kicked in, recognizing the signs that indicated he was, in fact, a fellow Beater.

Anthony blinked, before his expression turned pleading, "Please tell me you're going to try out for the team."

She wondered how it would feel to play in an actual team. “I wish I could, but I’m a first year”

He waved away her worries, “Not to worry. I’ll write you down for next year.”

With a determined glint in his eye, Anthony grabbed a quill and scribbled her name onto the parchment, his resolve unwavering. As he pointed to her name, he gave her a serious look, making it clear that she had no choice but to show up. "Next year, be there, Evaline, or I will hunt you down myself."

Evaline couldn't help but be amused by his conviction. She arched an eyebrow, "I have no interest in being in a team. Also, you're not my captain yet, Anthony."

Ignoring her first comment, a confident smirk played on his lips as he shot back, "I will be soon enough." He jabbed a finger at the parchment, emphasising his point, "Be.There." 

Evaline chuckled, raising her hands in surrender, "Alright, alright. You have my word. I'll be there next year."

His victory grin was evident as he declared, "Excellent!" Then, his attention returned to the parchment, already deep in thought about new strategies for the team's upcoming matches.

Evaline sat in silence, patiently observing Anthony's frustration as he furrowed his brow and stared intently at the diagram of the Quidditch pitch and players. Minutes passed, and he remained deep in thought, still unable to find a suitable strategy for their team. Evaline couldn't help but feel a mixture of sympathy and amusement at his predicament.

Finally, when her amusement turned into pity and she was unable to watch him struggle any longer, she leaned forward, her finger tracing a path on the parchment. "The Gryffindor team has a direct approach," she began, her voice confident as she recalled Dante’s various rants as he analysed different Quidditch strategies. "The moment they gain an advantage, their seeker immediately goes after the Snitch to finish the game. They're quick and aggressive. To counter them, you need an exceptional keeper."

Her finger moved to the position of the keeper, "Gryffindor won't attempt to catch the Snitch if they can't score more points. All you need to do is keep them from scoring, hence your keeper. "

She shifted her finger to indicate the two chaser positions, tapping the main chaser's bubble, "As for your chasers, keep one close to whoever has the Quaffle while the other stays ready for a long shot in case you’re trapped and need an opening. Preferably, keep a chaser above you or below you, since your sides would obviously be defended. Meanwhile, your keeper defends the goals while your seeker goes after the Snitch. Maintain your points, and end the game before they can even get a point."

His gaze remained on the parchment, darting from the places she pointed at before Anthony stared at her, his expression unreadable. "You…are you sure you’re a first-year?"

Anthony’s face looks just like Dante when she pointed out his attack strategy that he was theorising was physically impossible and then she proceeded to show him how disastrous it was in the air, which ended with Evaline getting 3 stitches and Dante getting a scathing scolding from Elena while Emanuel laughed and Cara collected her winning bet from Minister Arnaldo.  

That was the beginning of their friendship.

Evaline chuckled, "Yes, a firstie who happens to have a friend obsessed with quidditch strategies. Him and I have watched and analysed countless matches."

He took a deep breath, as though gathering his last bits of sanity, "You will definitely be present at tryouts next year. In fact, I'll personally escort you there." he nodded to himself, as though confirming his thoughts.

"We'll see," Evaline snorted, rising from her seat and making her way toward her dormitory to get ready for the day.

From a distance, she heard him yell after her, "If I don't escort you, I'll drag you there myself, Este! I mean it!"

Chapter Text

“Oh! Oh! Orion, it says you’re going to…” she squinted her eyes, trying to see better, “...to have a son in Gryffindor?” Evaline exclaimed, a pained expression on her face as she peered into his tea cup and observed the loose leaves that made zero sense to her.

Orion’s head shot up from the textbook in panic, “What?! Does it really say that?!”

“Don’t be so foolish, Black,” Marvolo muttered, rolling his eyes and he pointed at her face without looking up, “Look at her face, she’s messing with you.”

She smiled innocently.

“I can’t believe you, Evaline!” Orion scowled as her lips twitched in amusement, “I nearly died of a heart attack!”

“That panic seemed awfully real,” Evaline asked, genuinely curious, “Do you hate Gryffindor's that much?”

Evaline never really understood the rivalry between houses here at Hogwarts. She found them rather childish, which, let's face it, was completely justifiable in her opinion seeing as she was nearly 30 years old.

Evaline also knew of course that Orion’s first son was in fact a Gryffindor in the future, much to her amusement. She knew she shouldn't be risking giving away little facts like this of the future but what harm could it possibly do?

Besides, who would ever connect the dots, 30 years later when Heir Sirius Orion Black gets sorted into Gryffindor, that the Evaline they knew from Hogwarts was from the future? 

No one. Even thinking about it was far fetched.

Also Evaline was bored. And Orion was fun to mess with since he had not developed that Slytherin, Heir Black calculating character of his yet. In the meantime, Evaline took advantage of that. He was much more fun than Malfoy who would only screech and call her a mudblood. 

Orion ignored her question, though his ears did flush pink a little, making Evaline smirk. He scowled as he realised she noticed. “Yes, I hate those mangy lions! I would actually die from shame if my son was a Gryfindor!”

“Make sure to invite me to the funeral,” Evaline grinned as Orion’s ears became redder, “I’ll come with Marvolo and we’ll raid the drinks table. Also, if it really happens, you owe me ten galleons, write it in your will before you die.”

“Don’t drag me into your crimes, Este,” Marvolo muttered absentmindedly as he continued scribbling something on a parchment.

Orion had seemed to have enough when Evaline let out a snort and he threw a pillow at her, which she easily deflected with a wave of her hand before pointing at the cup in his hands, “Read my fortune and tell me how I’ll win an Order of Merlin.”

It seemed he had gotten used to her using wandless magic so easily since Orion no longer gaped at her with awestruck eyes like he did the first time she used wandless magic.

This time Orion was the one to let out an incredulous snort, “ You’re going to win an Order of Merlin? In what? Annoying people?”

Evaline smirked, “First Class.”

This time, Marvolo looked at them with a deadpan expression before his gaze settled on Evaline, “If you win an Order of Merlin, first class- You can ask me to do anything and I would do it without question.”

Well, that might come in handy. It seems like her problems are resolving themselves. Thank you, Lady Fate, if you’re the reason this is happening. Evaline raised a challenging brow, “Swear on it.”

Marvolo rolled his eyes, “Absolutely not.”

Ah, she thanked Fate too soon. Dark Lord or not, Tom Riddle was no fool. Evaline grinned playfully, “Why? Are you planning on giving me an Order of Merlin when you become Minister?”

Before Marvolo could answer, Professor Onai had approached them and they fell silent. She took the cup from Orion’s hands and she peered at it. Whatever she saw made her eyes widened in horror as she exclaimed, “Fate’s Omen! It- Who…Who’s cup is this!?”

Startled, Orion immediately shot a finger at Evaline and scootched away from the frantic professor. Evaline scowled at the Black Heir but he just smirked and mouthed, ‘An eye for an eye’. Oh. It seemed Orion had noticed that Evaline was behind the Malfoy tumbling incident last term. 

Well played.

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom concealed a scowl, his frustration mounting, as he swiftly caught the glass orb before it could roll off the edge of the table. He should’ve let the damn thing shatter. This subject was useless.

Professor Onai's reaction was far from ordinary. She had slammed her hands on the table, her eyes wide and fixated on Evaline, who sat calmly across from him. All background chatter had ceased and the entire class was now in astonished silence, their attention drawn to the unusual encounter.

Next to him, Orion scootched away further from the Professor and closer to Tom. Tom refrained from rolling his eyes at the childish mouthing between Evaline and Orion.

The professor leaned in closer to Evaline, invading her personal space, but Evaline remained unfazed, raising a brow but not backing down. Tom watched with curiosity when the professor's voice dropped, making it hard to hear her words as he strained his ears. She seemed to be in awe, muttering, "You are not from here."

“Is it that obvious?” Evaline's lips twitched into an amused smile as she replied, "I hail from Italy, ma'am."

The professor's tone changed suddenly, her demeanour shifting into something that could be considered borderline hostile, "You do not belong here."

“I know. The lesson is about to end and I should be headed to lunch if you let us go early,” Evaline's response was just as scathing, "Trust me, I would be anywhere but here."

But the professor seemed to have a deeper meaning behind her words as she continued, her voice hushed, "You are here to correct the wrongs."

Tom couldn't quite grasp the significance of the professor's words, and he looked to Evaline for a reaction. She appeared just as bewildered, if not amused as her brows lifted in curiosity. “I still won’t check Orion’s potions homework if that’s what you mean”

Orion scowled. His potions weren't that bad!

Then, unexpectedly, the professor's gaze snapped to Tom, eyes wide and assessing. He met her eyes, refusing to break contact and offered a polite smile, determined to keep up his charming persona in front of all the professors, no matter how looney they may be.

She slowly nodded before returning her attention to Evaline, uttering cryptically, "Fate has done right to choose you."

Without another word, the professor turned away as if nothing had occurred, proceeding with the class as if it were an ordinary day. Tom's gaze remained fixed on Evaline, who seemed to be taking it all in stride. She looked beyond amused, swirling the tea cup in her hands.

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline's heart painfully thumped in her chest with panic as the professor leaned closer to her, merely an inch away as her eyes wide and all seeing. But Evaline was used to high tension situations so she successfully wiped her face of panic and replaced it with mild amusement.

Her brows raised with each statement the divination professor uttered, knowing very well it was all true but Evaline's mouth moved on its own, answers laced with heavy sarcasm. 

Her thumb found its way to her ring under the table, and immediately her family magic washed over her. She calmed, counting to 10 in her head and controlling her magic.

Lady Fate, if you’re watching or listening, please please do not let this lady reveal anything of her mission. Not when the mission itself was sitting a foot away, next to a scrambling Heir Black and watching her with curiosity.  

Eventually, the professor jerked back as though Evaline had spit in her face or something, but Evaline couldn't bring herself to care as she suppressed the urge to let out a sigh of relief that Lady Fate had in fact heard her pleas. As though nothing happened, the woman continued with the class, and moved to probably spook some other students out.

Marvolo, sitting across from her, looked intrigued. He picked up his own cup of tea, glaring at the loose tea leaves floating in the translucent liquid. Apparently, the leaves were meant to tell his fortune or something equally as absurd.

“Care to explain what that was about?” Marvolo asked, squinting at whatever was in his cup.

Without missing a beat, Evaline deadpanned flatly, "Basically, Fate sent me from the future to make you the greatest wizard Britian has ever seen." she paused, "Or Minister of Magic, probably."

The truth was more ridiculously unbelievable than any lie she could come up with within 10 seconds. 

Marvolo's head shot up from his cup, his eyes locking with hers. She couldn't help but grin at his reaction.

He scowled in response, "I can become Minister just fine on my own, thank you very much. You severely lack creativity."

Yup, she did lack creativity as that was the full and whole truth, ergo an original idea and thus not hers to claim.

Evaline simply shrugged, "Who said it was a lie? Maybe we were just destined to meet, and I'm here to help you achieve greatness."

Orion interjected, slowly returning to his original seat next to Evaline, “Help me achieve greatness as well. I need you to explain this to me,” he said, pointing at something in the textbook.

“No, my assistance is only reserved for people who don’t get the name of their potion wrong in every. single . essay,” she rejected instantly, “Which is absurd, by the way. There is a limit of stupidity I can tolerate and you are stretching it.”

Orion blushed wildly, “What- I dont-”

Marvolo rolled his eyes again as Evaline fell into a stream of laughter and he returned to his work, ignoring Orion’s outrageous defences and Evaline's continued and deliberate probing.

༺═──────────────═༻

“So, Este, I hear you dont belong here,” Malfoy snided as Evaline took her seat next to Orion in the Great Hall for lunch.

“Malfoy, I hear that girl you tackled last term filed for assault and a restraining order against the House of Malfoy,” Evaline snarked back casually, reaching for an apple.

Malfoy immediately recoiled back violently, face blooming red as though the words were a slap in the face. 

“Oh, I heard that too!” Orion barked out a laugh, “House of Fawley was so furious when you tackled Heiress Amanda Fawley. She ended up getting a permanent scar on her arm!”

Smirking, Evaline bit into the apple with a loud obnoxious crunch, eyes never leaving Malfoy as he sneered at them and hastily walked away. As he exited the Great Hall, she held out a hand and Orion slapped it with a grin before continuing his lunch like normal.

From across the table, Marvolo looked between them, half amused, half exasperated.

༺═──────────────═༻

"Evaline?" Tom called out in a hushed tone, observing the girl across from him. As always, she was seated with her feet tucked beneath her, engrossed in a thick book on advanced runes. Somehow, she had managed to finish her homework in an unreasonably short amount of time again.

Evaline glanced up, her silver eyes meeting his, and with a knowing look, she swiftly cast a privacy charm around them. Though they were already seated in a dimly lit and secluded corner of the library, she was always one to be prepared.

‘Better safe than sorry,’ she once told him. And she was probably right.

When Tom quirked an inquisitive brow, she rolled her eyes, "I know that look. You're about to inquire about dark arts, and I don't fancy being thrown into Azkaban just yet. Ask your questions."

There it is. Dart Arts . Not Dark Magic. Never Once had Evaline called it Dark Magic. And never once had Tom ever read of something called ‘Dark Arts’. And that was what intrigued him.

"Dark…arts, you said?" Tom prompted, maybe not so subtly judging from the amusement shining in Evaline’s eyes.

She hummed thoughtfully, her eyes briefly meeting his eyes before going back to her book. For a moment, Tom thought she wouldn’t answer or warn him not to further pursue dark magic just like everyone else. 

But then she spoke, eyes still on her book like the topic was not widely known taboo, "There's no such thing as dark or light magic, Marvolo. Magic is simply a tool, a neutral force."

That caught Tom’s attention and he snapped his book closed, immensely interesting as he leaned forward, “Explain.”

Rolling her eyes, Evaline leaned back in her chair, flipping a page before delving into her explanation. "Dark or light magic is just a classification created by humans to label certain types of magic based on their perceived morality. It's the intent and the actions of the wizard or witch using it that determine whether it's considered 'dark' or 'light'. However, I believe that it's important for a wizard or witch to be well-versed in all aspects of magic, not just the ones labelled as light. Understanding the full range of magical practices can make one a more skilled and knowledgeable wizard."

Tom's expression was contemplative as he followed her analogy. "So, you're saying magic doesn't have morality; it depends on how it's used."

“Essentially,” she murmured, flipping another page of her book, eyes darted from line to line. "Like a quill. You can intend to use it to write a heartfelt poem with it or stab it in someones eye, permanently blind them. It's the intent behind the magic that matters. The same spell can be used to heal someone or harm them, depending on the caster's intention."

Tom was quiet for a moment, processing her words and trying to overlook the rather disturbing analogy. It was an intriguing perspective, one that challenged the conventional views he had heard about from others. 

"Then, what about dark wizards?" he asked, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea.

Evaline's expression did not change, still unalarmed and a little bored, but she finally glanced up at him, abandoning her book for just a moment. "Dark wizards are individuals who choose to use magic for malicious purposes, to cause harm or manipulate others for their own gain. It's not the magic itself that's dark; it's the intentions and actions of the wizard behind it. Thus, the term ‘dark magic’ is incorrect."

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline maintained a calm and nonchalant expression, keeping her curiosity about Marvolo's internal struggle hidden behind her eyes. She knew she had to tread carefully and avoid any hint of fear or condescension. This was a big moment – the fact that Marvolo felt comfortable enough to ask her about Dark Arts was a significant step in her mission. One misstep could easily undo all the progress she had made in shaping his perspective.

She leaned back in her chair, seemingly disinterested in the weight of their conversation, and continued with an air of detachment, "The concept of Dark Arts is often misunderstood. People tend to associate it with evil or malevolence, but it's more about the intentions and actions of the wizard using the magic. Dart Arts itself is an umbrella term that harbours various topics more inclined towards…"

As the discussion carried on, Marvolo's questions became more confident and probing. He delved deeper into various topics, eager to understand the nuances of magic and its applications.

Evaline, with her 27 years experience and full knowledge of the future, patiently engaged in the exchange, providing him with thought-provoking counterpoints whenever he had formed a misguided opinion on a topic, one that stemmed from a lack of supervision while perusing the Dark Arts field.

She challenged his assumptions and encouraged him to reconsider his perspectives.

“...Besides, we study ‘Defense Against the Dark Arts’ not Dark Magic ,” she added somewhere in the conversation just for the sake of it and for some reason, that was the point that won Marvolo over, much to her amusement. 

With each interaction, Marvolo's thoughts expanded, and she watched as he found himself viewing magic in a new light. He started sharing his own thoughts and ideas, discussing them with Evaline, who easily guided him towards a broader understanding.

And so, Evaline took on the delicate task of shaping Tom Riddle's views on Dark Arts, handling his curiosity with care and precision. She knew that pushing him away would only fuel his obsession and lead to dangerous consequences. Instead, she provided him with knowledge and insights into the complexities of magic, teaching him to see it as a tool with no inherent moral alignment. 

Unknown to Evaline, her simple words and patience would have such a large influence on Tom Riddle's thinking which would eventually shape the destiny of the wizarding world. The way she handled his curiosity and understanding of magic laid the foundation for the choices he would make and the path he would take in the years to come.

༺═──────────────═༻

As the days turned into weeks and the end of their first year approached, Marvolo's mood had noticeably deteriorated. He had returned to his grumpy and scowling demeanour, the one she had seen in him when she first met him, when he was still so cautious and alert around her, suspicious of her motives.

It was a frustratingly amusing period of time, to watch the sceptical glances he threw at her when she sat with him for meals, like he couldn't decipher why in the world anyone would sit with him willingly. 

Sitting across from him in the Hogwarts Express carriage, Evaline observed him silently, her mind already turning this into an opportunity to further his trust in her. She knew that building a bond with Marvolo was crucial if she wanted to guide him away from the dark path he was slowly traversing.

With a sigh, she pulled out a book and started reading, pretending to be absorbed in her study and not at all aware of his murderous aura. After a few moments of silence, she decided to make her move, her tone light and nonchalant, "Say, Marvolo, would you like to meet up during the holidays? We could go to Diagon Alley if you wish."

Just as she predicted, immediately, Marvolo's eyes flickered in her direction, the death glare not at all wavering, "I doubt I could get permission to do so."

Evaline hummed, flipping a page in her book, "No need to worry about that. I can take care of it. All I need to know is if you want to come."

His skepticism was evident as he probed further, "What do you mean, 'you can take care of it'?"

She was from the future with magic and experience of a 27 year old. She was sure she could sneak a little kid out of a muggle orphanage that had no wards or protection for a few hours. 

Evaline smiled at the flicker of curiosity in his eyes, knowing very well he would use any means necessary to leave that orphanage, even for a little while. "You just need to give me your confirmation, and I'll handle the rest. I just need to know if you want to go."

His scowl lingered for a moment longer, but Evaline saw a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Perhaps her offer was enough to pique his interest and take a step towards trusting her.

"...Yes, I would like to go."

Evaline grinned, "Excellent, give me the address and a date."

Chapter Text

Tom's nerves were on edge, an uncharacteristic feeling for him. He paced back and forth in his small room at Wool's Orphanage, his fingers fiddling with the communication mirror as he waited anxiously for Evaline's signal. 

Ten minutes ago, Edgar, Evaline’s owl had delivered an annoyingly vague note from her, simply stating, 'Get ready. I'm coming to bust you out. - EE' 

Unfortunately, there were no further instructions, leaving Tom frustrated and uncertain about what to do except next, when to expect her or how she would sneak him out. He had hastily changed into his best clothes (which were just a pair of worn out black pants and a green sweater), combed his hair, and kept a keen eye on the communication mirror, assuming that was how she would call him.

“Riddle!” Suddenly, the matron's sharp voice echoed through the hallway, and the door to Tom's room slammed open. He scowled and turned to glare at the woman, finding some satisfaction in her flinching reaction.

The matron quickly retreated, announcing to someone standing out of his sight, "He's all yours, ma'am."

Without missing a beat, Evaline sauntered into the room with a mischievous grin on her face. "Hear that? You're all mine, Marvolo."

Tom had always known Evaline was unpredictable, even unhinged in some ways. But he hadn't expected her to waltz right through his front door with that unnervingly chaotic grin on her face while the Matron practically bowed to her on her way out.

For the second time, Tom's jaw dropped open in astonishment. "What!? How did-”

"That's for me to know and you to find out," Evaline grinned, tossing him a set of robes, "Put these on and let's get going."

Tom quickly donned the outer robe, still trying to process what was happening. Before he could say anything else, he felt a firm hand on his shoulder, and the world around him went black. He felt an intense pressure from all directions, making it difficult to breathe. The sensation was overwhelming, with bands tightening around his chest and his body contorting in discomfort.

Then, suddenly, he landed on his feet, feeling a little unsteady and extremely nauseous.

A few feet away, Evaline, looking completely fine and not at all affected, smirked as she eyed his reaction, "Not bad. Most people vomit the first time around."

"A warning would’ve been nice.” Tom scowled, trying to regain his composure as the nauseous feeling slowly subsided. “What was that?"

"Apparition. A form of magical transportation, where the user travels instantly from one location to another, without traversing the space in-between," Evaline explained casually, waiting for him to gather himself. "You'll learn it in your 6th year."

Straightening, Tom's eyes narrowed, "If you know how to do it, you can teach me now."

Evaline shrugged nonchalantly, shoving her hands in her pockets, "Sure, why not? But don't blame me if you end up Splinching. That's when you mess it up and leave part of your body behind in your former location."

"I will most certainly blame you," Tom scowled, brushing off his robes, "What kind of teacher are you if I end up injured?"

"You could just be a bad student."

"I think every professor at Hogwarts would beg to disagree."

"Careful, Marvolo. your arrogance is showing," She rolled her eyes and continued walking, "Shall we?"

As they arrived outside the Leaky Cauldron, Tom quickly followed Evaline, marvelling at how effortlessly she navigated through the crowded streets. It made him wonder just how many times she had been here.

Approaching the brick wall, Evaline reached for her wand, causing Tom to grab her wrist in alarm. "What are you doing? Are you looking to get expelled?"

She paused, a realisation crossing her face, "Oh, right." She tucked her wand away and instead pressed a hand on the wall, watching as it opened up.

"You used magic! You'll get expelled!" Tom hissed, slightly worried.

Evaline waved him off dismissively, "They trace magic through your wand and its core. When you bought your wand at Olivanders, it was registered with the Ministry. Wandless magic doesn't have a wand, hence the name, so it's untraceable."

Tom raised an intrigued brow. It seemed he needed to learn wandless magic as well. However, his thoughts were quickly diverted when he saw Diagon Alley. He hadn't had the chance to observe it properly the first time when he came with Dumbledore to get his supplies, but now that he was here, he couldn't help but feel a sense of awe.

The bustling alleyway was filled with magical shops and enchanting sights. Witches and wizards moved through the crowd, browsing for various items, and the air was filled with the scents of various magical wares. It was like stepping into a whole new world.

"Where do you want to go?" Evaline asked after a few minutes, hands in pockets as she eyed the crowd.

Tom tore his gaze away from the enchanting surroundings to look at her, "I'm not sure."

"You got a sweet tooth?" she grinned and, without waiting for a response, she took his arm and pulled him into the crowd.

Their first stop was Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, a brightly lit shop with the delightful aroma of sweetness lingering in the air. Evaline quickly secured a corner booth, and they slid into the comfortable seats.

Tom's eyes roamed over the colourful menu filled with a wide array of flavours. He had never had ice cream in his life, ever. So when presented with over 20 options, Tom was suddenly a tad overwhelmed.

“The chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts is a rather popular option here, but I don't really see the appeal,” Evaline said, her nose scrunching in distaste. She closed the menu, deciding firmly, “I think I’ll get Vanilla. Can’t go wrong with a classic.”

Tom bit the inside of his cheek, hesitating before deciding, “I'll try the…mint chocolate chip.”

Evaline's face would have been comical if it didn’t stir up a flicker of defensiveness in Tom. He frowned, eyes narrowing, "What? Why is your face like that?"

“Nothing. No reason,” she shook her head, trying to dismiss it before giving into whatever was on her mind before appearing to lose an internal battle, "Okay, why? Why do you want to eat toothpaste-flavoured ice cream?"

Did it taste like toothpaste? Tom wouldn't know, he’s never tried ice cream before. That didn't sound appealing at all. Still, he refused to let her win and crossed his arms stubbornly, insisting, “I will take one mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

She sighed dramatically, muttering something under her breath that suspiciously sounded like ‘what to expect from a sociopath’ as she got up to place the order. Seconds later, she returned with two ridiculously tall cups of layered ice cream, handing him a green one with flickers of brown.

She was right, it did resemble swirly toothpaste. But undeterred and under her watchful eyes, Tom stubbornly picked up his spoon and took a cautious bite. As the cool, refreshing taste melted on his tongue, he was pleasantly surprised that it didn't taste as bad as she had exaggerated.

He scowled at her, “You lied to me. It's good!”

Evaline took a serene bite of her vanilla ice cream, eyeing him skeptically, “Do you have a brain injury?"

Glowering, he threw a napkin at her, succumbing to a childish urge, and she laughed, batting it away with a hand before it touched her ice cream. A moment later, as he watched her, a small smile spread on Tom’s lips.

After a while of getting criticised for his life choices, i.e mint chocolate ice cream, Tom led Evaline to a store called Flourish and Blott's, which had caught his eye earlier. Stepping inside, they were greeted by the delightful sight of countless books filling the shelves from floor to ceiling. 

Tom felt a shimmer of excitement, like a child in a candy shop. He immediately began to roam the shelves, picking up various books of different sizes and topics, Evaline following at a more serene pace.

Lost in the sea of books, Tom suddenly realised he had lost sight of Evaline. He was holding three thick books in his hands when he walked out of one of the aisles and spotted her engaged in a surprisingly lively discussion with Orion Black.

"Come on , Black," Evaline groaned, pointing a finger at him in exasperation, "You cannot be serious!"

Orion, dressed in casual but obviously high quality robes, grinned, "As serious as my Grandfather Sirius II."

At that moment, when Evaline looked a second away from hexing the boy into oblivion, Tom decided to step out of the aisle. Immediately, Evaline caught sight of Tom and sighed in relief, walking over to him, "Oh, thank Merlin! Are you done? I feel my brain will melt if I spend more time with Orion."

"I'm ready, yes," Tom replied, raising a curious eyebrow as he looked at Orion, "Fancy running into you here, Orion."

Slipping a hand into his pocket, Orion nodded in greeting, "Likewise, Tom. How are your holidays going?"

Like shit. Aside from today. Was what he wanted to say.

Instead, Tom settled on the more diplomatic response, "A tad boring. I'm glad to be back at Hogwarts next week. What were you arguing about?"

Exasperated, Evaline rolled her eyes, "Orion here thinks he can resist the raw cries of a mandrake because apparently he received special ear protection training." She threw Orion a look, "I don't know who lied to you, but that's not a real thing, Orion. Don't be daft."

Tom raised a brow at Orion, "A mandrake's cry is incredibly fatal. Even with a protection charm, It would erupt your eardrums."

Waving dismissively, Orion scoffed at them both, "Just you wait until Herbology, I'll prove you both wrong."

"And I'll come visit you in the infirmary and yell into your newly regrown eardrums," Evaline grinned, clapping Orion on the back, causing him to stumble a step, "Let's go, Marvolo. See you at Hogwarts, Orion."

Tom nodded his goodbye to Orion before following Evaline to the counter with the books. He placed the books down gently and Evaline stood to the side, looking around bored.

"The total is 23 galleons," the cashier announced.

That was when Tom realised he didn't have any money. Shit.

In his haste, he had forgotten to pack the very few galleons he had left from his time here with Dumbledore to buy the next year's supplies. He hadn’t even noticed that Evaline had paid for them at the ice cream store. 

As panic bubbled in his guts, the attention was momentarily diverted when Evaline scoffed unbelievingly, "23 galleons for three books? Do you take us for fools or have you simply gone mad?"

The cashier narrowed his eyes, "The books are pretty exclusive, little lady."

Great, they were about to get scammed and Tom still had nothing helpful to provide. No money. No argument about the price since he was not at all familiar with wizarding currency rates. Tom felt a surge of irritation for being so useless and not in control of the situation.

"Rare editions, you say?" Evaline narrowed her eyes, her voice laced with a hint of scepticism, "It seems you lack knowledge on these books despite your career."

Oh. Oh . Evaline was annoyed. Tom had never seen Evaline display any emotions besides amusement, boredom or the occasional excitement. How intriguing. Tom found himself wondering, if only fleetingly, what Evaline might look like when consumed by unbridled fury. 

His gaze shifted to the cashier, a middle-aged, lanky man sporting heavy glasses and a perpetually condescending sneer. Instantly, Tom wished he could use magic to curse the man for looking down on them.

He really needed to learn wandless magic. Maybe Evaline could teach him.

"Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to insult people?" the cashier sneered.

Undeterred, Evaline pointed at one of the books, tone condescending, "Were you not aware that a signed copy of this book is worth no more than 2 galleons, as the author had intentionally set a low price as part of a fundraising event? Or are you simply overpricing to skim off some extra cash?"

"Well, yes, but the premiums we set-" he started to explain, a little flustered at her sudden knowledge of the book.

"In accordance with British Commercial Rights laws, articles 5.2, Premiums are not allowed to be set on books with fundraising intents and rights, sir . Instead, authors pay out of pocket for stores to promote and sell their books in reimbursement for the lack of premiums," 

Evaline scoffed again, clear irritation in her eyes as they locked onto the cashier's, "Doing otherwise would be constituted as a tort offence for both the business and the author. Not to mention the 10,000 galleon fine if one is caught doing so and the eviction of the business in whole."

Wait. Doesn’t Evaline live in Italy? Why does she know the British laws?

Tom was inwardly impressed. So young and Evaline had enough knowledge to know of the laws of a nation she didn't live in as well as wield them in casual conversation. Hmm, very useful to have in an ally until Tom could study the laws himself.

"Listen here kid-" the cashier started, visibly looking close to pointing his wand at a little girl. 

Thankfully, a voice interrupted.

"On behalf of the Ministry, I would like to speak to the owner of this establishment in case he is unaware of such activities in his store."

The bickering of both Evaline and the cashier paused. Tom saw the cashier immediately begin to sweat while Evaline tensed ever so slightly before she relaxed. She turned with a smile on her face and Tom followed her move, expertly copying her confidence and posture because clearly she knew who this man was.

They turned to see Orion with a taller man. The man was wearing the most expensive looking robes Tom had ever seen, with a tophat tucked under his arm. Orion looked torn between nervousness and on the verge of walking out of the store, with or without his father.

"Lord Arcturus Black of the Ancient and Noble House of Black," The man introduced, but did not hold out a hand in greeting. His tone was neutral as his eyes assessed both Evaline and Tom.

“Evaline Este of House of Este,” Evaline greeted the man easily, "Well met, Lord Black."

༺═──────────────═༻

No. No! Why?

Why did they stumble upon Arcturus Black today of all days?

Evaline was mentally sobbing.

This was not how she planned to introduce Marvolo to Lord Black! First impressions matter, despite what everyone says, and she sure as hell didn't want Marvolo to be caught fighting for 16 galleons on their first meeting.

She had planned to wait until Marvolo found out he was the Heir of Slytherin on his own and then she would have gently pushed him in the direction of Orion Black. That was why she had started to incorporate Orion in their classes and during meals!

A small push and Marvolo would have been smart enough to easily integrate himself into high society without her interference. Eventually, Marvolo would emerge as the lost Heir of Slytherin, with the backing of the House of Black, a magically powerful wizard and easily would have charmed himself to make connections with high people. 

All in this while, Evaline would stand back, away from the centre spotlight and make absolutely no more change in history than she already has. She would watch from the shadows, give him an encouraging push here and there and would keep him away from horcruxes.  And when Lady Fate deemed Marvolo was clearly set on the right path, Evaline would go back to her own time and leave this all behind her.

But now, she stood face to face with Lord Arcturus Black, the richest and oldest Lord of the most powerful pureblooded House in Britain.

Great. Just bloody Great .

While internally she freaked out, externally she had already greeted the man with a confident smile and composed grace. No need to make a fool of herself both in her head and in person. She was sure Lady Fate was pinching her nose in exasperation and Death was laughing at her misery from wherever they're watching.

“And you, young man?” Lord Black eyed Marvolo critically and Evaline was so thankful she had made the boy put on an outer robe. At least he didn’t look like a muggle in front of Lord Black.

Thankfully, Marvolo had managed to replicate an uncanny image of the upbrings of pureblood etiquettes. Sure, he was a little rough around the edges but for now, it was more than enough.

“Tom Riddle, sir,” Marvolo smiled politely, with all his usual air of poise and charm, but Evaline noted his hesitation as his shoulders tightened. After a beat, he followed Evaline’s example and said, “Well met, Lord Black.”

Hearing the muggle name, immediately Lord Black’s gaze turned into mild scorn.

Evaline glared at Orion. She knew very well that Orion knew Tom Riddle would grow to be very influential. She also knew Orion had joined their company almost willingly because he knew that Marvolo was someone not to underestimate. Orion was quick to intervene as he informed his father, “Father, Tom and Evaline are the top students of our class.”

No, don’t include Evaline! She doesn’t need to be included! Evaline refrained from ripping her hair out. Calm down, they’re just kids she reminded herself, they don't have the 27 years experience you have with dealing with bigoted Purebloods.

“Is that so?” Lord Black immediately looked more interested in Evaline, very close to completely disregarding Tom. The man must have recognised the Este name was remotely noble, even though he didn't seem completely aware of her status.

No matter. It's fine. High pressure situations is what Elvaine was trained for. Evaline could salvage this from going completely downhill. Thinking fast, she thought of a way for Marvolo to leave a moderately impressive impression on Lord Black. 

Evaline cleared her throat, smiling diplomatically, “Yes, sir. Unfortunately for me, Marvolo here got an extra three marks in potions, leaving me in a very close second place ranking.”

She eyed the man as recognition flashed in his eyes. Lord Black gave Evaline a knowing glance, to which she simply lifted her chin by a hairline in subtle challenge, before his gaze turned to Marvolo. 

Gone was the scorn and disinterest. Now Lord Black’s eyes were calculating and curious, “I see. Congratulations Mr Riddle. Your parents must be proud.”

Evaline grit her teeth at the very obvious not at all subtle interrogative attitude Lord Black was displaying. Asking for his parents would first determine if they were alive or not. Either way, Evaline knew very well Lord Black was suddenly very invested in the boy and she wouldn’t be surprised if he knew of Marvolo’s true heritage before Marvolo himself found out. 

After all, only one Noble House in Britain was known to have descendants named ‘Marvolo’. And the Gaunt’s, although forgotten, still reigned much influence in the country’s dynamics.

Now, it depends on Marvolo’s reaction. Evaline had set the bait and Lord Black had naturally taken it. A Black will always align themselves with those with power. Like Bellatrix with Dark Lord Voldemort. Orion with Heir of Slytherin Tom Riddle. Narcissa with House of Malfoy. Sirius with House of Potter. Andromeda with the Order of Phoenix and Albus Dumbldore. 

Blacks, by blood, were always drawn to people with power. Interest in Marvolo now could quite potentially mean Lord Black’s assistance in the following years. Interest in Marvolo now will only lead to acceptance when the Heir of Slytherin is announced. And when the House of Black acknowledges someone, the rest of the nation follows. That's how simple minded people are. And that's how power works.

“Thank you,” Tom inclined his head in acknowledgement, before he somewhat reluctantly said, “I’m an orphan, sir. I’ve never met my parents.”

Lord Black's gaze sharpened, more curious now, before he looked at Evaline with an amused smile. He knew what she had done to entice his attention to Marvolo and he knew why she had done so. "Orion, you have such… interesting company."

Orion flustered, but Evaline met the man with her own sharp grin, "Why thank you, Lord Black. Only the interesting are worth remembering, after all."

The man let out a laugh, then turned to Tom again, "I look forward to seeing how you progress."

༺═──────────────═༻

What was Evaline trying to do? What had she done? Because Lord Black had gone from sneering at him to now looking at him with newfound curiosity and mild amusement. Tom wasn’t daft. He noticed rather easily the slight stress Evaline put on his name when she spoke of him.

The word ‘Marvolo’ seemed to flip a switch in Lord Black’s entire perspective on Tom and he was determined to find out why. Until he did, he wasn’t sure if he should thank Evaline or despise her for clearly keeping something from him.

As Tom thanked the man, Evaline decided to steer the conversation before it had the chance to do any more damage. Instead, she turned to the visibly trembling cashier and smiled sweetly. Coma inducing sweet. "Say, sir, how much was our total? 23 galleons, was it?"

The man swallowed, his eyes darting from her to Tom to Lord Black before landing back on her, "No- of course not! How absurd! That's far too much for three books!"

"That's what I've been trying to say," she replied easily, nodding innocently as though she hadn't blatantly utilised Lord Black’s mere presence to intimidate the man, "And to think you almost, accidentally charged me royalties for these books. It would have been a shame if your shop closed down. The total?"

Tom hadn’t really noticed it before but under the jokes and wit, Evaline was more Slytheirn than she let on. Much more Slytherin.

"7 galleons, ma'am," the cashier stuttered.

Tom immediately felt a dreadful pool in his gut. Despite the conversation, he still had to pay and how embarrassing would it be if he could not. Especially in front of Lord Black. Mind racing for a solution, his eyes briefly flickered to Evaline and she was already moving before he could comprehend it.

Evaline extended her wrist, and Tom couldn't help but notice how Lord Black stiffened at the sight of the bangle on her wrist. The cashier swallowed visibly as he looked at Evaline with newfound fear. The cashier shakily tapped his wand on her bangle, and with a flicker of magic, the correct total appeared and was paid for.

Sensing the way Lord Black was staring at Evaline with something akin to suspicion, Tom noted he would have to research what the bangle is or what it represents. But first, he would deal with his wounded pride. He didn’t need charity.

༺═──────────────═༻

After excusing themselves from Lord Black’s presence and promising to find Orion on the train, Evaline and Tom made their way to the Leaky Cauldron in tense silence. Yup, Tom was mad. Not that she really cared. 

She silently grabbed his shoulder and apparated him back to his room at Wool’s Orphanage. Surprisingly, Marvolo had gotten used to magical travel because the second she let go, Tom had her shoved against the wall, wand to the throat, hells’ fury in his eyes, “I am not a charity case! I don’t need your pity!”

Ah, of course. 

The wounded male pride. No matter what era it is, it’s always such a hassle.

“Pity? You think I pity you, Marvolo?” Evaline scoffed, the movement making the wand dig deeper into her throat as his jaw tightened. 

His grip flattered a little as his brows stitched. He opened his mouth, no words coming out for a second before he finally asked, “What?”

She raised a brow, “You seriously think I’m friends with you because I feel bad for you? Don’t be ridiculous, Marvolo. I’m not that good of a person.”

“Then why?”

“I liked you. You’re interesting and your magic was clearly the most powerful in the room. I could feel it the moment you stepped onto the train. Clearly you weren’t like the other spoilt little kids,” Evaline leaned against the wall, relaxed as the threat of a 12 year old with a wand was like the touch of a butterfly compared to her normal day to day life back in her era, “And I was right. You turned out to be the most intelligent and the only person who could keep up with me.”

Feed the ego, it always works.

He took a step back but his wand was still trained on her. She batted the hand away with an eye roll, “You can’t use wand magic, Marvolo. Put that away before you forget that and go all trigger happy. Wouldn’t want you to get expelled now, would we?”

༺═──────────────═༻

Marvolo scowled. He was not trigger happy. He just liked magic and spell casting and being the first in the room to learn a new spell. Okay, maybe he was a little trigger happy. Just a little.

Reluctantly, he stuffed his wand in his pocket, knowing he couldn’t risk expulsion and watched as Evaline rubbed her throat, looking completely unaffected. It still baffled him how she did not seem at all fearful of him.

They fell into silence. Tom didn’t move from his spot, eyes trained on Evaline as she walked around the small room, observing in interest. Tom suddenly felt a brush of embarrassment from the lack of possessions he had but he pushed it away. Suddenly, she stopped in front of his wardrobe, eyeing the black soot still on the walls around it, “Accidental magic?”

Tom scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “Of course not. I’ve always had perfect control over my magic. That was Dumbledore when I asked him to prove magic was real.”

“So he blew up your wardrobe?” She asked with a raised brow. “Figures, he’s had it out for you before you even got to Hogwarts. What did you do?”

“I told him about my magic,” Tom licked his dry lips, and decided to tell her exactly what he told Dumbledore. If only to see if she would fear him or show any hesitation after this. “I can make animals do what I want without training them. I can make bad things happen to those that were mean to me. I can make them hurt, If i want…I…” he hesitated, “I can speak to snakes too. They find me, seek me out and whisper things to me.”

Evaline froze.

Tom’s defences slammed down.

He couldn’t stop the flicker of disappointment from blooming in his chest. Any second now, she would apparate from here in fear, never talking to him again and he would be left all alone again. At Hogwarts, she would look at him with distrust and no longer accompany him during classes. 

But then she turned to him with wide eyes. Not terrified eyes, he noted absently as she stalked up to him. He took an involuntary step back when she stepped into his personal space. 

But she remained undeterred as she scanned his face for something. She spoke in a low, neutral voice, “Marvolo, you know what that means right?”

Of course. He should have expected the reprimanding and disappointment. He frowned, “What? That I’m evil? I'm dangerous? Are you going to act like Dumbledore now?”

“No, it means you’re great!” she exclaimed, stepping closer to him and he cautiously stepped back again. She stepped forward again but this time he didn’t back away, mostly because he was backed into a wall now. But also because he wasn’t scared of a little girl. Of course not.

“Marvolo, you’re great,” she repeated, a crazed grin on her face.

Okay, now he was confused. 

“At such a young age you wandlessly imperio’d animals to listen to your command? You hurt people out of pure will and not accidental magic? That means the control on magic you have is absolutely remarkable!”

What? Why was Evaline so…optimistic?

Even Dumbledore had a flicker of alarm in his eyes when he spoke to Tom. Come to think of it, Evalie didn’t even seem scared when she asked about the snakes, she merely seemed shocked for a moment before it turned to curiosity.

“...Great?” Tom repeated, still suspicious.

Evaline nodded, “Don’t you see, Marvolo? If you had so much control before getting a wand, that means wandless magic is like second nature to you! You just need a mentor to teach you how to wield it.”

Tom was pleasantly surprised to hear that. 

“And what about the snakes? Dumbledore was especially spooked,” Tom said slowly, curious to see what that could mean. If using magic out of free will meant something great, this was bound to mean something too. “He literally got up and left the room when I told him that.”

“You said you could talk to snakes? Like actually understanding what they’re saying?” she asked, curious for clarification.

His previous disappointment and anger welted away as his defences lowered again. Slowly, he nodded in confirmation, “I hear their whispers. They listen to my commands.”

Evaline stepped back, out of his personal space much to his relief, and looked thoughtful, “Speaking to snakes is a skill that only Salazar Slytheirns descendants have.”

“Salazar…as in the founder of Slytherin House?” Tom repeated slowly, for specification as he tried very hard not to drop his jaw on the floor.

“No, Salazar Slytherin, my next door muggle Neighbour that has an annoying chihuahua named ‘Serpents’ who only barks when you show him a picture of snakes,” Evaline shot him an amused look, “How many Salazar’s do you know?”

“This is not the time for jokes!” Tom scowled, his shock momentarily forgotten as she snickered at him. He huffed, “Explain.”

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline thought about what exactly to tell Marvolo and what to leave for him to find on his own. She certainly hadn't expected Marvolo to tell her about his parseltongue abilities this early in the game.

But she wasn’t anything if not adaptable. 

This might not be a bad thing. Not entirely. If Marvolo is aware of his legacy from the Gaunts and Slytherin line earlier than what she had planned, he would integrate into high society earlier than planned, which meant she could go back to her era, earlier than planned.

Sounded good to her. Back to her era where she didn't have to go to school and take tests and deal with children all the time and got to drink in her trained body at any time of day without worries of getting drunk? Hell yes.

“Speaking to snakes is called parseltongue,” she started slowly, thinking every word carefully, “A wizard who speaks parseltongue is known as a parselmouth.”

Marvolo’s expression was a mix of curiosity, excitement and suspicion before his neutral mask slammed into place. Now, he merely had a blank look on his face despite the emotions being as clear as day in his eyes. How cute.

“It was a very uncommon skill, and is known to be an almost exclusively hereditary trait of Slytheirn blood,” Evaline continued, carefully withholding knowledge of the House of Gaunt.

She won’t give him every piece of the puzzle. Where’s the fun in that?

She needn't say anything more for Marvolo to understand what she was hinting at. From the look on his face, Evaline knew he would immediately delve into researching the Slytherin line the moment he stepped foot in Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

She was right.

Four weeks’ into their second year at Hogwarts, Evaline watched with veiled amusement as Marvolo practically tore apart the library looking for books on Salazar Slytherin. He would spend all his free time in the library, Evaline right there across from him as she read books of her own interest. 

He didn’t really share his progress with Evaline, but the occasional questions or inquiries he would make gave Evaline enough indication on just how far he was to finding out his heritage.

He was still very very far.

Sure, parseltongue was a trait of Salazar Slytherin but it was more prominent in the Gaunt line. It was said that the Gaunts exclusively communicated in parseltongue, making Marvolo’s chances to be from the line of Gaunt rather than Slytherin. But it seemed Marvolo had either not come across that particular fact yet or he had breezed over it with his hyperfixation on the Slytherin Line.

Evaline didn’t bother telling him, mostly because she wasn’t meant to know this information in the first place and also because she kind of enjoyed seeing the prodigy struggle a little. He was a practical genius in everything, so this came as a sense of entertainment.

Right now, they were sitting in the Slytherin Common Room where Tom was reading yet another book about Salazar Slytherin while Evaline was reading a particularly amusing book on the ‘Wonders of Runes’. In her head, she was cackling as she read every spectacle or assumption and envisioned how Dante would react to them. 

That was what she mostly did in her free time here when she wasn't preventing the emergence of another Dark Lord, she would pick up a book which had unfilled gaps as future discoveries that were common knowledge in her time had not been discovered yet and she would envision her friends' reactions about them.

For a particular page in the book ‘Wonders of Runes’ that mentioned ‘Blood Runes can only be used effectively by vampires or Unicorns because those are blood worthy creatures’, Evaline had to restrain from snorting out loud because she just knew that Dante would have straight up thrown the book across the room before casting an incendio on it. 

Then he would have gone out to find the author and proceed to send them the burnt ashes of their book along with a couple of howlers explicitly describing their stupidity and why they shouldn’t even be allowed to touch a quill after what they wrote which would, in turn, would more often than not result in a cease and desist order. Evaline was proud to say she was speaking from experience. 

Everyone thought that Cara was the one with anger issues but if Dante was presented with such crap, especially in research papers or books, Cara would be the one running for cover from Dante’s pure rage.

Evaline smiled naturally at the thought of her friends, her eyes unfocusing on the book she was reading. She couldn’t help but think what her friends would do if they were here with her right now.

Cara would raid the kitchens in search of firewhiskey and cake. Dante would be in the library or on the Quidditch field, probably fighting with the captains on strategies and Emanuel would be sucking up to Slughorn just to get unlimited access to his potions ingredients and equipment.

When they would get bored of their usual tasks, they would stalk the baby version of Lord Voldemort and mess with him.

She huffed in amusement. She couldn't wait to see them again.

“What’s so funny about Runes?”

Glancing up from her book, she saw Marvolo eyeing her as though she had gone crazy. She grinned, letting out another huff, “I was just thinking.”

“What about?” Marvolo asked with a raised brow.

“About how funny it would be if you turned out to be the long lost Heir of Slytherin or something,” Evaline replied without missing a beat.

She loved stirring up chaos. Even if it were bound to happen she could get a good laugh when she was right later.

His eyes narrowed, “Why would that be funny?”

She grinned, vaguely gesturing around, “All these people would be stumbling over each other to please you. The same people who are looking down at you right now. If you legally claimed your title as Heir even Dumbledore wouldn't dare to speak to you in the wrong way.”

Before Marvolo could reply, a loud thump echoed through the common room followed by a breathless voice yelling, “Este!”

Evaline sighed. Dear Merlin, these kid was stubborn.

༺═──────────────═༻

Baffled, Tom's gaze snapped to the common room entrance to see an older student, in his filthy quidditch uniform, visibly sweating and breathing heavily from practice, scan the room frantically until his eyes settled on an exasperated Evaline who let out a sigh.

She waved at the boy as he made eye contact with her, and he immediately made his way to her, ignoring the way the entire common room watched the interaction. Tom's eyes followed the boy's every movement, feeling a sense of unease he couldn't quite comprehend.

"Este! I got the approval! Tryouts are next week," the boy said, panting as he ran a hand through his messy hair.

Putting her long abandoned book on the table, Evaline raised a brow, "Is that so?"

"You're in second year now," he gave her a pointed look as if daring her to say otherwise to which Evaline seemed amused, "Now, I checked your flying marks for last year and was very happy to see you got an Outstanding so I took it upon myself to sign you up-"

“Wait, you looked my grades?” Evaline asked suddenly as his words caught up to her, “How-”

" Only your flying marks, Este, Calm down. Although good work in Transfiguration!” Macmillan exclaimed, waving a dismissive hand, “It’s not everyday Dumbldore gives a Slytherin firstie an Outstanding-”

Evaline got an outstanding in Dumbledore's class as well? Tom had, of course, received all Outstandings in every class…besides flying in which he received a measly Pass. But no matter, all his other marks ranked him with being the top student in their grade. 

The old kook must have had a stroke when he had to give two Slytherins an Outstanding, especially when one was Tom himself and the other one challenged him in their very first lesson. Well, fingers crossed, Tom thought hopefully to find Dumbledore slumped over on his desk tomorrow.

“Macmillan!” Evaline groaned, looking a second away from banging her head on the table right then and there, “Get to the point! And quit looking at people’s grades!”

"Tryouts?" Tom interrupted, his entire gaze on Evaline, ignoring the older boy entirely, “What are you trying out for?”

And why hadn’t he heard about this? And who was this boy? Has Evaline been keeping secrets from him?

"For the Quidditch team," Evaline clarified and glanced at him in an odd way when his expression darkened, "Marvolo, this is Anthony Macmillian, quidditch captain. Macmillian, this is Marvolo."

“Nice to meet you, kid,” Macmillan held out a hand, and Tom very stiffly shook his hand, internally grimacing at the dirt and sweat on his hands. Evaline watched with amusement, and he threw her a warning look.

"Anyways, Este-" Macmillian continued once the pleasantries were out of the way and he could pursue the matter at hand, "As promised, I'll escort you next week."

"Seriously?" Evaline asked, amused and a little exasperated, "I can't believe you remember that."

Macmillian raised a brow in challenge and rummaged through his pocket before pulling out a small ripped parchment paper. He showed her the paper, which messily scrawled 'Evaline Este, next year tryouts.' "I kept this by my bedside ever since last year."

Since last year? Evaline has known this boy since last year and Tom had absolutely no idea? Tom's eyes narrowed as he processed the revelation. Evaline had known this Anthony Macmillian boy for over a year, and he had no inkling of their connection. 

"I don't know if I should be flattered or creeped out," Evaline muttered, plucking the paper from his hand with disbelieving eyes, “I cannot believe you kept this, Macmillan.”

A pang of something he couldn't quite place mixed with a tinge of annoyance surged within him. He tried to hide his emotions behind a neutral façade as he listened to their conversation, but his mind was buzzing with questions. 

Macmillan grinned with a nonchalant shrug, "Whatever gets you to the pitch. I'll see you next week, Este. Be there or-"

"- Or you will hunt me down and drag me there. Yes, I remember, Macmillian," Evaline mused, still eyeing the paper in her hand with amusement, “Has anyone told you, you’re really stubborn?”

The older boy’s grin just widened, “You don't get to be captain of the best quidditch team at Hogwarts by being nice.”

"That title could be up for debate."

༺═─────────── ───═༻

Evaline shot Macmillian a deadpan look to which the boy said his farewell and left with a final reminder to meet him next week. As she watched him leave, amused and a little baffled by the sheer determination in the kids eyes, she glanced at the paper with raised brows. 

Dante would love this kid, she thought absentmindedly, eyeing her name that was now smudged and on dirty parchment which looked like it had been through hell and back. And Evaline had a feeling Macmillian would possibly be the only one, aside from Evaline, to be able to keep up with Dante’s rants about quidditch strategies. 

“Last year, I couldn’t sleep one night and ended up helping Macmillian with a quidditch strategy,” Evaline explained upon seeing Marvolo’s questioning look, eyeing his clenched fist.

Marvolo’s fist unclenched as he followed her gaze. He pursed his lips, “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to try out?”

“I honestly thought Macmillian was kidding. I didn’t expect he would actually remember in a year’s time,” Evaline mused, gesturing to the parchment, “But it seems he’s rather persistent.”

“Clearly,” Marvolo replied dryly, eyeing the dirty parchment before he looked at her again, “Do you really want to try out?”

“Not particularly” She rolled her eyes with a sigh, “But I’ll do it just because I don’t fancy being dragged to the pitch.”

“I could figure out ways to send Macmillian into a coma,” Marvolo offered after a moment of thought.

“Marvolo, no.”

“Only until tryouts are over then we’ll wake him!”

“Marvolo, no .”

༺═──────────────═༻

The next week, Evaline walked down the girls dormitory's stairs to find Macmillian actually waiting for her, clad in his own uniform. To her surprise, Marvolo was also there, waiting beside Macmillian in full uniform, book in hand and looking rather grumpy.

Upon seeing her, Macmillan lit up and grinned, “Morning Este.”

“Marvolo. Macmillan,” Evaline greeted them both before raising a brow, “Are all quidditch practices this early? Cause, if they are- I quit.”

Sighing heavily, Macmillan rolled his eyes, “Why do people keep saying that? It’s not that early.”

“It’s 5 am,” Marvolo interjected with a frown, “The sun isn’t even up yet,” 

“The sun is sleeping but you are awake. Why do you hate sleep?” Evaline nodded in agreement. “Why are you punishing yourself and others, Macmillan?”

Macmillan let out a dramatic groan, pinching his nose in exasperation as he ushered them out of the common room and towards the pitch.

As they walked, she turned to Marvolo with a grin, “Don’t tell me you’re trying out too? Did you finally decide to give flying a chance?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Marvolo scowled, “I’m just here to make sure you don’t die.”

Evaline raised a brow, smiling, “Are you worried about me? I’m touched.”

“I’m merely interested in how new players are selected,” Marvolo’s eyes narrowed threateningly but she merely smiled back. That was a weak excuse and they both knew it. After a moment he sighed, shaking his head. Evaline noticed how he didn’t deny it.

As they walked onto the pitch, Evaline noticed a number of Slytherin students of various ages waiting to try out. 

Tom eyed them as they neared, “Looks like you’ve got competition Evaline.”

Evaline shrugged. She didn’t really care if she got into the team or not. She was just happy to be in the air, to be honest. And a bunch of kids were far from intimidating.

“Spectators can wait in the stands,” Macmillan explained as he came back with a broom, looking pointedly at Tom.

Tom's eyes narrowed a little but he nodded anyway at the not so subtle dismissal. With a final look at Evaline he walked towards the stands.

Once he was out of earshot, Macmillan whistled as he handed her the broom, eyes on the distant figure of Marvolo, “He didn’t even wish you luck?”

Evaline snorted, shouldering the broom with ease, “Trust me. The fact that he’s here says a lot. He’s very sweet if you get to know him properly.”

Macmillians eyed her, unbelieving, “I don’t know. He kinda creeps me out.”

“Watch it, Macmillan. That’s my friend you’re talking about,” Evaline mused calmly, “And if he creeps you out, it’s because he wants to creep you out. If he wanted, he could make you believe he blessed you with magic himself.

“I doubt that,” Macmillan said, skeptical as his eyes darted to Marvolo’s figure on the stands.

“Come back in about a year or so,” Evaline grinned knowingly, sending Marvolo a cheerful wave to which she was almost certain he scowled back but she couldn’t see make out his expression from this far down. She looked at Macmillian, “I guarantee that boy is nothing short of a prodigy.”

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom scowled as the wind blew, painfully biting into his skin, pulling his cloak closer around his body and casting a warming charm on himself. During first year, Tom had quickly learnt that Evaline would not, absolutely under any circumstances, attend a quidditch match without dragging him out of the warm library or common room to the cold and windy pitch. 

One time when he absolutely refused to budge from the library, Evaline had sat down across from him, spending the entire hour complaining and annoying him. It got so unbearable, Tom stood and marched to the Pitch himself.

After that, he always made sure to bring a book to quidditch matches because apparently his attention was not required, merely his physical presence. As a result, he had quickly familiarised himself with any and all warming charms available, making sure to cast one on himself and Evaline so they don’t freeze to death.

He sighed heavily, placing his book beside him as he opted to watch the tryouts. Well, mostly watch who else Evaline knew from the team besides Macmillian. How on earth did Tom get here? In this position? 

How on earth he willingly left a warm bed and came out onto a freezing quidditch pitch at five in the morning without Evaline’s normal insistence to do so would forever be a mystery to him. But when he had heard last week that Macmilian would escort Evaline, Tom felt the overwhelming urge that he needed to be there and be present when it happened.

He scoffed. If only Evaline had let him put Macmillian into a coma, they wouldn't be here. Marvolo would be in his bed for another hour or so and they would be having a warm breakfast.

And so, here he was.

Freezing his nose off and keeping a sharp eye on the girl on her broom, now hovering at dangerous heights. He eyed her as she flew higher, along with some other players and mentally calculated the distance she would fall if something happened. He also vaguely wondered if the cushioning charm would break her fall or not.

Tom was just glad Evaline had no interest in joining the team and she was only trying out for the sake of it. His attention drew to Macmillian who was holding a bat, hovering on the other side of the pitch. With a swift swing, Macmillan slammed the bludger with the bat and Tom’s eyes trailed the angry bludger with mild curiosity as it headed straight for Evaline. 

Easily, Evaline shot forward and batted it away, aiming straight for Macmillian. Without a second to blink, Macmillian jerked out of the way, momentarily pausing to stare at the precisely aimed bludger with wide eyes. When he turned back to face Evaline across the pitch, he stared at her for a long moment to which she tilted her head in challenge.

And then Macmillian grinned.

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline didn’t have a moment to think when four different bludgers came at her from different directions. Pressing herself flat against her broom, she dodged the first one by swerving to the right a second before it made impact with her back. The second one came from above.

Her instincts took over, and her focus was razor-sharp. She gripped her bat and with a grin, slammed the second bludger and briefly watched as it went flying towards one of the other players. Not pausing to check if it hit its mark, she was already getting ready to deal with the third one. With a swift bat, the third bludger whirled away from her and headed straight back to Macmillian. 

As the last bludger came for her, she decided to let it gain on her a bit, if only for the thrill of it. This was the closest she could get to a worthy duel and the adrenaline boost she could get in this era. Well, that was until they began duelling or if she managed to stumble upon an unfortunate criminal or something.

She pushed her broom faster, eyeing the bludger and then she suddenly swerved around, coming to an abrupt halt. As the fourth bludger closed in, she propelled herself upwards, flipping her broom upside down and swinging her bat with a powerful upward stroke. The bludger ricocheted off the bat and shot away into the distance. 

Slowly she turned her broom upright, a grin plastered on her face. Oh, how much she missed Stefano at this very moment. He would have sent the quaffle to her face just to knock that smug smile off. 

She landed gracefully on the pitch, her feet touching the ground with familiarity. Evaline flipped the bat in her hand, it twirled gracefully before landing in her awaiting hand.

She gripped it tight, staring at it with a pang of longing.

She could practically hear Dante telling her to stop showing off while Stefano would try to hit her with the quaffle again, Cara probably cackling in the background and encouraging him to do so. 

Her eyes softened as she dragged her gaze away from the bat. She couldn't wait to go home.

Macmillan neared her, she heard the swoosh of his broom before she saw him as he swerved to a stop next to her, “You’re better than I expected, Este!”

As the boy hopped off his broom, she raised a brow, pointing an accusing bat at him, “I don’t only have good strategies, you know? I’m pretty handy with anything I can swing.”

“I know that now,” Macmillan looked positively giddy with his goofy grin, practically vibrating in excitement, “We are so going to get the cup this year.”

“You know that I don’t plan on playing for the team,” Evaline decided to interject but the boy didn’t hear her, continuing to rant about whatever he was talking about while she watched the other tryouts and students.

Evaline rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips as she shouldered her broom. Macmillian reminded her of Stefano. If Stefano began talking about quidditch, he wouldn't stop until you stun him. She vaguely noticed Orion trying out for the chaser position and sent him a grin when he met eyes with her.

A low whistle caught her attention and she turned to see an older Slytherin girl with very familiar features. Evaline tried to remember where she recognised her but came up short. She knew the girl was the Slytherin seeker, giving it being the most ‘ladylike’ position available on the team; Evaline also knew the girl was very good at her job.

“Not bad, kid,” the girl smirked at her before looking at Macmillian with dreamy eyes, “You always have the best instincts, Tony .”

Evaline’s nose scrunched slightly at the horrendous nickname and she sent Macmillian a questioning glance. Macmillan sighed deeply before somehow mustering up a smile, “Amanda, are you done with your group's tryouts?”

Ah, Evaline recognised her now. Heiress Amanda Fawley. The one with the cease and desist order against House of Malfoy.

There was a loud commotion from what Evaline assumed was Fawley’s group and the girl scowled, sending Macmillian a final dreamy smile before she ran off.

Evaline snickered at the miserable expression on Macmillian’s face, “Someone’s got an admirer, Tony . Come on, hit me with the details.”

Macmillan groaned, rubbing his face miserably, “Lord Fawley is pushing my father for an engagement between Amanda and I.”

“That does seem beneficial for both Houses,” Evaline hummed, mentally calculating the pros and cons of the potential alliance as she helped Macmillian pack away the practice brooms.

Both Houses were a part of the Sacred 28. House Fawley was prominent in the political area with their current Lord being the present Minister of Magic. House Macmillian was originally from Scotland who later were known as ‘Blood traitors’ as they aligned themselves with Dumbledore later on.

“I don’t care about benefits!” Macmillan moaned as he shoved the final broom away, “I want to marry for love, you know? I want my wife to be someone I can-”

Evaline accidentally let out a loud snort of disbelief as she walked out of the storage room. When Macmillian abruptly stopped talking, Evaline physically grimaced a little, biting her tongue as Macmillian turned to face her slowly.

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom’s heart had just begun to slow its rapid heartbeat as he made his way to the storage room where he saw Evaline standing near talking to Macmillian. That last stunt she did gave him a bloody heart attack and he was half a second away from yelling at her from across the pitch.

Who the bloody hell thought it was a good idea to give that unhinged girl a broom and a bat?

Dear Merlin, if Evaline had decided to play for the team, he would have to keep calming draughts in his pockets during her matches. Thank Salazar, she wasn't interested in playing for the team.

As he neared Evaline, he watched Macmilian turn slowly and stare at Evaline in disbelief. Tom briefly wondered what she could have said to make the boy go into such a trance. 

Macmillan frowned, brows drawn, “What? What was that look for?”

Tom eyed Evaline’s reaction and was surprised to see her look sheepish. Tom frowned, eyes darting back to Macmillian who looked a tad furious but more unbelieving.

“Nothing, Macmillan,” Evaline settled on, after a long moment. She tried to give him a smile but it came out more of a grimace, “Don’t worry about it.”

“No. No.” Macmillan crossed his arms, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, “Tell me. What was that reaction?”

Tom was now curious. What did Macmillian say to cause Evaline to have such a reaction? Tom came to a slow stop next to Evaline and she smiled at him in greeting, though her smile was tight and forced. Unnatural. It wasn’t her usual smile. 

Tom didn’t like it. Not at all.

Macmillian didn’t even seem to notice Tom’s arrival as he continued, “Talk, Este.”

“Oh, before I forget. Macmillan, I don’t want to be on the team,” Evaline declared, taking a step closer to Tom and a step away from Macmillian, “I have mentioned it before. Twice.”

At the firm tone, Tom was once again reassured she truly didn’t wish to join the team. That also snapped Macmillian out of his furious and shocked trance. His head snapped to her so fast, Tom thought the boy might have whiplash, “What? You don’t want to be on the team? Why!? You’re good!”

Evaline shook her head, “I have no interest in being on the team.”

“But-” Macmillan seemed to be scrambling for his words, looking completely bewildered, “Why- I mean, you- You’re wasting your potential!”

Tom watched as Evaline’s eyes turned cold. A sense of giddy settled in Tom, as he knew now for sure, Evaline was not going to join the team. 

“I am not required to explain myself to you, Macmillan,” Evaline’s eyes narrowed at the older boy, “Wasted potential or not- It is my potential. Not for you to decide where or how I use it.”

Macmillan frowned, clearly not understanding, “But- You were great in tryouts! Is this about Amanda? Did she freak you out?”

Evaline scoffed, the sound cold and jagged, “I will simply not be able to commit to the team. Not to practices or matches. I apologise, Macmillan, if I wasted your time but do remember I was merely here on your insistence.”

With that, she gripped Tom’s arm - tight - and forced him to step towards the castle, ignoring Macmillian’s pleads behind them. She sighed, releasing him as they entered the castle, “What useless desires people have.”

As they walked back to the common room, Tom raised a curious brow, “What did he say?”

“Love seems to be his focus in life,” Evaline scoffed again, “How ridiculous.”

“You don’t believe in love?” Tom drawled, tone mocking.

Love. What a ridiculous notion. Love is nothing but a weakness. Love was merely a sentiment that clouded people's judgement and made them susceptible to manipulation.

Next to him, Evaline rolled her eyes, “Love is merely a chemical reaction in your mind that fades over time. You can achieve the same thing by eating chocolate.”

Tom stilled momentarily. Tom couldn't help but feel a sense of delight at her statement. It was a rare occurrence for him to find someone who saw the world through a similar lens, especially when it came to emotions as useless as love.

The girl who didn’t believe in love and the boy who couldn’t love.

Oh, how ironic.

Chapter Text

It was a week away from Yule break and Evaline had decided to stay at Hogwarts for the two weeks. It was early in the morning when Evaline walked into the Common room, fully dressed in her uniform with her book bag on her shoulder. She made her way to the notice board, easily locating the parchment for those who wish to stay at Hogwarts for the break.

It was empty.

Summoning a quill, she quickly scrawled her name onto the parchment before taking a seat near the fireplace as she waited for Marvolo. She was always the first one up, even before Marvolo, much to his annoyance and her amusement.

Maybe it had something to do with Evaline not being able to sleep in an entirely different era. Or maybe she was just an early riser. Or maybe 9 years of working as an Unspeakable with a strict 7- 6 working day had forced her into a routine. Who knows?

As she stared at the flames, Evaline couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration at how quickly she had lost control of herself after the tryouts. She prided herself on being composed and level-headed, yet something about Anthony Macmillian's words had thrown her off balance. She didn’t know what ticked her off, seeing as the entire interaction was a little blurred but all she remembered was completely closing off from the conversation.

After that she said something to Marvolo out of sheer annoyance. Unfortunately, she didn’t remember a word. But it seemed to make Marvolo trust her much more now, since he had begun telling her the status of his research about the Slytherin bloodlines. All she could hope is that she hadn’t said anything about time travel.

A quiet shuffle caused Evaline to look up. She smiled, standing from her seat, “Good Morning. Ready for breakfast?”

Marvolo, who had just stepped into the common room from the stairway, fully dressed in his uniform, nodded, “Good morning, Evaline. I just have to put my name down for Yule break,” he muttered as he crossed the common room, quill in hand, and looked for the sign up sheet.

Evaline hummed as she slipped her hands into her pockets and came to a stop beside Marvolo. She watched as his hand, poised over the paper, stilled momentarily and his eyes narrowed at the name already written.

He turned his head to her, questioning, “You’re staying for Yule?”

Nodding, she grinned, “Last year, I told you I wanted to spend Yule with you. In person. ” Evaline emphasised as she quoted the letter she sent him last Yule.

Marvolo’s eyes lit up for a moment before his mask slammed back down. He turned back to the parchment, quickly writing his name under hers and stuffed the quill into his bag. He hummed, nonchalant,  “That’s good to know.”

“Indeed,” Evaline mused as she suppressed a grin at the light in his eyes.

Oh, how adorable! He was trying so hard.

But alas, he was still a child.

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom tried to convince himself that his elation was merely a result of external factors – a good breakfast and academic success. However, deep down, he knew the real reason behind his happiness. Evaline's presence at Hogwarts during Yule brought an unexpected sense of comfort and joy to him.

But he refused to admit it, not even to himself. Love, friendship, attachment – they were all weaknesses, and Tom Riddle didn't indulge in weaknesses. He prided himself on being above such emotions, seeing them as distractions that could cloud one's judgement and hinder one's ambitions.

“She’s not my friend. I don’t need friends.” 

So, when he shared his research about Salazar and waited for her input, Tom convinced himself it was purely because he was getting information out of her. She had remarkable knowledge that extended out of the walls of Hogwarts. So, he would take advantage of that. Yes, he would share his discoveries and he would wait for her opinion. He would share his perspectives on a theory and he would wait for hers.

Normally, he would never. He would never even listen to a professor’s input or perspective and let it affect his own. Dumbledore, Slughorn. They all tried to give their opinions on certain subject matters, they both tried to sway Tom’s opinions. They were biased. 

But Evaline’s input was always neutral. Her thoughts he would ask for were never given to influence his own mind. No, she would simply state a neutral piece of information and allow Tom to decide for himself in what he thought of it.

She gave him the freedom of choice on what to do with the information, for better or for worse. That being said, when Tom did agree with Evaline’s opinion, it was purely out of his freedom of choice.

Totally. 

༺═──────────────═༻

Orion frowned at the letter in his hand. It was short. And commanding.

- - - 

Orion, 

You are to stay at Hogwarts during Yule Break this year. I have been told your friends I met in Diagon Alley will also be staying so I know that you will not be celebrating Yule alone. Join them for the Yule rituals. Ms Este should be well informed of such matters.

- Lord Arcturus Black.

- - -

The message was short, but the implications were clear – he was to stay at Hogwarts during the Yule Break and form a closer bond with Tom Riddle and Evaline Este. His father seemed to believe that it was essential for Orion to cultivate a relationship with these two students.

But why? What did his father see in them that made it so important for Orion to befriend them?

He understood the reasoning behind getting closer to Tom Riddle. Riddle showed promise, intelligence, and ambition that could lead to a promising future. His magical prowess was undeniable, and his potential for greatness was evident even at this young age.

Aligning with Riddle could provide benefits in the future. Although he didn’t know the specifics, he knew the boy might be a descendant of a Noble family because of his middle name ‘Marvlo’. Only wizards have such names.

But Evaline Este? She was a bit of an enigma to him. Smart, yes. Skilled in magic, undoubtedly. But she wasn't from a noble family, and she seemed to have a penchant for unconventional ideas and attitudes. What could she offer to a noble house like the Blacks?

Orion had done his research on the Este family, scouring every record he could find on noble families in England, Italy, and Scotland. The Estes weren't listed among the nobility, which puzzled him even more. Why would his father want him to maintain connections with someone who wasn't part of the established elite?

He eyed the last sentence with a frown.

‘ Ms Este should be well informed of such matters.’

Perhaps his father had seen something in her that others hadn't. Orion knew his father had a keen eye for recognizing potential and power. There had to be more to Evaline than met the eye, and he vowed to uncover the reasons behind his father's interest in her.

Orion sighed, rubbing his temples. It was clear that his father had a plan, and it was his duty as the heir of the Black family to follow it. If his father wanted him to befriend Evaline and Tom, then he would do so, regardless of his personal opinions.

Not that he had any protests, really. Riddle was smart and Evaline was fun. Sure, Riddle was rather dour to be around, always grumpy but Evaline made up for it with her personality. She was so...expressive. No one in Slytherin was so bright like her. They had been raised to hide their emotions, to never let the enemy know what you were thinking. 

But Evaline was so…bubbly. She was always smiling or laughing or joking. She was fun to talk to. Orion supposed that was why Tom was so close to her. Or perhaps Tom also saw something in her like his father did.

He knew that forming an alliance with Tom Riddle could be beneficial for the Blacks. Riddle's eventual rise to prominence was evident, and aligning themselves with him could open doors to political power and influence. As for Evaline, he supposed there must be something about her that intrigued his father, even if he couldn't see it at the moment.

༺═──────────────═༻

Yule break arrived swiftly, and on the first day, instead of seeing everyone off to the carriages, Evaline and Tom chose to lounge around in the quiet common room after breakfast. Tom had yet another book about the history of Salazar Slytherin in his hands, his brow furrowed in concentration as he skimmed through the pages.

On the other armchair, Evaline was hunched over a magical chess set, her silver eyes narrowed in deep focus as she carefully moved her pawn one space forward.

Their tranquillity was suddenly disrupted by the opening of the common room door. Both Evaline and Tom glanced up to see Orion entering the room, looking rather sullen.

"Orion! Fancy a game of chess?" Evaline greeted him with a warm smile.

Meanwhile, Tom's expression darkened with a hint of suspicion as he asked, "You're not going home for Yule?"

Orion shook his head as he took a seat next to Evaline, "My parents have some business to take care of out of the country."

Evaline exchanged a knowing look with Tom, both silently acknowledging that Orion's explanation seemed rather vague and that he must have another reason for staying at Hogwarts during the break.

It was very odd for a pureblood Heir to not return home, even if his parents were unavailable. They both knew the boy had a portkey to take him home and a house elf to serve him despite his parents absence.

Putting on a cheerful facade, Evaline continued, "Well, we can celebrate Yule together then!"

Orion nodded, his eyes darting between Evaline and Tom, his tense posture not escaping their notice. Tom felt a growing sense of suspicion as he observed Orion's behaviour. It was clear that he was probing for something, trying to confirm or ascertain a particular piece of information.

"Say, Evaline, do you know the Yule ritual?" Orion inquired with a bit too much directness.

Evaline's response was casual, "Of course, I was planning to teach Marvolo the Yule ritual this year."

Tom's gaze flickered between Evaline and Orion, his suspicion mounting. Evaline seemed to pick up on it too, her eyes flashing with recognition for a brief moment before she smoothly resumed the chess game and carried on a cheery, casual conversation with Orion.

༺═──────────────═༻

Yule had arrived, and the Hogwarts dormitories were peaceful under the cover of winter. Tom Riddle had intended to enjoy his winter break with some undisturbed reading. Little did he know that tradition had other plans for him.

As the first rays of morning light filtered through the curtains in the Slytherin common room, Tom Riddle was still peacefully asleep in his bed. His slumber was abruptly interrupted by a sudden, cold avalanche of snow covering him.

His eyes snapped open as he burst from his bed, spitting out snow that had been unceremoniously shoved into his mouth. He jolted upright, sputtering and spitting out the frigid snow, while his blankets and sheets were buried beneath a thick layer of white. He blinked and shivered, disoriented, until he saw the source of his rude awakening.

Evaline Este stood by his bedside, grinning from ear to ear, with her wand in hand. She was bundled up in her warm winter robes, and a small pile of snowballs rested at her feet. She cackled at his bewildered expression.

“Buon Natale!” Evaline grinned.

[Happy Yule!]

Tom's scowl deepened as he struggled to sit up. He was now soaked, and his nightclothes clung uncomfortably to his skin. "Evaline, what in the bloody hell are you doing?" he snapped.

Evaline grinned mischievously, her laughter finally subsiding. "It's tradition, Marvolo," she said with a shrug, brushing a few snowflakes off her cloak. "Whoever wakes up last on Yule gets a little surprise." She winked at him, clearly pleased with her early morning prank.

Tom's scowl deepened. "I've never heard of such a tradition," he retorted, still recovering from the icy shock.

Evaline shrugged casually. "E' il modo Italiano!” she declared with a cheeky smile.

[T'is the Italian way!]

Just then, Orion Black emerged from the bathroom door, already dressed and looking amused by the situation. "Happy Yule, Tom!" he greeted with a grin.

Tom shot him a glare, his frustration mounting. "You knew about this?" he growled, his voice heavy with irritation. "And you're encouraging her?"

Orion sighed, as though he was resigned to the situation. "Tis the Italian way, Tom."

Tom couldn't believe it. He stormed into the bathroom, determined to wash off the snow and the vexation that Evaline's Yule "tradition" had brought upon him. When he returned, dressed in the robes Evaline had gifted him the previous Yule, embroidered with intricate runes, he found the dormitory empty, the snow now gone from his bed.

The common room was warm and inviting, adorned with festive decorations for Yule. Tom entered, his earlier anger still simmering, but it couldn't help but be soothed by the cozy atmosphere. He moved to where Evaline and Orion sat, both of them sipping hot chocolates. As he took a seat next to them, a steaming cup of hot chocolate appeared in front of him, and he begrudgingly acknowledged it.

Evaline, though she had been the source of his early morning annoyance, offered a smile and said, "Happy Yule, Tom."

Tom's irritation seemed to ease slightly as he replied, "Happy Yule."

Orion, ever the enthusiast, suddenly leaped up with a gleeful shout, "Presents!" He dashed over to the small pile of wrapped gifts, hands full of brightly wrapped packages. Orion handed one to Tom and one to Evaline.

Tom carefully opened his gift to find a set of exquisite quills, each one engraved with his initials. He looked at them with a raised eyebrow, surprised by the thoughtful gesture. "Thank you," he offered, his anger ebbing further away.

Evaline received the same set of quills and offered her thanks as well. She retrieved two wrapped boxes from behind the couch, offering the smaller one to Orion. Her eyes sparkled as she watched Orion open his gift. He unwrapped a leather-bound notebook with the Orion constellation beautifully engraved on the cover in shimmering gold. His eyes widened.

Evaline leaned over to explain as he flipped through the empty notebook, "Every time you write an entry and record a date, the date will magically have the matching star constellation on it. It's a magical celestial journal."

Orion's smile widened as he ran his fingers over the notebook. "That's amazing, Evaline. Thank you!"

She smiled and turned to Tom. She handed him a slightly larger package, wrapped with care. As Tom unwrapped it, he found a wand holster inside. It was black, with intricate silver engravings of his initials.

Evaline explained, "I noticed you didn't have one, so I had it custom made for you. Most children in magical households receive one around this age once they have some control over their wand. It has an anti-summoning charm, and when you put your wand in it, it becomes invisible."

Tom's gaze flicked from the holster to Evaline, "Thank you, Evaline. This is a thoughtful gift."

Evaline smiled, leaning back and sipping her hot chocolate as she tucked her legs beneath her. Tom reached into his bag and produced two carefully wrapped packages.

He presented a square box to Orion first, wrapped in black paper with a golden bow.

Orion accepted the gift with eagerness, carefully unwrapping it. Inside, he found a chess set, its pieces intricately crafted. What made it extraordinary were the constellations engraved on the faces of each piece.

Orion's eyes widened in awe as he examined them. "This is incredible!" he exclaimed. "Each piece has a different constellation- Where did you buy this, Tom?"

Tom's lips curled into a smug smile as he answered, "I made it myself. Used a bit of transfiguration. And, Evaline here helped carve those constellations." He gave Evaline a sidelong glance, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement as Evaline watched Orion examine every piece one by one.

Orion's jaw dropped. "You made this?" he asked incredulously. "Tom, that's brilliant! Thank you!"

Tom turned to Evaline, offering her a similarly wrapped gift, with midnight-blue paper with a silver bow. "Happy Yule, Evaline," he said with a smile as he handed it to her.

He watched Evaline's every move as she carefully unwrapped the gift. He had given gifts before, but this was different. He had never seen her open a gift from him, and the anticipation made him unnaturally nervous and he felt a strange, unfamiliar flutter of anxiety in his chest.

Evaline accepted the gift and carefully unwrapped it, revealing a beautiful necklace. It was silver and royal blue, matching the colors of her family's Este crest. The pendant had an elegant design that seemed to resonate with her family ring.

He watched as her eyes widened in surprise, her lips partly slightly. She held it up to the light, and the necklace gleamed with a captivating radiance.

Tom leaned in a little closer, his voice soft, as he explained, "I made it to match your ring." He pointed at the on her finger he had often see her fiddle with if she was stressed or annoyed, “I noticed you were rather fond of it.”

Orion, who had been observing the exchange, couldn't help but blanch in surprise. "You made that as well?" he asked, his eyes full of astonishment.

Evaline, her fingers delicately holding the necklace, glanced at Tom slowly, and for a moment, he felt an uncharacteristic twinge of self-consciousness. Her soft smile and the words that followed, however, put him at ease. "I love it," she said, her eyes meeting his.

Tom's heart did a strange flip in his chest, a sensation he couldn't quite comprehend. He offered to help her put on the necklace, his fingers lightly touching her skin as he secured the clasp. The necklace complemented the silver in her eyes, making them stand out even more.

Just like that, Tom had his first celebration of his with his friends and he loved it. 

༺═──────────────═༻

Lady Fate must really like Evaline. Orion Black, the key to establishing Marvolo's political alliances, had willingly walked right into her plans. It was as if the puzzle pieces were aligning perfectly, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction.

Seems like Marvolo’s unfortunate early encounter with Lord Black had become something beneficial. Evaline almost certain Orion was told to get some information on Marvolo or Evaline, seeing as that boy was very poorly veiling his interrogation. But she easily played her role, giving him what information he needed.

Her intention was clear from the start – to make Orion the first of Marvolo's devoted followers. Evaline knew that horcrux or not, Marvolo would have followers. There was nothing she could do about that. She could stop him from making horcruxes but she couldn’t change his personality. 

So, she decided to use what she could to her advantage.

She knew Orion's involvement was crucial in Marvolo's rise to power. Once Orion declared his allegiance to Marvolo, others would follow suit. With Orion's esteemed family background and connections, Marvolo would gain one political alliance after another during their time at Hogwarts. And when the world discovered Marvolo's identity as the Heir of Slytherin, he would enter the Ministry with a solid network of allies already in place.

Though Marvolo seemed preoccupied with his suspicions about Orion, Evaline knew the boy well enough. She had spent the first year merely observing and documenting him, his character, his personality. She had observed his cunning and manipulation firsthand.

With a gentle nudge, Marvolo would find himself drawn closer to Orion, weaving a web of trust and loyalty that would bind the two together.

As Marvolo's influence grew, Evaline would work from the shadows, offering her support and guidance while keeping him away from horcruxes. Once her mission with Marvolo was complete, she would return to her era, leaving behind this intricate web she had woven. But for now, she was committed to guiding Marvolo towards greatness and steering him away from the dark path that could lead to his downfall.

༺═──────────────═༻

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, until eventually, they reached the end of their second year at Hogwarts. By now, Evaline had secured her position as one of Marvolo's most trusted confidantes, and Marvolo had begun recruiting influential students within Slytherin House to join his cause.

As Evaline had planned, Marvolo's very first follower was Orion Black. During Yule break, Evaline had shown Marvolo how to perform the traditional Yule ritual. Orion had discovered them and expressed interest in joining, explaining that his family conducted the Olde Way ritual every year. Though cautious, Marvolo was the one who invited Orion to join, eager to get more information.

Seizing the opportunity, Evaline subtly mentioned that Marvolo wished to reestablish the Old Ways within Slytherin House, and ever since, Orion remained Marvolo's steadfast ally. Soon after, Abraxas Malfoy followed Orion's lead, and then surprisingly, Alexander Rosier joined the ranks as well.

Marvolo's influence within Slytherin House continued to grow steadily as more students were drawn to his charisma, ambition, and vision of bringing back the old traditions. Evaline watched with satisfaction as the inner circle of Marvolo's supporters expanded.

With Orion Black, Abraxas Malfoy, Alexander Rosier, and Marcus Lestrange by his side, Marvolo had a formidable group of allies who were influential within the house.

The once isolated and mysterious Marvolo Riddle had now become a figurehead among his peers, his name spoken with respect and awe within the walls of Slytherin House.

Within his inner circle, Marvolo unveiled more of his long-term goals. He spoke of a united Slytherin House, working to restore the ancient traditions that were now deemed ‘dark’ and values of their ancestors. He emphasised the importance of loyalty to Lady Magicks olde ways and camaraderie, traits that had been waning in the recent years of the house. Marvolo's charisma and passion inspired his allies, and they embraced his vision with unwavering devotion.

The first time Marvolo cast the Cruciatus Curse on someone, Evaline remained calm and composed, simply watching the writhing body of Rosier with blank eyes. Others watched on in horror but no one dared to speak.

She had been prepared for this day, knowing that navigating the dark path often led to such moments. She knew it was bound to happen and Rosier just seemed to be the unlucky fellow. Instead of reacting with shock or outrage, she bided her time, choosing to address the issue at a more opportune moment.

Later that week, when it was just the two of them, in a quiet library corner, during one of Marvolo’s discussions about the changing Slytherin Hierarchy and his continuous research on Salazar Slytherin’s bloodline, she subtly brought up the importance of having followers who were loyal based on trust and not fear.

Marvolo, as always, was stubborn in his beliefs. He argued that fear was a powerful tool to maintain control, but Evaline countered by citing real examples. She mentioned Grindelwald and how his reliance on fear was ultimately leading to the downfall of his cause, as many of his followers had abandoned him when they found a better offer from Dumbledore, who promised them protection and safety. She pointed out the recently arrested followers of Grindelwald who all but gave away confidential information for immunity or protection. 

Seeing that Marvolo was still hesitant to accept her perspective, Evaline decided to use a more personal approach. With an air of sincerity, she revealed to him that she, too, was loyal to him, but not out of fear. She explained that her loyalty was based on trust, mutual respect, and understanding. She emphasised that if someone were to offer her protection or security from him, she would have no reason to accept it because she didn't fear him.

That seemed to get thought to him. 

Evaline had found that Marvolo lacked knowledge about simple human emotions and interactions. Emotions like loyalty and kindness had to be spelt out for him to understand. She was more than willing to help out in that aspect, and had been doing so any time Marvolo seemed to be struggling with he concepts.

But she also noticed that Tom rewards kindness with kindness- albeit in his own way. She noticed he rewards loyalty with loyalty. And, obviously, retaliation with retaliation. All in all, Evaline relaised he had his own odd sense of justice and surprisingly, it wasn't as evil or cruel as she would have thought it to be.

The words seemed to strike a chord with Marvolo. It was clear he had never thought about loyalty from this perspective before, and it gave him pause. From that day on, Evaline noticed with a sense of pride that he refrained from using the Cruciatus Curse.

He still sought to assert his dominance and authority, but he began to realise that loyalty earned through trust and respect was far more valuable and enduring than loyalty driven by intimidation. 

As his leadership style changed, so did the results. 

Marvolo couldn't deny the transformation within his inner circle. As his leadership style evolved to one of trust and respect, the dynamics shifted. His followers were still wary of him, and perhaps even a bit fearful, but they no longer cowered in silence. Instead, they felt emboldened to speak up, share their ideas, and offer their perspectives.

He began to appreciate the diversity within his inner circle. Each member brought unique skills and talents to the table, making their suggestions more valuable and well-rounded. Orion's strategic mind provided shrewd insights, Malfoy's cunning wit offered creative solutions especially in the political sectors, Rosier's knowledge of family and olde magic expanded their options, and Lestrange's practicality kept their plans grounded.

As their leader, Marvolo listened carefully to their input, considering each idea on its merits. He no longer dismissed their suggestions out of hand or let anger cloud his judgement. This shift in his approach yielded better results. 

By the end of their second year, rumours of Marvolo's growing influence had reached the ears of other houses. Some saw him as a potential leader, while others viewed him with suspicion and envy. But Marvolo remained unfazed, focusing on nurturing his circle of trusted allies.

In the shadows, Evaline played her part with precision, skillfully orchestrating events while ensuring Marvolo remained in the spotlight. She made sure to carefully position Marvolo as the visible leader, the one whom others looked up to and followed, while she stayed in the background.

Within Marvolo's inner circle, she limits her interactions with the other boys. Only Marvolo and Orion she would converse with, and that was enough. The rest of the inner circle, while curious, payed no mind to her, focusing on their leader instead.

Yet, Evaline remained ever vigilant, aware of the delicate balance between ambition and danger. She made sure Marvolo's path didn't veer too far into darkness, that he didn't lose sight of the ultimate goal he had set.

In their private conversations, she continued to inform him about the dark arts yet was also sure to explain the negative impacts of each theory or spell. She didn’t deprive him of the information, knowing he would research it on his own without grasping its full extent.

As time passed, Evaline knew that her role would eventually come to an end. Her duty as an Este was clear, and when the time was right, she would quietly fade away, leaving behind the era she had come to know so well.

When Marvolo is firmly established as a respected figurehead, Evaline's departure would go unnoticed by most. Her name would fade from memories, and she would become a hidden figure in the annals of history. And she would return to her era, her friends, her own career.

She ignored the prickle of sadness at the thought.

༺═──────────────═༻

It was the end of Second Year, and despite his newfound power and influence at Hogwarts, Tom was once again back at the wretched Orphanage. To make matters worse, there seemed to be a muggle war going on and London seemed to be right in the middle of the crossfire.

Tom despised the orphanage with every fibre of his being, but this time around, his loathing reached new depths. The first few days were as dismal as always, but then the air was thick with urgency and tension. The matron's worried eyes bore into his, despite her initial hate for him, and her voice quivered as she spoke of the dangers posed by the ongoing muggle war when he first returned..

Tom never used to fear the orphanage; it was his sanctuary of sorts, a place where he was in control, where he held power over the other children. But now, as the bombings began and the walls shook from the force of each explosion, a primal fear gripped his heart like icy claws. His pride and arrogance were no match for the very real threat of getting blown up by muggle bombs.

He spent nights lying awake, each blast sending shivers down his spine. He tried to convince himself that he was above such emotions, that fear was a weakness he couldn't afford to show. But as the danger grew closer, his facade crumbled. He couldn't ignore the fact that his life was in the hands of fate, a cruel twist of destiny he couldn't control.

The matron tried to maintain an air of strength, but he saw the tremor in her hands and the strain in her voice. Even the staff members who once seemed indifferent to the children's plight now wore expressions of concern and fear.

He gritted his teeth, trying to suppress the gnawing fear that threatened to overwhelm him. He was Tom Riddle, after all, the boy with no fear. He was a wizard. He had allies and followers now. He was the top student, a prodigy. The air strikes had shattered his illusion of control, and he was left grappling with a fear he had never known before.

The sound of explosions echoed in Tom's ears, each blast sending tremors through the walls of the orphanage. Today was the worst. He could see rubbled buildings out his window, he could see smoke from burning buildings in the distance and the constant droning of aircrafts crossing over the orphanage sent him into panic.

His heart pounded in his chest, fear gripping him like a vise. Forgetting all about his composure and pride, he huddled under the rickety table, seeking refuge from the chaos outside. Before the war was simply something they observed from a distance, but today it was different. The muggle war had become too close for comfort, and Tom's mind was consumed with panic and dread.

He couldn't die like this. He refused to be taken by the merciless bombings of the muggle war. He was a wizard, he had magic, and he couldn't let himself perish at the hands of muggles. If only- If only he could use magic.

But he couldn’t or else he would get expelled and he would have to live here at the orphanage for the entire year. No, he wouldn’t go back to that. Not when he just discovered Hogwarts. Not when he just discovered he was powerful. Hogwarts was his home.

The orphanage rattled violently and Tom's breathing became erratic. That airstrike was much closer than last time. It felt like it was right outside the door. Screams of panic from the other children rang out in the distance.

Someone…someone save him. Please. Please, someone get him out of here. He didn’t want to die. Not here. Not now. Please. Please. Someone rescue him from this hellhole. Please, someone come save him.

He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. 

Tom was scared .

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline stirred from her slumber, the morning sun casting a soft glow on her face as she slowly blinked her eyes open. She stretched languidly before slipping out of bed, the cool wooden floor beneath her feet sending a shiver up her spine. After a short shower she decided to wear a flowing floral patterned net dress, leaving her collarbones exposed, and leaving her wet hair cascading down her back. A sense of tranquillity filled the air as she made her way to the dining room, where her cup of tea was waiting for her.

As she sipped her tea, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere, Norril suddenly appeared, holding out her communication mirror urgently. " Signorina Evaline, a call for you."

[Lady]

Curious, Evaline took the mirror, threw up her glamour and answered the call. However, instead of Marvolo's voice, she heard only ragged breathing and distant sounds of chaos. Concern surged through her as she looked at the shaky image of a wooden floor in the mirror, "Marvolo? Are you alright? What's wrong?"

The sound of distant droning of an aircraft in the background answered her question. The muggle war.

She dropped the mirror immediately and shot to her fee. Without hesitation, she apparated to Wool's Orphanage, appearing in Tom's small room that she had seen last time when she took him to Diagon Alley. The air was filled with panic and the echoes of explosions, and she scanned the room. Her eyes fell upon him, huddled under his desk, clutching the mirror with his head in his hands.

She swallowed, a frown on her lips as she felt her heart sink at the sight. He was trembling, his head bent between his knees. A distant drone of an aircraft made Evaline stiffen. This was no place for a child. In the middle of a war that had nothing to do with him.

She approached him slowly, trying to call out to him, but he seemed lost in his panic. Recognizing the signs of his panic attack, she crouched down beside him and gently grasped his shoulders, shaking him a little but when it was clear this environment would do nothing to calm him, she made a split second impulse decision and apparated them back to the Villa.

They popped back into the dining room, the white tiled floor cold to the touch through her dress. She was still in her crouched position in front of the boy while Marvolo hadn’t moved from his huddled position. He hadn’t even noticed the change of scenery.

“Norril! A blanket, please!”

Physical touch usually works with panic attacks but she wasn't sure if Marvolo was comfortable with it. With slight hesitation she wrapped her arms around the boy’s trembling shoulders, running a soothing hand down his back. When he didn’t retract, her hold became firmer, more confident.

Remembering how Stefano would speak to her when she fell into panic attacks after her grandfather’s passing, she tried to ease him from his panic, encouraging deep breaths and reassuring him that he was safe in a calm voice. 

To her surprise, he leaned into her, his breathing slowing and growing calmer but his grip on his mirror remained firm, she noted. As she continued speaking reassurances, Gradually, his trembling lessened, and she carefully pulled away and wrapped the blanket around him, one arm on his forearm while the other rubbed his back comfortingly. 

༺═──────────────═༻

Normally, Tom despised physical contact, but this embrace was different. It was warm and grounding, and he found himself instinctively leaning into it. His panic began to subside, and he could feel his breathing gradually slowing down. The gentle hand on his back, making soothing circles, helped him focus and regain some semblance of control.

Finally, his eyes cracked open slowly, head still in his hands, hunched over and he found himself looking at white tiled floors. His mind was a haze as he squinted in confusion. His room didn't have tiles.

A voice spoke reassuringly, telling him that he was safe. "You're alright, Marvolo. You're safe, I promise you. Just breathe." 

He frowned, still feeling bewildered and disoriented. Only one person called him Marvolo. Slowly, he uncurled himself from his position and looked at the girl next to him. She was looking at him with reassurance, her hair wet like she just showered. "Evaline? How-?"

"You called," she said gently, slowly releasing him from the embrace. 

Evaline smiled at him, placing a white fluffy blanket over his shoulders, which he instinctively tightened around himself, desperate to get rid of the cold dread that had settled deep in his bones. 

His brow furrowed in confusion as he finally noticed the mirror in his hand. He didn't remember calling her or even taking out the mirror from his trunk. His memory was a haze of fear and panic. But he couldn't deny the relief that washed over him when he saw her there, by his side.

It took him a moment to process what she meant, and he realised that somehow, even in his state of panic, he had instinctively reached out to her. He hadn’t even used his wand. It must’ve been his magic reacting to his panic and he wandlesly said the incantation.

He hadn’t even noticed.

Yet, Evaline had come to him without hesitation, as though answering his silent pleas, pulling him away from the terror that had consumed him.

His eyes met Evaline's worried gaze, and he felt a sudden surge of vulnerability. He was supposed to be strong, in control, and yet here he was, shaken to his core. "I didn't mean to call you," he managed to say, as he noticed how much easier it was to breathe now. He noticed it was quiet now, no sounds of the air raids or screaming.

Evaline's expression softened. But there was no judgement, no pity, no mocking in her silver eyes. There was only relief. "It doesn't matter. You’re safe now."

Her assurance offered him a sense of solace. He had always been alone, abandoned and ignored, but now Evaline was here, willing to support him. The realisation made him feel oddly grateful and yet apprehensive at the same time. 

"You came," Tom murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid she would disappear if he spoke too loudly. He couldn’t believe it. He felt like he was dreaming or he was hallucinating.

“Of course. You called." she said once again, still crouched in front of him as her dress splayed across the tiled floor, repeating her assurance. Her hand was still on his arm and he felt compelled to hold it, if only to see if she was real.

You called.

Tom's grip on her tightened ever so slightly, as if seeking reassurance that she was real and truly there with him. He had always been guarded, reluctant to show weakness, but in that moment, Evaline could see through the mask he wore. He was terrified and just this once, he didn’t hide it. Because he knew Evaline wouldn’t look at him any differently if he did. 

"Thank you," he whispered.

Evaline had answered his pleas. She saved him. For the first time in his life, he had begged for help, and she had answered without hesitation. She was the first person to save him. Tom felt a spark of warmth in his heart. It was a feeling he couldn't quite name, but it was unlike anything he had experienced before. 

༺═──────────────═༻

As Evaline looked at Marvolo, she was reminded once again that this boy was not Voldemort, he was a child and her heart ached with a mix of compassion and sorrow. She saw a side of him that he rarely showed to the world – a vulnerable and scared 13-year-old boy caught in the midst of a terrifying war that had nothing to do with him. It’s no wonder the boy became obsessed with dark arts later on, he was so desperate. 

Suppressing her own emotions, Evaline put on a reassuring smile and stood up. She extended her hand towards him.

"Come, let’s get you some tea.”

Marvolo looked up at her, his blue eyes meeting her gaze. There was a mix of vulnerability and gratitude in his expression, a vulnerability that he rarely allowed others to witness. For a moment, the mask of the cold and calculating young man he usually portrayed seemed to fade away.

He hesitated, but then reached out and took her hand. One hand in hers, while the other gripped her wrist. As Evaline gently pulled Marvolo up from the floor, his hand held tightly to hers, she could sense the slight tremor in his touch. She guided him to one of the plush chairs at the dining table, his grip still lingering on her wrist.

Turning to prepare some tea, Marvolo’s grip on her wrist tightened, and he seemed hesitant to let go. Evaline turned to look at him, her reassuring smile never leaving her face. She patted his hand softly, hoping to ease his tension, and directed his attention to the nearby stove.

"I'm just going to make some tea. Right here," she spoke softly, her words meant to be comforting. She pointed at the stove, just a few feet away, and Marvolo’s gaze followed her gesture. Slowly, he released her wrist, but his eyes remained fixed on her.

As she moved around the kitchen, fetching a kettle and filling it with water, Evaline felt Marvolo watching her every movement. His anxiety seemed to subside a little as he focused on the familiarity of the routine, the act of making tea becoming a source of solace amidst the chaos of his thoughts.

The water boiled, and Evaline poured it into a ceramic teapot, which already contained some tea leaves and a touch of calming draught. She placed the teapot, a jar of honey, and two identical cups on a tray, carrying it over to the table. She positioned it in front of Marvolo and seated herself next to him.

Pouring the tea, Evaline pushed a cup gently into his hands, and he accepted it without protest. Throughout the process, he remained silent, observing her every move.

"Honey?" she asked, and Marvolo nodded once in response. Evaline carefully added a few drops of honey into his cup, mimicking the action for her own tea. She stirred his tea a few times before doing the same to hers. 

༺═──────────────═༻

As Evaline served him the warm tea, Tom's eyes followed her every movement. Part of him was afraid that this was all a dream, that he would open his eyes and find himself back in the cold and chaotic orphanage. Clutching the blanket tightly around his shoulders, he sought comfort and reassurance in its warmth. But the reality of the situation slowly sank in as he realised that he was indeed sitting in a cosy kitchen slash dining room.

His gaze wandered around the room, taking in the serene atmosphere. Large open windows with white panels allowed natural light to flood the space, offering a glimpse of a beautiful garden outside. To his right, a big doorway led to a lavish, more formal dining area, adorned with elegant furnishings.

The kitchen itself was a light shade of green, with an arched ceiling and a white timber table where he was seated. The scent of saltwater carried on the gentle breeze that wafted through the windows, adding to the calming ambiance.

Evaline's voice brought him back to the present, offering him the option of rest or a nap. Tom hesitated, fully aware of the nightmares that often plagued his sleep. He didn't want to risk slipping into those dark visions, even if it meant staying awake.

"I would rather not sleep," he replied quietly, his grip on the tea cup tightening. He needed to remain awake, if only to avoid the nightmares that haunted him.

Evaline didn't press him further, respecting his decision without question. Instead, she suggested a walk on the shore, a proposition that caught Tom by surprise. He frowned, not expecting to find any shoreline nearby.

"The shore?" he repeated slowly.

Evaline merely grinned. 

After finishing their tea, Tom followed Evaline through the house, his eyes eagerly absorbing every lavish detail. The white interior and elegant architecture exuded a sense of tranquillity that he had never experienced before. As they walked, each room seemed to be more impressive than the last, until they reached a breathtaking space made entirely of glass.

In this room, a magnificent fireplace served as its centrepiece, surrounded by plush couches that invited comfort and relaxation. However, what truly left Tom in awe was the panoramic view of the ocean spread out before him. The glass walls provided an unobstructed view of the glistening waters and majestic mountains, creating an ambiance of serenity and wonder.

Evaline's knowing grin confirmed that this was indeed an extraordinary place. "Impressive, huh?" 

Tom's eyes widened in amazement as he turned his gaze from the view to Evaline. "Where are we?" he inquired, unable to fathom that such a place existed.

She looked out into the endless ocean with a soft look on her face "Italy. Este Villa."

"Italy?" Tom echoed dumbly, mouth agape as all he could do was stare at Evaline in shock.

“Sicili, to be specific,” she continued slowly, finally turning to look at him with a smile as she gestured behind her, “What you’re looking at is the Mediterranean Sea.”

“Sicili?” Tom echoed again, shock resurfacing as he could only gape at the sea in front of him.

Evaline chuckled softly, waving a hand and the glass wall caught his attention once more as it parted midway, revealing a large balcony that offered an even more expansive view of the ocean.

Entranced, Tom followed Evaline as she gently guided him forward by the elbow. The glass doors slid open with a hushed whisper, and they stepped onto the balcony, the cool breeze caressing their faces. Tom's eyes were drawn to a set of old worn stone stairs leading down to a wooden deck that extended over the water.

He watched as Evaline easily settled on the edge of the deck, her legs hanging over the water. She looked at Tom, gesturing for him to join her. Though hesitant, he mustered the courage and slowly lowered himself beside her. The mesmerising expanse of the ocean lay before them, and Tom found himself at a loss for words, the beauty of it all overwhelming his senses.

The gentle ocean breeze continued to caress them, carrying with it a sense of tranquillity that Tom had never known before. The peaceful sounds of the water and the distant calls of birds were a stark contrast to the chaos of the war. 

He couldn't help but be captivated by the picturesque scene before him—the damp timber under his legs, the occasional flicker of water from the gentle waves, and the stunning view of the ocean stretching out into the horizon. It was like stepping into a dream, a world away from the harsh reality of the orphanage.

Unexpectedly, Evaline's voice broke through the serene silence, as though she could sense his inner turmoil. Her words caught him off guard, and he turned to look at her, surprise evident in his eyes. She wasn't facing him, but rather gazing out at the tranquil scenery. She offered him a proposition that he never could have imagined.

"You can stay here for the rest of the break," she said casually, as though extending an invitation to an ordinary tea party.

Tom's heart skipped a beat with hope. The offer was so unexpected, that he couldn't find the right words to respond. Evaline continued, her eyes still on the ocean, “I have more than enough room and it gets rather lonely here.”

"But- won't your parents mind?" he inquired, his mind racing to understand the implications of such an offer.

Evaline huffed in amusement, her gaze flickering to him briefly. "They won't be a problem, I assure you. Haven't been since I was five."

It dawned on him then, and he felt a pang of guilt for not knowing. Evaline, too, was an orphan just like him. However, she seemed unfazed by it, as though she had long accepted her circumstances. She was an orphan.

Just like him.

She and he were so very alike and Tom knew he was right to accept her handshake in first year. He was brought back to the present when Evaline asked if he would accept the offer.

Tom hesitated, considering his options. The idea of staying away from the orphanage, in this peaceful haven, was incredibly tempting. But what about her guardian? Surely she didn’t live without a legal guardian all these years? What about the rules? His mind was in turmoil.

Evaline must have sensed his hesitation, for she sighed with exasperation, her gaze locking with his. "I live alone, Marvolo. No parents, no guardians. It's just been me and my elf for most of my life."

The revelation left him speechless. He couldn't comprehend growing up with only a house-elf for company, no humans in sight. It was a life he couldn't even fathom. 

Evaline was watching him and she whispered, “Stay, Marvolo,” she paused, “I would enjoy your company.”

Suddenly, the decision became clear in his mind. He wanted to escape the orphanage, the bombings, the fear. He wanted peace.

"Yes, yes, I'll stay," he finally said. However, a wave of panic washed over him as he realised the potential consequences of his disappearance from the orphanage. "But my wand and my trunk- and the matron would surely notice my absence."

Evaline simply waved away his concern, her reassuring smile putting him slightly at ease. "I had Norril take care of it. Your trunk and wand are in your room, and-" she paused suddenly and called out, "Norril?"

Tom turned, puzzled by the name. Who was Norril?

As a soft pop echoed behind them, he looked back and saw a tall house-elf standing there, nearly 6 feet tall, with dark blue skin, dressed in a tailored suit with white hair tied into a neat bun, Tom was thoroughly astonished; it was the first time he had ever seen a house-elf, let alone one so different from what he had imagined.

" Signorina Evaline," the elf greeted with a respectful bow.

[Lady]

"Norril! I assume it's all taken care of?" She asked, a smile on her face as Norril straightened.

The elf nodded earnestly, " Signore Marvolo's belongings are in the guest room, and his disappearance will go unquestioned."

[Sir]

Tom couldn't help but interject with curiosity, "How?"

The elf glanced at him but remained silent, directing its gaze back to Evaline, waiting for her permission, who nodded. The elf turned back to Tom and responded, "Mind compulsion. They will believe you are present and will have memories of such as well lest anyone come looking for you, Signore ."

“Norril, this is Marvolo. He’ll be staying with us for break. Marvolo, this is Norril. He manages the Villa for the Este Family,” she introduced, Evaline's smile grew fond as she looked at the elf, "Thank you, Norril. That will be all."

“Welcome, Signore Marvolo,” The elf nodded at Tom in acknowledgment, "I recommend you come inside, Signorina Evaline. Cold breezes are predicted, and it shall do you or your guest no good if you fall ill."

Evaline chuckled softly and nodded, "Of course, Norril. We'll be right in. Thank you."

With a smile, the elf vanished with another soft pop. Tom watched the empty space for a moment, genuinely impressed by the house-elf's demeanour and loyalty. Norril was more than just a servant; he spoke with genuine concern and had a sense of independence, seeking permission before addressing Tom. 

Chapter Text

Tom followed Evaline through the vast Villa, this time taking in every minute detail. The interior was an elegant blend of white and light greens, with exquisite furniture and open windows in every room. He couldn't help but notice the high ceilings, which added to the grandeur of the place.

It was clear that Evaline lived in luxury, but he also noted that she didn't flaunt it like some of the other heirs of noble families he had encountered at Hogwarts.

As they strolled down a hallway, his eyes subtly lingered on Evaline's attire. Her flowy floral dress, a departure from her usual Hogwarts uniform, caught his attention. Her black hair was still slightly damp, cascading gracefully down her back, and her neckline revealed her delicate collarbones. He hadn't seen her dressed like this before, and he found himself momentarily captivated.

Finally, they arrived at a door, and Evaline pushed it open with a smile. "This is your room. My room is just down the hall," she said, motioning for him to enter first. "Feel free to redecorate. You can call for Norril if you need anything."

Stepping inside, he was taken aback by the sheer size of the room. A large king-size bed adorned with flowing net curtains dominated the space. The room followed the theme of white and light beige, with a magnificent chandelier suspended from the ceiling, casting a soft glow throughout the room. Across from the bed, there was a dark oak desk, adding a touch of elegance to the ambiance with a small fireplace.

Noticing an open balcony on one side, he was drawn to it like a magnet. Stepping outside he discovered a small sitting area overlooking the vast ocean, the gentle breeze carrying the salty scent to his senses.

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline leaned casually against the doorframe, eyes following the figure of Marvolo as he took in his new surroundings. She couldn't deny the uncertainty that lingered in her mind, wondering if it was the right decision to let him stay.

Was this the best choice? Was it the right choice? She didn’t know but the thought of leaving a child in the middle of a warzone was against her morals.

After a while, Marvolo turned to face her. Emotions flickered through his face too quickly to identify. His mouth opened, but no words came out. For the first time in the two years she knew him, Marvolo was actually speechless.

Offering a warm smile, she pushed off the doorframe gently, "I'll let you get some rest."

He nodded silently, seemingly unable to find the words to express himself. As Evaline turned to leave, her hand already on the door handle, she heard him call out, "Wait!"

She paused, looking over her shoulder. Marvolo cleared his throat, his ears slightly red, seemed slightly flustered, as if struggling to articulate his thoughts. Finally, he managed to speak, his voice a little hesitant, "I- uh. Thank you, Evaline. Truly."

Her smile widened, and she knew she made the right choice. With a nod, she gently pulled the door closed, leaving Marvolo to settle in. I n the serene emptiness of the hallway, Evaline's hand fell from the door handle with a sigh. L

ost in her thoughts, she made her way back to the kitchen where Norril was waiting for her with a new cup of tea. A smile spread across her face as he handed her a cup of tea.

" Signorina Evaline, do you really think this is a good idea?" he asked quietly, concern etched on his features, as she settled in the cushioned seats on the open window ledge.

The gentle breeze wafted in, carrying the scent of the approaching evening. The sun was slowly setting over the horizon, casting a warm glow on the surroundings.

Evaline hummed thoughtfully, cradling the cup of tea in her hands as she gazed out the window. "I don't know yet."

"Perhaps this was for the best."

Evaline inhaled deeply, momentarily closing her eyes. The worries of the world seemed to melt away in this tranquil setting. "Perhaps," she murmured, “Future Dark Lord or not, he is still a child, Norril."

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom's eyes darted around the room, not entirely sure if he was still dreaming. The opulence of the surroundings was overwhelming, and he couldn't believe that this was real. As he lowered himself onto the plush bed, the softness under his fingers assured him that this was indeed happening.

He hesitantly gripped the silky bed sheets, trying to anchor himself in reality. His gaze fell upon his trunk and wand, carefully placed a few feet away near the foot of the bed. Slowly, he made his way towards them, the reality of the situation sinking in. He truly had escaped the Orphanage. 

Opening his trunk, he found all his belongings neatly organised, just as he had left them when he refused to unpack at the Orphanage. His extra clothes that were stored in the wardrobe were folded and packed with care, and his books and stationery that were on his table were meticulously arranged into one of the compartments. All his belongings that truly mattered had been packed and protected by the house elf.

In the two years he had known her, Evaline had been a constant presence, the only one who reached out to him when he was lost and alone in the bewildering wizarding world. She had been his guide, his confidante, and his friend.

But it wasn't just her kindness that had affected him. He wasn’t blind nor a fool. Tom couldn't help but watch at Evaline's subtle manipulation, especially when it came to Orion Black. She had wielded her words like a master craftsman, deftly influencing the Black Heir and swaying him to Tom's cause. Now, the heir of the powerful Black family stood by his side, the first to join Tom's quest for power and domination.

Evaline's cunning and intelligence were a force to be reckoned with, and Tom knew that she would be an invaluable ally in his pursuit of greatness. Her ability to move behind the scenes, pulling strings and shaping events, all while remaining unnoticed by those around her.

As he thought about her withdrawn nature within Slytherin House, he couldn't help but wonder why. But he was determined to change that. He knew that having her as a strong ally and partner would be instrumental in their quest for power. Together, they could rule Slytherin House, and then, perhaps, even Britain.

A sense of determination surged within him. He would make Evaline see the potential they had together. He resolved to repay her kindness and loyalty by making her an integral part of his grand plans. He would encourage her to step into the spotlight and seize her rightful place by his side. 

And together, they would rule the wizarding world.

Whatever it takes.

༺═──────────────═༻

As the sun rose over the horizon, its golden rays painted the tranquil sea with shimmering hues. Evaline sat on the deck, her legs dangling over the water, wrapped in a thick shawl to ward off the early morning chill. Her gaze was unfocused, lost in contemplation as she reflected on her unusual situation.

It had been two years since she arrived in this unfamiliar era, yet in her own time, only a mere two hours had passed. The discrepancy was baffling, but Evaline had learned to navigate through this temporal anomaly. From being surrounded by esteemed Ministry officials and high-class colleagues, she now found herself in the company of children, including the young Dark Lord whom she had given shelter to.

A soft laugh escaped her lips as she compared her current situation to her life back home. In her normal era, she had been celebrated for her accomplishments, awarded the prestigious Order of Merlins, and respected as an adult among her peers. But here, her role had transformed into that of a babysitter of these children, some of whom had a rather inflated sense of their own importance.

As she observed these children, she couldn't help but find them endearing in their own way. They strutted around, each convinced that they were the best of the best, heirs to great legacies. Evaline found it amusing to witness their childish attempts at being grown-ups.

Evaline sensed the subtle shifts in the wards that surrounded the Villa, indicating that Marvolo was on his way to join her for breakfast. She left the deck, leaving behind the serene view of the rising sun over the tranquil waters, and focused on the present moment.

Inside, the dining room welcomed her with its elegant ambiance. The walls were painted in a soothing sage green hue, complemented by a magnificent glass chandelier that sparkled like crystalline stars. The touches of gold in the decor added a touch of opulence to the room, creating an atmosphere of refined luxury.

As she settled into her seat at the head of the table, a cup of warm tea materialized before her, and she gratefully wrapped her hands around it. The comforting warmth seeped into her fingers, dispelling the residual chill from her early morning contemplation.

Not long after, Norill appeared in the doorway, leading Marvolo into the dining room. Evaline greeted him with a warm smile, and he hesitated for a moment before reciprocating with a smile of his own as he took a seat in the chair to her left.

The aroma of freshly brewed tea wafted through the air, and Evaline noticed how Marvolo relaxed further. The young dark lord seemed more at ease today, she noted as his shoulders relaxed slightly and he leaned in his chair.

Norril appeared promptly with a spread of delectable food. The aroma of fried foods filled the room, making Evaline’s gut churn in displeasure. She never could stomach food in the mornings. Norril placed a plate of scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and slices of fresh fruit in front of Marvolo, alongside a glass of pumpkin juice.

Evaline's breakfast, in contrast, seemed modest to him. She only had a single powdered croissant on her plate and a cup of tea in her hand. That was more than enough for a couple of hours.

"Thank you, Norril," Evaline smiled at the dark elf, before shooting a pointed look at Marvolo. If he is to live here, he will treat Norril with respect.

Marvolo understood quickly, seemingly shocked for a moment before he thanked the elf as well. She nodded, satisfied as she began the conversation, “Good morning, Marvolo. Did you sleep well?

“Good morning,” He met her eyes for a moment before he nodded, muttering her an affirmative answer before he began to eat. He was shy , she realised with mild amusement. 

She smiled, taking a sip of her tea and eyed her single croissant with displeasure. She really couldn't eat anything in the mornings but Norril had made sure she eats something lest she wishes to pass out later.

“Have you eaten already?” Marvolo suddenly asked, his cutlery paused mid air as he glanced at her.

Evaline took a sip of her tea, trying to dismiss the uneasy feeling churning in her stomach at the mere thought of eating in the mornings, "No, why do you ask?" she asked, glancing at him over the rim of her cup.

"Are you planning to eat something else?" he inquired instead, a slight frown tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I'll be lucky if I can eat this," Evaline muttered absentmindedly, looking at the single croissant before her with veiled disdain. She had the childish urge to hide it and tell Norril she finished it.

His frown deepened, as Marvolo set his cutlery down and pushed a bowl filled with freshly cut fruits in front of her. "Eat," he commanded, staring at her with such force she nearly raised a brow.

Evaline blinked in surprise at the tone. But her surprise quickly turned into mild amusement as she realised the boy was worried. She couldn't help but find it endearing that the young dark lord was worried about her eating habits. She wanted to retort but the thought that she was probably the only person he cared enough about, she decided to just go with it. 

Suppressing a smile, she decided it would be easier to appease his worries than explain her breakfast-less habits. She picked up her fork and speared a piece of watermelon from the bowl he had offered.

Marvolo watched her intently as she chewed, only resuming his own breakfast when he was satisfied. As she swallowed, the initial nausea she had been feeling intensified, causing her to purse her lips. Evaline set her fork down, reaching for her cup of tea, hoping the warm liquid would soothe her uneasiness.

As Marvolo ate, she brought up light conversation, carefully avoiding his panic attack from yesterday, instead asking him about his latest interests and research, which much to her amusement was still the study of Ancient Runes, in particular warding runes.

She wanted to chuckle at the irony when Marvolo brought up the theory of international wards and how it would be practically impossible to accomplish it at such a large scale. This led to a heated debate, with both parties unrelenting.

Meanwhile, Norril had popped in, took one look at the used fork, the tightness of her shoulders and immediately summoned another cup of tea, this time with a stomach soother dumped in it. He then all but shoved it in her hands, to which she would be eternally grateful.

༺═──────────────═༻

The duelling room at Evaline's Villa was a spacious chamber with stone walls and high ceilings. The room was lit with dim magical torches, giving it an air of mystery and ancient wisdom. Various magical symbols and runes were etched onto the floor, each with its purpose and significance in duelling and spellcasting.

Evaline leaned against the wall, observing Marvolo panting on the ground with a raised brow. They had been in one of the duelling rooms at her Villa for hours, working on apparition. She had decided to teach Marvolo this complex skill, believing that he would greatly benefit from it in the future.

They had gone through 219 attempts, and Marvolo had only managed to apparate properly 12 times however he still hadn’t managed several apparitions in a row. She knew it was a challenging skill, but she hadn't expected such a low success rate. Perhaps, she mused, she should have started with something simpler, like wandless magic.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she considered their progress. Teaching him was proving to be more challenging than she had anticipated. Marvolo was undoubtedly talented, but Apparition required a certain finesse and control that he seemed to be struggling with.

Marvolo pushed himself up from the ground, wiping sweat from his forehead. His eyes were narrowed in frustration, but she could see the determination in them. "It's not as easy as I thought," he admitted, his voice tinged with irritation.

“Clearly,” she muttered under her breath.

Marvolo shot her a weary glare but didn't argue. His black hair was dishevelled, and sweat glistened on his forehead from the repeated attempts. It was clear that the process was mentally and physically draining for him, yet he refused to give up.

Evaline shook her head as he failed once again, this time landing flat on his face, "Apparition is one of the most difficult magical skills to master," she said, walking over to him. "It requires precise focus, control, and a deep understanding of the magic involved. It's not uncommon for even skilled witches and wizards to struggle with it at first.”

Marvolo let out a huff of frustration, running a hand through his unruly hair. "I can't afford to struggle," he muttered darkly.

Evaline sighed softly and stepped closer to him. "Take a deep breath, Marvolo. Clear your mind and focus on the destination. Visualise it clearly in your mind."

He nodded, following her instructions. He closed his eyes for a moment, seemingly deep in concentration. Evaline watched him intently, studying his every move, trying to understand where he was going wrong.

With a determined expression, Marvolo opened his eyes and nodded to signal he was ready to try again. He focused his energy, attempting to apparate to a designated spot across the room.

This time, there was no loud pop or sudden disappearance but a perfect light ‘snap’ . Evaline held her breath, hoping for a successful apparition. To her surprise and delight, Marvolo appeared a few feet away from his starting position. He stumbled slightly but managed to keep his balance.

Evaline clapped her hands, her face lighting up with a smile. "Well done! That was much better."

Marvolo's fatigue seemed to momentarily dissipate as he returned her smile, a sense of accomplishment evident in his eyes. He wiped the sweat from his brow and grinned at her.

They continued to work on his apparition skills for a while longer, Evaline offering guidance and encouragement every step of the way. With each attempt, Marvolo seemed to grow more confident, and his success rate gradually improved.

The warm golden glow of the setting sun bathed the duelling room, painting it in hues of orange and pink. Marvolo's grin of satisfaction grew wider as he looked up at Evaline, seeking approval for his successful attempts at Apparition. His dark eyes held a glimmer of pride, knowing that he had achieved something remarkable.

Evaline nodded with a genuine smile, acknowledging his accomplishment. "Eight hours and twelve minutes to master apparition. Very good. It usually takes weeks for others," she praised.

His smile turned smug, and he couldn't help but bask in the compliment. He had always been determined and driven, and it was evident in the way he approached his magical training. He had been determined to master Apparition, and his hard work had paid off.

His curiosity piqued, he asked, "How long did it take you?"

Evaline's expression softened with a mix of amusement and fondness. She glanced at the tempus, her eyes lingering on the remarkable numbers. The boy was truly a prodigy. Not even adults can master apparition without weeks of practice. "Two days," she admitted with a slight roll of her eyes at his smug look, "And I splinched myself. Twice.”

His brows rose in surprise at her revelation. "How old were you then?" 

"A little younger than you, only 10," she answered, deciding to omit the fact that she was actually the same age as him, which was why she agreed to teach him so early on, knowing it was safe to do so with supervision. 

She didn't want to give away too much about herself, especially considering the time-travel situation she found herself in. She had to be careful with the information she shared, as she didn't want to disrupt the timeline or reveal too much about her past.

“Go shower, get changed! This calls for celebration!” She exclaimed, shaking herself out of thought.

Marvolo looked up at her from his slumped position on the floor before he rolled his eyes, a subtle smile playing on his lips. He wordlessly stood, nodding and made his way to the door. Her excited smile dropped as he left her sight.

She wet her dried lips with a thoughtful expression as she called out softly, “Well?”

Norril faded into existence next to her, his bluish skin blending seamlessly with the shadows. The elf was smart, possessing a keen understanding of human behaviour and emotions. Evaline reckoned he could’ve been a muggle psychologist if he wanted.

"Talented boy, Signorina Evaline. Ambitious too. He will indeed achieve greatness. Your decision to provide him sanctuary here has proven to be correct," Norril replied, hands behind his back as he stood tall.

She hummed, gaze lingering on the empty doorway, “I should hope so. Otherwise my being here would be useless.”

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom couldn't help but feel like a foreigner in a strange land, as they strolled through the bustling streets of the Italian town. Evaline had decided to share the wonders of Italy with him, and Tom agreed easily, ignoring the excitement that stirred in his chest at the thought of escaping the orphanage.

But as they walked down the muggle streets, Tom wondered if he had made a mistake. The local vendors called out to them, but all he could understand was the repeated phrase of "English boy!" much to his annoyance. Evaline found it amusing, and Tom shot her a glare everytime she snickered at him behind her hand. 

As they walked, Tom figured out it was because of his clothes. He was wearing his usual black pants and white jumper with a long black trench coat on top, courtesy of Evaline. Apparently, his clothing screamed "English" in this part of Italy.

The locals seemed to have favoured light or dark tan dress pants, crisp white collar shirts paired with suspenders or thin jumpers. It wasn't a vast difference, but enough for him to stand out in the crowd.

On the other hand, Evaline effortlessly blended in with the crowd. She wore a ankle-length, short-sleeved white dress adorned with delicate blue floral patterns, paired with elegant white shoes sporting a small heel. Her hair cascaded down her back, dancing gently in the warm summer breeze as she guided him through the streets. She looked at ease and at home, no surprise given that she hailed from Italy.

At one particular vendor, Tom was once again dubbed "English boy," and the vendor seemed excited to see someone from London. Trying to be polite, Tom smiled and nodded, confused, as the vendor spoke rapidly in Italian.

When the vendor paused, looking at him with a curious expression, Tom was about to admit that he couldn't understand a word. To his luck, Evaline stepped forward, smoothly pulling out her wallet and speaking to the vendor in fluent Italian which surprised Tom a little.

He watched with curiosity as she ordered their drinks and paid for them, all while laughing along with the vendor and maintaining a friendly smile. With a final laugh and a dismissive hand, she turned to Tom, handing him a cup of coffee as they continued through the street.

As they strolled through the enchanting streets of Italy, coffee cups in hand, Evaline eagerly shared fascinating insights about the subtle integration of wizarding society with the muggle world. She expertly pointed out specific stores and establishments, offering intriguing historical facts that showcased the seamless mingling of the two worlds.

With a glint of excitement in her eyes, she gestured towards a majestic-looking theatre, "See that theatre over there? It’s famous around Italy, having multiple locations around the country. It's actually run by wizards, but they profit from muggles. They have no need for regular workers, as the wizarding family themselves takes care of everything."

Tom's eyebrows arched in genuine surprise at the revelation. He didn’t think wizards wanted anything to do with muggles. He had always admired the art of efficiency and practicality, and this wizarding business model seemed like a true embodiment of those principles. The idea of a magical theatre operated entirely by the family intrigued him.

"Imagine the possibilities," he mused aloud, eyeing the dazzling building with bright flashing lights and bold letters, "It's both profitable and incredibly efficient. They've found a way to capitalise on the muggle world while maintaining complete secrecy about the wizarding aspect."

“Lets go watch a show!” Evaline suddenly exclaimed as she grabbed him by the hand and dragged him towards the building. Tom didn’t even try to protest, only gripping her hand tighter and letting her weave them in and out of the crowd.

As they approached the magnificent theatre, Evaline's grin only grew wider. The grand facade exuded an air of elegance and charm, drawing in the unsuspecting muggle audience. However, what the muggles couldn't see were the subtle enchantments and magical finesse that brought this establishment to life.

Tom followed Evaline inside, eyes darting anywhere and everywhere, stepping through the ornate doors. The moment they crossed the threshold, he felt the enchantment wash over him. Soft music seemed to emanate from the very walls, perfectly setting the ambiance for a magical evening. Echoing charms.

The theatre's grand facade stood proudly, exuding an air of elegance and mystery. Tom could feel the subtle enchantments woven into the very fabric of the building, enhancing its allure and ensuring its seamless operation. 

"Impressive," Evaline murmured, eyeing the floor designs, tugging him along.

Upon entering the theatre, they found themselves in a lavish foyer, where muggles bustled about, buying tickets and chatting excitedly about the upcoming show. To an outsider, it seemed like any other theatre, but he could feel the magic flowing around the building.

Unbeknownst to the muggle visitors, subtle jobs were carried out by magic, ensuring the seamless operation of the theatre. The ticket booth, manned by a seemingly ordinary muggle, was enchanted to always produce the right amount of change, with coins neatly sliding into the customer's hands at the perfect moment. Economical Charms.

Behind the desk, he watched as words and numbers appeared wandlessly on enchanted paper, recording ticket sales and transactions with effortless precision, only seen to the magical eyes. Meanwhile, runes were integrated into the designs on the tiled floors, removing any trace of dirt or debris, ensuring the theatre remained pristine for its muggle patrons. Cleaning runes?

Tom realised there was a very weak notice-me-not charm, presumably enough to influence muggle minds as it clearly didn’t affect him or Evaline, around the theatre to maintain the magical secrecy.

As they sat in their box seats, Tom watched eagerly as the actors set out on the stage. He eyed the spotlights that appeared out of nowhere and traced them up to the roof, noticing people standing on makeshift pathways.

A closer look revealed it was actually muggle technology- lighting and was being moved by someone manually to follow the actors on stage. 

The workers, dressed in inconspicuous muggle attire, had subtle wands concealed within their sleeves. With a flick of their wrist or a subtle gesture, they activated various magical processes that controlled lighting, scenery changes, and even the intricacies of the performance itself.

Tom's gaze was drawn to the stage itself, where he noticed the playbills arranging themselves perfectly, the lighting adjusting as if guided by an unseen director, and the curtain lifting gracefully to reveal the magical performance.

As the show began, subtle charms and illusions added an extra layer of wonder to the performance. Costumes seemed to transform seamlessly, scenery changed with the wave of a wand, and special effects dazzled the audience without any visible apparatus. All the while, the wizards responsible for the magical theatrics remained hidden, expertly blending in with the crowd as they carried out their subtle tasks.

Throughout the evening, Tom found himself thoroughly enchanted, not only by the theatrical performance but also by the ingenuity and artistry of the wizarding world behind the scenes. Evaline's expression indicated that she was thoroughly enjoying his reactions but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

༺═──────────────═༻

The next few days in Italy were filled with exploration and adventure. Evaline dragged Tom to various iconic landmarks and historical sites, her enthusiasm contagious as she shared fascinating tidbits about each location. From the ancient ruins of Pompeii to the grandeur of Florence's architecture, they traversed the country, savouring every moment of their holiday.

With each trip and every magnificent sight, Tom's composure gradually unravelled in front of Evaline. At first, he tried to maintain his usual composed demeanour, but as they continued their adventures across Italy, he found himself letting his guard down more and more.

Evaline had seen him at his lowest, he reasoned with himself, so what harm was there in showing genuine surprise and excitement in her company?

By the third trip, Tom didn't even care about preserving his carefully crafted image. He no longer minded being carefree around her; in fact, he relished it. It felt refreshing to have someone with whom he could be himself without the burden of his reputation or the weight of expectations.

As they explored Rome's vibrant streets, marvelled at the art in Florence, and relished the beauty of Venice, Tom found himself smiling and laughing more freely than he ever had before. He even started to engage in light banter with Evaline, shooting back his own jokes and remarks every once in a while, which Evaline reciprocated with just as much attitude.

Of course, Tom knew that when they returned to Hogwarts, he would have to resume his composed facade and maintain his guard. He couldn't afford to show weakness or vulnerability to his peers or rivals. But in Evaline's company, he felt safe to lower his guard, to be himself, and to let his genuine emotions surface.

Currently in Rome, they stood before the majestic Colosseum, an awe-inspiring sight that Tom had only read about in books. But now, thanks to Evaline, they were able to apparate inside the empty structure, bringing the black and white pictures from his history books to life in vivid colour.

Evaline grinned as his eyes roamed the building with interest. "Emperor Vespasian was a wizard, you know?" 

His gaze snapped away from the stone detailings on the pillars, eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

Evaline nodded, absentmindedly stroking an engraved design, "Yes, he was never born into the royal family though. When he did take over the title of emperor, he used his magic to rebuild the country after the previous emperors' rule. That's why he was dubbed a great emperor."

"He wasn't born into the royal family?" Tom repeated, eyes slowly drifting back to the massive structure they were in and began his exploration. Bathed in an ethereal glow that filters through the timeworn arches, the amphitheatre seems to come alive with the echoes of long-forgotten glories. Each stone, weathered by centuries, bears witness to the blood-soaked spectacles that once captivated the roaring crowds. 

"No, he came from the middle class," Evaline explained as she followed him, hands in pockets, "and he had a mistress who happened to be the secretary for the emperor's grandmother. Somehow, he used that connection and elevated himself to the position of emperor."

The scent of ancient sand and crumbling history filled the air, making him practically envision the era where gladiators clashed and beasts roared in a dance of life and death. The sun's rays penetrate the ruins, painting kaleidoscopic patterns on the ground and Tom’s gaze lingered on it.

Stepping over rubble of a broken brick wall, Tom hummed thoughtfully, "He would have made a fine Slytherin. Albeit dishonorable but cunning."

Evaline chuckled, teasingly raising an eyebrow, "Reminds me of someone."

"Ridiculous. I would never have a mistress," Tom scoffed, scowling at the mere implication. He paused his strolling to shoot her a glare before he kept walking. 

“Why not? With a pretty face like yours it shouldn’t be too hard,” She smirked, unperturbed by his narrowed eyes and death glare, "Alright, maybe not a mistress but you would use anyone else."

"You think I'm pretty?" he asked as he threw a smirk over his shoulder.

"I think you're obnoxious," she rolled her eyes.

"I'll do whatever it takes to achieve greatness," Tom declared with unwavering confidence, jutting his chin in the air.

To his surprise, Evaline merely nodded, seriously, "And I have no doubt you will succeed."

Tom couldn't help but pause, struck by the weight of her words. He had anticipated annoying remarks but her unwavering confidence in him caught him off guard. No one had ever bestowed such unwavering faith in his abilities before.

Composing himself, he recalled his initial goal, firmly stating, " We will succeed together, Evaline. Not just me."

As Tom spoke, he observed Evaline's reaction with keen interest. He noticed a brief pause, a flicker of surprise crossing her face, as if his words had momentarily caught her off guard, like a foreign language she couldn't quite decipher.

An odd emotion flitted through her eyes too quickly for him to grasp before she regained her smirk. "Of course. When you end up successful and rich, buy me a castle- or better yet, buy me Hogwarts."

Chapter Text

Tom stared at the canopy of the four-poster bed, the room bathed in the eerie glow of the moonlight streaming through the window. It was well past midnight, and exhaustion weighed heavily on him, but sleep had been irritatingly elusive lately, haunted by the same nightmares he wished he could forget. He despised those night terrors, but they seemed to cling to him relentlessly.

These two weeks at the Este villa had been a revelation. Tom had to admit that they were the best weeks he could remember. Evaline had introduced him to the world in a way he could have never imagined. She'd taken him sightseeing, something he'd never done before. Places he didn't even know existed a month ago were now part of his reality, all thanks to someone so irritatingly persistant.

A sharp knock abruptly shattered his contemplation, and he blinked, pushing himself up to a sitting position. With a slow and deliberate motion, he reached for the bedside lamp, wincing at the sudden burst of light. Wondering who could be knocking at this late hour, he reluctantly left his warm sheets and made his way to the door.

On the other side stood Evaline, her nightgown draped casually around her, a book clutched in her hand and an oddly determined look on her face.

Tom frowned, squinting in the dim light. "Evaline? What's wrong?"

“I need your assistance,” Without waiting for a formal invitation, she breezed past him into the room, plopping herself down in the armchair near the bed. She opened her book and gestured for him to lie back down.

Tom couldn't help but frown at her intrusion, mumbling, "At this time?"

“Better now than never,” she replied with a half shrug, not looking up at him.

Tom furrowed his brow but was too weary to argue, having grown accustomed to Evaline's unceremonious ways. He slumped onto the bed, his gaze fixed on her as she began to read from the book, his eyes narrowed as he caught the title in the dim light, ‘Tales of Beedle the Bard.’

"Three brothers, travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight, reached a deep, treacherous river where anyone who attempted to swim or wade would drown. Learned in the magical arts, the brothers conjured a bridge with their wands and proceeded to cross—"

Tom interrupted, his tone slightly annoyed. "Are you reading me a story?"

Evaline paused, giving him an exasperated look.

"Of course not, Tom. I just need your opinion on something," she replied, and then continued reading, "The brothers conjured a bridge with their wands and proceeded to cross—"

Tom refused with a hint of annoyance, refusing to admit that he needed such comforts. He snapped, "I'm not a child, Evaline."

She rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "No, of course not- who said you were?," she insisted, brushing off his complaint.

He protested again, his anger bubbling up, unable to believe that she was reading him a story. Evaline simply rolled her eyes once more and continued reading, undeterred.

“Halfway through the bridge, a hooded figure stood before them. The figure was the enraged spirit of Death, cheated of his due. Death cunningly pretended to congratulate them and proceeds to award them with gifts of their own choosing…”

As Evaline's voice droned on, Tom slowly succumbed to his exhaustion, drifting into a doze. It was only when he was firmly ensconced in slumber that he realized, a bit too late, that she had indeed been reading him a bedtime story. Despite his initial resistance, he found himself slipping into a peaceful slumber, something he hadn't experienced in a long while.

The next morning, Tom woke up slowly, basking in the afterglow of the best sleep he had gotten in a long while. He stretched and rubbed his face, savoring the rare sensation of being well-rested. It had been the best sleep he had experienced in a long time, free from the haunting nightmares that had plagued him for so long.

He rubbed his face, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Then, as reality began to settle in, he froze in place. He shot up abruptly, feeling his face flush. He couldn't believe that he had actually fallen asleep while Evaline read him a bedtime story.

Tom was mortified.

The idea that she might have witnessed him in such a vulnerable state, falling asleep to her reading, was embarrassing. Tom wondered how he would face her after what had transpired last night. He couldn't help but cringe at the memory.

As he reluctantly shuffled to the inbuilt bathroom to change, he tried to imagine various scenarios of how to confront her. Every scenario he imagined seemed unbearably embarrassing, and he winced at the thought of having to discuss the previous night with her.

After mustering his courage and gathering his wits, he made his way to the dining room for breakfast. With each step through the villa, the sense of embarrassment continued to build. It was a feeling he wasn't accustomed to.

However, to his surprise, Evaline was nowhere to be seen at the dining table when he arrived. Tom paused, a frown creasing his forehead. Evaline was always an early riser, typically up and about before him, much to his annoyance but he had come to terms with Evaline being an odd figure.

Tom took a seat at the dining table in his usual seat on the right of the head of the table. He glanced at the assortment of breakfast dishes laid out before him but made no move to eat. He simply waited, feeling a sense of unease that he couldn't quite shake. Something about last night's unexpected event left him feeling strangely vulnerable.

After a minute, Evaline walked into the room, wearing another one of her flowy dresses, this time in a black colour, with net sleeves and and white buttons lined down to her waist. Tom's eyes involuntarily followed her as she made her way to her seat. She eyed him up and down, and for a moment, he felt oddly self-conscious. However, her smile, warm and genuine, seemed to dispel his worries.

"Morning," she greeted him cheerfully as she rounded the table.

"Good morning," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He watched as she settled into the seat next to him, wondering if she would bring up the previous night or if they would both pretend it hadn't happened.

“I know we were meant to go to Diagon alley, but Norril says it was going to rain rather heavily today,” Evaline started as she reached for the teapot and poured herself her customary cup of morning tea.

His eyes followed her movements for a moment before he shook himself out of it and began to serve himself breakfast, “Is that so? Well, what do you suggest instead?”

Evaline's eyes met his momentarily as she held a cup of tea in both hands, her lips curving into a small smile, “I presume you wished to purchase some books, correct? You can always check if we have anything of interest in the library.”

Tom's reaction was swift, almost comically so. He jerked his head up so quickly that it resulted in a slight twinge in his neck, “You have a library?! I’ve been here for weeks and you didn’t think to mention you have an entire library!?”

Evaline blinked in response to his surprise, then let out a soft amused sigh, “Perhaps a proper tour of the villa would be appropriate. I was wondering why you hadn’t asked about the warded bookshelves.”

“Warded books?!”

With that, any lingering awkwardness between them seemed to vanish.

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline regret a lot of things in life.

But this. This she regretted the most.

Her regret deepened as she stopped at the doors of the library and took in the scene before her. Marvolo sat amidst a sea of books, some scattered on the floor, while others levitated around him as if drawn to his very presence.

“You need a hobby,” she muttered, her tone deadpan, her expression unimpressed.

“Reading is my hobby,” came Marvolo's almost absent reply, his eyes fixed firmly on the book he was currently perusing.

Evaline sighed audibly. “That doesn't count,” she retorted, pushing away from the doorway and striding further into the room. She stood there with her arms crossed, her gaze firmly locked on him. “It’s been a week, and I haven’t seen you outside this room. Live a little, Marvolo.”

He finally tore his eyes away from the book, glancing up at her. “I am living—breathing, talking, eating, reading. What more do I need?” he murmured, seemingly unperturbed by her plea.

“You're not living, Marvolo, you're merely surviving,” she stressed. But when he merely hummed in response, she couldn't contain her frustration any longer. She stormed over to the boy, determination in her stride, and without any hesitation, she grabbed him firmly by the arm.

Marvolo yelped in surprise as he was hauled up abruptly. The books that had been levitating around him tumbled to the ground as he was forcibly jerked out of his reading trance. He protested, "Hey, what are you—why the bloody hell are you so strong?!"

Ignoring Tom's protests, Evaline continued to drag him away from the library, her determination unwavering. "Norril! Lock down the library!" she called as they passed the threshold.

The doors slammed shut.

He immediately attempted to backtrack. Tom's futile attempts to resist and turn back to the library were met with resistance and when realizing that he was being physically overpowered, tried to reason with her.

"Wait! Wait! No, I'll listen. I’ll even show up to meals, Evaline wait—" He attempted to protest, almost pleadingly as he tried to get out of her grip. He scowled, "What do you eat?! Merlin, Your grip's like iron—"

Tom, in a final burst of determination, managed to wriggle free from Evaline's surprisingly strong grip. He made a beeline for the library doors, his obviously heart set on returning to his books. But, as he reached out to touch the doorknob, a sudden jolt of magic surged through the wards, and he jumped back with a yelp of surprise.

Evaline watched with an amused smirk as he recoiled, the realization dawning on him that he was locked out, at least for the time being. Evaline leaned against the wall, her arms crossed. "Seems like the library doesn’t feel as strongly for you as you do for it," she commented dryly.

Tom scowled at the now-closed library doors, realizing that his plans had been thwarted. He shot Evaline an accusatory glare, though it was clear she found the whole situation rather entertaining.

"What is this?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, as he examined the intricate wards.

Norril silently appeared next to him. Tom jumped. He would deny it to his last breath.

"Wards, Signore Marvolo," Norril explained, hands clasped behind his back, "They react to your intent. If you have malicious intentions to breach the room, they will hurt you even worse."

Tom's initial anger gave way to curiosity. He stared at the wards once more, now with a more contemplative expression. He cautiously reached out a slow hand, drawing it back quickly when it emitted a soft zap, indicating he had no malicious intentions. “Interesting…”

Evaline, unable to resist adding fuel to the fire, hummed thoughtfully, "It is rather fascinating, isn't it? I think we have a book about it somewhere in the-" She paused deliberately before grinning, "Oh, wait."

“There's a special place in hell for people like you.”

“Yeah, the throne.”

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom reluctantly followed Evaline through the bustling muggle alley, the wind tugging at his long cloak, making it billow dramatically. He couldn't shake the feeling that he resembled a petulant child, a sentiment reflected in his crossed arms.

"Stop pouting, Marvolo," Evaline drawled, her voice carrying a hint of amusement without her needing to glance back at him.

His scowl deepened as he glared at her back, "I don't pout—"

"Then stop brooding," she interrupted, finally turning to look at him, Her expression remained infuriatingly nonchalant. "The books will still be waiting when you return."

He huffed, irritation lacing his words, "You wield too much power for one girl. No one should have the authority to hold an entire library hostage."

Evaline snorted as she suddenly stopped next to a small, dilapidated building. Its wooden façade was weathered and faded, and it looked like it had been abandoned for decades, with broken windows and peeling paint. Dust and cobwebs adorned its exterior.

Tom regarded her sceptically, his eyebrows knitting in suspicion. However, he found himself reluctantly reaching for her outstretched hand. His gaze darted back to the seemingly forsaken structure, doubting it held any magical secrets.

With a flick of her fingers and a whispered incantation, "Svela per i bambini della magia," the abandoned building transformed before his eyes.

[Unveil for the children of magic.]

The rickety windows, once shattered and empty, were now filled with vibrant flowers in full bloom, their colors a striking contrast to the building's previously desolate appearance. The cracked and faded walls were replaced with gleaming white marble, and the whole structure seemed to have undergone a miraculous rejuvenation.

His jaw dropped as Evaline, unfazed, pushed a portion of the wall. She then pushed against one of the now-marble walls, which seemed to respond to her touch. The wall smoothly slid open, revealing a bustling cityscape beyond. It was a far cry from the small, rundown building they had seen from the outside.

Inside was a sprawling magical city filled with wizards and witches going about their business. The streets were lined with colorful shops, and the air was filled with the lively chatter of people speaking in Italian.

"Welcome to Strada Vecchia. Italy's version of Diagon Alley."

Tom stepped into Strada Vecchia, his hand still firmly held by Evaline's. The wall behind them slid shut and then simply vanished, leaving no trace of the magical gateway they had just passed through. He turned around to look, but there was no wall—instead, they stood in front of a massive and grand stone fountain.

The fountain was a work of art, its intricate carvings depicting various magical creatures, historical figures, and scenes from folklore. Water flowed gracefully from the mouths of sculpted mermaids and centaurs into a crystal-clear pool below.

It was surrounded by a marble floored square bustling with witches and wizards of all ages. The buildings that lined the square were tall and adorned with colorful banners, each indicating a different shop or establishment.

It was a stark contrast to the world he had known in the orphanage and the rigid structure of Hogwarts. Here, in Strada Vecchia, magic flowed freely. It was refreshing. His eyes darted from store to store.

Evaline led him to a small café with outdoor seating, where they sat down at a wrought-iron table. A waiter promptly arrived to take their orders, and Tom found himself intrigued by the menu, which featured a wide array of magical beverages and delicacies, eyeing the pictures with interest.

He skimmed the menu but realised it was in Italian, and seeing as he had no clue what it was, he glanced at Evaline for help. By now, he easily trusted her judgement. Evaline ordered smoothly, raising two fingers to emphasise.

The waiter nodded, responding in Italian, but Tom couldn't understand a word. His eyes darted to the quill which seemed to be taking the order magically rather than physically as Tom had seen in Diagon Alley. Fascinating.

“Ah, quanto è conveniente,” Evaline muttered as she hesitated. Then she shrugged, “Inviali alla Villa Estense in Sicilia. Un elfo di nome "Norril" li riceverà.”

Tom's attention shifted between Evaline and the waiter, his curiosity piqued. However, what truly caught his interest was the sudden change in the waiter's demeanor. The man's face drained of color, and he appeared visibly perturbed.

She smiled sweetly at the man, and Tom’s eyes narrowed.

He knew her long enough to recognise that. That smile was never a nice smile. That smile was a threat. His eyes darted to the waiter who had gained some composure back even though he looked rather pale.

Evaline continued the conversation, her voice maintaining its polite tone but with a hidden undercurrent that sent shivers of sudden danger down Tom's spine. Her smile, which had been pleasant, now carried an edge of threat. Tom's narrowed further his eyes, his curiosity piqued as he observed the exchange between Evaline and the suddenly nervous waiter.

༺═──────────────═༻

“Due Sfogliatella riccia e due caffè.” Evaline ordered smoothly, glad to be back at her favourite cafe. She absolutely adored this cafe, it being run by the same owners in her time. She used to come here with her grandfather all the time and this also happened to be the only place where her monthly cravings could be satisfied.

[Two Sfogliatella riccia and two coffees.]

She paused before continuing, knowing very well she was going to be craving these in the next week or so, “E una scatola da 6 confezioni anche da asporto, per favore."

[And a box of 6 pack also takeaway, please.]

The waiter nodded, “Certo, signorina. Qual è il tuo indirizzo per il da asporto?” his hands were behind his back while the quill scribbled onto the parchment magically, “Possiamo consegnarlo direttamente a casa tua in modo che tu possa fare acquisti liberamente.”

[Of course, Miss. What is your takeaway address?...We can deliver it directly to your door so you can shop freely.]

“Ah, quanto è conveniente,” As Evaline placed her order with the waiter, she couldn't help but hesitate for a moment when it came to specifying the delivery address. Her thoughts raced as she debated whether or not to reveal the Este name. After a brief internal struggle, she decided to go ahead with it.

[Ah, how convenient.]

Then she shrugged, “Inviali alla Villa Este in Sicilia. Un elfo di nome "Norril" li riceverà.”

[Send them to Este Villa in Sicily. An elf named "Norril" will receive them.]

The words came out smoothly, but inside, she immediately regretted it. She hadn't fully considered the implications of announcing her family's name, especially in a place like this.

The waiter's face paled noticeably at her words, a reaction she should’ve anticipated. Evaline inwardly cursed herself for not being more cautious. Her time at Hogwarts had made her complacent, forgetting the weight her family's name carried in Italy.

“Posso fidarmi che la mia riservatezza sarà rispettata?” She smiled sweetly. She noticed Tom's narrowed eyes, and she knew he had picked up on the change in the atmosphere.

[Can I trust that my confidentiality will be respected?]

The waiter, eager to please, reassured her quickly, his words laden with deference as he nodded hurriedly, “Certo, signorina. È un onore.”

[Of course, Miss. It's an honour.]

“Grazie,” she inclined her head.

[Thank you.]

And as the word was said with a clear dismissal, the man hastily grabbed their menus before he inclined his head, very obviously stopping himself from bowing as tradition dictated when he caught her look, before he rushed off.

She sighed, resisting the urge to rub her temples as she felt a headache brewing. She glanced at Marvolo and noticed his look. Damn it.

༺═──────────────═༻

Marvolo watched with keen interest as the waiter practically stumbled over himself to leave, his face still pale from the encounter. Evaline's demeanour had shifted during their interaction, and it had clearly rattled the man.

Marvolo's gaze remained fixed on her as she turned her attention back to him. He couldn't let this slide, not after witnessing that subtle but unmistakable power play.

"What was that?" he inquired, his voice laced with suspicion.

Evaline blinked at him, her expression a picture of innocence. "I don't know what you mean," she replied, feigning ignorance.

He wasn't about to let her off the hook that easily. He narrowed his eyes and pressed on, his curiosity and irritation getting the better of him. "Really? Care to explain why you smiled at him?"

Evaline blinked again, this time appearing genuinely perplexed. He realised his words came out in a way that could be perceived as odd.

Marvolo rolled his eyes, convinced that he was on to something. "I know that smile, Evaline. That smile is when you threaten someone. So tell me, what did you say to the man?"

She shrugged casually, her demeanour relaxed as she replied, "Oh, him? He was a bit shocked when I told him to send my takeaway order to a villa in 'Sicily,' that's all."

Marvolo's frown deepened. He sensed there was more to the story than she was letting on. He leaned in slightly, his voice low as he probed further, "Alright. So, he asked for a delivery address for some takeaway you were getting. And when you said 'Sicily,' he reacted like it meant something special. What's going on?"

Evaline maintained her calm composure, offering a simple explanation, "In Italy, the majority of the higher-class witches and wizards live in Sicily. It’s a rather high valued land for real estate."

His mind raced as he processed this information. The realization struck him like a lightning bolt: he didn't actually know Evaline's social status or family background. He realized that, for all the time they had spent together, he knew very little about her background or her status. His thoughts raced as he formulated his next question.

"Tell me, Evaline," he began, his tone serious, "Are you from a noble house?"

She laughed as though the very thought of being a Noble was hilarious, shaking her head as she replied, "No, I am not from the noble class, Marvolo."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. It didn't make sense to him. "Then how can you afford a villa in Sicily?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

With a knowing smile, Evaline leaned in slightly, "My grandfather was a successful attorney, he was rather adept in the political justice sector, you see."

The waiter returned, setting their dishes and coffees before them. Marvolo mulled over Evaline's explanation as he sipped his coffee. He couldn't shake the feeling that she might be hiding something, but he trusted that she was being truthful about not hailing from a noble house.

"I see," he conceded, deciding not to press the issue further for the moment.

After all, it wasn't uncommon for families to come into unexpected wealth through various means. Perhaps her grandfather had indeed come across a windfall of money, allowing them to afford the villa.

However, a nagging curiosity remained, and he silently vowed to explore the Este family library in search of any clues or information that might shed light on her background. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Evaline than met the eye.

After Evaline gave a short explanation on the flaked dessert she had ordered the both of them, one which Tom found rather appealing and had memorised the italian pronunciation of it into his memory, Tom's eyes wandered across the bustling Strada Vecchia. It was a majestic place.

Much different to Diagon. In fact, Diagon Alley seemed like a budgeted version compared to Strada Vecchia.

His gaze came to rest on a majestic building that resembled a miniature Colosseum, its stone façade adorned with intricate carvings and sculptures of magical creatures. On the roof, perched proudly, was a Manticore, its stone form exuding an air of authority and guardianship.

Tom couldn't contain his curiosity any longer and gestured towards the impressive structure. "What is that building over there?"

Evaline followed his gaze and smiled. "Ah, that is Gringotts Italia. It's our version of the wizarding bank, still run by Goblins obviously, but it's a bit different from the one in Britain."

Tom's brows rose. "Different? How so?"

She hummed, eyes lingering on the bank, “The most obvious difference is that they have a Manticore on the roof instead of a dragon. It's a symbol of their security measures and the fact that they cater to a... higher level of clientele than the one in Britain."

"What exactly do you mean by a 'higher level of clientele'?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. A clientele higher than Ancient and Noble houses to such an extent a manticore is needed as protection?

Evaline leaned back in her seat, her fingers tracing patterns on the table as she continued, "Well, for one, what you Brits classify as 'dark creatures' have far more rights here in Italy than they do in Britain. Werewolves, vampires, and other magical creatures can legally open accounts at Gringotts without discrimination just like any other wixen.”

Marvolo mentally compared this to the British Wizarding World, where such creatures faced discrimination and prejudice. The stark contrast between the two countries when it came to the treatment of dark creatures was evident.

It was becoming increasingly evident to him that there were significant differences between the magical societies of the two countries, and he found himself intrigued by the possibilities Italy held. Italy had no concept of blood purity nor did it have an issue with creature rights.

Tom raised an eyebrow, still intrigued by the notion. "Isn't that dangerous, though? Allowing dark creatures access to a bank like that?"

Evaline sent him an amused look, as if his concern was rather quaint. "They're simply coming to put their money in a vault, Marvolo, not plotting world domination," she said, her tone rather dry, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He pondered her words, realising that his question had indeed been influenced by British prejudice.

"Besides," she continued, "Gringotts has its own security measures in place. It's a symbol of trust and coexistence here. Italy has found a way to coexist peacefully with a wider range of magical beings, unlike the strict segregation we see in Britain."

Tom was intrigued and asked, "How does such coexistence differ from British society?"

She took a sip of her coffee before responding, "Positively? There's much less tension between magical creatures and wixen, which means less attacks and victims compared to other nations. It also means that magical creatures are publishing more research about their own kind, which in turn gives us a more accurate understanding of their world and abilities."

“And negatively?”

Evaline sighed, her expression turning slightly annoyed. "Some higher-class witches and wizards were rather displeased with the whole concept. To the point of advocating hate crimes. They were cast out of Italy on the basis of treason and so they end up moving to other bigoted, creature-hating nations. It's affected the High Court's international image. To have your own people betray your nation? How utterly disgraceful."

"You seem rather adept in the politics of it all," he observed, noting that all her answers carried a political perspective, the kind one would expect from a seasoned minister or diplomat. He couldn't help but wonder about her family, particularly her grandfather. A simple lawyer wouldn't likely possess this level of insight.

Her responses had been calculated, considering not only the immediate effects of Italy's policies but also the broader implications for international relations and the nation's image.

Her grandfather's occupation as a lawyer suddenly seemed insufficient to explain the depth of her insights. Tom was well aware that lawyers could be astute, but Evaline's grasp of the broader political landscape hinted at something more. He suspected there was much more to her family's history and influence than met the eye.

Evaline responded with a wry smile, "It runs in the blood, I suppose."

༺═──────────────═༻

The next day, Evaline groaned into her pillow, clutching her stomach in pain. She had forgotten how agonizing periods could be in her younger body. The desire to curl into a ball and sleep forever overwhelmed her.

Shifting to find a more comfortable position, she lay on her stomach and let gravity apply pressure to her aching abdomen, arms wrapped around her pillow. Momentary relief washed over her until a knock interrupted the solitude of her room. Ignoring it, she buried her face in the pillow. Another knock followed, more insistent. With a grumble, she hoped that the uninvited guest would give up.

Yet, the knocking persisted. Evaline let out a grunt, unwilling to move. Another knock. She buried her face in the pillow, silently cursing her unfortunate timing.

But, to her dismay, the door creaked open, and Marvolo strode into the room, scowling as he complained. "You lock me out of the library, leaving me with nothing to do, and you're still in bed?"

He approached her as she lay on the bed. Evaline buried her face deeper into the pillow.

Tom's frown deepened. "Are you ill? Is it contagious? Do you need a healer?"

She shifted her face to the other side, but that didn't deter him. Without a word, he walked around the bed and sat on the edge, facing her. She eyed him warily.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his arms crossed.

"Go away," she muttered and closed her eyes again. There was no way she was going to explain periods to Marvolo. “It's not contagious. Only girls get it."

Tom, a puzzled look on his face, asked, "Well, how do you know? What is it?"

“Go away.”

"Tell me. Why do only girls get it? Why can't boys get it?" he insisted, displaying the curiosity of a twelve-year-old. “That seems targeted. Tell me.”

She sighed, knowing he had to learn one way or another and she was just in the rather unfortunate position to teach him about it.

"It's... the monthly..." She paused and cracked one eye open to look at him as he stared back blankly. "What girls get," she continued, sitting up on one elbow, "the menstrual cycle."

Still, there was no sign of recognition on his face. Evaline fought the urge to scream; she was not going to provide Marvolo with a crash course on periods.

"I don't understand," he stated simply.

She closed her eyes again, frustrated. "Go research it. Leave me alone."

"You locked the library, in case you've forgotten," he retorted.

"Norril! Unlock the library," she called from her muffled pillow, as she waved a lazy hand to where she presumed he was standing, "now go away."

༺═──────────────═༻

Marvolo was determined.

Marvolo was determined to uncover the mystery illness that Evaline had tried to keep from him. His confidence was unwavering as he browsed the shelves, scanning through book titles that seemed promising.

He was determined to uncover what this mysterious subject was without letting Evaline know that there was something he didn't understand. After all, his ego couldn't bear such a blow.

He made his way to the library, still feeling a little put out about being locked out earlier, and began searching for any book that might shed light on this confounding topic. He scoured the shelves, glancing over titles and trying to find something that would explain what Evaline had mentioned, something called 'menstrual cycles.'

Why was it that only women get infected? 'Men' was right in the name- it doesn't make sense.

He finally found a book with an innocuous title, "Health and the Human Body."

He hesitated, then, with a furrowed brow, decided to take a look. At first, he was nonchalant, believing he could grasp the concept without much difficulty. He opened the book curiously and began reading.

As he delved deeper into the contents, his face gradually turned a shade of red that matched the Gryffindor banner. His ears, unable to hide his embarrassment, followed suit.

The more he read, the more mortified he became. The calm curiosity that initially marked his expression gave way to confusion, which quickly morphed into an unsettling realization. The descriptions, the diagrams, and the medical jargon left him flustered and horrified.

His eyes darted across the pages, and the reality of what he was reading slowly sank in. Marvolo's intellectual curiosity had led him down a path he had never anticipated. He slammed the book shut with a mortified expression, leaving him in a state of disbelief and utter discomfort.

Ego replaced with mortification, Marvolo couldn't unsee the knowledge he had acquired.

༺═──────────────═༻

Breakfast the next morning at the Este Villa was a rather peculiar affair. Evaline couldn't help but steal glances at Marvolo. Evaline eyed Marvolo, who sat at the table with his head down, his gaze strictly fixed on his plate. His ears were a deep shade of red, and he seemed to be avoiding any eye contact at all costs.

It didn't take long for Evaline to figure out what had caused this unusual bashfulness. She realized that he had indeed taken her advice to research "the monthly ordeal," and the embarrassment was palpable.

She smirked as she ate another one of her pastry treats from paradise that she had gotten when they visited Strada Vecchia the other day. She eyed the plate where only one remained from the pack of six and mentally made a note to send for more.

Unable to contain her amusement any longer, Evaline cleared her throat. Marvolo, hearing her, looked up at her briefly before quickly dropping his gaze again, his ears redder than ever.

Evaline leaned slightly closer to Marvolo and said with mock sympathy, "I must apologise for this morning, Marvolo. I wasn't feeling well, and I didn't mean to be rude."

Marvolo's head snapped up, and for the first time in his life, he sputtered, refusing to meet her eye, "Oh, no, it's okay. I mean, as long as you’re well- I, you- uh are you sure you should be out of bed right now?"

Evaline stifled a giggle. "I'm perfectly fine now, thank you. But I appreciate your concern."

Marvolo's ears turned an even deeper shade of crimson, and he continued to eat his meal in silence, still not daring to look Evaline in the eyes. It was clear that the events of that morning had left an indelible mark on him, and he would need some time to recover from the embarrassment.

The dinner table, once a place of casual conversation, had become a battleground of unspoken hilarity for Evaline, and she couldn't help but find it amusing.

Marvolo's avoidance of her gaze became a running joke for the week that followed.

Chapter Text

As the years flowed seamlessly by, their fifth year at Hogwarts had begun. With the close of every academic year, Evaline's steadfast offer remained unchanged.

Tom had come to expect it - the invitation to escape the confines of the orphanage and the chaos of the muggle war.

As the train would pull into the Kings Cross Station at the end of every school year, Tom would cast her a subtle glance, a silent request that she had come to understand well. Her response was always a smile followed by compliant action as she apparated both of them to her Villa.

After that first instance, a pattern was established. Tom found himself with a designated bedroom within the Villa, distinctively separate from the place that had tormented him in his younger years. With each new visit, Evaline would silently provide him with fresh wizarding robes and ample food, leaving unspoken her awareness of his needs.

At the inception of this arrangement, Tom's pride had suffered a few blows, but the sensation had been short-lived. He quickly rectified the matter, pledging to himself that he would someday repay Evaline for her assistance and generosity.

What he had learned was that Evaline neither coddled him nor belittled him. She operated outside the bounds of conventional sympathy or scorn. Instead, she carried herself with a self-possession that was both intriguing and unsettling.

Tom had shifted his perspective, opting to extract what advantages he could from the situation she so willingly extended. He recognized her offer as an opportunity to further his own ambitions, a means to exploit her resources without expectation of anything beyond that transaction.

For now, Tom resolved to make the most of what was willingly given, using it as a stepping stone towards his ambitions. The opportunity lay before him, and he would seize it with unwavering determination.

Every school break, a cherished tradition unfolded between Tom and Evaline. As their academic scores arrived by owl post, they'd gather to open the marks together. The ritual came with a twist: the student who secured the highest grade had the privilege to ask a favour of the other. 

In their second year, it was Tom's exceptional achievement in Potions that earned him the top spot by a mere point. His pride surged, and he seized the chance to request something he'd been curious about for a while: learning how to apparate.

The third year saw Tom once again securing the highest rank, fueling his determination. This time, he asked Evaline to share her knowledge of wandless magic, a skill he found came to the girl almost as easy as breathing. 

As their fourth year unfolded, fate seemed to tie their academic achievements together, resulting in a tie for the top position. Favors were rendered unnecessary, and instead, they embarked on an exhilarating journey to Romania.

Glamoured as more senior students, they had managed to convince the authorities to grant them a rare glimpse into the world of dragons. The encounter left an indelible mark on both of them, creating memories to cherish.

With the dawn of their fifth year, Tom found himself seamlessly woven into the fabric of Evaline's presence. She had transformed from an ally to an integral part of his existence, his only friend. He required no additional companionship, for Evaline was the sole possessor of his trust and camaraderie.

Such a privilege was exclusive, a title he would bestow upon no other living soul. It was a bond rooted in gratitude, an unshakable debt he owed her for rescuing him from the abyss of the orphanage.

Over the past few years, Tom had also risen in influence among the Slytherins, proclaiming himself the Slytherin king in their hierarchy. His loyal followings had expanded to include Walburga Black, a talented third-year witch who happened to be Orion's second cousin and surprisingly, betrothed.

That was quite the surprise.

What was more surprising was the intense hatred the two had for each other. Walburga's expertise in dark curses and charms made her a valuable asset to Tom but her temper and lack of self control also made her too volatile to be involved in his inner court, much to the relief of Orion.

Additionally, Vinda Carrow, a sixth-year witch who disagreed with Grindelwald despite her family's allegiance to the dark wizard, had also joined Tom's followers. With her strong convictions and loyalty, Vinda proved to be a valuable addition to his growing influence.

However, she was still a threat as her parents were still firm believers of Grindelwald, which made her susceptible to betrayal. As such, she was not involved in the inner courts and Tom made sure to keep her at a safe distance, only using her occasionally when he required information.

Despite Tom's relentless efforts to intertwine Evaline within his expanding network of alliances, she remained remarkably adept at preserving her own space and autonomy. His increasing frustration was palpable, each of his attempts to draw her into his intricate web of connections met with her deft evasion and a serene smile that seemed to hold a knowing secret.

Tom couldn't fathom her resistance.

Didn't she grasp the unparalleled advantages of uniting her fate with his and aligning herself with the influential circles he had meticulously formed?

He believed that standing by his side could unlock a future of unparalleled prosperity, not just for himself but for both of them. Yet, Evaline remained resolute, steadfastly maintaining her personal boundaries and forging connections only with Orion, much to Tom's perplexity.

Tom often pondered the reason behind Evaline's reluctance. Why didn't she seize the opportunity to solidify their dominion over Slytherin House together? She was present in the inner court gatherings, privy to their machinations, yet she seemed to deliberately distance herself. 

Tom found it confounding – she was welcome at his side, he had made this clear, a position he had implicitly reserved for her, but she chose to hover just behind him, always one step in his shadow, firmly choosing to observe proceedings away from the public eye.

Amidst the intricate dance of power and politics that enveloped Slytherin House, Evaline's unassuming demeanor belied her acute intellect. Her mind was a vigilant observer, absorbing every nuance and subtlety that unfolded around her.

Yet, she exercised her voice sparingly, reserving her insights for moments when Tom directly sought her counsel, or when Orion's inquiries beckoned her wisdom.

Tom was acutely aware that Evaline's reserved nature wasn't rooted in timidity or uncertainty. There was an enigmatic self-assuredness that surrounded her, a quiet strength that he found both intriguing and slightly vexing.

It wasn't that she lacked the confidence to engage; she seemed to choose not to actively participate in the complex web of discussions that consumed the inner court, a fact that both puzzled and piqued his curiosity.

Evaline's silence wasn't a mark of her inability to contribute; Tom recognized that she possessed a mind sharp enough to rival his own. It was a deliberate choice, a calculated decision to withhold her thoughts until specifically beckoned by Tom or Orion's prompting.

༺═──────────────═༻

After this years’ Welcome Feast and Sorting, Tom sat regally in the plush armchair by the crackling fireplace. The common room had fallen into an uneasy silence, and the first-years nervously shuffled in their spots, avoiding Tom's piercing gaze.

It was the beginning of Tom's fifth year, and he wore his uniform, as impeccable as always, accentuated by the gleaming silver Prefect badge pinned to his robes. Beside him sat his carefully selected court, each member chosen for their loyalty and cunning. Their expressions ranged from boredom to unease, fully aware that they were to follow their young king's every command.

Tom's eyes were fixed on the entrance to the common room. Evaline was missing. It was unusual for her to be late, as she was known for her impeccable punctuality, even surpassing Tom's own timekeeping.

But for Evaline, he was willing to wait, curiosity and intrigue welling up within him. He knew she was different, not just an ordinary member of his court. She held a special place in his world, and he would never start without her presence.

With an air of authority and a touch of impatience, Tom drummed his fingers along the armrest, maintaining his regal composure. The rest of the students, sensing his unease, dared not break the silence, their eyes darting between their new Prefect and the common room entrance.

As Evaline stepped into the Slytherin common room, her presence demanded attention, and her deadly glare probably terrified half of the firsties, seeing as Abraxas, who was seated a few feet away, physically shuddered.

Her piercing eyes locked onto Tom almost immediately, and he met her gaze evenly, unfazed by her intensity. She began striding toward him, never once breaking eye contact, her steps purposeful and determined.

Tom's lips tugged up slightly when he noticed the Prefect badge adorning Evaline's robes. He leaned back in his seat, exuding confidence and every bit of smugness he could muster as he tilted his head with a winning smirk. 

"How'd you do it?" she demanded, clearly unimpressed by his influence.

Tom was feeling rather smug as he replied, "You will find I can be very persuasive."

With a dramatic roll of her eyes, Evaline seemed equally unimpressed by his answer. "What'd you offer him?" she probed further, knowing very well he probably bribed someone.

A smug expression crossed Tom's face "That we would both attend his club."

During their last break, both Tom and Evaline had received their offers to become prefects, seeing as they were ranked the highest. Evaline had already sent a rejection letter to Slughorn before Tom could intervene and convince her to accept. Not wanting to be paired with a random person for his prefect duties, Tom had quickly responded with his acceptance and a simple request.

Slughorn had been charmed by Tom's persuasiveness and convinced Evaline to be a prefect as well. The catch was that both Tom and Evaline would join Slughorn's Slug Club. It was a win-win situation, giving Tom the perfect opportunity to continue building connections and influence, while also nudging Evaline to do the same.

Tom knew Evaline had been avoiding attending the Slug Club and he relished her disgusted expression. She would never back away from a duty she was given to perform.

This way, Tom could be paired with someone he was familiar with rather than one of those drooling heiresses and he could force Evaline to form some sort of connections through the Slug Club.

Evaline's eyes flashed with annoyance as she crossed her arms over her chest. "So, we're both stuck attending the Slug Club and having prefect duties now because of you?" 

Tom's smirk only widened as he leaned forward slightly, relishing in her irritation. "You can't deny that it's a perfect opportunity for you to make connections," he said. "Besides, I'm sure you'll find the Slug Club quite entertaining."

“Entertaining, you say. Perhaps you should look up that word in the dictionary, Marvolo, it might surprise you,” she drawled as she sat in her armchair to his right, crossing a leg over the other with grace. 

Next to them, Orion snorted, “As entertaining as this is, I suppose we should move the introductions along?”

Evaline nodded pointedly, shooting Tom a glare to which he smiled smugly before he wiped all emotions off his face and stood.

The common room was filled with an air of anticipation as Tom Riddle, the current king of Slytherin, addressed the new Slytherin students with an aura of authority. His voice carried weight, and his words resonated with power, commanding attention from every corner of the room.

Evaline, sat in her usual armchair, next to Tom’s empty seat, her presence just as potent, though she remained unmentioned in the introductions.

Tom proceeded to introduce his court, the elite group of students that held significant influence within Slytherin House. Their names reverberated through the room, each boy sitting tall and proud as they received nods of acknowledgment from their peers.

However, Evaline's name was conspicuously absent from Tom's introduction.

It was no secret that she preferred to stay in the shadows and maintain a low profile. A past incident in the Potions class had taught Tom not to cross her in this matter, and so he discreetly left her out.

He had introduced her once after she specifically warned him not to and that same day was the first time Tom failed a potions class. He had learned from his mistakes. 

"In Slytherin House, we are feared and disliked," Tom declared, his voice firm and unwavering. "But that fear stems from our power and potential, which unnerves them. We stand together as a united front. There shall be no public conflicts, attendance is mandatory for meals, and academic excellence is expected. No classes shall be missed. Any violations of these rules will be met with appropriate consequences."

As the room fell silent, Tom's cold gaze swept over the assembled students, their attention fixed on him with a mix of awe and trepidation.

"You are expected to uphold Slytherin's image in public," he asserted, his voice firm and commanding. "Are there any questions?"

Not a single student dared to speak up, yet curiously, Tom noticed that their initial nervousness had transformed into a sense of composure. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them, and the room quickly emptied, leaving only one girl lingering behind.

Tom arched an eyebrow at the girl's audacity. It wasn’t everyday a firstie had the guts to face Tom alone.

"Do you have a question?" he asked, titling his head as though she was his prey.

The girl raised her chin confidently. "Yes, I do. But not for you, Prefect Riddle," she declared, her gaze unwavering. "I have a question for her."

All eyes turned to Evaline, who tilted her head.

Tom looked over his shoulder at Evaline with a curious expression.

Her lips curled into an amused smile as she leaned forward in her seat, "Would you do me the pleasure of introducing yourself first, miss?"

"Heiress Lucia Zabini of the noble House of Zabini," the girl announced, offering a respectful bow. "Well met, Evaline Este. It's a pleasure to meet someone of the Este family."

At Lucia's words, a subtle change swept across Evaline's countenance. Tom observed a fleeting glimpse of darkness that entered her eyes, a look so dark that it easily sent a shiver up his spine and ignited a spark of anticipation within him.

He had never seen Evaline react like that before.

“I don’t remember introducing myself to a member of the Zabini House,” Evaline gaze was nothing short of blatant scrutiny, “How did you know?”

Lucia swallowed a little but maintained her confidence, “Your eyes, Ms Este.”

"My eyes?" Evaline repeated slowly, raising an eyebrow.

All of a sudden, every pair of eyes in the room had turned to look at hers.

"Yes, Ms. Este," Lucia confirmed, standing her ground with confidence but Tom could see the tensing in her posture, as though she was terrified of Evaline. "Your eyes have a distinct shimmer, like liquid silver. It's quite unique, and I've heard that those with such eyes are often from the Este bloodlines. They’re rather beautiful."

His gaze drifted from the firstie to Evaline's eyes.

Tom's mind couldn't help but agree. He had always noticed the distinct silver hue of Evaline's eyes, but now he understood the term "liquid silver." They were captivating and seemed to hold a depth of knowledge and experience that intrigued him even more.

Evaline regarded Lucia for a moment before glancing at Tom, who had also focused on her eyes.

She smirked, amused by the attention her eyes seemed to be garnering. "Is that so? Well, you seem to have quite the eye for detail, Heiress Zabini. Evaline Este," she introduced shortly, "Well met."

"An honor to meet you, Evaline," The girl's voice wavered, a subtle gulp betraying her confidence, Tom astutely observed, "You've orchestrated remarkable feats in Italy. Truly remarkable."

The entire inner circle's focus swiftly pivoted to Evaline, their intrigue palpable. What could Evaline have achieved for Italy that warranted such acknowledgment from the Heiress? Despite their five-year acquaintance, a shroud of mystery still enveloped Evaline Este. 

Beyond her name, a chasm of unfamiliarity separated them from any substantial knowledge about her. Her lineage remained an enigma, her blood status a nebulous question mark.

In truth, their interactions with her were tempered not by understanding, but by the unspoken recognition of her proximity to Tom, a shield they dared not breach

The room fell into a tense silence, and all eyes remained fixed on Evaline, waiting for her response. Finally, she leaned back into her seat, her smile gone, replaced by an air of solemnity.

"More importantly, Heiress Zabini," Evaline spoke calmly, her voice holding an edge of gravity, "How nice of you to acknowledge the country which House of Zabini betrayed."

Lucia nodded respectfully, confirming her family's betrayal yet her unwavering gaze meeting Evaline's. "What the Este family has done for dark creatures is held in high regard, Ms. Este. Despite alliances."

Tom observed as Evaline's eyebrow quivered in disbelief. The young Zabini heiress seemed composed and self-assured, unswayed by the tension in the room.

Lucia continued, "I wish for you to know my opinions are my own."

A brief pause lingered in the air before Evaline's lips curled into a cold smile. None of its usual amusement or detachment Tom had grown accustomed to was there. It was a completely new look on her face, the smile so cruel. How disturbingly beautiful.

"You do realise the implications of your statement, Heiress Zabini? You are close to starting a rebellion."

"Of course," Lucia replied confidently, standing her ground, "and I stand firm with my beliefs."

Evaline grinned, the cruelness gone as fast as it had come, "Well then, welcome to Slytherin House, Heiress Zabini. I'm sure you'll thrive here."

With that, Lucia offered a polite nod before gracefully retreating to her dormitory. The rest of the room's occupants, including Tom and his inner circle, watched her with curiosity as she departed.

Once the other students were gone, it was just Tom and the inner circle remaining. Many of them turned their attention back to Evaline, awaiting an explanation or further reaction. Tom himself was staring at Evaline with raised brows.

Evaline, however, merely leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful.

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline leaned back in her chair, the interaction with Lucia Zabini leaving her a little confused and very cautious. The Zabini family had long been adversaries of the Royal House of Este, their feud dating back centuries.

It was odd to see the Zabini heiress seemingly support the Este family's views on dark creatures, considering their history of opposition.

In Italy, the Royal House of Este had been the ones to champion the rights of dark creatures, advocating for changes in laws and working towards coexistence.

This had earned them loyalty and respect from magical beings like goblins and dark elves. Norril was a testament to the esteem the Este bloodline held among dark elves.

The forest surrounding Este Castle was a sanctuary for dark creatures, protected under the rule of the Royal House of Este. But what was more bewildering to Evaline was that a Zabini heiress, claiming to support the Este family's efforts, had suddenly appeared.

In her original time, there was no existence of a Lucia Zabini in the Zabini family lineage. This anomaly raised a feeling of unease within Evaline, as she suspected this new arrival had something to do with her sudden appearance in this timeline.

Not to mention the girl knew of Evaline's name and family name at first glance. It was possible the girl could've asked someone during the welcoming feast. But if she didn't...that means Lucia knew her name from before she entered Hogwarts. 

Which brought the question- How? Why?

Evaline does not exist in this time. The world is not aware of the name 'Evaline Este'- and they wont be aware of the name until she takes her apprenticeship at 15 years old in 1986, when she was revealed as the Heiress of the Royal line publicly.

The Este family was always shrouded in secrecy- the birth of heirs and heiresses was never known and kept a secret from the public until they were announced publicly in their late teens. Sometimes Este Heirs and heiresses were never even heard of until they claimed their Lordships and announced the passing of their parents.

So the fact this child- of a family well known to have opposed the Royal House of Este- knows her name and family despite Evaline not even existing in this time was concerning.

Evaline's unease lingered, her mind racing with questions and suspicions. Lucia Zabini did not exist in the timeline. So, who was wearing the name of Zabini?

Abraxas Malfoy's sudden snap brought her back to the present, and she lifted her gaze to see the entire inner circle watching her with curiosity.

"Care to explain, Este?" Malfoy sneered.

Ignoring Malfoy, Evaline turned her attention to Tom, who also expressed curiosity about the matter.  As Evaline observed the faces of the pureblooded heirs in the Slytherin common room, she realised none of them had an inkling about Italian politics. 

This realisation gave Evaline a distinct advantage.

She had the power to decide which details to share and what information to withhold. She knew that divulging certain information could put her current era family's royal title at risk, so she planned to tread carefully and only share what she deemed necessary. 

Evaline was confident that she could maintain control over the information flow, effectively using her knowledge to her benefit without endangering her family's royal standing or the delicate balance of power within the wizarding world. This advantage would hold until she returned to her own time, and she was determined to make the most of it.

"The Zabini family originates from Italy, but a few decades back, they betrayed Italy and took up refuge in Britain," she began, her voice measured. "Their history of opposition to the Este family's views on dark creatures is well-documented."

At their blank looks, Evaline then decided to share some insight into the political landscape of her home country. "In Italy, the Este family has been at the forefront of advocating for dark creature rights and coexistence. We worked to change laws and create a sanctuary for these beings."

There were looks of horror. Disgust. Disbelief. Scorn.

But despite everything, every single  pureblooded heir leaned in, captivated. Lestrange, drawn to her presence, physically inched closer, shuffling down the couch so he sat closer to her, his curiosity evident. He hesitated for a moment before finally asking about her family's relations with dark creatures.

"What are your views?"

With an air of confidence, Evaline addressed the topic, "The Este family took a stand against biased laws concerning dark creatures. After years of motions in the High Court of Italy, we eradicated the 'kill on sight' laws."

A hushed silence fell upon the group as her words hung in the air. Some wore expressions of disgust, finding it hard to comprehend her progressive stance. Others remained skeptical, unsure if they could believe the claims.

Evaline leaned back, her posture exuding authority, something she had not done in her time her in this era.

But this concerned her family. Whether she existed in this time or not, she would always stand with her name. For better or for worse.

With a tilt of a head, she dared anyone to challenge her or her family's actions. The room was tense as her words resonated.

Tom's eyes never left her, as if he knew there was more to the story.

Evaline couldn't resist the urge to add a touch of chaos, a smirk gracing her lips, "You see, that's all it takes to forge alliances with dark creatures."

The room fell into a deeper silence, and the expressions of disgust quickly morphed into fear. The heirs now saw Evaline in a new light – a mortal who wielded the power of formidable allies.

The realization was terrifying, knowing they stood in the presence of a witch who could command dark creatures they had been taught to fear as deadly and uncontrollable.

In her amusement, she almost missed the small smirk on Marvolo's face.

༺═──────────────═༻

As the morning sun cast its warm glow on the Hogwarts grounds, Evaline found herself walking alongside Marvolo and his inner circle, guiding the new first-year students to their first breakfast at the Great Hall. The group of firsties followed closely behind, their wide eyes filled with both awe and trepidation as they took in the grandeur of their new surroundings.

As part of their prefect duties, Evaline and the others were tasked with ensuring the new students settled into their new environment smoothly.

However, Evaline couldn't help but grumble under her breath as they walked, "I can't believe I have to babysit because of you."

Marvolo rolled his eyes, brushing off her complaints, "It's not that bad, Evaline. They're hardly making any noise."

"That's only because they're scared witless of you," she muttered, clutching her book bag tighter as they entered the Great Hall.

"Show some decorum," Marvolo chided in a low voice, giving her a sideways glance.

Orion, walking next to her, couldn't contain his amusement and nudged her shoulder, "Well, look at you, getting yourself an admirer."

Evaline raised a brow, slightly puzzled, and glanced over her shoulder to see Lucia Zabini watching her with wide eyes, even as they continued walking. Evaline found the girl's intense gaze a bit strange but quickly turned her attention back to Orion, taking her seat at the table with Marvolo on her left.

“Doesn’t she seem a bit…odd?” Evaline muttered.

Orion, now seated on her other side, teased, "Don't tell me you're scared of a little firstie?"

Evaline hummed in thought. She had been around enough politicians to know there was something more to Lucia Zabini. She was almost certain this apparent adoration was a simple facade and Zabini wanted something from her. 

She glanced up as Marvolo leaned over to see her timetable, his eyes scanned the parchment, "Potions first. Slughorn won't mind if we're late."

Evaline glanced at the parchment in her hand that she had been staring at blankly. She quickly scanned her classes before glancing back at Marvolo with a frown, "Any chance I can ditch babysitting duties this morning?"

"I didn't make you a prefect for no reason," Marvolo smirked as she narrowed her eyes, "It's so we can share such exciting moments together."

"Sharing is not caring, Marvolo," she muttered, folding her timetable parchment neatly and placing it in her robes. She reached for the teapot, pouring two cups of tea, sliding one cup to Marvolo almost absentmindedly. 

Without a word, Marvolo silently slid a bowl of fresh fruit in front of her, watching her expectantly even as he began conversing with Rosier. Ever since that first time, Marvolo had been oddly obsessed with her breakfast routine, forcing her to eat at least a bite of something before she progressed with her day.

Evaline suppressed a frown, knowing that Marvolo's concern for her well-being often manifested in small gestures like this. She found it cute almost, to see Baby Dark Lord so concerned over her. Despite the churning in her gut, she picked up her fork and played with the fruit on her plate.

She turned slightly to see Orion leaning in closer, his voice a quiet whisper carrying a hint of concern, "You don't have to eat it, you know. Just tell him you can't eat in the mornings."

Evaline's brows furrowed as she cast a glance in his direction, strands of her hair falling over her face like a curtain, and she shot him an appreciative look before her attention returned to the bowl in front of her.

With deliberate movements, she speared a grape with her fork, her expression a mix of contemplation and uncertainty.

"He's been doing it for years," she whispered, her hair forming a partial shield, her face becoming less visible to Marvolo who sat to her left.

She could feel him attempting to listen despite being in the middle of conversation.

The grape seemed to linger on the fork for a moment longer than necessary as she added, "He's just concerned."

Orion hummed, his gaze lingering on her for a moment, as if trying to decipher something in her demeanour. However, Evaline paid it no mind as a wave of nausea washed over her when she bit into the grape.

The rest of breakfast seemed to stretch on forever for Evaline, as she focused all her energy on sipping her tea and keeping her discomfort at bay.

Despite her discomfort, she easily maintained her composure, smiling and making small talk with Orion, contributing short inputs when Marvolo attempted to involve her to make connections with Rosier, but her mind was preoccupied with the battle against her roiling stomach.

When Marvolo finally stood up to lead the firsties to their class, Evaline felt a rush of relief. She was more than ready to leave the Great Hall, with its overwhelming smell of food and the noise that seemed to mount up the odd weight on her chest.

Picking up the firsties, they made their way out the Great Hall. As they walked through the castle, Marvolo discussed the potion they were going to make in class that day, and Evaline nodded along, finding solace in the fact that they were getting further away from the scent of food.

Just then, one of the first-year boys approached Marvolo, his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment, "Excuse me, Prefect Riddle. I, uh, need to use the restroom."

Marvolo practically skidded to an abrupt halt and stiffened, momentarily unsure of how to handle the situation.

Evaline suppressed a grin, looking at Marvolo with a very serious look, "Since you were so very eager to be a prefect, you take the young lad, and I'll take the rest of them to class. Capiche?"

Marvolo opened his mouth to protest, but she was quick to beat him to it. With a smirk, she continued, tutting lightly, "Now, now, I can't escort him to the boys' bathroom, now, can I?"

His annoyance evident in his expression, Marvolo gritted his teeth and glared at Evaline. Evaline raised her brows expectedly. But after a moment, he composed himself and reluctantly agreed, "Come along then."

Evaline watched his stiff figure leave with amusement before she ushered the rest of the first-year students to their Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Keeping a watch on Zabini, who once again was smiling at Evaline whenever she made eye contact. The kid was only fueling her suspicion, whether it was intentional or not.

Rounding a corner, she stopped at a door, turning to face the excited group. 

"Alright! Here we are, your first class at Hogwarts! Good luck," she said with a smile, waving at Professor Merrythought who merely nodded stiffly from behind her desk. 

Evaline grinned, she had immediately taken a liking to that woman when she started Hogwarts. Merrythought reminded her of Dante sometimes. Her no nonsense attitude was remarkably similar to Dante’s ‘your existence gives me a headache, go stand over there’ lifestyle.

As the firsties filed into the classroom, expressing their gratitude and excitement, Evaline took a quick headcount to ensure everyone was accounted for. Satisfied, she made her way to her own class, Potions.

The hallways were empty, and she hurried along, wanting to finish her potion so she didn't have to stay behind. Rounding another corner, she bumped right into someone, and while she quickly stabilised herself, the other kid sprawled to the ground with a yelp.

"I apologize. Are you alright?" Evaline immediately reached out to help him up, her eyes widening in surprise as she caught sight of his face.

She took in his light auburn hair. She took in his remarkably similar cheekbones and the small wrinkles that edged the corner of his lips. 

And suddenly the weight on her chest pressed against her lungs, making it hard to breathe.

This boy…he looked almost identical to Stefano, aside from the eye colour. Stefano had vibrant green eyes, while this boy had brown eyes. The sudden rush of emotions caught her off guard, and she felt an overwhelming sense of homesickness. 

The boy snapped his fingers in front of her face, bringing her back to the present. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

Still in shock, Evaline forced a smile, swallowing harshly, "Yes, I'm fine, thank you. I apologise. I'm Evaline Este."

The boy shook her hand, his smile unwavering. That smile was one she was so very used to and Evaline felt herself wanting to curl up and cry.

And it hit her- the thoughts she had been ignoring for the past five years.

She wanted to go home. She wanted to see Stefano again. She wanted to see her friends, she wanted to see Minister Arnadlo again. Even after five years, this world was so unfamiliar to her. She didn’t belong here. 

"I've actually been looking for you, Evaline." The boy’s voice pierced through the fog in her mind.

Back in the present, her curiosity piqued, she raised an eyebrow, and his smile only grew wider. It hit her again, painfully in the gut. That was Stefano's smile; she missed him so much, she missed everyone so much- it had been 5 years since she had last seen them.

She couldn't wait to return home.

"My name is Enzo Valti, Heir to the Noble House of Valti," he gave her a bow, hand on heart as his head dipped.

The traditional Royal greeting.

Evaline felt her heart stop. In fear or hope? She didn’t know.

Her breath caught in her throat as he continued, this time in fluent Italian, "Sono stato mandato a compiere il mio dovere verso la Casa Reale d'Este."

[I’ve been sent to fulfil my duty to the Royal House of Este.]

She froze, eyes widening for a second before narrowing. Her heart beat painfully against her chest now. She took a step back, chin raised, eyes assessing the boy carefully. It was just now she realised he was a Ravenclaw and a prefect.

Her eyes lingered on the badge for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “Guidata dal suo destino di signora-”

[Guided by her Lady Fate - ]

“- e forgiato nella lealtà. La magia del destino è vincolante per sempre.” Enzo was quick to finish with confidence as his unwavering gaze locked on hers.

[ - And forged with Loyalty. Lady Fate’s magic is forever binding. ]

Enzo was sent by the current Lord of Este.

Her ancestors had sent Enzo to aid her indirectly. She had waited for the first few years for someone to reach out but gave up, knowing they would have no way of knowing she was at Hogwarts. But, they had sent Enzo. He knew she was here and he sent Enzo to say that she wasn’t alone.

"Lord Este sent you?" Evaline asked for clarification. Her voice came out as a mere whisper, firm. She needed to hear it directly, to confirm that her calculations and hopes were correct. After all, if her deductions aligned, the current Head of Este was none other than her great grandfather.

Which meant the current Heir Este was her grandfather. 

Evaline sensed the boy's assessing gaze upon her, his eyes carefully studying her reactions. Then, he nodded once, and in that simple gesture, Evaline felt as though a tremendous weight had been lifted off her chest, a burden she hadn't even fully recognized until it was released.

A rush of emotions swirled within her, a mixture of relief, gratitude, and a hint of vulnerability that she rarely allowed to surface. As Enzo's acknowledgement settled over her, Evaline's lips curved into a breathy, almost incredulous laugh, a sound that carried the weight of countless unspoken fears.

Her fingers absently toyed with her tie, loosening it just a fraction as if to alleviate the tension that had knotted within her. She rubbed a hand over her face as she felt herself relax.

"How much do you know?" she asked, eyes sharp as she studied the boy in front of her.

If she was correct, this boy was Stefano’s grandfather. Lord Valti’s Father. 

Enzo's smile seemed to hold the promise of relief. Evaline wanted to believe him, she wanted to hug the boy right there, but she planted her feet firmly on the ground.

"High Lady Este," he began, and she quirked a brow at the address, "I am well aware of the nature of the Este bloodline missions. The Valti family has been a steadfast ally in these endeavours for centuries."

"Yes, the Valti’s," Evaline acknowledged, her voice low as she rapidly pieced her thoughts together.

Right. The Valti’s have always been the Este’s allies. They do know about the missions they were sent on. She swallowed, mind whirring, as she glanced at him, "And you're aware of my purpose here?"

With a calm shake of his head, Enzo replied, "Not the intricate details, but the general scope. After a little observation, it's clear that Tom Riddle is a significant figure."

“You are correct,” Evaline's nod was swift, a quick affirmation of his observation. Her mind raced, considering every word and strategy. "I can't divulge more than that, Enzo."

A sincere nod from the Valti heir showed his understanding. "I am fully aware of the constraints, Lady Este. My presence here is to stand by your side, to offer assistance as needed. Be it in the form of information, dueling skills, or connecting with the Royal House of Este. I am the bridge between the threads."

Her chest felt lighter, as if a burden she hadn't fully recognized had been lifted, and a small, grateful smile graced her lips. "Then, I am glad to have you here, Enzo. Your simple presence means more than you can imagine."

A grin spread across Enzo's face, and Evaline couldn't help but mirror it. The sight of that familiar expression, so reminiscent of Lord Valti and Stefano, tugged at her heartstrings, making her want to both embrace and cry.

His next question was laced with curiosity, but she could see a hopeful glint in his eyes, "So, future or past?"

With a soft chuckle and a shake of her head, Evaline met his gaze, her own smile carrying a touch of melancholy, "Future. But," she added quickly in response to his eager expression, "I'm afraid I can't risk altering the timeline."

The momentary excitement in Enzo's demeanour deflated, replaced by a hint of disappointment. However, there was something so achingly familiar in that expression, a shadow of Stefano's face in his moments of dejection. 

A sigh slipped from her lips, and her resistance crumbled as she relented. Dammit, he has the same pleading face as Stefano.

"Nothing specific. No dates or names but..." her voice became heavy as she thought of her friends, "I assure you, they've made me proud. Your descendants are truly remarkable individuals. Take pride in that, even if it hasn't happened yet."

Enzo's gaze searched her face, and she attempted to curve her lips into a smile, but it quivered slightly at the edges. His response was a warm smile of his own, followed by a gesture that took her by surprise.

He opened his arms in an inviting embrace. 

For a fleeting moment, Evaline hesitated, caught off guard by this unexpected offer. She wanted to refuse. This wasn’t Lord Valti. This wasn’t Stefano. This was someone she had never met before. 

The boy read her thoughts because he smiled knowingly, “I may not be the Valti you know, but I’m the Valti who’s here. And I can't imagine how you must feel after living in a world you don't truly belong in.”

She stared at him for a moment, stunned. He sounded so much like Lord Valti at that moment, ‘I may not be the father you know, but I’m the father who’s here’.

Lord Valti had said those words when her grandfather had passed, the night after the funeral when he found her curled up in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames blankly for Merlin knows how long. 

That night, the entire Valti family stayed with her at Este Castle. They all sat with her in the living room, unwilling to leave her alone. The entire night, Evaline didn’t move from her curled positon on the floor and they didn’t leave. Lady Valti spent the night next to her on the floor, bringing her into her arms.

The entire night.

Lord Valti had brought some paperwork and worked on it quietly on the coffee table all night.

Their sons and Evaline's brothers in all but blood, Stefano and Andrew would try to draw her into conversation but eventually they both passed out on the couches, snoring the rest of the night.

It was a little odd but they were there for her . They didn’t leave her alone. They stayed all night, Lord and Lady Valti stayed awake with her, both of them took leave from their jobs for a week to stay with her. 

And now, as she stared at Enzo a watery chuckle escaped her, she yielded and allowed herself to be enveloped in his arms. His arms carefully wrapped around her and she was reminded of how much she missed Stefano.

How much she missed everyone.

His embrace was a striking resemblance to those of Lord Valti from her time, warm and reassuring. And suddenly she was transported to when she was 13 years old and Lord Valti held her in his arms while she laid her grandfather to rest.

Enzo’s hug felt the same. Like Family.

"You Valti’s even hug the same,” she mumbled softly.

A huffed chuckle. "I'll trust your judgement on that." 

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom's brow furrowed, his gaze shifting from the simmering cauldron before him to the vacant seat beside him. Where was she?

More than half the lesson had slipped away, yet there was no sign of her. Evaline had been responsible for escorting the first-year students, a duty she had taken up as a prefect. It shouldn't have taken her this long.

He couldn't help but notice the concerned glances Orion cast towards the door, his own unease mirroring Tom's. Tom's frown deepened, his mind circling back to the whispered conversation he had observed between Orion and Evaline during breakfast. Orion had appeared visibly worried then, and Tom's irritation only heightened at the memory.

Finally, she entered the room, her presence acknowledged by a few turned heads and hushed whispers. Tom tracked her every move as she approached Professor Slughorn, their quiet exchange catching his attention. A nod from Slughorn and a fleeting smile from Evaline seemed to conclude their interaction before she navigated through the rows of students, eventually taking her seat next to Tom.

The question tumbled from his lips in an unintentional hiss, betraying his mix of emotions, "Where have you been?"

Evaline's response was accompanied by a soft sniff, her eyes remaining fixed on the textbook spread out in front of her, looking utterly unaffected, "I ran into someone and was making sure he was alright."

The mention of "he" triggered a sharp pang of jealousy in Tom, a feeling he was unfamiliar with and certainly didn't appreciate. His gaze shifted, studying her appearance intently. 

Despite the slightly loosened tie, Evaline exuded an air of composed grace. Her movements were precise and fluid as she removed her outer robe and continued to levitate the necessary potion ingredients into their designated cauldron, all with an almost serene efficiency.

What intrigued him even more was the change in her demeanor. She appeared different—lighter, almost joyful—despite her earlier unexplained absence. Tom couldn't help but wonder what had transpired during her time away.

Orion's attention had also turned, his voice a soft undercurrent in the room, "Are you alright?"

Tom's frown deepened as he saw Evaline's brief pause, her eyes flickering to Orion in a way that conveyed unspoken understanding. It irked him, not knowing what silent exchange had just transpired between them. Evaline's smile toward Orion carried reassurance, but the nature of that reassurance remained a mystery to Tom.

He found himself grappling with questions he had never cared to ask before.

"I'm alright, Orion," she replied gently, a nod accompanying her words, "I just got caught up."

The exchange only served to deepen Tom's curiosity. His keen eyes remained fixed on the unfolding scene, absorbing every nuance.

Orion's visible relaxation was almost palpable, his worry dissipating as he focused his attention back on his potion with a distinct air of relief. Evaline, however, seemed to retreat back into her usual composed façade, the momentary lightness fading into the background.

Tom's suspicion, far from abating, grew more potent. He had observed enough in that brief interaction to be certain that something significant had transpired.

There was a change in her demeanor, a subtle shift that hadn't gone unnoticed by his keen perception. It was in the slight curve of her lips, the warmth in her eyes—a new fondness that seemed to have taken root.

For all the years he had known her, Evaline had worn a mask of amusement, detachment, or irritation. Those were the emotions he had come to expect from her. Yet, within the last half-hour, something had stirred within her, something that had kindled a smile so genuine it was like a flicker of an entirely different person.

As Tom resumed his precise chopping of potion ingredients, a tenacious determination began to seep into his thoughts. He was not accustomed to being left in the dark, to having a piece of the puzzle withheld from him. It was a sensation he neither liked nor tolerated.

He wanted to uncover the entire truth, to understand what—or who—had brought that elusive glimmer of happiness to her eyes, a happiness he had never seen before.

The brewing potion filled the air with its distinct aroma, but Tom's mind was preoccupied with unraveling the enigma that was Evaline. He couldn't simply let it go; her change in demeanor had ignited a fierce curiosity within him.

What had caused that subtle smile to grace her lips? 

That smile of such fondness he had never every witnessed before.

His fingers moved mechanically as he continued to chop ingredients, but his attention was elsewhere, fixated on Evaline. The occasional sideways glances he stole were met with her unwavering focus on their potion. She was keeping something from him, and that knowledge didn't sit well with him at all.

Every little thing about her caught his attention: the way her fingers curled around her wand, the slight furrow of her brows when she concentrated, the quick, almost involuntary smiles that graced her lips when she thought no one was watching. He hadn't realized just how attuned he had become to her presence, to the patterns of her behavior, until this subtle shift had thrown everything off balance.

Orion's voice, tinged with curiosity and concern, pulled Tom out of his reverie, "Who did you bump into?"

Evaline's response was measured, a sprinkle of unicorn dust added to their concoction as she hummed lightly. There was an air of restraint about her, as if she were carefully choosing her words. A flicker of a smile graced her lips, but it was gone so quickly that Tom wondered if he had imagined it.

"A Ravenclaw prefect," she replied, her tone casual, but her eyes held a fondness he had never seen before, "I ran right into him and he took a tumble."

A Ravenclaw prefect. There was more to it than met the eye. He knew Evaline well enough to recognize when she was evading, when she was deliberately withholding information. 

He wanted to uncover the entire truth, to understand what—or who—had brought that elusive glimmer of happiness to her eyes, a happiness he had never seen before.

Tom despised not being the cause of it.

Chapter Text

Over the past five years, Evaline's plan had unfolded with remarkable smoothness. Marvolo, once surrounded by followers motivated by fear, now commanded a loyal circle who followed him out of genuine trust.

Evaline had made sure of that. 

Under her guidance, Marvolo's ideologies had evolved toward healthier perspectives, moving away from the ridiculous preaching of blood purity Lord Voldemort in her time had aimed for, instead embracing broader changes for the wizarding world.

Evaline had made sure of that.

Marvolo's fascination with the dark arts remained, but it was now a controlled and guided exploration, thanks to Evaline's watchful presence. He no longer succumbed to the seductive allure of the dark arts as he had before. Evaline had kept a close eye on him, easily seeing through his glamoured books and discreet requests for books from the Black library.

She wasn’t a fool.

You cannot fully change a person, despite how much you try to.

Sure, she had toned down his obsession with the dark arts substantially by answering his questions and quenching his building obsession instead of letting it bottle up to the point he did something stupid. But she couldn't stop him from researching into the dark arts.

Not that she wanted to.

Evaline firmly believed the dark arts are safe to study as long as you have a mentor or something to keep an eye on you. The allure of dark arts can often go unseen and it can trance you into madness.

Which is what Evaline presumes happened to Lord Voldemort.

He delved into the dark arts blindly, with no guidance or supervision- it was more dangerous that he had no prior knowledge of magic in general before the age of 11. So, to delve into dark arts at such a tender age while also being just introduced to magic itself was devastating.

Self destructive.

So, she did what she was sent to do.

She supervised.

She made him dependent on her when it came to the dark arts. She had drawn in Norril as well- Marvolo seemed fascinated by Norril for some reason so she had the elf discuss dark arts with him as well. 

Marvolo now had a friend who supervised his dark arts interests, a Dark Elf who mentored him as well. Something Lord Voldemort lacked. She took it as a win.

Yet, life had a knack for disrupting even the most well-laid plans. Her latest predicament lay sprawled on the floor of Evaline’s dorm room, an intruder now rendered unconscious and writhing in pain.

Lucia Zabini, her would-be trespasser, had learned the hard way that Evaline's defenses were not to be underestimated. The dim glow of Evaline's protective wards around her dorm still lingered in the air, pulsing lightly at the unauthorised entry.

Just minutes ago, the sensation of her wards alerting her to a breach had interrupted Evaline's departure from her class. She gracefully extricated herself from the group, her movements fluid and purposeful, as she discreetly navigated her way to her dormitory.

There, sprawled unconscious and twitching just outside her door, lay Lucia Zabini – the culprit.

Evaline let out an exasperated sigh, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose as she closed her door, shutting out the prying eyes of the corridor. These kids are starting to get rather annoying, she thought absentmindedly as she knelt beside the unconscious girl, her mood a mixture of annoyance and mild amusement. 

Fully aware that Lucia had an ulterior motive for her intrusion, Evaline hadn't anticipated such a bold move. The delicate balance between repelling unwanted visitors and avoiding undue harm was a challenging one to uphold. Yet, Lucia had opted to disregard those boundaries, and now the repercussions were glaringly evident.

Studying the trembling form before her, Evaline shifted her weight slightly, her mind racing to determine the best course of action. If she were in her own time, dealing with such an intrusion within the Department of Mysteries, she would have incapacitated the intruder without hesitation. Their fate would have been sealed, handed over to the Aurors under the guise of meddling with classified Unspeakable matters. However, those situations often involved spies or traitors, far more dangerous than a child like Lucia.

Now, her circumstances were vastly different, dealing with a mere child who, for whatever reason, had ventured where she didn't belong. The complexity of the situation lay in discerning the appropriate response. Feeling the urge to down a bottle of firewhiskey, Evaline shifted her weight in thought.

What to do with this child?

Mid-contemplation, a knock echoed at her door.

A subtle flick of her wrist and the door obediently swung open, revealing Marvolo standing in the doorway. Evaline's lack of surprise was evident; she knew Marvolo had likely noticed her departure from the group the moment she left. Dressed in his uniform, his book bag still slung over his shoulder, Marvolo's eyes swiftly darted from her crouched stance and then landed on the unconscious figure sprawled on the floor.

Silently, he stepped into her dorm, shutting the door behind him. A hiss of parseltongue made sure it was locked and sound proof. Evaline didn’t even bat an eye, used to his parseltongue over the past five years.

His intense focus lingered on the intruder, his voice carrying a controlled, low tone as he inquired, "What did she do?"

Using her wand, Evaline poked the girl's side, her own gaze fixated on the interloper's features. "Tried to break into my dorm," she responded succinctly, a hint of irritation lacing her words at the audacity of the intrusion, “Didn’t stop to think about the wards.”

"Are you alright?" Marvolo's inquiry broke the tension-laden silence after a long moment as he glanced at Evaline.

She nodded, briefly casting a reassuring glance at him before focusing on the task at hand. Waving her wand over the child, she performed a quick diagnostic spell, making sure her wards didn’t do any permanent damage.

Then, she searched the girl, her pockets came empty and she had nothing on her, not even her wand. However, her efforts yielded no conclusive results about the girl's intentions or any magical traces that could provide a clue.

"I knew Zabini was after something," Evaline murmured, almost to herself as she stood, her voice tinged with annoyance. "From the second she claimed it was an ‘honour’ to meet me. Che carico di merda. Orion called me crazy, but what does he know?” she huffed, muttering under her breath, “Probabilmente è colpa mia, continuo a dimenticare di essere circondato da bambini letterali"."

[What a load of shit...It's probably my fault, I keep forgetting that I'm surrounded by literal children.]

With a thoughtful hum, Evaline cast a counter-curse on the girl. As consciousness returned, the girl's attempt to sit up was thwarted by a body-binding spell, causing her to tremble in pain. While the restriction was temporary, it served as a warning against any further struggle.

Wide-eyed and fearful, Lucia's gaze darted between Evaline and Marvolo. Evaline met the girl's gaze with a wry smile, her wand unwavering.

"Morning, Lucia," She greeted with such casualty, Lucia actually looked confused for a moment. Without giving the girl to register anything, Evaline cast, "Legilimens."

As Evaline delved into Lucia's mind, Marvolo's impatience grew palpable. His arms were crossed over his chest, and Evaline could practically sense the tension rolling off him. Evaline's concentration remained steadfast as she navigated the maze of the girl's thoughts, encountering the mental barriers that had been erected to guard whatever secrets lay within.

Finally withdrawing from Lucia's consciousness, Evaline's lips pressed into a thin line. She regarded the trembling girl with a mix of frustration and calculation, her eyes holding a deep intensity.

"It seems someone has taken great pains to shield her thoughts," Evaline explained, her tone laced with a hint of irritation. "Forcing my way in would result in irreparable damage to her mind. She could be left in a brain dead state."

Marvolo's jaw tightened visibly, a clear manifestation of his growing irritation towards the situation. His frustration seemed to surpass even Evaline's, a fact that didn't go unnoticed by her keen observation.

Evaline rolled her shoulders in a casual gesture, her expression calm despite the escalating tension. "No matter," she stated evenly, as she stood, "We can always resort to more traditional methods."

Allowing a controlled exhale, Evaline settled onto the edge of her neatly-made bed, her gaze never leaving the now-conscious intruder. Marvolo hovered by her shoulder, anger rolling off of him in angry dark waves. 

Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her knees, her posture casual, bored even. Evaline had to admit, this was far less interesting than interrogating hardened spies and criminals. The kid was trembling like a leaf, muc h to Evaline’s disappointment, who was quite used to having criminals spit in her face or at least glare.

She almost missed the criminals.

"Lucia," she addressed the girl, her voice carrying a mixture of genuine curiosity and feigned hurt, "I must admit, I'm positively wounded by your unscheduled visit."

Lucia's wide eyes flickered nervously between the two Slytherins, her body still visibly trembling from the lingering effects of Evaline’s wards. Evaline couldn’t even feel the satisfaction of her successful warding since the victim was a little girl. 

Evaline waited, unamused. Lucia’s lips parted, but no words emerged, her fear evident in her inability to formulate a coherent response. 

The silence in the room seemed to stretch on, the tension thickening with each passing moment. Lucia's gaze remained locked onto Evaline, her eyes reflecting a mixture of fear and uncertainty. It was as if she regarded Evaline as the greater threat between the two Slytherins, a notion that didn't go unnoticed by Marvolo.

Evaline wondered exactly what Lucia Zabini knew and why she feared Evaline.

With an elegant raise of her brow, Evaline pressed on, her tone casual yet probing. "Well?" she inquired, her voice carrying a distinct undercurrent of curiosity. "You've gone through all this trouble. What is it that brought you to my dorm, Lucia?"

Still, the intruder remained resolutely silent, refusing to give any indication of her motives or intentions. The room seemed to hold its breath, the very air charged with anticipation.

"Did you come here to cause harm? Cause me harm? Were you hoping you would catch me off guard? Or Plant something in here that could incriminate me?" Evaline continued, her nonchalant demeanour contrasting with the gravity of the situation.

She seemed almost unaffected by the potential danger, her gaze locked onto Lucia with a mixture of calculation and mild amusement. Meanwhile, Marvolo's eyes narrowed subtly at the probing questions.

"Or perhaps," Evaline's voice lowered slightly, a calculated hint of suggestion lacing her words, "you were searching for something specific?"

A flicker of impatience danced in Marvolo’s eyes as he watched the exchange between Evaline and Lucia. The air in the room seemed to vibrate with his growing annoyance, his presence commanding attention even as he remained silent.

Evaline's gaze shifted briefly to Marvolo, catching the subtle shift in his expression. She raised a hand, her fingers idly tapping against her chin in a thoughtful manner.

"You know, Lucia. The Zabini family doesn’t have a Lucia Zabini as far as I’m aware." she mused aloud, her voice carrying a hint of detached amusement, “In fact- The current Heir should be Paolo Antoni Zabini, son of Nicola and Claudia Zabini. And yet, here you are. The Zabini Heiress, no less"

Panic flared. Lucia's eyes flickered, a fleeting emotion passing through her gaze, but she remained steadfast in her silence. The room seemed to close in around them, the tension escalating as the standoff continued.

“Tell me,” Evaline started, voice barely above a whisper as her gaze bore into hers, “Who are you?”

Silence. Ragged, shuddering breaths.

"You're not a Zabini. Not a true one at least- unless you're a illegitimate child," she hummed softly, "But I doubt the Zabini's would want such a disgraceful rumor to walk the halls of Hogwarts- holding the Heiress title no less."

Zabini stared at Evaline with pure terror. Evaline couldn't fathom why. 

"Very well," Evaline said, her tone shifting slightly, her patience thinning. "If you're not willing to speak, then I suppose we'll have to find other means of getting the answers we seek. Though, I warn you- you won’t like them."

With a flick of her wrist, she released the body binding spell that held Lucia captive.

Lucia's body remained tense, ready to bolt, but she found herself unable to move as a powerful, invisible force seemed to press against her, keeping her rooted to the spot. Panic flashed across her features, her eyes darting around the room for an escape that didn't exist.

Marvolo took a step forward, "It's in your best interest to cooperate," he stated coolly, his voice carrying an underlying edge that sent a shiver down Lucia's spine.

Marvolo's eyes bore into Lucia's, his gaze unwavering as he delved into her mind with Legilimency. He probed, pushed, and sifted through her thoughts, searching for any hint, any crack in her mental defences that would reveal her intentions. 

Evaline observed the unfolding interaction with a discerning eye, her arms casually crossed over her chest. Marvolo's prowess in Legilimency was a subject of both admiration and intrigue for her. Born as a natural Legilimens, Evaline had deduced this after noticing Dumbledore's consistent failure to penetrate the boy's thoughts. 

The subtle tension that etched Dumbledore's jaw and the ever-present annoyance in his eyes after each unsuccessful attempt was a telltale sign. When she herself attempted to delve into Marvolo's mind, she confirmed her suspicion – his thoughts were well-protected, even without any formal training in Occlumency.

The final confirmation arrived during a rather audacious move by Dumbledore. He had attempted to breach Evaline's own mental defences after yet another futile try at entering Marvolo's mind. To Dumbledore's evident surprise, Evaline effortlessly blocked his intrusion, leaving him momentarily off-balance.

The following day, she had handed Marvolo a worn but comprehensive tome on Legilimency and Occlumency, her demeanour casual as she mentioned Dumbledore's repeated attempts to pry into his thoughts.

The boy had paled and all but snatched the book from her hands before immediately delving into the topic. He had also forced Evaline to stay next to him, lest he have a question about the topic or he simply wanted her to attempt to invade his mind for practice.

Safe to say, it had been a productive month. 

After several minutes of unyielding mental struggle, Marvolo withdrew from Lucia's mind, his expression darkening further. "The shields arent her own. Someone else has blocked her thoughts," he muttered under his breath, his frustration palpable.

Already aware of that, Evaline nodded, her focus remaining unwavering on the girl sprawled on the floor. A flick of her wand and a softly spoken incantation, "Obliviate," demonstrated her calculated decision. 

Marvolo's brows knitted in confusion as he tracked her spellwork, his voice tinged with curiosity, "Why would you do that?"

An explanation promptly followed from Evaline's lips, "I'll update my wards." She deftly manoeuvred the girl, gently levitating her out into the hallway before closing the door with a decisive snap. "The next time she attempts to breach my dorm, the wards will compel her to reveal the truth."

Marvolo's scrutiny deepened, his inquisitiveness evident in the furrow of his brows. "Why not just force her now?"

Evaline's response was nonchalant, her shoulders lifting in a casual shrug, "Given her mental defences, it's likely she's been trained to resist traditional interrogations."

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom’s brows furrowed in confusion, but then his expression shifted to understanding as he recognized the logic behind her decision. Evaline had always been someone who dealt with things in her own unique way, a stark contrast to his own approach.

It was something he had come to appreciate about her. While he was driven by ambition and determination, she seemed almost impervious to the chaos around her, as if every situation was beneath her notice.

Her ability to navigate challenges with seemingly effortless ease was something that Tom both admired and, at times, found baffling. Unlike him, Evaline never appeared to be emotionally swayed by external circumstances. Her demeanor remained poised, as if she held an infinite well of patience within her.

He observed her with thoughtful eyes as she reentered the room and nonchalantly threw herself onto the bed, as though this situation was more annoying than it was alarming. Tom knew if someone tried to break into his dorm, he would be a lot more furious and tense.

Tom took a moment to observe his surroundings. The room was sparsely adorned, bearing a minimalist touch with a single bed, a study table adorned with neatly arranged books, a wardrobe that seemed meticulously organized, and unadorned side tables. Absent were any decorations, photographs, or personal trinkets. The air of simplicity was palpable. 

He recalled that this was a private dorm, an uncommon privilege for a fifth-year student, which Evaline had secured by negotiating with Professor Slughorn, leveraging her prefect status—a revelation that had managed to amuse Tom and once again remind him that Evaline was more of a Slytherin than she revealed.

"What brings you here?" she inquired casually, her gaze meeting his as if she knew exactly what was on his mind.

With a controlled grace, Tom shrugged off his bookbag and let it rest on the floor. His tie followed suit, his fingers deftly undoing the knot as he settled comfortably at the end of the bed, near her head. The familiar camaraderie between them felt like second nature, reminiscent of their countless discussions at the Villa.

He crossed his legs, an amused glint in his eyes as he produced an old tome from his bag and placed it beside her head.

"I'm in the process of studying a ritual to unveil the intricacies of my bloodline," he explained, his gaze intently focused on the ancient tome before him. "It's meant to definitively confirm whether I am truly descended from Salazar Slytherin."

Evaline, her form reclining comfortably, raised an inquisitive eyebrow as she looked up at his face. The corner of Tom ‘s lips curled up at the sight of her studying him from her upside-down vantage point.

Pausing for a moment, she absorbed his words before responding in her characteristic straightforward manner. "So, you're essentially talking about a blood test?"

Tom blinked, momentarily taken aback by the simplicity and practicality of her suggestion. "A What?"

"A blood test," Evaline reiterated, her tone carrying a sense of seriousness despite her unconventional posture. "You can have it done at Gringotts for like seven galleons. It tells you your bloodline, lineage, parents, and relatives, all in one go."

His frown deepened as he processed this unexpected piece of information. "You mean to say you were aware of this, and yet you never deemed it worth mentioning until now?"

"I thought you knew," Evaline replied with a touch of curiosity in her voice, her brows knitting together. "Didn't you go to Gringotts when you received your Hogwarts letter? They do a blood test for every student." 

Tom’s frown deepened, his gaze narrowing in thought. "I didn't realize that was a blood test," he admitted. "I never saw the parchment myself. Dumbledore—"

His words trailed off abruptly, his realization hitting him like a blow. Dumbledore had taken the parchment from him, citing routine procedures. Tom, in his excitement about entering the wizarding world for the first time, hadn't thought to question it.

Evaline's response carried a mix of surprise and understanding. "I see," she said, her irritation shifting into empathy. 

Tom’s jaw clenched, a trace of resentment flickering across his features. "Yes," he confirmed with a tinge of bitterness. "He claimed it was just part of the process. Considering his involvement in my life, I should have been more cautious."

With a grin, Evaline rolled over onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. "Well, at least we have plans for the upcoming break now. You can also sue him for withholding your family history from you if you end up having any significant titles."

Tom’s initial annoyance quickly melted away as he met Evaline's amused gaze. Her carefree attitude of 'can't change the past, so let's move forward' was a quality he appreciated, a refreshing contrast to his own occasional tendencies to get lost in resentment and anger.

His eyes followed her as she reached out to pick up the tome he had brought, her fingers gliding over the aged pages with curiosity. As she flipped through its contents, her expression shifted from contemplative to downright unimpressed.

With a casual toss, she let the book fall to the side, her lack of interest evident. Tom raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to share her assessment.

She rolled her eyes, a hint of amusement dancing in her gaze. "It's outdated," she remarked dismissively. "If you tried to use that information to create a ritual and used your own blood- you'd probably end up exploding yourself."

He made a mental note to discard the book later and give Abraxas, the one who lent him the book, a piece of his mind Tom’s lips twitched in a wry smile at her bluntness. "Well, I suppose that's something I'd rather avoid." 

༺═──────────────═༻

Despite the late hour, Evaline dragged herself to the common room for her patrolling duty. Marvolo was already waiting, leaning against a wall, his posture exuding an air of impatience. A part of her contemplated retreating to her dormitory for a much-needed rest, but she knew Marvolo well enough to anticipate that he would personally intervene and haul her out.

A faint twitch of his lips greeted her as she approached him. "Running a little late, are we?"

She scowled, her annoyance evident, and together they stepped out of the common room. "You're lucky I came at all," she retorted with a hint of sarcasm.

He casually offered her an arm, guiding her hand around his elbow almost instinctively, a gesture that had become somewhat customary since she had allowed him to share her breaks at the Villa. His tone was sarcastic as he responded, "Oh, yes, I'm eternally grateful for your sacrifice."

She swatted his hand away, though he remained unfazed, a subtle smile lingering on his lips. Evaline rolled her eyes, her annoyance melting into reluctant amusement. "Couldn't possibly leave you alone, could I?"

Marvolo's genuine smile was a rare sight, one that only seemed to surface in her presence. It was a small yet significant detail that had grown to mean more than Evaline cared to admit. They truly had come a long easy from Marvolo remaining indifferent to him initiating conversation and even banter.

The corridors were dimly lit as they began their patrol, walking side by side. The occasional painting on the walls whispered greetings to them, and the distant echoes of other students settling in for the night could be heard.

Marvolo glanced at Evaline, his expression more serious now. "Any word from Zabini from earlier?" 

Evaline shook her head, her gaze focused ahead. "No, nothing yet. I cast a tracking charm on her before obliviating her, just in case she tries something again."

He hummed, eyes scanning the dark halls, “You should just let me deal with her.”

“We still don't know her motives. Nor do we know what she wants and why she wants it,” Evaline rolled her eyes at his huff, “For all I know, the girl is probably doing someone else's bidding.”

Her hand lingered on his arm, a touch that he was growing accustomed to, even if the situation was far from usual. It felt strangely comforting as they continued their patrol, the torchlight casting elongated shadows along the stone walls.

As they turned another corner, their conversation was interrupted by a sudden sound – muffled moans emanating from a nearby broom closet. Both Evaline and Marvolo exchanged glances.

Evaline's gaze flickered toward the door, and she sighed, her tone laced with a hint of resignation. "Who's going to bust them, you or me?"

Marvolo's lips quivered into a wry smile, "I think it's your turn this time."

Groaning, Evaline rolled her eyes, "Of course it is."

She approached the broom closet door, her knuckles rapping against the wood with a sharp sound. "It's past curfew! Make yourselves decent and come out!" Her voice carried a tone that brooked no arguments, even as Marvolo's amusement danced in his eyes beside her.

In the aftermath of her call, a pause hung in the air, a mixture of hushed whispering and shuffling sounds emanating from within the cramped space. Then, with an almost comical abruptness, the door creaked open, revealing two students who appeared caught in the act.

A Gryffindor girl and a Hufflepuff boy stumbled out, their disheveled appearances confirming the nature of their activities. Both seemed to be in their seventh year, their eyes wide with a mixture of embarrassment and surprise.

Evaline's gaze flicked over them, her scrutiny unyielding. Her raised eyebrow and stern expression spoke volumes before she even uttered a word. "Twenty points from each house for breaking curfew."

But Evaline wasn't done yet. Her attention shifted to the Hufflepuff boy, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she addressed him with a bluntness that brooked no embarrassment on her part.

"Your fly’s open," she stated, her voice devoid of any trace of humor or remorse as she stared at him with an unflinching gaze.

The boy's face erupted into a shade of red that rivaled Gryffindor colors, and he scrambled to rectify the situation with a mix of flustered embarrassment. The Gryffindor girl beside him turned an even brighter shade of crimson, her mortification clear.

The Gryffindor girl muttered a sheepish apology, while the Hufflepuff boy avoided eye contact as he mumbled his agreement. With a casual jerk of her head, Evaline dismissed them both, her gaze remained blunt, bored. The two seventh-year students practically scurried away, eager to escape the awkward encounter with their dignity as best as they could salvage.

Evaline's expression turned into a scowl as she turned to Marvolo, her jaw set in a defiant manner. "I hate you," she declared.

His lips curled up in amusement. Instead of taking offence, he chose to embrace her statement with a casual acceptance. He casually held her hand around his elbow once more, "So early? There are plenty of broom closets left for us to…inspect," he replied, his tone light and teasing.

“Just when I think you can't get any more incorrigible."

༺═──────────────═༻

As Slughorn's jovial voice drew nearer, Tom observed with veiled amusement as Evaline subtly slunk back into her chair, her posture a poor attempt at hiding from the approaching professor.

The rotund potions master's approach was accompanied by his characteristic friendly smile. "Ah, Tom and Evaline! My two top students!" he exclaimed with a pleased glint in his eyes.

Evaline's discomfort was palpable next to him, and Tom had to stifle a snort, instead opting for a polite smile. "Professor."

Slughorn beamed at them, clearly enjoying the attention he received from his favored pupils. "I trust I'll see you both at the Slug Club tonight?" he inquired, his tone expectant.

Tom gave a curt nod, his expression composed. Beside him, Evaline seemed to be working on a plan to escape the invitation. She coughed deliberately, her voice hoarse as she spoke, "I might be coming down with a cold, sir."

Slughorn's brow furrowed in concern, lines creasing his forehead. "Oh dear, are you alright? Should you visit the infirmary?"

Slughorn's concern was palpable, his friendly demeanor shifting to a more serious tone as he leaned in slightly, his round face etched with worry lines. His bushy mustache twitched as if mirroring his thoughts.

Tom watched the exchange with a practiced neutrality, maintaining his polite smile while his thoughts churned behind his façade. He knew that Evaline's tactics weren't merely about avoiding a social event; it was about staying out of the social circle that Slughorn had a penchant for gathering around himself.

It was common knowledge that Slughorn enjoyed collecting students with exceptional talents and potential, showering them with attention and opportunities. And while Tom didn't particularly care for such interactions, he saw the strategic value in them.

But Evaline had her own ways of navigating these situations. Her attempts to bypass the Slug Club's invitation were a clear reflection of her desire to keep her distance from the social scene. She might be an enigma to the inner circle, but Tom had learned to read her cues well over the years.

Tom seized the opportunity, his smirk barely concealed. He leaned slightly closer to Evaline, his tone dripping with mock concern, "It's no trouble, Evaline. I have a potion that should clear that right up."

He caught her narrowed eyes as she discreetly nudged him under the table, but it was too late. The damage was done. Slughorn laughed heartily, charmed by their exchange. "Always the helpful hand, Tom! I'll be sure to see you both tonight!"

As soon as Slughorn left, Evaline's head snapped towards Tom, her eyes emitting a glare that could make a lesser man crumble. She hissed through gritted teeth, "I cannot believe you."

Tom feigned innocence, his lips curling up in a playful grin. "What? I was just trying to help. You did mention you might be coming down with something, didn't you?"

Evaline's glare intensified, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "You are insufferable, Marvolo."

He chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. "Come now, Evaline. It's just one Slug Club meeting. I promise it won't be as dreadful as you're making it out to be."

She huffed in frustration, crossing her arms and muttering under her breath. "You have a talent for getting on my nerves, you know that?"

His grin only widened. "It's one of my many charming qualities."

On the evening of the Slug Club gathering, Tom stood in the common room, his attire a far cry from his usual school robes. The semi-formal attire Evaline had gifted him last year, made of the highest quality, adorned his frame. The robes were a sleek black with a tasteful silver lining, giving him an air of sophistication.

His fingers smoothed down the lapels of the robes as he cast a quick glance at Orion, who stood nearby, meticulously arranging his own fashioned robes. Orion was busy taming his hair in front of a conjured mirror, the picture of youthful vanity.

Sharing the space were his fellow Slytherins, all donned in their finest attire for the occasion. On one of the sofas sat Malfoy, his posture confident, as he meticulously adjusted his cuffs. The group, including Abraxas, Tom, Orion, and Evaline, were the fortunate ones from Slytherin to have secured an invitation to Slughorn's exclusive event.

Amid the anticipation, a slight ruffle of fabric caught Tom's attention, drawing his gaze towards the entrance of the common room. His eyes widened ever so slightly as he took in Evaline's entrance.

She had donned a beautiful gown that blended elegance with a touch of casual grace. The gown was complemented by a set of robes, adding an air of formality to her ensemble. Her hair cascaded freely down her back, and a simple yet striking silver necklace adorned her neck.

Orion's appreciative whistle cut through the air, his grin evident. "You clean up well, Evaline. I don't think I've ever seen you in formal clothes."

Tom found himself in agreement, silently realizing that this was indeed the first time he had seen her dressed up so formally. During the breaks he spent with her, she usually wore comfortable casual dresses or skirts, never anything this refined.

Evaline shot Orion an unamused look, her heels emitting soft clicks as she approached the group. "Don't count on it, Black."

Her response carried a note of dry humor, and Tom couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. Despite her protests, she looked undeniably stunning in her chosen attire, and Tom found himself appreciating the sight.

As the group prepared to leave the common room for the Slug Club event, Tom couldn't shake off the unfamiliar feeling of seeing Evaline in such a different light. Her presence, which usually exuded an air of confidence and nonchalance, now had a touch of elegance that intrigued him. He realized that he hadn't given much thought to her appearance before, always focusing on her sharp intellect and wit.

Orion, still grinning, offered Evaline his arm in an exaggerated display of chivalry. "Shall we, milady?"

Evaline raised an eyebrow at his antics but accepted his arm with a sigh that bordered on amusement. "Lead the way, Black. But try not to trip over your own feet."

Orion playfully pouted, feigning offense, and led Evaline towards the exit. Tom followed suit with Malfoy, the atmosphere light and jovial despite the tension that usually existed between them.

As they stepped out into the corridor, Toms gaze lingered and Evaline caught his eye with a raised brow. "Don't think I haven't noticed your attempts at subtle glances, Riddle. If you're not careful, you might trip too."

Tom arched an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk of his own. "I'm far more graceful than you give me credit for."

Evaline laughed, a sound that was surprisingly melodic, given her usual composed demeanor. "We'll see."

As they made their way through the castle corridors, Tom found himself engaged in casual banter with Evaline, their conversation ranging from classes to the eccentricities of some of their fellow students. It was a side of her he rarely got to witness, and he found himself genuinely enjoying the exchange.

As they stepped into the opulent Slug Club gathering, the atmosphere was dripping with an air of exclusivity. The soft glow of magical lanterns cast a warm light over the scene, and Slughorn's delighted laughter resonated through the room like a symphony.

Tom's eyes scanned the surroundings, his expression composed as he observed the mingling students.  Tom's gaze assessed the composition of the attendees. Among them were three Gryffindors, four Ravenclaws, and a solitary Hufflepuff. He recognized a few familiar faces but paid them little mind as he took his seat at the round table.

Abraxas and Orion flanked his left, and to his right sat Evaline, her presence captivating in the lavish surroundings. Seated next to her was a Gryffindor boy, whose identity seemed insignificant in comparison to the whirlwind of thoughts racing through Tom's mind.

The atmosphere shifted subtly as conversation flowed around the table. Tom couldn't help but notice Evaline's sudden change in demeanor, a shift from her initial annoyance to an unexpected delight. Her smile brightened her face as her gaze settled on a figure across the table. Intrigued, Tom's eyes followed her line of sight, leading him to a Ravenclaw boy who was returning Evaline's smile with equal enthusiasm.

Tom studied the Ravenclaw closely, his mind processing every detail. The boy's wavy, meticulously styled light brown hair framed his face, and his brown eyes held a twinkle of charisma. His features were sharp and defined, giving him an air of confidence. His robes bore the distinctive crest of his family, a shade of blue that denoted his family affiliation.

Tom didn't recognize the family crest.

A sudden realization dawned on Tom. This was the Ravenclaw prefect Evaline had mentioned bumping into just last week. The pieces fell into place as he connected the dots, understanding the reason for Evaline's delight.

Slughorn's jovial voice broke through Tom's thoughts, addressing the very same Ravenclaw boy Tom was staring at. "So, Enzo, you joined us last year, correct?"

Enzo nodded with a pleasant smile. "Yes, sir. I was homeschooled before."

Slughorn's eyes sparkled with delight. "Ah, splendid! I'm so glad you could join us tonight. It was long overdue."

Enzo's gaze briefly shifted to Evaline, a hint of a smile on his lips. Tom watched as she raised an eyebrow and Enzo cocked her a smirk. "A sudden development made me change my mind."

Tom's jaw tightened involuntarily.

The pieces were fitting together, and he couldn't shake the feeling that Enzo's decision to attend tonight had been influenced by Evaline's presence. He glanced at her once more, noting the small smile on her lips. 

Seated next to him, Orion leaned in with a slight frown, his voice lowered to a confidential tone. "Is he looking at Evaline?"

Tom's jaw clenched further, his gaze fixed on the Ravenclaw boy. "Yes."

Orion's observation was astute, his words carrying a tinge of bemusement. "He seems quite smitten with her, doesn't he?" His eyes flicked from the Ravenclaw to Evaline, the wheels of his mind turning. "And, dare I say, Evaline appears just as pleased to see him."

Tom's grip on his goblet tightened almost imperceptibly, his knuckles paling under the pressure of his fingers.

Evaline's perceptive nature caught on, her keen senses seemingly attuned to his emotions. She turned her gaze toward him, her brows furrowing in concern. Her voice was hushed as she inquired, "What's wrong?"

Tom's internal turmoil churned, and before he could filter his thoughts, the words were out, much more venomous than he intended them to be as he hissed, "Who's your new friend?"

He himself was caught off guard by the pure malice and command in his words. He had never spoken to Evaline like that.

Evaline's eyebrows arched in a mixture of surprise and skepticism, her eyes studying him intently. It was a reaction that was purely Evaline - unapologetically perceptive and never one to be easily caught off guard.

༺═──────────────═༻

The moment Evaline stepped into the ridiculously festive party, her sullen mood seemed to evaporate into thin air as her gaze landed on Enzo seated at one of the tables. It was as if a switch had been flipped, instantly brightening her demeanour. Enzo, too, appeared to respond to her presence, his face lighting up as he shot her a grin that held a hint of familiarity.

Seated between Marvolo and a Gryffindor boy, Evaline couldn't help but return the gesture, her smile genuine and warm. The sight of Enzo was a welcome one, bringing a sense of comfort she hadn't experienced in a while.

Perhaps it was because she knew he was connected to her grandfather, or maybe it was the link to Stefano's lineage. Whatever the reason, his presence had a calming effect on her, easing the tension that had been building up within her.

“Who’s your new friend?”

As Marvolo's question dripped with venom, in a low hiss, Evaline's eyebrow arched involuntarily at the uncharacteristic tone he adopted. The tension was palpable, evident in his white-knuckled grip on his goblet and his tightly clenched jaw. This was a side of him she had never witnessed directed at her, and it was a boundary she would not let slide.

Observing his visible tension and noting the unfamiliar hostility in his voice, she maintained her composure. Her own grip on her goblet remained relaxed, a subtle contrast to his. Her voice was a study in calm authority, "Excuse me?"

Sensing the resolute edge to her tone, Marvolo's grip on the goblet loosened slightly, though the tension in his expression remained. His words emerged strained, the tension still present, "Your friend. Who is he?"

Her gaze momentarily flickered to Enzo, who met her eyes with a touch of concern, his expression otherwise inscrutable. Returning her attention to Marvolo, Evaline found herself caught in the midst of a tense tableau. Orion, sitting beside Marvolo, appeared to be holding his breath, his watchful eyes mirroring the charged atmosphere.

Evaline's brows knitted as she regarded Marvolo, her voice laced with a hint of exasperation, "It was the boy I bumped into earlier. Marvolo, let's not make a scene."

His retort came, dripping with a mixture of sarcasm and bitterness, his voice a low undercurrent, "You should have thought of that before exchanging suggestive glances across the table. Despite what you’ve done in private, have some dignity for Merlin's sake."

Her surprise was palpable, her eyes widening at the unexpected outburst. Yet, a moment later, understanding dawned upon her and a laugh burst forth, an irresistible reaction to the realisation. Marvolo's jealousy was unmistakable, and her lips curved into an amused smile as she struggled to contain her mirth.

“Dignity, Marvolo? Have some decorum before you make such degrading comments,” she murmured, turning away from him lest she burst into laughter because of the look on his face.

Evaline deliberately turned her attention back to Enzo, her goblet raised in a silent salute, and an amused grin playing on her lips. With a subtle incline of her head toward Marvolo, she conveyed her intentions. Enzo followed her gaze and swiftly caught on, a knowing smile gracing his features as winked at her for show, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

As her focus shifted back to Marvolo, she couldn't help but find the situation increasingly entertaining. Marvolo had caught the wink and his frustration had mounted significantly, and it would be no surprise if he dented the metal goblet seeing the strength he was clutching it, his knuckles white to the bone. 

Orion's silent glances of warning went unnoticed by her, as she was determined to make Marvolo understand her point. She was not someone to be disrespected, despite whatever status he holds. She was not one of his followers.

Swirling her goblet lazily, she lowered her voice to a soft murmur, "You know, since you've so generally pointed it out, I'll admit I've shagged him a couple of times. But, there's no need to worry, it's nothing serious."

Orion's reaction was priceless, his jaw dropping in disbelief, and his wide eyes swivelling to Enzo. Enzo met his gaze with a nonchalant grin, offering a casual salute that clearly communicated their shared understanding of the game. 

Meanwhile, Marvolo's expression was a tumultuous mix of disbelief, frustration, and something deeper that Evaline couldn't quite decipher. His gaze remained locked on her, a volatile intensity emanating from him that would have sent shivers down her spine, if she was in fact a regular student.

But she wasn’t.

She was an adult, who found the boy’s anger rather amusing and quite frankly, childish.

Their exchange was abruptly interrupted by the resonating voice of Slughorn, his jovial tone cutting through the tension. "Ah, Enzo, you hail from Italy, do you not?" 

The attention of the table shifted to Enzo as he responded with an amiable nod, "Yes, sir."

“Just as Evaline does, though I'm sure you're already aware of that.” Slughorn's enthusiasm remained undiminished as he shifted his focus to Evaline, a broad smile adorning his features. "Ah, yes, of course! It must be delightful for both of you to have someone here with whom you can share the richness of your cultural backgrounds."

Evaline met Slughorn's gaze, her smile polite but her eyes betraying a hint of amusement. She inclined her head slightly, her response measured, "Indeed, Professor Slughorn. It's always a pleasure to find a familiar connection in a place far from home."

The evening progressed with Slughorn's animated stories and toasts filling the air, yet the tension that had arisen at the table still lingered. Evaline felt Marvolo's eyes on her throughout the evening, his irritation palpable. 

As the night drew to a close, Evaline excused herself from the table, making it clear she would not be waiting for Marvolo as usual, murmuring her gratitude to Slughorn for the delightful evening. Enzo followed suit, both of them making their way towards the exit. The atmosphere shifted when they stepped outside into the hallway, as if the confined space had intensified the underlying tension.

"What's up with your pet project, Evaline?" Enzo murmured as took the first few steps down the hall together.

She scoffed at the nickname, ready to admonish him for it but was interrupted as a sharp voice cut through the air.

"Evaline, a word."

She turned, her eyes falling on Marvolo, Orion, and Abraxas who had followed them out. Enzo stood by her side, wearing an amused look that didn't go unnoticed by Marvolo.

Evaluating the situation, Evaline's head tilted slightly. "Are you ready to speak to me with some respect, Marvolo, or do I have to continue this façade?"

Marvolo's gaze shifted between her and Enzo, a flicker of realisation crossing his features. He seemed to relax slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. 

With a raised eyebrow, she scoffed, a hint of disappointment bleeding into her words, "I was a bit disappointed you believed me so easily. How low do you think of me?"

Enzo's voice cut in, a frown on his lips as he peered down at her. "What did you say?"

"That we shagged."

Enzo practically choked on air, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you mad !?” He wacked her on the arm, mouth hanging in shock, “I can’t believe you! My father would have my head if he ever heard!"

Evaline snorted, nodding, knowing very well all the times Lord Valti had reprimanded Stefano or Andrew if they so much as spoke to her with disrespect, much less touched her. It was forbidden for the Este's and Valti's to mix bloodlines or have such relations.

Her gaze, however, shifted back to Marvolo, her expression expectant.

༺═──────────────═༻

Oh. Oh.

The realization hit Tom like a physical blow.

The moment he had uttered those words in that venomous tone, he saw the change in Evaline's eyes. He had seen her irritation, frustration, but he had never seen that look of disappointment and something akin to hurt before.

The second those words left his mouth, her demeanor shifted, and it just struck him like a bolt of lightning – he had crossed a line, a line he hadn't known existed until now.

He should have known better, despite everything.

She was not one to be disrespected or talked down to, not by anyone, he had seen first hand- especially not by Tom. He was accustomed to his power and influence, to his snide remarks and sharp words, but he had forgotten that Evaline would never tolerate such behavior from anyone.

His irritation morphed into understanding, into a deep sense of regret. He realized that none of the things Evaline had said were true. He was simply a victim of his own emotions, allowing them to drive him recklessly forward without considering the consequences of his actions.

His pride held him back from immediately apologizing, his stubbornness warring with the knowledge of his mistake. As he met her expectant gaze, his eyes softened, hoping to convey the unspoken apology lingering there.

But words remained unspoken.

He watched as she held his gaze. He watched as tilted her chin up by just a hair in wait. He watched as her jaw clenched. He watched as she let out an irritated exhale from her nose.

He watched her eyes flash in disappointment. He watched her turn away. From him.

Never in the five years he knew her had Evaline turned away from him. 

Not when he was a ‘bastard mudblood’ in first year.

Not when he first crucioed someone.

Not when she caught him smoking a muggle cigarette at Este Villa and she slapped it out of his hand with a threat to throw him into the ocean if she ever caught him again.

Not when he attempted a Dark curse in the sunroom in 3rd year which ended up misfiring, triggering the safety wards and shattering the room as he knew it. 

She was always by his side. She had never turned away from him. Not even once.

Not until now. And it was because of something as simple as lack of respect.

"I see. Have a good night gentlemen," Evaline finally said, eyes sharp as she nodded in greeting and turned.

Enzo's annoyed look toward him was not lost on Tom, nor was the understanding that Evaline had deliberately chosen someone else's company over his. He watched them walk away, attempting to ignore the heavy lump forming in his throat.

The tension that had settled in the air seemed to cling to Tom like a weight, one that only he was carrying. As they sat at breakfast the next morning, Evaline was by his side as always, yet it was as if an invisible barrier separated them.

She didn't acknowledge him, not even a fleeting glance. 

Her attention was fixed on her conversation with Orion, her movements precise and unaffected. He had slid a bowl of fruit in her direction, just as he always did, but this time, it remained untouched, her hand deftly avoiding it as she reached for her teacup.

Tom swallowed, his gaze fixed on his own breakfast, ignoring Rosier’s attempts to engage in conversation. The day's classes began, and Evaline continued to sit next to him in Transfiguration, just as usual. But the usual smile of acknowledgment, the playful remark or compliment that she often shared with him when he was the first in class to complete the task, were conspicuously absent. 

She completed her tasks in tune with him, yet her focus was solely on the work at hand. To the outside eyes, there was no indication that anything had transpired between them.

But Tom felt the knot in his gut tighten. 

Potions arrived, and Tom found himself partnered with Evaline, as usual. But the silence was almost deafening. She followed the instructions on the board, carrying out the necessary steps without uttering a word to him. As the class came to an end, she calmly turned off the burner and left, leaving Marvolo to bottle up the potion and clean the workspace.

Lunchtime arrived, and Evaline took her seat next to him as she had done countless times before. Yet, she seemed almost like a phantom, existing in the same space but refusing to engage. She ate her food, conversed with Orion and occasionally exchanged words with Abraxas, who sat across from them.

But when she had finished, she simply got up and left without a second glance.

For the rest of the day, Tom didn't catch sight of her. Nightfall arrived, and he found himself waiting alone in the common room after curfew, uncertainty gnawing at him.

Would she show up for their usual patrols, or was she still deliberately avoiding him?

Days stretched into a week, and the chasm between them seemed to deepen with each passing moment. Tom's stubborn pride held him back from making amends, and Evaline's silent withdrawal only fueled the divide. 

Their patrols were conducted in silence, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridors. There was no offering of arms, no chatting, no laughter. They caught a few students breaking curfew, but the interactions were cold and detached.

Tom's voice was harsh as he issued reprimands and deducted points, his irritation simmering just beneath the surface. Evaline remained silent throughout, her gaze focused straight ahead.

Returning to the common room felt more like a relief than it should have. Tom watched as Evaline walked away without a word, disappearing into her dorm. The weight of his actions settled on him, yet he couldn't quite find it in himself to make the first move towards reconciliation.

Pride and stubbornness tangled in his mind, creating a web of resistance.

The days blurred together, each one a mirror of the last. Evaline's presence was like a phantom, a constant reminder of his mistake. His unease grew more palpable with every passing day, and Tom's interactions with others started to reflect his internal turmoil. Even Abraxas began to notice the subtle shifts in his demeanor, offering concerned glances that Tom brushed aside.

It was during this quiet and introspective time that Tom realized the depth of his connection with Evaline. He had never spent a day apart from her since she had intervened in his life back in their second year.

Her presence had become a constant, woven into his routine. He found himself missing their conversations, her insights, and the way she effortlessly balanced his darker tendencies with her own unique brand of humor.

On the ninth day of their strained silence, Tom's routine was abruptly disrupted during dinner. He took his seat at the Slytherin table, his gaze automatically searching for Evaline by his side. But instead of finding her beside him, Orion had taken her place. Tom's brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the surroundings. Evaline was conspicuously absent.

"Where's Evaline?"

Orion's reaction was subtle, yet Tom could sense the tension that ran beneath the surface. The response he received was subdued, "Dumbledore wanted to talk to her."

A cold knot formed in the pit of Tom's stomach at the news. The fact that Dumbledore had sought Evaline out raised his alarm. Had Dumbeldore noticed their falling out and attempted to draw Evaline away from Tom? Or had he realised the potential for a spy in Slytherin?

But, no. Evaline would never do that. Evaline valued loyalty and respect. She would never become a spy for Dumbledore. She would never betray him.

But Tom had violated the respect aspect. 

After a while, Tom's eyes caught movement at the entrance, and there she was – Evaline. Her posture might have seemed composed to others, but Tom was familiar with the subtleties of her demeanor. He could sense the annoyance that radiated off her. It was a palpable energy, carefully concealed beneath her exterior.

His eyes followed her as she veered from her usual path and approached the Ravenclaw table.

His heart seemed to skip a beat when she tapped Enzo on the shoulder, her lips forming words that he couldn't hear from this distance. Enzo's surprise was evident, but he quickly made room for her to sit, and she took the seat next to him.

It struck Tom like a physical blow – this was the first time in all the years he had known her that Evaline hadn't chosen to sit beside him during a meal.

Across from Tom, Abraxas seemed to physically swallow, body twisted as all three of them followed the girls steps-his gaze just as fixed on Evaline as Tom's had been.

Surprisingly, it was Orion who finally turned to Tom, furious as he all but hissed, "Tom, this has gone on long enough."

Abraxas, quick to act, conjured a privacy shield around the three of them, effectively shielding their conversation from prying ears. Tom's focus, however, remained fixed on Evaline's form across the hall.

Orion's fury was evident in the sharpness of his tone, his anger directed squarely at Tom. "You shouldn't have spoken to her like that! Now look, she's chosen that Ravenclaw bimbo over us!"

Tom's jaw clenched as he felt the weight of Orion's accusation. Part of him wanted to snap back, to defend his actions, but another part acknowledged the truth in Orion's words.

"Watch your words, Orion," Tom said tersely, his tone holding a warning edge. 

Their exchange went unnoticed by the rest of the table, conversations and clinking of cutlery masking their quiet argument. Tom's frustration was twofold – either with himself for letting things escalate to this point, or with Orion for his inability to keep his emotions in check. 

Or because he knew Orion was right.

༺═──────────────═༻

For the first time since Evaline had lived in this era - ergo five entire years - Evaline was ticked off. Not because of Marvolo, no that situation was more amusing than it was annoying. 

She found it utterly fascinating to see how stubborn a person could be and was more than willing to push Marvolo to his limits, gaining some form of entertainment from his unease he so desperately tries to cover. 

No, what really ticked her off was the recent conversation she just had with one Albus Dumbeldore, so-called Light leader of the future. And then the little encounter she had afterwards.

Twenty Minutes ago:

Evaline felt a subtle intrusion in her mind. Remaining outwardly composed, she gathered her mental defences and forcefully pushed back against the intrusion. She watched with a barely concealed sense of satisfaction as Dumbledore stumbled and practically fell into his own desk, his surprise evident.

Tilting her head slightly, Evaline regarded him calmly, her tone laced with a mixture of curiosity and a hint of warning. "I must remind you, Professor, that using Legilimency on an underage student is a breach of privacy and is punishable by up to five years in Azkaban."

The man's smile remained unperturbed, his gaze fixed on Evaline with a shrewd intensity that matched her own. "You are quite mature for your age, Ms. Este," he remarked, his voice carrying an air of intrigue.

Evaline's eyes narrowed slightly, her guard never wavering. "And what of it?" she repeated, her voice laced with a subtle edge, "Does my maturity give you the right to invade my thoughts without consent?"

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled together thoughtfully. "It makes me wonder why you don't use your skills to their fullest," he mused, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're smart, observant, and knowledgeable beyond your years. I'm concerned why you choose to hold back your potential."

A brief moment of silence hung in the air as Evaline mulled over his words. His argument was flimsy at best, a thinly veiled attempt to probe into her psyche.

Was he implying that she willingly underperformed, allowing others to outrank her in their marks?

Well, she did but that was because she was a middle aged adult and felt ridiculous in trying to outshine kids who barely knew the beginning of magical education.

"You know you can come to me if you are being threatened, yes?" Dumbledore's tone shifted, his voice taking on a softer, almost paternal quality.

It made her gag.

Evaline's brow arched incredulously. Threatened? The very idea was laughable. She fought back the urge to scoff, her gaze never leaving Dumbledore's.

"Threatened? By whom?" she inquired, a note of skepticism coloring her words.

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes deepened, a knowing glint that set Evaline on edge. "You can always come to me for help," he offered again, his tone gentle yet persistent, “Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for its protection.”

Evaline couldn't help but be amused, even slightly incredulous, by Dumbledore's assumption. Did he truly believe that she was some helpless student being coerced into underperforming? She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, maintaining a calm exterior as she regarded the old wizard.

"You think I'm being threatened to lower my performance on purpose?" she asked, her tone a mix of disbelief and amusement. It was almost comical how he had completely missed the mark.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with a knowing glint, an expression that Evaline found both irritating and patronizing. "You need not be afraid, my dear. If you ever find yourself in a difficult situation, you can always come to me for help."

The urge to scoff was strong, but Evaline held it back.

She had dealt with far worse situations than whatever Dumbledore might be imagining. She arched an eyebrow, a subtle smirk playing on her lips. "Threatened, Professor? That's quite the creative interpretation. I assure you, no such melodrama is unfolding here, aside from this rather unwarranted intrusion."

"I appreciate your concern, Professor Dumbledore, but I'll handle any challenges that come my way. And just so we're clear, any further baseless accusations will not be taken lightly. If necessary, I won't hesitate to escalate this matter to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for potential misconduct."

With that, she smoothly rose from her seat, the scrape of the chair legs punctuating her departure. In the dimly lit hallways, Evaline couldn't suppress the amused smirk that tugged at her lips as she headed towards the Great Hall for dinner. The encounter with Dumbledore had been an unexpected twist in her day, but the audacity of his assumptions was almost comical to her.

Her footsteps echoed softly on the stone floor as she navigated the corridors, her mind replaying the conversation. The idea that she, an accomplished Unspeakable with the Este magic and mastery in Runes, could be manipulated or coerced was beyond ludicrous.

Evaline's senses snapped to full alert as a spell whizzed past her in the hallway, the air crackling with danger. In an instant, her wand was in her hand, her reflexes honed from years of training. She spun around, her movements fluid as she cast an Expelliarmus . 

The attacker's wand flew from their hand into Evaline's grasp, and before they could react, she swiftly cast a Silencio spell, followed by a Privacy Charm around the area to prevent anyone from witnessing the upcoming interaction. A Body-Binding Charm sealed the deal, immobilizing the assailant.

Her eyes locked onto the fallen figure, annoyance etching into her features as recognition settled in. Lucia Zabini. She groaned out loud, eyes glaring at the ceiling for patience.

Of course, it had to be her.

This situation was rapidly escalating from a mere annoyance to something far more troublesome.

Kneeling beside the now immobilized Lucia, Evaline let out an exasperated sigh. She raised her wand, casting a discreet Obliviate spell to erase the encounter from the girl's memory. This situation needed addressing, but now was not the time. With a deft wave of her wand, she cast a Revivify spell to awaken Lucia from her temporary state of unconsciousness.

The confusion that clouded Lucia's eyes quickly cleared as she got back on her feet, her departure seemingly unhindered by the brief and inexplicable lapse in her memory. Evaline remained hidden under the cloak of a Notice-Me-Not charm, ensuring her own presence remained unnoticed.

She watched as Lucia left the scene, irritation gnawing at her.

There were definitely loose ends to tie up, and it was becoming apparent that she needed to confront the brewing troubles head-on sooner rather than later.

Evaline's steps were swift as she entered the Great Hall, her eyes laser-focused on Enzo's figure seated among the Ravenclaw students. Without sparing a glance to her usual spot at the Slytherin table, she made a direct path to him.

A quick tap on his shoulder and a subtle nod were all the signals he needed. He scooted over to make room for her, and Evaline wasted no time in casting a privacy charm around them, ensuring their conversation remained discreet.

The crease between Enzo's brows deepened as his gaze landed on her forearm. "Evaline, you're bleeding," he pointed out, concern lacing his tone.

Her eyes followed his gaze, and indeed, there was a thin long cut oozing blood on her forearm. With a small shake of her head, she wandlessly cast a healing charm, the wound closing before her eyes.

"Im getting rusty," she mumbled, her voice a mix of annoyance and self-reprimand. A cleaning charm followed, erasing any trace of blood. Dante would fall over from laughter if he ever knew a firstie managed to cut her.

Enzo's frown deepened, his concern shifting from her wound to her story. "What happened?" he pressed, his tone firm.

Evaline wasted no time in explaining the recent encounters with Lucia Zabini, the break-ins, Dumbledore's odd interactions, and her suspicions about being targeted. Enzo's attention was riveted, his expression growing more serious with every word she spoke.

"It seems like she's targeting you," he deduced, ignoring the thing with Dumbledore for now.

Evaline nodded, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the table. "I thought the same, but it's strange. I don't have any significant involvement in this world. I don’t hold any significant assets nor titles in this time. Why would I be targeted?" She furrowed her brows in thought.

Enzo leaned back, considering her words. "Perhaps it's your connection with Marvolo. They might see you as a weak link in the group, given your reserved nature all these years."

"Could be," she conceded. "But it started even before they knew about Marvolo. Lucia mentioned my name the first time we met after the Welcoming Feast."

After a brief explanation, Enzo's brow rose in surprise. "A Zabini acknowledging an Este? That's unusual."

"Lucia Zabini doesn't exist. Not in my original time. Not at this time, attending Hogwarts."

A moment of silence as the words sunk in. He looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"In my time, the Zabini line didn't produce a Lucia Zabini. They didn’t even allow an Heiress to be take over the family line until later in the future," Evaline explained, mulling.

Enzo's expression shifted to slight alarm. "So, there's been a shift in the timeline."

She nodded, her gaze steady. "And it's connected to me somehow."

“When is it not?” he muttered, Enzo's appetite seemed to wane as he set down his utensils, his features a mixture of worry and contemplation. 

Evaline, on the other hand, seemed almost unfazed by the revelations as she finally helped herself to some food. Her muttering held a hint of exasperation, "Honestly, these kids are so annoying. I miss working with adults, despite their insufferable arrogance."

A moment of silence. Enzo couldn't help it; he burst into laughter, a mix of relief and amusement coloring his expression. Her ability to maintain her practicality even in the midst of such bizarre circumstances was both endearing and impressive.

As he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, he managed to regain his composure and asked a question that had been nagging at him. "Wait, one thing I never asked – how old are you really, back -or- uh ahead?- in your time?"

Evaline paused, her gaze slightly distant as she calculated. "Let's see... originally, when I got here I was 27. But then I spent 5 years in this era. So, mentally, I'm around 32 years old though my physical body should still be 27."

Enzo's eyes widened, disbelief evident on his face.

Then, the tension seemed to melt away, replaced by genuine laughter. Evaline's eyes couldn't help but roll at Enzo's prolonged bout of laughter, finding his amusement both contagious and slightly ridiculous. She took a bite of her chicken, her expression unimpressed as she watched him continue to chuckle.

She rolled her eyes, feigning an exaggerated sigh. "Congratulations, you've successfully entertained yourself. Now, cease the theatrics, child."

His laughter erupted once more, this time with a childlike delight that bordered on the absurd. Evaline just continued her dinner, one eye watching the boy laugh like his life depended on it.

She had forgotten that despite the boy being Stefano’s grandfather, he was but a mere child right now. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as if he had been hit by an Unforgivable Curse of hilarity.

Through his laughter, he managed to choke out, "I'm so sorry, but that's just... hilarious! You’ve been babysitting a bunch of teenage Slytherins!"

Evaline's lips twitched, "Well, considering I've practically been a babysitter for Abraxas and Orion," she muttered, spearing a piece of vegetable with her fork. "In first year, I had to make them sit in different corners of the room during study sessions because they wouldn't stop arguing over whether a Thestral's mane is silkier than a Hippogriff's. Abraxas had never even seen a Thestral, mind you, and Orion is terrified of all magical creatures bigger than the size of a hand."

That seemed to set off another round of laughter. Evaline ate her chicken.

"Speaking of," Enzo managed to straighten himself, his amusement still evident in his voice, "your... uh, pet project, has been sending death glares my way ever since you sat down."

"I'm aware. I'm letting him work through his mini-tantrum. It's good for character development, you know. It's how I dealt with some of my colleagues," She rolled her eyes, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she thought of Dante and Cara's regular fights. "And please, don't refer to him as a pet project. You couldn’t pay me to have a pet that prideful."

"Yeah, yeah," he snickered, resuming his hold on the utensils, "so, you and him still at odds?"

Evaline let out an exasperated sigh, her irritation evident in the way she speared a piece of her salad.

"That boy," she muttered, "he's got more arrogance in his little finger than most people have in their entire being. Honestly, sometimes I'm amazed he doesn't float away with his head so high up in the clouds."

He chuckled, slowly returning to his own dinner now that his anxiety has calmed a little. "You should've seen his face when you smiled at me. Looked like he'd bitten into a lemon."

A smirk curled on Evaline's lips. "Oh, absolutely. Sometimes I wonder if he forgets he's not the almighty ruler of the universe. One day, he'll step out of Hogwarts and realize that not everyone will bow down to his brilliance."

Enzo nodded thoughtfully, his expression mirroring his agreement. "You're right about that. He hasn't exactly been hobnobbing in the formal social circles since childhood, unlike other kids who have practically been groomed for it. His sudden entrance into the world might not be viewed in the most favorable light by those he needs to impress."

Evaline's annoyance seemed to morph into exasperation. "Exactly! And that's why I agreed to this ridiculous Slug Club thing with him. It's like his first hesitant baby step into the real world of social interaction. I want to see how he navigates the fact that not every person he encounters will swoon at his feet.”

Enzo leaned back, the corner of his mouth quaking up. "And I imagine you'll be there to guide him through it, whether he likes it or not."

“With that boy’s pride,” She muttered, a wry smile on her lips. "Well, someone has to make sure he doesn't accidentally set fire to the room or something equally dramatic."

Enzo laughed outright, "So, you're subjecting him to social boot camp?"

"Call it tough love," she shrugged, looking a bit too amused. "Someone's got to knock him off his high horse before he goes prancing into the wider wizarding society and makes an absolute fool of himself. Take it from me, the world is not a pretty place. Not now. Not in the future."

Chapter Text

The next day dawned with an air of tension that clung to Tom like a relentless shadow. The searing ache in his chest was an unwelcome reminder of the previous evening's ordeal.

The sight of Evaline seated beside Enzo during dinner had been a blow more brutal than he had anticipated.

The surge of anger that welled up within him as he watched Enzo's infectious laughter and Evaline's elusive smiles, ones she hadn't graced him with these days, felt like molten lava coursing through his veins.

Tom had reached his breaking point.

The fortress of his pride was crumbling under the weight of his emotions, for he had come to realise that Evaline's presence in his life was worth far more than the brittle armour of his ego. All he wanted for was to have her back, by his side once again.

Despite the emotional turmoil that threatened to consume him, Evaline continued to attend classes alongside Tom. However, her silence was an impenetrable wall, and her expressions remained inscrutable, as if Tom were a stranger she had never met. His heart ached with the weight of her distant demeanour, a stark contrast to the warmth they had once shared.

The following encounter unfolded in the defense class when Tom couldn't bear another moment of this silence. As he spotted Enzo approaching Evaline, desperation and urgency melded into his voice as he called out.

"Evaline, partner up with me."

She cast a fleeting glance at him, her features masking any trace of emotion.

For a fleeting heartbeat, Tom feared the rejection he anticipated. Yet, in a surprising turn, she rose from her seat, striding towards the padded mats, and drew her wand with a controlled grace. As Tom neared her, she positioned herself in a defensive stance, a silent yet undeniable invitation for him to proceed.

The first curses Tom cast were born from a mix of frustration and determination.

Each incantation was met with a casual wave of Evaline's wand, dispelling his attacks with an air of nonchalance that only fueled his determination further. But then, without a warning, a cloud of smoke erupted from the tip of Evaline's wand, obscuring Tom's vision. 

He acted swiftly, dispelling the smoke, but not swiftly enough to see the Expelliarmus hurtling toward him. His wand spiraled out of his grasp and into Evaline's awaiting hand. A mere ten seconds had passed – the shortest and most humbling duel Tom had ever experienced. His astonishment rendered him utterly speechless as Evaline nonchalantly returned his wand to him before silently retreating.

His hands balled into fists, knuckles white, and he couldn't contain his frustration any longer.

Lunging forward, Tom grasped Evaline's wrist, his voice dropping to a whisper, "Evaline, we need to talk."

Her gaze met his for an ephemeral instant, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. She wrenched her arm free from his grasp, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

Her words carried a promise, "Common room after dinner."

With those words hanging in the air, she spun on her heel, snatching her bag and joining Enzo, who had patiently awaited her. Tom ground his teeth, his jaw clenched in frustration, as he witnessed her easy smile directed at Enzo, the two of them exiting the classroom in tandem.

Beside him, Orion watched the pair walk out the room with a half frown, "At least she's agreed to speak with you."

༺═──────────────═༻

As the defense class concluded, Evaline swiftly fell into step beside Enzo, her purpose clear and her urgency palpable. In the shadow of the departing students, she leaned in and whispered, her words a quiet demand, "Well?"

Enzo's grin was as mischievous as ever, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, "Just ask, and you shall receive."

A discreet scroll exchanged hands, its contents swiftly concealed within Evaline's bag. It was a trove of information, primarily about the enigmatic Zabini family, with a particular focus on one figure: Lucia Zabini.

"Thanks," Evaline breathed, she couldn't afford to waste a moment. "Anything interesting?"

Enzo's tongue darted across his lips, a sign of his contemplation. "Grindelwald supporters, though they occupy a lower rung," he began, his gaze drifting as he recollected the details. "And yes, you were right. Lucia Zabini isn't the intended heir. She's allegedly proclaimed herself a recently discovered distant cousin of sorts, though there's no evidence to support that. Supposedly, her parents were squibs – unworthy, in her words, of raising a magical child. What's odd is that the Zabini family bestowed the mantle of heirship upon her, despite her upbringing among muggles."

Evaline's brows furrowed, her thoughts a whirlwind of conjectures and possibilities.

She began to speak, almost unconsciously, only to halt herself mid-sentence, her head shaking in disbelief. Was it possible Lucia was planted in the Zabini family by a more powerful force just for the sake of targeting Evaline? It wouldn't be the first time Evaline had been targeted given her status, though it would be a much sloppier attempt than usual.

"No, that's a bit farfetched," she muttered under her breath, as if grappling with the threads of a thought she was hesitant to fully articulate. Her words trailed off, a mumble meant for her ears alone, "Maybe it's my paranoia getting the best of me."

Enzo arched an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Care to share?"

A wry smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and she met his gaze, amusement dancing in her eyes. "I don't want to traumatize your young mind," she teased, her fingers unconsciously gripping the strap of her bookbag.

"You're going to bring that up? Really?" Enzo's scowl was a testament to his curiosity, his impatience getting the better of him. "Just tell me."

Evaline shook her head, her expression one of mock consideration. "No, it's sensitive information. Plus, I'm bound by a vow of secrecy," she remarked, a playful glint in her eye as she sidelong glanced at his pouting, childlike demeanor. "Now, now, child. Some things are best left to the adults."

"Is this payback for me making fun of you last night?" Enzo's scowl deepened, and he crossed his arms defiantly over his chest. "Fine, at least tell me why you're bound by secrecy."

A chuckle escaped Evaline's lips, a sound that carried a hint of mirth. She regarded Enzo with a knowing smile before finally revealing a facet of her enigmatic life, "I'm an Unspeakable in my actual time. Any and all cases we work on are bound by secrecy, under oath." 

His jaw dropped, eyes wide with disbelief. "You – an Unspeakable?" He stuttered, trying to wrap his head around the revelation. "But... and your parents? They let you work in such a dangerous field, especially considering you were – are... were, whatever! Especially since you were the sole heiress of the Este bloodline?"

Evaline's lips quirked in amusement at Enzo's verbal stumbling. She shrugged lightly, her gaze distant as if reminiscing. "Well, I started as an Auror at seventeen I think," she began, her voice carrying the weight of experience. "But that became mundane after a while."

"Really?" Enzo managed to utter, still grappling with the enormity of this revelation. "And... and how did you even become an Unspeakable? I mean, Estes are more associated with political justice, aren't they?"

She hummed softly, her gaze turning distant as memories resurfaced from the depths of her mind. "My mother passed away when I was rather young. After that, my grandfather became my guardian until his passing when I turned thirteen. With no other surviving blood relatives, despite all the family magic protections and wards surrounding the Este castle, I remained an enticing target, simply by virtue of being the heiress to such a powerful lineage." 

She continued, her tone tinged with a mixture of reminiscence and pragmatism. "So, I spent my formative years training within the walls of the Este castle – learning to survive. I duelled with Dark elves for practice, dark creatures who had an alliance with the Este name. When I was required to go outside, I always wove protective runes into my clothing or whatever items I carried. It became a ritual, one that saved me countless times," she added, a trace of bitterness in her smile, “It's probably where my interest in wards and runes began.”

"Then, at seventeen, I managed to secure an apprenticeship within the Auror department, since surviving for my life became my daily routine, it seemed appropriate. Even with my claim to ladyship, I remained a target, an alluring prize for ambitious politicians with their agendas. I specialized in wards and traps during my time with law enforcement." She paused, her features shifting slightly, her eyes betraying a flicker of hesitation before she continued, " When I was 23, I had a case where my wards destroyed-"

She cut herself off abruptly.

Shaking her head, she moved forward, sidestepping the sensitive topic. "My proficiency caught the attention of the right individuals – let's leave it at that. The next day, I was offered a position as an Unspeakable- an invitation from the Minister himself. They wanted me to delve into research and development of new wards. I accepted willingly. By then, I had my fair share of duels and the paperwork was getting rather tedious, so the allure of spending my days within my own research chambers, safeguarded and out of the fray, was incredibly appealing."

A long silence stretched between them, and after a while, Evaline cast a sidelong glance at Enzo, concern etching her features when he didn't respond. His wide-eyed stare, mouth slightly agape, and misty eyes hinted at the overwhelming emotions that had swelled within him. 

In her attempt to share her truth, she had inadvertently overwhelmed the young boy with a weighty narrative that was far beyond his years. Evaline's concern deepened, and she was about to offer comfort or even the option of obliviating his memory when he snapped back to the present, vehemently rejecting the idea.

"I-" Enzo's voice carried a mix of urgency and conviction as he stepped back, his body language a clear sign of his resistance. "I – I just..."

He faltered, his gaze averted as he bit his lip, struggling to find the right words.

Evaline's concern deepened, her worry etched across her face. "Are you alright?"

Enzo interrupted her, his voice brisk as he refocused their conversation, "Where were we? The Valti's?”

Enzo's interruption served as a poignant reminder of his concerns for his own future, his young mind grappling with the intricacies of family lineage. Evaline's smile, warm and reassuring, carried a soothing energy as she addressed his worries head-on.

"The Valti's have been a constant presence every step of the way," she emphasized, her voice a comforting murmur to the clearly distressed child, "They've been with me since I can remember – alive and well, a steadfast pillar of support."

"But you said you had no surviving family," Enzo pointed out, his voice carrying a hint of confusion.

Evaline gently corrected his interpretation, her tone patient and understanding, "I meant no surviving blood family. The Valti's have been my family in every sense that truly matters. I would readily give myself up for any one of them without hesitation."

His tense shoulders eased slightly, a glimmer of thoughtfulness flickering in his eyes. Then, those inquisitive eyes locked onto Evaline again, a mixture of empathy and concern evident in his gaze. 

"I'm sorry that you had to go through all that. No child should –" He swallowed, his words faltering under the weight of the sentiment he struggled to express. "I can't even imagine a life without my parents. I'm sorry, Evaline."

Her own memories resurfaced, the tumultuous journey of grief and acceptance that she had navigated after her grandfather's passing. The years of anger and pain, eventually evolving into a fragile peace. She knew what he meant, understood the depths of his empathy.

Evaline's smile remained soft, tinged with the wisdom of experience.

"It's alright, Enzo," she replied, her tone gentle. "Life isn't always fair, and not everyone gets the same cards dealt to them. I had my moments of joy while I could, and that's what matters."

Enzo's brow furrowed as he absorbed her words, the weight of her experiences sinking in. But dwelling on it wouldn't be helpful, Evaline knew from experience, so she deftly changed the subject, sighing theatrically. "I'm absolutely famished. Shall we make a trip to the kitchens?"

Enzo's scepticism was evident, his expression cautious, but he eventually nodded, allowing Evaline to steer the conversation away from the heaviness.

༺═──────────────═༻

After spending an entire day immersed in the bustling energy of the kitchens with Enzo – delving into conversations about house elves and the intricate web of Italian politics – Evaline finally found herself making her way to the common room. The clock had ticked well past curfew, a calculated decision as she had whispered to Marvolo about meeting her precisely at this clandestine hour.

Anticipation hummed beneath her skin as she crossed the threshold, her thoughts whirring with possible scenarios. Would he be stubborn, clinging to his stance with unwavering resolve?

Perhaps a begrudging apology would escape his lips, a token concession to mend their frayed connection. Or, more in line with his character, he might seize this opportunity to shift the blame onto her, weaving a web of intricate arguments to defend his actions.

But the reality that greeted her was a twist she hadn't foreseen.

Her footsteps faltered as she took in the sight before her – Marvolo standing at the heart of the empty common room, a solitary rose clutched in his hand. His expression was an enigma, unreadable yet marred by an underlying discomfort that even her perceptive gaze couldn't miss.

Marvolo was holding a flower. A rose.

Her instincts compelled her to speak, to fill the charged silence, but before she could utter a single word, Marvolo beat her to the punch.

"Orion said girls like flowers," he offered, a trace of vulnerability in his voice.

Evaline found herself momentarily speechless, a curious mixture of emotions swirling within her. She stepped fully into the room, allowing the entrance to close behind her, her gaze locked on Marvolo. 

He shifted his weight, clearly ill at ease, as he elaborated, "It’s my first time doing this. I thought I would give it a try."

A flicker of surprise danced across her features, her mind racing to catch up with the unexpected turn of events. He continued, his tone weighted with sincerity, "I realise my words may have been... inappropriate. I...apologise."

Time stretched, each second a testament to the shifting dynamics between them. One minute passed, then two, then three, the silence echoing between them, charged with unspoken words and emotions.

Then, a sound emerged from Evaline – a soft giggle that bubbled up unexpectedly. She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes alight with amusement, and Marvolo's expression twisted into an intriguing fusion of confusion and frustration.

With visible effort, she managed to compose herself, her laughter fading as she closed the distance between them. Her gaze remained locked on his, searching his features for any hint of pretence.

Sincerity, tinged with a hint of desperation, met her scrutiny, the grip of his fingers on the rose's stem betraying his nervousness.

Despite her earlier mirth, Evaline's heart softened, and a genuine smile tugged at the corners of her lips. This was a side of Marvolo she hadn't expected, a side that was awkward and uncertain, and yet, oddly endearing.

“Marvolo," she began, her voice gentle, "I appreciate the sentiment. And you're right, your previous words were... rather inappropriate."

His gaze never wavered from hers, awaiting her judgement.

"But your willingness to apologise and to extend this gesture," she gestured to the lone rose, "speaks volumes."

A complex array of emotions shifted across Marvolo's face – surprise, uncertainty, and a glimmer of hope. Evaline's gaze softened, her hand reaching out to gently take the rose from his fingers before he snapped the stem from nervousness.

"I accept your apology, Marvolo," Evaline's words hung in the air.

Marvolo's countenance underwent a remarkable transformation. Relief, yes, but there was also a glimmer of something deeper, a thawing of the guarded façade he typically wore. He let out a sigh of relief.

Her eyebrow quirked in amusement, she couldn't resist, "You sought advice from Orion?"

Marvolo's scowl was immediate, as if he had been caught in a vulnerable moment. "He got tired of our constant arguing," he grumbled, “He gave me a lecture yesterday at dinner. Then he gave me a lesson on apologies and social boundaries, especially with girls. Abraxas helped and drew a venn diagram.”

Evaline's laughter danced in the air, her genuine amusement lighting up her features. "Nevertheless," she said, her voice carrying a tone of sincerity, "I truly appreciate the effort, Marvolo."

His smile in response was genuine, a softness in his gaze that seemed almost unfamiliar in this context. "So, you're not angry?" he ventured, his tone seeking confirmation.

A glint of sharpness danced in her eyes as she answered, "As long as you can manage to refrain from snapping at me whenever I engage in conversations with others." Her words were pointed, her gaze unyielding. "We've long outgrown the era of petty jealousy."

His eyes narrowed in response, and she held his gaze with equal intensity, not flinching under his scrutiny.

"I don't get jealous," he asserted, his voice firm and a touch defensive.

Evaline's eyes remained steady, unflinching, and she returned his gaze with a calm resolve that spoke volumes.

He finally broke the stare, his tone admitting the truth he had been struggling to acknowledge, "I was caught off guard. You’ve refused to become friends with anyone other than Orion and I."

Her voice didn't waver as she reminded him of his initial response, her words a mirror reflecting his behavior, "And your initial reaction was to accuse me of adultery and speak to me as if I were worth nothing more than a mere house elf."

She didn't sugarcoat her words.

"You were the one who seemed to be flirting with some random boy," he retorted, his tone a blend of condescension and frustration.

Her eyes flashed with a hint of defensiveness, her voice sharpening as she corrected him, "Flirting is a rather misleading term. Not to mention wildly inaccurate."

He scoffed dismissively, a flicker of arrogance in his demeanor.

Evaline took a measured step back, her stance unyielding. Her eyes held a firm resolve as she spoke, her words cutting through the tension, "I don't appreciate being dictated, Marvolo. My interactions with Enzo are none of your concern, regardless of your misguided perceptions."

Marvolo's expression tightened, the atmosphere growing tense. Evaline's unwavering demeanor seemed to fuel a spark of frustration within him.

He took a step forward, his voice tinged with a sharp edge, "You're quick to defend him , aren't you?"

Her gaze remained steady, undaunted by his proximity. "I won't apologize for interacting with others," she replied evenly, “It has nothing to do with you.”

"Of course," he retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I should have known that my concerns would mean nothing to you."

Evaline's expression remained impassive, her eyes holding a glint of exasperation. "Your concerns would carry more weight if they were based on facts instead of baseless assumptions," she shot back, her voice steady and unwavering.

Marvolo's nostrils flared, his pride stinging from the direct hit. He took a step closer, their faces now mere inches apart, a charged energy flowing between them. "You think you have everyone figured out, don't you?" he hissed, a mixture of anger and something else simmering beneath the surface.

Her gaze remained unswerving, her own emotions masked behind a veil of calm resolve. "Not everyone. But I have you figured out. I’ve watched you turn into the person you are today. So, Marvolo, tell me what the real problem is because I’m sure this is more than just a mount of testosterone fueled jealousy."

The tension was palpable, a collision of wills that neither seemed ready to yield. Marvolo's chest heaved with a mixture of anger and an unfamiliar pang of self-doubt.

"Fine. Your interactions with Enzo don't bother me," Marvolo snapped, the words slicing through the air like a blade. His eyes bore into Evaline's with an intensity that matched the sharpness of his tone. "It's the fact that you seem to trust him so easily."

Evaline blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected outburst. The air around them crackled with tension as his accusation hung between them like a storm cloud waiting to burst. 

She watched as he swallowed, his anger palpable as he continued, "You only just met him, yet you've spent more time smiling with him than you have with me for the past years. You act different around him, and I want to know why."

His voice grew louder, his frustration and hurt echoing in the corners of each word, "Why does he get your trust so easily after I spent years earning it?"

Evaline's mind raced, processing the flood of emotions that marred Marvolo's typically composed demeanor. In this moment, he seemed to be anything but the confident, controlled young man she had come to know. Instead, he was a boy, his emotions raw and unfiltered.

She took a deep breath, pushing aside her initial surprise.

This was a breakthrough of sorts, a chance for them to address the underlying issues that had been festering beneath the surface. Despite the anger in his voice, Evaline recognized that this was a step forward, this was progress of all the work she had put into guiding Marvolo.

This was proof that she had made an impact, that all her years here were not wasted.

"Alright, Marvolo. Let's talk. Sit," Evaline said, after a long moment of thought.

She gestured to the couch, very pleased at the new development. Despite Marvolo’s bad mood, she couldn’t find it in herself to feel anything other than proud. Proud of him to express himself.

He stared at her for a moment, his gaze a mixture of defiance and curiosity, before he slowly complied, taking a seat. She mirrored his action, sitting across from him, the rose still clutched in her hand. Her eyes remained fixed on him, studying the boy in front of her, the boy whose complexities had become intertwined with her own.

He waited expectantly, the anger still simmering beneath the surface but now mingled with a trace of uncertainty. He had unleashed his frustration, but now he was in uncharted territory, awaiting her response.

However tumultuous the conversation had been, Evaline observed with a sense of satisfaction that this was indeed progress. Marvolo had spoken up, addressing what had been bothering him. The fact that his expression of his feelings had been explosive and laced with anger didn't deter her optimism.

At least, he was using words to communicate his emotions.

She reflected on the past, on the persona of the old Lord Voldemort who would have reacted quite differently. If faced with similar emotions, he might have resorted to rash actions, avoiding any form of conversation about his troubles altogether. This new Marvolo, despite his temper, was displaying a willingness to confront the underlying issues between them, and that was a step in the right direction.

"Okay," she began slowly, her tone measured as she chose her words carefully, "First, I'm glad you decided to talk to me about this before it escalated." She glanced at him, her gaze steady. "I realize how odd it must be for you, especially since I refuse to interact with those within your inner circle."

His scowl eased slightly, a flicker of curiosity entering his eyes.

"But this is different," she continued, her voice holding a note of assurance that belied the complexity of the situation.

He was still on edge, ready to argue, but she raised a hand, urging him to listen.

"This is a political matter. Enzo is the Heir of the Grand House of Valti," she began, her tone carrying a weight of significance. "The Grand House of Valti has been my family's allies for centuries – both as battle allies and political allies."

Marvolo's gaze sharpened, his attention fully captured by her words.

"You know I grew up orphaned," she continued, her gaze fixed on the dancing flames within the fireplace. "The House of Valti provided me with private support. For instance, they claimed me as their ward for legal reasons to ensure I wasn't sent to a random family. This way, I was allowed to remain in the Este estate on my own, despite the normal procedures."

Her words wove a tapestry of truth and half-truths, a skillful blend of reality and fabrication. She deftly merged her gratitude toward the Valti family in her own time with a plausible story that might have occurred in this era.

Marvolo's silence spoke volumes – he was clearly mulling over her words, assessing their authenticity.

"Enzo's presence in Hogwarts and his introduction to me weren't random," she continued, her gaze focused but distant. "He had already gained my trust, not all of it -but to an extent- before setting foot here."

Evaline's mind briefly flickered to the Valti family she knew – Stefano, Andrew, Lord Valti, Lady Valti. Her thoughts wove a delicate thread that connected her past and present, her words carefully chosen to align with the truth, no matter the era.

Tom's gaze remained intent on her, his calculating eyes seeking the truth beneath her words.

"I am indebted to the Grand House of Valti," she admitted, her voice softening with sincerity. "They stood by me, and in doing so, they earned my trust." She took a moment to let the weight of her words settle before continuing, "When Enzo approached me, he did so with the weight of our family's history behind him. He carries the legacy of our alliance, and that's a bond I cannot ignore."

No matter the era.  

She watched Marvolo closely, gauging his reaction. He stared at her with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. Evlaine knew he was only this open about his feelings because they were alone.

After a pause, he spoke, voice above a mere whisper, "And me? Have I gained your trust?"

Evaline's smile softened, a trace of warmth reaching her eyes. "Marvolo," she said, her tone gentle, "If you hadn't gained my trust, you wouldn't have set foot within the walls of my home." She chuckled softly, a hint of self-awareness in her words. "Despite the image you might have of me, I'm a very paranoid person."

And just like that, everything went back to normal. The tension of the past few days melted, as though it never happened and they continued with a sense of renewed understanding.

He raised an eyebrow, " You're paranoid? The person who has a room made entirely of glass at home? The person who snuck into a dragon’s cage and poked it in fourth year break just because the tamer said you couldn’t?"

She snorted softly, a hint of irony in her tone, "Immensely."

"You've never seemed paranoid."

"Really?" she drawled, "I look for exits in every room I set foot in, I wandlessly check all my food or drinks for poisons out of instinct, I have my wand a mere three inches from reach at all times, and I have robes with protective runes engraved on them. Oh, and by the way, all the robes I've given you also have those runes on them. It's not a common practice amongst wixen."

His brows shot up in astonishment, realizing that beneath her composed exterior, she had a whole arsenal of security measures.

"You act as though you'll be murdered at any given moment," he remarked, a touch of incredulity in his voice.

"It's a possibility," she muttered under her breath, knowing very well she spent the majority of her childhood learning how to merely survive, her lips curving into a wry smile.

With a graceful stretch, she stood up and yawned, her fatigue momentarily breaking through her carefully maintained facade. "Well, Marvolo, I think it's time for me to head to bed."

༺═──────────────═༻

Orion practically radiated excitement as he settled down beside Evaline, a ridiculously delighted grin plastered across his face as he observed the pair with palpable anticipation. His eagerness was almost tangible as he awaited an update on the situation he had inadvertently meddled in.

Evaline maintained a composed façade, taking a measured sip of her tea while effectively hiding her amusement. She perused the newspaper, seemingly unfazed by Orion's antics.

Marvolo, on the other hand, seemed to be on the brink of irritation. He ignored Orion's presence, opting instead to focus on buttering his toast, his demeanor nonchalant.

After a tense moment of Orion's barely contained enthusiasm, he couldn't hold back any longer. "Oh, come on! What happened!? Tell me!"

Evaline snorted softly, the corners of her lips quirking, while Marvolo released a heavy sigh. "Nothing happened," he responded, clearly exasperated by the anticipation.

Orion's eyes widened, a mix of disbelief and relief coursing through him. "Did you two make up? Did my advice work, or did you - yes, I'm looking at you Tom - stuff it up?"

Marvolo's annoyance became palpable as he retorted defensively, "I do not 'stuff things up'."

Orion's grin widened as he turned to Evaline, his gaze pleading. "So, it worked? You two—"

Before Evaline could respond, Marvolo cut in swiftly, his impatience evident. "Yes, yes," he interjected, his tone curt and almost dismissive, clearly not interested in dwelling on the matter further.

Orion's excitement was practically palpable as he leaned closer, unable to contain his curiosity. "Ha ha! How did he do it? Did he go for the flowers? Or the candlelight dinner?" he inquired, his voice brimming with enthusiasm.

Evaline arched an amused eyebrow, her gaze shifting to Marvolo, who seemed to be growing increasingly flustered by the moment. She couldn't help but tease him, her tone dry as she asked, "Candlelight dinner?"

Marvolo's ears tinged with a faint shade of red, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, all while trying to maintain his composure. 

Orion's eyebrows shot up in surprise,putting together the most possible outcome, "Flowers then?"

Marvolo scowled, glaring at his toast.

Evaline's quick response saved Marvolo from having to answer. "You seem to have quite the experience in dealing with disappointed women, don't you, Orion?" she quipped.

Orion's enthusiasm took a slight hit as Evaline's comment caught him off guard. He blinked, momentarily flustered, before recovering with a huff. "Hey, I'll have you know that my charm works wonders, thank you very much."

Evaline arched an eyebrow, her amusement evident. "Is that so?"

He nodded with a confident grin, clearly unfazed. "Absolutely. You'd be surprised how many hearts I've mended with my impeccable advice."

Evaline chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Impeccable, huh? Well, I'll take your word for it. Just remember to add 'love guru' to your list of accomplishments, Orion."

Orion struck a thoughtful pose, his grin growing wider. "Ah, 'Love Guru Orion Black' does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, put it right after 'Experienced disappointment'." Evaline muttered, eyes back on her newspaper headlines.

"This has nothing to do with love" Tom muttered, stabbing his bacon.

Orion hum of disbelief went unnoticed.

Chapter Text

Evaline's frown deepened as her eyes scanned the information once more. The details on Lucia Zabini seemed straightforward enough – a witch born to a pair of squib parents who had been murdered, brutally might she add, and had turned out to be some sort of distant cousin of the Zabini family.

Yet, there was something about the situation that didn't add up, something that nagged at her instincts.

Setting the scroll down beside a flickering candle, Evaline reclined in her chair.

This report is utterly useless.

There was no depth in the research, no recordings of possible motives- nothing below surface level information. It didn’t even mention who murdered the kid’s parents and why. In her true time, she would have utilized her resources as Lady Este to uncover hidden truths, but here, in this era, she was at a disadvantage.

Her mind raced as she considered her options. She had limited resources in this era compared to her time as Lady Este. Her only avenues right now were through Enzo, the goblins or finding out information herself. Clearly, Enzo didnt have much influence in Britain to gather such information about the Zabini. Perhaps she could seek assistance from the goblins; they were known to have a vast network of information.

She reached for quill and parchment, writing a letter to the goblins. Surely, the Gobins can be more useful.

For the right price, of course.

Once written, edited, double checked and sealed, she draped an outer robe over her nightgown and concealed the envelope within her robes. Grabbing her wand, she exited her dormitory, casting silencing charms on her shoes and a notice-me-not charm to avoid unnecessary encounters with professors.

As she approached the common room, her steps faltered upon hearing unfamiliar voices. Stopping on the last step, Evaline leaned on the wall, crossing her arms as she eavesdropped without shame.

"I demand a report," a hissed voice echoed around the room.

Evaline’s eyes narrowed in the dark, clearly never had heard the voice before. The voice sounded like an older man, raspy and scratchy. A man who smokes regularly. Scottish heritage but the accent so concealed, he might’ve been raised in a French community.

Evaline strained to hear the reply. Who exactly was conversing and why was it so late at night? It was quiet, shaky as it came out in nervous stutters, "I haven't found anything substantial yet, sir."

Lucia Zabini.

The first year was conversing with an odd man, who, given the demanding tone, was not the girls guardian nor someone she was on familiar and good terms with, if her nervousness was any indication. That caught Evaline’s attention.

The man’s voice, dripping with frustration, responded with a slight hiss after a moment of silence, "Two months and you've accomplished nothing?"

Lucia's voice quivered, "Sir, she appears quite ordinary. Are you certain about targeting Evaline? She behaves like any other student, rarely interacting with anyone outside of her two classmates and her studies."

Evaline's eyebrows twitched slightly at the description.

Well, that's one way to put it, she thought, her amusement blending with the seriousness of the situation. The mention of her habits, her isolation, made her realize how closely she was being observed. Her fingers unconsciously toyed with her wand as she decided how to go about this new development.

Clearly she was being monitored by the kid, but for who? And why? Evaline didn’t even exist formally within this time or outside of Hogwarts. Perhaps Evaline was not the main target and it was a scheme to get closer to Marvolo or someone of influence in the inner circle?

Black or Malfoy, perhaps?

The man's voice grew into a menacing growl, "You fool! Of course, she's maintaining a facade! She's likely aware that she's being targeted!"

"No, sir! She isn't aware! I haven't even attempted anything yet!" Lucia scrambled to defend herself desperately.

The man's assumption was correct, and it pleased her that her ability to read people had kept her one step ahead. Evaline's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. Her Obliviates were working as they should. She had been able to catch Lucia before any real harm was done and erase her memories of the attempts.

A soft, almost amused chuckle escaped Evaline's lips, muffled by the silencing charm she had placed on herself.

"Listen closely, girl," the man's tone turned ominous, "I orchestrated the murder of your parents to secure your title and smuggled you into Hogwarts. Your task is to gather every piece of information on Evaline Este, or I swear I'll make sure you rot in Azkaban for your parents' murder."

Evaline's irritation flared as she continued to listen.

Honestly, they can't do the spying themselves so they sent a child? How utterly lazy- the least they could've done is set some listening runes or something in her dorm. Some criminals truly lacked manners, threatening a child in such a manner was simply despicable. Her lips tightened into a scowl as she thought, Seriously, some of these people really need to learn some basic decency.

Her eyes narrowed as she discreetly peered around the corner, just in time to catch a glimpse of the retreating figure within the fireplace. The man who had been speaking to Lucia was unfamiliar to her, adorned with a mustache and an earring. She frowned, committing the image to memory for future investigation.

It seemed she had another name to add to her growing list of mysteries that needed solving.

Her focus shifted to Lucia, who stood trembling, fists clenched, eyes locked on the ground.

Evaline's brow furrowed.

Lucia was clearly being coerced into this, her actions driven by fear and manipulation. It all fit together now. An 11-year-old harbouring a grudge made little sense, especially when she wasn’t old enough to understand House politics yet- but a young girl being manipulated into carrying out a dangerous task was more plausible.

Quietly casting an invisibility spell on herself, Evaline stepped into the common room. She melded into the shadows, a silent observer. She watched as Lucia, wrapped up in her emotions, didn’t even notice Evaline, instead she wiped her eyes and hurriedly retreated to her dormitory, climbing the same stairs Evaline had listened in from just moments before.

Well, this certainly complicated matters.

A child coerced into gathering information about a mentally 27-year-old Unspeakable with auror training and the knowledge of the future was hardly a fair match. Evaline mulled over her options, her mind working through different scenarios. She considered whether she should intentionally reveal a hint of information to Lucia in order to protect the girl, but she quickly dismissed the idea.

The risk was too great.

Evaline's thoughts were still a whirlwind as she stood in the shadowy corner, her brow furrowed. Who could be behind this? Why was she being targeted? She tilted her head in thought, considering various angles. Could it be possible that whoever was manipulating Lucia knew about her original time or that she was not from here? It was unlikely, as only the Este bloodline and the Valti family were aware of her secret.

Still, she couldn't completely rule it out.

Perhaps it had something to do with her last name. Since she wasn't a recognized member of the Este house in this time period and had no apparent public connections with them, she could be viewed as a vulnerable target for exploitation. An Este Outcast, maybe?

Despite the era, the Este name held a weighty significance to those who knew of it.

With careful research, one would discover that the Este family was a lineage of royalty, possessing substantial political power and influence. Throughout history, they had maintained a high-ranking position in Italy and were held in both reverence and disdain, depending on the perspective. Their impact was undeniable, their name synonymous with authority and prestige, regardless of whether they were viewed favorably or not.

Evaline's gaze shifted back to the letter in her hand, the urgency of the issue rising. It was clear that obtaining information from the goblins had become an urgent priority, especially given this newfound understanding of the Este name's historical weight.

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline entered the owlry, the cool night air wrapped around her like a comforting shroud, and the soft hoots of the owls created a symphony in the dimly lit space. She moved gracefully among the perches, her presence causing the owls to shift and regard her with curious, luminous eyes. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of concern and determination, each step taking her closer to solving the enigma surrounding Lucia and the unknown man behind her actions.

Amidst the rustling feathers and hoots, Edgar glided down from a higher perch and alighted on her shoulder with a gentle touch. Evaline's lips curled into a fond smile as she felt the owl's warmth against her skin. Retrieving the parchment from her robe pocket, she took a moment to add some additional details about the recent interaction between Lucia and the man from the firecall.

The owl watched her intently, as if comprehending the gravity of the situation.

Resealing the envelope, Evaline gently attached the sealed letter to Edgar's leg, her fingers brushing over the owl's soft feathers. She looked into the bird's intelligent eyes, "Take this to the goblins, Edgar. It's important. Wait for their response. Be cautious, and if anyone attempts to intercept you, don't hesitate to return immediately.”

Edgar hooted in response, his feathers fluffing up in agreement. Evaline smiled softly, running her fingers along his neck in a comforting gesture. The owl nuzzled her affectionately, tugging playfully at a few strands of her hair before spreading his wings in readiness.

“Take care” she murmured and the owl took off, leaving behind a few stray feathers and Evaline’s growing annoyance with the matter at hand.

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss as he discreetly observed Evaline. Her distant demeanour was unusual, and it piqued his curiosity. She seemed to be deep in thought, her mind elsewhere as she sat down for breakfast. As he watched, he saw her mechanically pour her tea and absentmindedly nod along to Orion's chatter, her attention clearly on something else.

Just as his curiosity was growing, a sudden flurry of owl wings filled the Great Hall. His gaze instinctively followed the movement, and he watched as Evaline's face lit up when Edgar landed before her. He observed her gentle interaction with the owl, a side of her he hadn't often witnessed.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he focused his attention on their exchange. "No troubles?" she asked the owl quietly. 

The bird responded with a hoot and nuzzled into her hand, earning a fond smile from Evaline. As she retrieved the letter from Edgar's leg, and before Tom could question Evaline, the owl suddenly shifted its attention to him with a snap of its head.

Tom met the owl's gaze, his own eyes narrowing in response, remembering the previous interactions with the creature.

It had been years since he had encountered the peculiar owl, the last time being in first year when Evaline had sent him the communication mirror, which he now carried in his inner chest pocket of his robes at all times. Ever since, Evaline and him had no need for letters, simply communicating via mirror now.

Edgar, with a piece of bacon hanging from his beak, awarded by Evaline, stared back at Tom. Tom's narrowed gaze locked with Edgar's, and for a moment, he felt as though he was in some sort of silent staring contest with the owl. The half eaten bacon dangling from Edgar's beak only added to the absurdity of the situation.

Tom's lips twitched, and he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the avian's audacity.

Edgar blinked slowly, and Tom tilted his head slightly, suddenly feeling wary. The owl seemed to exude an air of casual nonchalance, as if it was fully aware of its ability to befuddle even the most composed of individuals.

Evaline finally united the letter, her attention shifting from the parchment to Edgar, who was now batting at the bacon with his beak, even though its massive eyes were still on Tom.

"Edgar, don't play with your food," she chided, her voice distant as her attention returned to her letter, causing Tom's eyebrow to raise even higher.

Edgar was certainly an unconventional owl.

As Edgar ate the bacon more decorously, Evaline's attention remained absorbed in her letter, a furrow forming between her brows. The owl's massive eyes, however, continued to be fixed on Tom, which was becoming increasingly unsettling. Tom felt a twinge of absurdity, as if engaged in some sort of unspoken owl-human standoff.

Suddenly, as if deciding it was time for a change of activity, Edgar hopped closer to Tom, its gaze shifting to his plate.

Tom's frown deepened, and he warned, "Don't."

Edgar's response was a deliberate inching closer, as though deliberately aiming to exasperate Tom. Tom's eyes narrowed even further as he pulled his plate protectively toward himself, his expression a mix of annoyance and bemusement.

"I'm warning you, you overgrown chicken," he muttered.

Edgar's attention darted back to Evaline, just for a moment, as if to confirm her attention was elsewhere, before he returned his focus to Tom. And then, in an unexpected turn of events, the owl hopped off the table and flapped its wings, landing directly on Tom's shoulder.

Tom stiffened, torn between surprise and bemusement. "What are you—"

Before he could finish, Edgar had nabbed a piece of bacon from Tom's plate with a swift movement of its beak. Tom stared at the audacious owl, mouth agape in shock. "You little—"

The owl let out a hoot that sounded oddly triumphant, as if it had just achieved a great victory over Tom's breakfast.

"I ought to fry you," Tom hissed at the owl, scowling.

The owl, however, seemed to take his threat as a mere suggestion and, in response, pecked its greasy beak at Tom's face before promptly hopping away back to Evaline. Tom's lips curled into a mixture of disgust and disbelief as he wiped the grease off with a napkin, shooting the bird a dirty look that probably translated to owl-language as 'I'm not done with you yet.'

Evaline glanced up, her lips quirking for a moment before she handed the owl a folded parchment.

With a last comical glare in Tom's direction, the owl picked up the parchment with its beak and took off. Tom's eyes followed the owl's path before grimacing and looking away as he felt grease on his skin, a mix of irritation and begrudging amusement lingering on his face.

"Did you just threaten to fry my owl?" Evaline asked after a moment, her amusement evident.

"Yes," Tom grumbled without shame, rubbing at his face in a desperate attempt to remove the grease, "I'm going to smell like bacon all day now."

Evaline raised a brow, her lips twitching with suppressed laughter, but she said nothing as Edgar flew back with another parchment. She took it from his beak, offering the owl another piece of bacon. The owl, however, turned its gaze to Tom, its large eyes wide and mischievous.

Tom's hand had already gone for his wand.

Before he could cast a spell, Evaline's grip on his wrist tightened, and she rolled her eyes. "Shoo, Edgar. Stop aggravating him, no matter how easy it may be."

The owl remained obstinate, refusing to move.

With a grin, Evaline leaned closer to the owl and whispered something that caught its attention. Tom's curiosity was piqued as the owl suddenly hooted, wings fluttering slightly in excitement. Evaline's grin widened, and she glanced at Tom, "You can come by during break, and I'll leave his bedroom window open."

The owl seemed to have taken up the offer eagerly, disappearing into the air, and Tom shook his head in a mix of exasperation and amusement. "You and that chicken…" he trailed off, unable to fully comprehend their unusual camaraderie. He shot her a warning glare, “If you open my window, I’ll hex you.”

Next to them, Orion had been watching the exchange with his mouth hanging open in sheer disbelief. He blinked a few times, as if trying to process the scene before him. "Did Tom just... argue with an owl?"

Evaline burst into laughter, her amusement bubbling over at the incredulous expression on Orion's face. Tom, on the other hand, shot Orion an exasperated look, muttering, "Don't act so surprised. That chicken started it."

Orion shook his head in amused disbelief. "Well, I've seen it all now. Tom Riddle, the great wizard, having a standoff with a bacon-thieving owl."

Evaline's laughter only intensified at that, and Tom just scowled. He turned his attention to Evaline’s hand, which was still gripping his wrist. "You can let go now," he muttered irritably, but his annoyance was momentarily sidetracked by the sight of a rip on her sleeve. "Why is your sleeve ripped?"

Evaline attempted to draw her hand back, laughter ceasing slowly, "It got caught on a nail."

Tom's frown deepened as he gripped her arm, refusing to let go as he observed the rip, his fingers lightly touching the fabric edge, "This rip is too neat to be from a nail. It looks like it's from a Severing Charm."

She raised a sceptical brow, her patience wearing thin, "Can I have my arm back?"

"Not until you tell me who attacked you with a Severing Charm and why you just lied to me about it," he demanded, his eyes narrowing.

She tugged her arm once, but he tightened his grip, his determination unwavering. She frowned, her patience waning, “Marvolo, you’re making this bigger than it is. Let go, please.”

His jaw was tightly clenched, his thoughts clearly conflicted. On one hand, he was annoyed by her evasion, yet on the other, he was genuinely concerned. After a tense pause, he finally released her arm, his gaze still fixed on her.

Rubbing her wrist where his grip had been, and he realised he might have been a bit too rough, she offered him a reassuring look. "I promise, it's nothing. It ripped last week when I snagged it on a loose nail in my wardrobe."

For the first time since he’s known her, Evaline was hiding something. And Tom didn’t like it.

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline found herself being followed all day. Not by an adversary, but rather by one of her own – Alexander Rosier. He seemed to have taken it upon himself to shadow her every move, even going as far as following her to the girls' restroom and waiting outside.

Annoyingly enough, Evaline had a strong suspicion that Marvolo had instructed Rosier to keep an eye on her. Unfortunately for him, Evaline was well-versed in the art of paranoia. 

With 27 years of experience as an Este, she had grown accustomed to being watched, whether by foes or overenthusiastic admirers of the esteemed Este lineage.

With her instincts honed over years of evading surveillance, Evaline skillfully slipped into an empty alcove. Swiftly, she cast an invisibility charm over herself, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she observed Alexander Rosier's comical reaction. His confusion and panic were palpable as he desperately scanned the area, his spells searching for her presence in vain.

Evaline effortlessly deflected his detection spells, her years of training giving her an advantage. She savored the moment, amused by Rosier's growing bewilderment. After a few more minutes of watching his flustered attempts, the boy eventually turned and sprinted down the corridor, presumably on his way to report her sudden "disappearance" to Marvolo.

Walking leisurely in the opposite direction, Evaline's satisfaction radiated from her demeanor. A soft hum escaped her lips as she made her way to the library, following her usual path to the secluded spot in the last aisle. Since it was a Saturday, the library was nearly deserted.

It didn't take long for Rosier to make his report to Marvolo, as the Slytherin prefect soon strolled into the library, heading directly for Evaline. His smile was as charming as ever when he took a seat across from her, “Evaline.”

She cast a brief, amused glance at him before returning her attention to her book. “Your spies need some refinement.”

Marvolo's eyes bore into her with intensity as he spoke, “I wouldn't need spies at all if you just told me what you’re hiding from me.”

Without looking up from her book, Evaline muttered, “My most profound secret is that I’m a time traveller from the future, and I recently won an Order of Merlin. Mentally, I'm 32 years old, and right now, I'm really craving a firewhiskey.”

Marvolo sighed in exasperation, rolling his eyes. "Don't insult me. At least make your excuses believable."

Evaline finally looked up from her book, her gaze meeting Marvolo's with a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Believable excuses would be too boring, wouldn't they?"

Marvolo leaned forward, his irritation evident. "You don't give me much choice but to resort to boring when you keep avoiding my questions."

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "What's the rush, Marvolo? You have all the time in the world, don't you?"

Marvolo's jaw clenched as he leaned back in his chair, clearly frustrated with Evaline's evasive answers. "Have you always been this infuriating?”

Her attention was already back on her book, “Yes.”

“Why was your sleeve ripped? Is it Zabini again– Did she try something?” Marvolo tried again. Merlin, he could be stubborn when he wanted to.

She could feel his glare burning holes into her forehead but she paid no mind to it. Flipping a page in her book she answered absentmindedly, “I got hungry and tried to eat my robes.”

“Evaline!” He all but hissed at her.

“It wasn't very appealing, truth be told,” she continued, barely acknowledging his mounting irritation, very amused, “A bit too thready for my tastes- Ow!”

Evaline glowered at the boy, head snapping up from her reading as a mild stinging hex hit her shoulder. Marvolo smirked, wand in hand and poised to send another hex at her. She raised a brow and waved a hand, not even drawing her wand and watched with amusement as Marvolo threw up a last second protego that barely blocked her Duro spell, which she cancelled easily when it was flung back at her.

“You’re not Medusa,” he rolled his eyes at her, lowering his shield, “Stop trying to turn me into stone.”

"One day, Marvolo, one day," she murmured as her eyes returned to the page she had paused on.

He started with a sharp tone, "Just last night, you said you trusted me. Now you're avoiding my questions. What's the meaning of this?"

Evaline met his gaze, her expression unchanged, as she responded, "I do trust you."

His frustration remained palpable as he pressed on, "Then why the secrecy? Why did you meet with Dumbledore?"

She paused for a moment, her eyes searching his.

Marvolo's focus was unwavering, and he held her gaze as though trying to discern her thoughts. After a brief silence, Evaline finally spoke, her voice steady and calm, "Dumbledore believes I'm being threatened."

Marvolo's irritation vanished in an instant, replaced by a sharp, focused curiosity. "By whom? Give me a name."

Evaline's lips twitched slightly as she met his gaze, a faint spark of amusement in her eyes. Marvolo took a moment to process her reaction, and then it hit him.

His eyes widened in disbelief, and he sneered, "Me? Dumbledore thinks I'm threatening you!?"

She snorted softly, shaking her head, and returned her attention to her book, saying with a hint of amusement, "Don't worry, Marvolo. I made it quite clear to Dumbledore that he should get his facts straight. I even threatened him with legal action if he doesn't get it together."

Silence reigned between them for a few moments.

Marvolo's irritation, fueled by the absurdity of the situation, continued to simmer. He couldn't fathom how anyone, let alone someone as well-informed as Dumbledore, could believe he posed a threat to Evaline. It was clear that this belief had struck a nerve with him.

After a few minutes of simmering frustration, he couldn't hold it in any longer. He turned to Evaline and began to speak, his voice dripping with a mixture of incredulity and annoyance.

"I find it utterly preposterous that anyone, let alone Dumbledore, could think I pose a threat to you. I mean, honestly, of all the people in this wretched castle, it's me they suspect? I'm not some common bully or a reckless troublemaker. I have my goals and ambitions, and they don't and will never involve targeting you."

Evaline blinked, looking up at the sudden rant but he wasn't even looking at her- glaring at the wall beside them, jaw clenched as he continued.

His words were sharp, and his frustration was evident as he continued, "I don't understand how he could jump to such conclusions without any substantial evidence. What exactly has transpired to make him believe that I'm a danger to you? Me! Has he taken leave of his senses?"

Evaline couldn't help but raise an amused brow as he continued his indignant tirade. He seemed to be utterly flabbergasted by the accusation, which, in her eyes, was both flattering and comical.

Marvolo's eyes blazed with intensity as he ranted, his irritation clearly getting the better of him. "It's insulting that my character and intentions are so easily misconstrued. I may be many things, but I am not a threat to you. It's as if he thinks I'm some sort of amater dark wizard lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike."

He seemed to be genuinely offended by the accusation, and it was both amusing and endearing to see how strongly he reacted to the idea of being accused of hurting her.

Evaline bit her lip to stifle a chuckle, finding his passionate defense oddly endearing. 

Chapter Text

Ten minutes into the Potions class, Evaline began to sense that something was seriously wrong. Discomfort gnawed at her, growing stronger with every passing second. She shifted in her seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it only seemed to worsen.

Her fingers tapped nervously on the desk as she attempted to control her discomfort. She took slow, measured breaths, trying to calm herself, but it was no use. The queasiness persisted, growing more unbearable by the second.

Beside her, Marvolo had yet to look away from the notes he had been taking diligently. When she shifted in her seat for the fourth time, he glanced at her with furrowed brows, "Evaline, stop fidgeting."

She shot him a quick, strained smile and nodded, but her discomfort was growing too intense to ignore. Her breathing became shallow, and she felt a cold sweat forming on her forehead. Panic was beginning to creep in.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she raised her hand to get Professor Slughorn's attention. "Professor, may I be excused?"

Professor Slughorn, ever the understanding teacher, nodded with a warm smile. "Of course, my dear. Take your time."

Without another word, Evaline hastily shot up from her desk, almost knocking over the inkwell -which Marvolo immediately halted to prevent it from falling- but she paid no mind to it as she all but fled from the room, leaving her bags and books behind along with some concerned glances.

༺═──────────────═༻

“Orion, with me. Abraxas, pack her bag.” Tom ordered the second they were dismissed, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he turned to leave. He was already out the door, the first student to leave and didn't wait to see if Orion had followed, knowing the boy would.

Tom weaved through the sudden influx of students, trying his best not to hex anyone who got in his way as he rushed to the nearest girls' lavatory. Evaline had left the classroom to use the bathroom and hadn't returned since. As he hurried along, he berated himself for not realising something was wrong sooner. Evaline was never one to fidget in class, no matter how bored she got.

Without waiting to see if Orion kept pace, Tom reached the nearest girls' lavatory. Social norms and propriety were the last things on his mind as he barged in. Orion hesitated at the threshold but then decided to follow Tom's lead.

The sounds of retching reached his ears. Without a second thought, Orion turned on his heel and dashed off to get help. Tom quickly located the stall with the door ajar and knocked before pulling it open. 

He paled. Evaline was on the floor, her fingers tightly gripping the toilet bowl as if her life depended on it. She looked deathly pale, and her entire body shook uncontrollably. Tom noted her dishevelled appearance, her tie haphazardly tugged off and still loosely draped around her neck.

Snapping out of his shock, Tom moved swiftly to her side. He carefully gathered her hair back as she arched over the toilet, though nothing came out as her body wracked with dry heaves. Realising she had already emptied her stomach, he gently helped her to her feet and pulled her away from the toilet.

"Come on, Evaline. Let's get you out of this stall," he murmured softly, despite the rising panic in his guts, wrapping an arm around her waist for support. 

She complied, taking shaky, unsteady breaths. Her trembling hand clung to his arm as she leaned heavily on him, resting her head on his shoulder.

He could feel the abnormal heat radiating from her forehead through his robes.

As Tom held Evaline, the mediwitch rushed into the bathroom with Orion closely behind her. She immediately went into action, fussing and brandishing her wand as she cast diagnostic spells.

"Oh dear, what's happened?" she muttered as she tutted in concern. "Food poisoning, dehydration. Sensitive diet? Come, come, to the infirmary with you. Can you walk?"

Evaline nodded weakly, her eyes heavy as she swallowed.

Tom's grip on her only tightened as he half-walked, half-carried her to the infirmary. Students they passed in the corridors watched with curious eyes, but a single glare from Tom made them scatter with haste.

With purposeful strides, Tom approached the designated bed, carefully helping her onto the  sheets. The mediwitch swiftly positioned a tray of potions nearby, ready for immediate use.

“Alright dear, take this,” The mediwitch reached out to Evaline, an uncorked potion vial in hand but Evaline held out a trembling hand, pushing the potion away. “A simple pain reliever, dear.”

Still, Evaline shook her head and Tom watched with a frown as she struggled to keep her eyes open and slowly, her protests fell short as her hand slumped and her eyes closed. Something was off. Tom felt his heart lurch to his throat at the sight.

Standing by the bedside, Tom couldn't tear his eyes away from Evaline's pale face. It was as if time stood still, his heart pounding in his chest, a knot of worry tightening within him. He watched intently as the mediwitch's hands moved with practiced precision, her expertise evident in every touch, spelling the potion Evaline refused to drink into her stomach directly.

There was a heavy silence and Tom instantly knew something was wrong. Dread pooled in his stomach.

And then Evaline convulsed, coughing violently even in her unconscious state.

Gasping for oxygen, she fought to breathe. The mediwitch acted swiftly, administering another potion and waving her wand with a flick of desperation. Gradually, Evaline's coughing subsided, leaving her with shallow breaths.

And then, in the midst of the tense atmosphere, Evaline's breaths grew shorter, slower, until they ceased altogether. Tom's heart skipped a beat, his chest tightening with a mixture of unease and confusion. 

Evaline wasn’t breathing.

Tom's eyes remained locked on the mediwitch as she worked with increasing desperation. The sense of urgency in the room was palpable, and each passing moment felt like an eternity. He could hardly breathe, his chest tight with dread, as he watched Evaline's lifeless form.

Evaline wasn’t breathing.

The mediwitch swiftly administered another potion, her hands trembling ever so slightly. The seconds ticked by, painfully slow, and Tom's heart pounded in his chest. He held his breath, his eyes never leaving Evaline. Time seemed to hang in the balance.

But then, something snapped inside Tom. Panic surged through him, gripping his heart in a vice.

Evaline wasn’t breathing .

Evaline wasn't breathing, and it seemed like no one knew what to do. The mediwitch appeared confused, her gestures growing more frantic as she waved her wand, yet nothing was changing.

In that harrowing moment, fear washed over Tom like a tidal wave. For the first time since Evaline had taken him away from the orphanage all those years ago, he felt a raw, unbridled fear. But it wasn't for himself; it was for someone else—for Evaline.

The infirmary doors swung open with a resounding thud, and Tom's attention was abruptly torn away from Evaline's lifeless form. Enzo burst into the room like a whirlwind. His dark hair was dishevelled, his elegant robes rumpled in haste, and his eyes betrayed a mix of panic and desperation as they darted around the infirmary. 

“No potions!” Enzo's voice quivered with urgency, and his words sent a jolt of through Tom as the boy came to a stop next to him, panting harshly, “Dittany reacts badly with Lamiaceae poisoning!"

Dittany, known for its potent healing abilities, contains magical compounds that react adversely with the dark magical essence of Lamiaceae poison. The inherent magical energies clash, creating a volatile reaction that intensifies the symptoms of Lamiaceae poisoning rather than alleviating them.

That's why Evaline refused to drink the potion. That's why she rejected it until she simply could not.

The mediwitch's face turned ashen, and in a sudden burst of action, she leaped into motion. "Someone, fetch Professor Slughorn!" Her voice held an unmistakable note of alarm, and the urgency in the room escalated.

Tom found himself frozen, rooted in place, a spectator to the unfolding chaos. 

His mind raced, but his body refused to respond as he helplessly watched desperate attempts to save Evaline. Orion reacted swiftly, bolting out of the infirmary like a streak of lightning in search of Professor Slughorn.

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline found herself floating, suspended in a void of nothingness. Slowly, her eyes blinked open, only to be met with two eerie voids of swirling black smoke. Her initial surprise led to a startled yelp that echoed through the formless void.

Cackles, bone-chilling and ominous, rang out, reverberating through the empty space. She scowled, glaring at Death, irritation taking over her fear. "I better not be dead."

The voice that responded was haunting, a sibilant hiss that sent shivers down her spine. "You are not mortal, but neither are you truly among the living." Death, in all its dark glory, grinned wickedly at her. It seemed curious, tilting its nebulous head as though pondering her fate. "I am uncertain how long you will survive now that you have ingested Dittany while suffering from Lamiaceae poisoning."

Evaline groaned in exasperation, shutting her eyes tightly as she realized what had happened. "Those fools can’t take a hint," she exhaled harshly, rubbing her face, “I despise Britain.”

Death's ethereal presence seemed unfazed by Evaline's frustration as it casually waved off her reaction, its formless tendrils of black smoke swirling lazily. It proceeded to pose another question, its interest focused on matters beyond her immediate predicament.

"How goes your mission?" Death inquired.

Evaline, despite her unusual and disorienting surroundings, couldn't help but respond with a nonchalant shrug. The weight of Death's question seemed far less significant in comparison to her current predicament -very real death due to blood clotting.

"Same old, same old," Evaline replied with an air of indifference, her voice carrying the weight of countless experiences. "Trouble, chaos, and some occasional surprises. I started to lose interest after the second year."

Death seemed to share her sentiment. "Indeed, it seems it is a tedious thing to deal with mortals," he remarked, his tone filled with unmistakable displeasure, a rare glimpse into the emotions of an eternal being.

She blinked.

Death only came into contact with mortals when their time had run out, collecting their souls as they transitioned from the realm of the living to whatever awaited beyond. No doubt, those encounters were often fraught with hysteria and tears, as the departed came face to face with their ultimate fate. She couldn't really blame Death for finding mortals tedious. 

The bitter irony of it all drew a sardonic smile to Evaline's lips.

Raising a sceptical eyebrow, she crossed her arms. "Well, you seem to have no problems popping up to see me over the past years. Scared the living daylights out of me as well."

"You are intriguing," Death stated simply, and Evaline couldn't help but feel a shiver down her spine at the weight of his words.

She leaned forward -or floated forward? It was an odd sensation, whatever it was- curiosity getting the better of her. "Did you stalk all my ancestors when they were sent on their missions?"

Death's response was swift and somewhat unexpected. "I have never met your ancestors," he revealed, his voice resonating with an air of finality. "I only meet them when their mortal time runs out, and they come to me. You are the first mortal I have met with Lady Fate."

Evaline found herself smirking at this revelation.

She had always been somewhat of a black sheep in her family, going into research rather than the typical political justice all Este’s specialise in, and now it seemed that even in the eyes of Death, she stood out.

"Well," she mused, "I suppose I always have been somewhat of an anomaly."

Death's response was a low, rumbling chuckle that sent a shiver down Evaline's spine. It was a sound that held eons of wisdom and experience, a stark contrast to her own relatively short time in the world of magic and mystery.

"An anomaly indeed," Death agreed, its smoky form shifting as it regarded her. "But perhaps that is what makes you so intriguing."

If she had managed to intrigue one of the oldest and most enigmatic beings in existence, then she must be doing something right.

"So," she said, smiling at the Diety that had somehow managed to gain a significance in her heart, "what brings you to my humble unconscious state today, Death? Just checking in on your favourite anomaly?"

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom's world seemed to grind to a halt, frozen in a cruel tableau. 

He felt like a mere observer, disconnected from his own body, as chaos swirled around him. The distant thumping of his heart resonated in his ears as he watched Enzo and the mediwitch exchange heated words, their voices muffled and unintelligible to his ears.

Enzo's voice, filled with desperation, clashed with the mediwitch's panicked exclamations. Tom watched, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum, as Professor Slughorn rushed into the infirmary, his usually jovial face twisted with concern when he saw Evaline. 

The sight alone seemed to trigger something in him, as he sprung into action.

Enzo and the mediwitch were engrossed in a rapid exchange of information, both listening intently as Enzo rattled off details about Evaline that Tom had never known, despite living with her for five years. It was intimate, personal knowledge, shared with Enzo in a way Tom had never experienced.

“...mild digestive disorder...greasy foods...”

“...heightened sensitivity to smells…morning meals…”

“...sensitive stomach-”

Tom didn't know any of that about Evaline. Nothing.

He watched as the mediwitch administered a blood-thinning potion, a desperate attempt to counteract the allergic reaction that was slowly suffocating Evaline's life. He watched as the woman desperately tried anything to keep Evaline’s blood moving in her viens. 

Enzo's voice cut through the air, instructing Professor Slughorn on how to concoct an antidote for what was essentially poison to Evaline. The urgency in Enzo's tone was matched by the gravity of the situation.

"Counteract with powdered moonstone, ground mistletoe berries, and a dragonfly thorax," Enzo instructed with precision as he hovered over the emergency cauldron at the back of the infirmary, "It will neutralize the toxins in her system."

Tom watched it all unfold, every second stretching into eternity, while he remained rooted in place, unable to move or contribute. His frustration and fear gnawed at him, but his body refused to obey his frantic commands.

He felt like a helpless spectator, forced to watch as the girl he cared about lay motionless before him, her life hanging in the balance.

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline's parting words hung in the air as she felt a peculiar tug deep within her core. "It was a nice chat," she said with a smile. "We should meet up for tea sometime."

Death responded with a grin, and then, as if in response to an unspoken cue, Evaline's eyes snapped open.

The dimly lit infirmary room had an eerie stillness to it, with only the muffled sounds of whispered conversations echoing from the hallway outside. Evaline lay on a crisp white bed, her vision blurry as she stared up at the ceiling, which seemed unnaturally high. Pain coursed through her body, every muscle protesting any movement, and her head throbbed as if it had a heartbeat of its own.

In this hazy state, she heard the unmistakable sound of a single sniff. 

The scent of antiseptic and medicinal potions lingered in the air, filling her senses. She shifted her gaze to the side, her neck protesting the movement, and saw the unexpected figure of Abraxas Malfoy at her bedside.

He was hunched over a letter, his blond hair dishevelled, and his elegant robes rumpled as if he had hurriedly thrown them on. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his face bore a look of devastation, with his trembling hand clutching the letter as if it held the weight of the world.

For a moment, Evaline simply closed her eyes in weary resignation. Babysitting hormonal teenagers sure is a full time job.

The world had an uncanny way of throwing unexpected twists her way. After a deep breath, she finally broke the silence, her voice low, "I do hope whatever news you've received isn't too devastating."

Abraxas' head snapped up in shock, his eyes widening as he took in her awake and aware state. "You're awake!"

With a hint of sardonic humor, Evaline quipped, "Excellent observation, ten points to Slytherin." 

She winced, her own words inadvertently too loud to her ears, as she attempted to push herself into a sitting position. Her muscles protested vehemently, and she felt as if her bones were fragile, like porcelain. 

How long had she been unconscious?

In an instant, Abraxas was by her side, gently aiding her into a seated position. Once she was settled, he offered her a glass of water. "You've been asleep for four days."

Evaline accepted the water gratefully, taking measured sips. 

She hummed softly, her eyes drifting across the curtained partitions surrounding her bed, which separated her from the rest of the infirmary. It was a small sanctuary within the larger room.

"That's an improvement from last time," she remarked casually, her voice heavy with fatigue, ”I was out for thirteen days once.”

Abraxas' expression turned ashen. "Thirteen days?"

She offered a wry smile. "Grandfather was absolutely furious when he found out someone administered a potion to me without his consent. He tore the Ministry into shreds, and a Grand House lost their status that day." 

The image of her grandfather's wrath brought a mixture of emotions to the surface. She quickly shook herself from her reverie and turned her gaze back to Abraxas, who watched her with a bewildered expression. "How long did it take for them to realize?"

Abraxas shook his head, his eyes filled with concern. "It didn't take long. The Valti kid burst into the infirmary in minutes and yelled at the mediwitch." He paused briefly before continuing, "He helped make the antidote with Slughorn and instructed the mediwitch on what to do to keep your... your blood flowing."

" Heir Valti," she corrected almost absently, though her expression conveyed an expectation of nothing less. "It's not surprising; the Valtis are incredibly talented in healing."

"Really?" 

"Of course," Evaline affirmed, shifting to get more comfortable, her voice growing fainter as exhaustion began to wash over her. "They’ve been the best healers in Italy for generations - some specialise in mind healing as well. They're one of the oldest families who have managed to maintain their Grand status for centuries."

"You keep mentioning that - as though someone can simply take away a family's status," Abraxas asked, frowning.

"In Italy, a 'Grand' status is equivalent to what you may know as 'Ancient and Noble' status in Britain," Evaline explained with a hint of weariness, her gaze wandering around the room. "It's granted based on your contribution to the country. You start with a 'Great' status before your family name, and after ten years of successfully holding that status, you are granted the Grand name. Despite that, they both have a seat in the Ministry."

Abraxas hesitated for a moment, his question tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "And... how can one lose status?"

Evaline sighed softly, her eyes half-lidded as she contemplated her next words, knowing that they might not sit well with the young Malfoy.

"When one stops contributing to the country, when one sits on their riches, assets, and reputation, doing nothing to further the country’s welfare, one's status and seat in the Ministry is stripped from them," she explained, her voice unapologetic. "If you do not contribute, you simply do not get a say in the country's matters."

Abraxas listened carefully, absorbing her words with a contemplative expression. He didn't react with the expected tantrum or agitation. Instead, he posed another question, "Who decides?"

She considered his question for a moment before responding, "There's a vote. The decision isn't made lightly." Her curiosity got the better of her, deciding to shift the conversation, and she tilted her head slightly, observing the redness under his eyes. "What happened? Because I'm sure you're not that upset seeing me in the hospital wing."

Indeed, it was common knowledge that Malfoy and Evaline had never quite seen eye to eye. Their animosity had simmered since their first year, when he had shoved her. Yet, as time went on, he had done nothing more to antagonize her, particularly after Orion had befriended her and Marvolo had risen to prominence.

Abraxas stiffened at her question, but when he saw no malicious intent in her gaze, he relented, though he averted his eyes. "Lucy passed away recently."

Evaline lowered her head slightly, her expression softening as she empathised with his grief. She was no stranger to loss herself. "I'm sorry for your loss. She was family?"

Abraxas shifted uncomfortably, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink as he spoke, "She... she was my family." He hesitated, swallowing the lump in his throat. "She was my…peacock. I have had her since she was a peachick."

Evaline regarded him for a long moment, her usual sharpness softened by genuine sympathy. She closed her eyes, leaning back into the pillows as her headache resurfaced. 

"I truly am sorry for your loss," she repeated quietly.

She could sense his surprise at not being met with mockery or disdain. Clearly, the boy had been ridiculed by others if his reaction was so extreme. 

A heavy silence, thick with tension and unspoken emotions, lingered in the dimly lit infirmary. Evaline's shallow breaths were the only sounds that broke the stillness, creating a subtle contrast to the solemn atmosphere.

Abraxas, with his blond hair slightly disheveled and eyes reddened from tears, hesitated for a moment before finding the courage to voice his fear. His words were almost timid, almost trembling, something she had never seen from the boy, as he asked, "You don’t think it's ridiculous?”

Evaline, her eyes veiled in shadows beneath partially closed lids, responded in a tone that was as gentle as it was understanding. Her voice carried a soothing cadence, "Grief is the natural reaction to loss. You clearly had formed a bond with Lucy, and now she is gone. You're grieving for her. There is nothing wrong with that."

A shuddering breath escaped Abraxas, and he muttered a quiet "Thank you." The words were barely audible, but they held a deep sense of gratitude.

Evaline, even in her weakened state, mustered a small, sympathetic smile. "There's nothing wrong with being human, Malfoy."

He corrected the name with a firm yet vulnerable tone, "Abraxas."

She acknowledged his choice with a subtle nod. "Evaline, then."

As they shared this rare moment of vulnerability and connection, Evaline decided to ask for his help. Her headache had grown to an unbearable level, and she couldn't hide her discomfort any longer. 

Her voice, though still soft, carried a touch of urgency, "Now, Abraxas, would you be so kind as to fetch someone before I pass out from this headache? It is getting rather unbearable."

Abraxas, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions, let out an almost anguished sound as he shot up from his seat. He scolded her quickly for not mentioning her condition earlier, his concern and frustration evident. Then, with a sense of duty and determination, he swiftly disappeared behind the curtains in search of the mediwitch.

As she watched him go, a small smile played on her lips. In that moment, she was reminded that despite their differences and past animosity, he was, at his core, just a child dealing with overwhelming emotions.

A few seconds later, the curtain was pulled back harshly, and the mediwitch appeared, her hair unbound and tousled. She was still dressed in her uniform, and with a quick glance out the window to see it was dark, Evaline realised that it was likely past curfew.

Evaline offered an apologetic smile to the dishevelled mediwitch. "I apologize, Signora , for interrupting your rest."

The witch, although clearly tired, waved her off dismissively. "Oh, dear, it's all part of the job. Now, let's have a look at you." She reached into her robes and produced a wand, its tip aglow with a soft, warm light. "Any dizziness or nausea?"

Evaline sighed, her discomfort evident. "Just a headache and aching muscles," she answered, her words tinged with exhaustion. She almost dozed off for a moment before catching herself. "It's not unusual; I should be good to go by tomorrow."

The mediwitch's eyes narrowed as she examined Evaline closely, her gaze piercing like only a seasoned healer's could be. "You'll leave when I say you leave, missy," she declared firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

A small smile quirked Evaline's lips despite her discomfort. "You remind me of someone very dear to me, Signora," the words slipped out before she could stop them.

The mediwitch's stern expression softened, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Who might that be?"

Evaline chuckled softly. "A friend's wife," she explained. "She's a lawyer, so her intimidation skills are legally scary."

The witch couldn't help but smile as she handed Evaline a vial of potion. Seeing Evaline's initial grimace, she hurried to reassure her. "Your friend, Mr. Valti, made this one with Professor Slughorn. Rather talented in healing, that boy. He'll make a fine healer one day."

Evaline accepted the potion with much more ease now, her trust in Enzo's abilities reassuring her.

The doors burst open with a dramatic swing, and Marvolo practically charged into the room. His eyes locked onto her immediately, and he crossed the room with large, hurried strides. Evaline watched him through half-lidded eyes, the exhaustion still heavy in her limbs.

Without so much as a nod to the mediwitch, who was still present and probably quite taken aback by his abrupt entrance, Marvolo pulled Evaline into his arms. His embrace was possessive, almost desperate, as he buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply. 

She let out a soft grunt as all her muscles jostled from being moved so quickly, but she couldn't help but wrap an arm around him in return.

She huffed softly as his grip only tightened further, patting his back softly, "You know, if you wanted a hug, you could have just asked nicely."

But he didn't seem to care about her remark; he simply held her tighter, as though he feared she might disappear if he let go. She watched the mediwitch leave from the corner of her eye, giving the two of them some privacy.

After a long, heartfelt moment, he finally pulled away, his hands gripping her wrists. 

Evaline couldn't help but notice a subtle tremble in his hands, a rare vulnerability that he was revealing only to her. His blue eyes searched her face, and his voice was filled with a mixture of relief and desperation as he whispered, “Don't ever do that again.”

A gentle frown tugged at her lips as she took in the exhaustion evident in Marvolo's eyes. Her delicate fingers reached up to fix his slightly dishevelled fringe. "Have you been sleeping, Marvolo?" she asked softly, her headache a dull constant ache.

Tom's surprise was evident, his eyes wide with a mix of relief and lingering fear.

She let out a disapproving tsk, “Four days. I’ve been absent for four days, Marvolo- Can I not trust you to go to bed at a reasonable hour?"

"You almost died ," he hissed.

"It's just a bad reaction. Nothing even close to death," she waved off, her tone reassuring. "Nothing I haven't survived before."

But he stared blankly at her, the only sign of his tension the white-knuckled grip of his hands on her wrists. When he finally spoke, her heart clenched, not at his words, but at the look of pure fear in his eyes.

"You stopped breathing," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “They didn't even know what was wrong with you until Valti rushed in and yelled at everyone." He swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing. "But I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I was frozen. I was useless . You were dying, and I couldn't do anything but watch ."

Evaline watched him with a heavy heart. This child…despite the stone cold facade he puts up he’s still human. 

‘A little too much like-,’ a small voice whispered in the back of her mind. She batted the thought away.

Evaline's hand curled gently on his wrist, a soft, comforting touch. "You were in shock. It's completely normal—"

"You weren't breathing, Evaline!" His voice rose, the desperation in his tone evident. His brows creased, and his lower lip quivered so lightly that she wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't so close to her face. "You weren't breathing, and all I could do was watch."

Tom's hands never released their hold, as his shoulders slumped as he bowed his head. 

"Marvolo," she said softly.

No reply.

"Tom." 

His head shot up, his eyes locking onto hers. This was the first time in years she had called him that. 

"Listen to me," she said as she took his hand in hers, her eyes boring into his, “I’m alright. I’m alive. I’m here.” she squeezed his hand, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere for a while.”

He stared at her, then his hand curled around hers, “Never leave me again.”

“I promise.” 

The lie tasted like ash on her tongue.

༺═──────────────═༻

Orion's entrance into the infirmary brought a grin to his face as he approached Evaline's bedside. He threw himself onto the seat next to her bed, not giving a second thought to the disapproving glare Marvolo shot his way.

"I see you're still alive," Orion remarked, his voice laced with humor.

Evaline continued to scribble the last few lines of her essay, her lips curling into a faint smile as she snorted in response. Without looking up from her work, she teased, "Don't sound too disappointed; I might think you don't like me."

Orion leaned in closer, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Merlin, you were on the brink of death, and you're doing homework?"

Marvolo, sitting on her other side with a graceful, almost feline grace, hissed softly in irritation. He shot Orion a withering glare. "Stop saying that."

Evaline carefully put down her quill after a few more meticulous strokes, her expression a mixture of determination and concentration. She turned her attention to the inquisitive boy beside her and shot him a look of mild exasperation.

"It's not homework," she clarified, her tone carrying a hint of amusement. "It's extra research on rune magic." Her fingers hovered over the parchment, ready to resume her work.

Orion's frustration peaked as he snatched the quill and parchment from Evaline's hands, his eyes wide with concern. "No! No more!"

Evaline scowled, her threat laced with anger. "Orion Arcturus Black, I will curse you to hell and back, I swear on my life—"

"Now, now, your life was hanging by a thread earlier," Orion interrupted with a wry grin. "Be careful what you swear on—"

Marvolo, who had remained silent until now, had finally had enough. He shot a harsh stinging hex at Orion, his gaze piercing. "Can we please stop talking about death," he hissed.

Orion and Marvolo locked eyes in a tense standoff for a moment, both clearly stubborn in their own right. It was Evaline who broke the silence, her voice gentle yet firm as she coughed to draw their attention.

"Just so you know," she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips, "I'm not dead."

Marvolo immediately turned his gaze towards Evaline, breaking the intense staring contest with Orion. His previously stern expression softened as he looked at her, relief and genuine affection shining in his eyes.

Evaline patted Marvolo's hand softly, conveying her gratitude for his concern, before turning her attention back to Orion. He eyed her knowingly, but she paid no mind to his curiosity.

"What have I missed?" Evaline inquired, a hint of curiosity in her voice, eager to catch up on any developments or news during her absence.

Orion leaned back in his chair and sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Well," he began, "while you were on the verge of becoming a ghost and haunting us all, Marvolo here has been quite the taskmaster. Honestly, he's been downright unbearable."

Marvolo shot Orion a sharp look, clearly not pleased with the assessment. He opened his mouth to protest, but Evaline raised an eyebrow, prompting him to hold his tongue for the moment.

"He's been hovering around you like a worried mother hen," Orion said, smirking slightly. "And he's been even stricter than usual with our training. I swear, he's developed a sixth sense for knowing when I'm slacking off."

Marvolo, though still wearing a somewhat annoyed expression, shifted slightly in his chair, clearly not entirely comfortable with being the subject of the conversation.

Orion, thoroughly enjoying the chance to tease Marvolo, continued with a mischievous tone, "And you won't believe it, but he's even been reading up on healing spells and remedies like a man possessed. I think he's secretly trying to become the world's greatest healer—"

He paused mid-sentence, his eyes drifting towards the infirmary doors. Evaline followed his gaze and spotted Enzo walking into the room. She smiled in greeting, but her expression quickly froze when she saw the strain on his face.

“If you could give us a few moments,” Evaline asked, masking the sudden alertness as she smiled, glancing at Marvolo and Orion. 

Marvolo looked like he didn’t want to move, but Orion nodded, and left dragging Marvolo with him. Evaline watched them as they left the infirmary, ignoring the glare Marvolo sent at Enzo as he passed.

Her eyes narrowed as Enzo approached the foot of her bed, seemingly oblivious to Marvolo and Orion's presence as they swept past him. He stared at her with a deeply troubled expression.

“The High Lord is furious,” Enzo said slowly, clutching a letter in his hand.

Did they think she was incompetent? She narrowed her eyes. 

“Give me the letter,” she demanded, eyes cold as she held out a hand. He hesitated and she narrowed her eyes, “Now.”

Slowly he placed the letter into her hand, swallowing. She scanned the paper, lips pursed. 

- - - - - 

Enzo,

I write with a sense of urgency and concern, for the High Lord has been made aware of the recent incidents surrounding Lady Evaline Este, and his consternation knows no bounds.

The High Lord perceives the current situation as a direct affront to the esteemed House of Este, viewing the events not as mere chance but as a calculated attempt to undermine the honor and integrity of our lineage. 

The Este House is infuriated. Heir Este is said to be especially angry.

In light of these developments, the Este House is contemplating a direct confrontation with the Headmaster of Hogwarts. The High Lord, while acknowledging the importance of subtlety and discretion, can no longer tolerate what he perceives as a threat to the Este legacy.

In these times, it is imperative that you, as our representative at Hogwarts and a guardian to Evaline Este, keep us apprised of her condition. The High Lord is particularly concerned for Evaline's well-being, given the recent turmoil. He expects regular updates on her health, safety, and any developments that may affect the Este name.

Moreover, the High Lord insists that you exercise the utmost caution in navigating the delicate intricacies of the situation at Hogwarts. He understands the importance of subtlety, but the Este House's patience is wearing thin.

Should the need arise, you are authorised to take whatever measures necessary to ensure the safety and honour of the Este lineage.

Remember, Enzo, you bear not only the weight of your own responsibilities but also the legacy of the Este House. The High Lord trusts your discretion.

With unwavering faith in your abilities,

Lord Alessandro Valti

- - - - -

She lowered the letter, the parchment crinkling softly beneath her fingertips as she pondered the contents, “Grandfather always did say anger is brief insanity.” she murmured with a small smile. Seems he was speaking from experience.

How peculiar, she mused. 

Evaline was initially sure she would be criticised for falling victim to such a petty scheme. She knew the second she felt ill in class that someone had messed with her morning cup of tea. She also knew that Zabini was up earlier than usual and already seated at the table by the time she arrived.

How odd it seemed—such a simple threat had triggered the Este family's protective instincts.  Perhaps this was the essence of the family motto her grandfather often spoke of – 'Family Above All.' The simplicity of the concept struck her as oddly profound.

The revelation struck her as interesting, almost curious. 

A mere threat, and the Este family rallied to her defense. In contrast, her experiences with her father had been markedly different. She couldn't help but wonder why such a seemingly natural reaction had been so elusive for him.

Anger on her behalf—a fierce, protective anger—emanated from the words on the parchment. It was a sentiment foreign to her, especially when considering it was directed toward someone the Este family had never met. 

The intensity of their concern made her uneasy, a discomfort born of unfamiliarity.

Licking her dry lips, she decided, “Tell the High Lord to leave it alone.”

“What?” Enzo’s eyes widened, “But-”

“Leave. It. Alone.” she repeated, eyes still on the folded parchment , “Digli che lo sto gestendo.”

[Tell them I’m handling it.]

Enzo bit his lip and nodded, taking the letter.

She sighed at his distressed expression. She often forgets Enzo is still a kid and not a Lord like the one she knew from her time. Facing a High Lord and telling them their orders are being directly disobeyed would be frightening to a child, she supposed. 

“Questo è un ordine.”

[That is an order.]

His head shot up, a frown on his face at the sudden order but one look at her face and he suddenly lit up and grinned, “Qualunque cosa voglia l'Alta Signora.”

[Whatever the High Lady wishes]

Evaline huffed in amusement. Well, at least this way Enzo won’t get blamed, seeing as it was a direct order. Still a child. 

Evaline felt old.

Chapter Text

Enzo was nervous. Rightfully so. 

Who wouldn’t be nervous when facing the High Lord of Italy’s Royal Family?

The Royal House of Este were an ancient lineage renowned for their ruthless nature and unparalleled strength, and had left an indelible mark on the records of magical history. Whispered in hushed tones, the mere mention of the name "Este" sent shivers down the spines of even the most noble witches and wizards. 

The Este House, steeped in secrecy and mystique, held a reputation as a force to be reckoned with. Their magical prowess was unmatched, their spells executed with precision and devastating effect. Through generations, they had mastered ancient arts and forbidden magics, forging an arsenal of enchantments that few dare to challenge. 

Their influence extended far and wide, their reach stretching across realms and domains. The Este House has amassed immense wealth, resources, and political clout, enabling them to shape the very fabric of the magical world. Their name has become synonymous with ambition, dominance, and a hunger for power that knows no bounds. 

The Este lineage, marked by a relentless pursuit of their goals, had left a trail of conquest and vanquished foes in their wake. Their rise to prominence has been punctuated by acts of calculated ruthlessness and unwavering resolve, leaving no doubt about the extent of their power. 

Those who have crossed paths with the Este House recount tales of their formidable presence. Their magical abilities are said to be both awe-inspiring and terrifying, capable of bending reality to their will. Their command over the elements and mastery of ancient rituals had garnered them a reputation as sorcerers of unparalleled might. 

His anxiety was palpable as he made his way through the castle's labyrinthine corridors from the Floo arrival room to the grand parlour where he was to meet the High Lord of Italy's Royal Family. 

The castle itself was a daunting spectacle, with its towering shadowed roofs and imposing Gothic dark stone architecture. Enzo couldn't help but wonder how someone as bright and vivacious as Evaline, whom he knew from the future, could ever exist in a place like this.

His father's warnings echoed in his mind. 

The High Lord Alexius Este was renowned as a formidable figure in the political arena. His ruthless demeanor and cutting words were the stuff of legends. 

Then there was the royal family's heir, Theodore Este, who, despite having a more welcoming facade, harbored a wild look in his eyes that promised nothing but misery to those who dared to oppose him. Rumor had it that when he took over the Este lordship, he would be an even more terrifying force in the political battlefield.

Then there was Isotta Este, the enigmatic and terrifying daughter of the royal family. 

Her beauty was legendary, but it was her smiles that were the stuff of nightmares. Each one held a promise of danger, a threat veiled behind delicate features and piercing silver eyes. 

Enzo couldn't help but believe that she was the most treacherous of them all, a viper concealed in a velvet glove.

Enzo hesitated for a moment at the grand entrance to the parlor, lifting his fist. 

As he knocked on the massive doors, they swung open with an eerie grace that sent a shiver down his spine. Stepping through, he was met with the sight of the Este family, and his heart seemed to skip a beat. 

He’s going to have a heart attack, Enzo just knows it.

High Lord Alexius Este occupied an armchair so colossal it could have passed for a throne, positioned closest to the roaring fireplace. The flickering flames cast an ominous dance of shadows across his stern features. Enzo couldn't help but feel like a pawn in a high-stakes game as the High Lord acknowledged his presence.

"Heir Valti, welcome," the High Lord's voice was deep, resonating with authority as the man’s gaze lifted to him.

With a composed demeanor, Enzo took his first step into the room, the doors closing behind him with an ominous thud. He offered a respectful bow at the waist, his fist clenched over his heart in the traditional royal greeting. "High Lord Este. Heir Este. Lady Isotta. Well met."

"Well met. Come sit, Heir Valti," the High Lord invited, though his smile held a razor-sharp quality that hinted at concealed danger. He gestured toward an empty couch, indicating Enzo's designated seat.

Enzo straightened; his diplomatic smile unwavering as he moved gracefully toward the seat. 

The Este children were seated across from him, a large finely engraved black coffee table separating them, each occupying a portion of a three-seater couch that resembled a throne in its own right.

Heir Theodore Este sat with an unsettling glint of excitement in his eyes, his posture’s resemblance to Evaline’s was uncanny. An ankle casually crossed over his knee, one hand propping up his chin as he leaned heavily on the armrest. 

Enzo couldn't help but notice the resemblance to Evaline- she looked exactly like the boy when she was thinking, planning .

Lady Isotta, on the other hand, exuded an air of regal indifference. Her posture was flawless, manicured hands resting gracefully on her lap. One leg crossed elegantly over the other, and she regarded Enzo with a disinterested stare, as if he were a passing curiosity.

"Tell us about our newest Este," Heir Este spoke before his father could, his voice cutting through the tenseness Eno felt.

Startled, Enzo's gaze locked onto the Heir's silver eyes, and he found himself momentarily transfixed. The resemblance between those eyes and Evaline's was terrifyingly similar. Not just by the silver colour, but the dangerous gaze that seemed to hypnotise one if they stared for too long.

Only when Heir Este arched an elegant brow, breaking the spell, did Enzo snap out of his trance. The Heir tilted his head, a gesture so reminiscent of Evaline that it sent a shiver down Enzo's spine. 

Despite Evaline’s refusal to tell Enzo how exactly she was related to the Este family as she was worried he would be able to find what timeline she was from, Enzo was convinced Heir Theodore Este was Evaline’s father or a somewhat close relative. 

"As flattered as I am with your gaze of admiration, Heir Valti, I believe I asked a question," Heir Este remarked, his tone carrying a subtle warning that made Enzo acutely aware of the potential consequences of his distraction.

Enzo cleared his throat, straightening in his seat. "I apologize, Heir Este. Your eyes bear a remarkable resemblance to those of Evaline. I was simply shocked."

There was a beat of silence that followed his words. 

Heir Este's lips curled into a small, satisfied smile, his silver eyes gleaming with an air of triumph. "Is that so?"

Enzo didn't know how to reply. Heir Este's reaction was not what he expected.

Isotta, on the other hand, scoffed audibly. His attention snapped to her, but she wasn't looking at him; her gaze was locked onto her brother. "Every Este has the same eyes, Theodore. No need to feel special."

Theodore, or Heir Este, as he was formally addressed, continued to wear that triumphant smirk. "Now, now, darling sister of mine, no need to be jealous," he teased, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

“We have the same eyes, fool.”

Enzo blinked, realizing the familial resemblance went far beyond physical traits. He could see Evaline's essence in both of them—the smirks, the attitude—it was all so unmistakably Evaline.

A clear of a throat brought everyone's attention back to the High Lord, who appeared to be debating whether he found the whole situation incredibly amusing or utterly exasperating.

The High Lord raised a finely arched brow, his voice laced with an air of authority. "Have you both forgotten your manners? Kayr , some refreshments, please."

A second later, an elf popped into the room, holding a tray laden with refreshments. It’s bluish-black skin seemed to shimmer in the dim light, a stark contrast to the flowing white hair that fell to it’s shoulders and was carefully braided to the left. The blueish-colored sclera and black irises lent an otherworldly allure to his gaze. 

Standing a commanding six feet tall in a tailored suit emblazoned with the Este emblem, the elf placed the tray on the large coffee table, serving the High Lord first, then the Heir and Lady, and finally Enzo, who accepted his cup of tea with a touch of awe on his face.

After hearing rumours that the Este family had an affiliation with dark creatures, Enzo was not surprised to see the elf and realise that it was a species dark elf. The forest surrounding Este Cstle was rumoured to be home to many Dark creatures that are otherwise feared and scorned in the world, although the Este family never made any public statements on the matter.

"Her name is Evaline then?" The High Lord asked, his sharp eyes piercing Enzo's. "Does she come from the past or future?"

"Yes, Lord Este," Enzo replied with a respectful nod. "Evaline Este, although she refused to divulge her middle name, claiming it was her mothers, as a precaution against altering her family's history. She originates from the future."

Enzo had been chosen by the High Lord to attend Hogwarts, primarily to interact with Evaline and provide the High Lord with insights about her. The Este bloodline ran deep, and family bonds transcended time. 

Heir Este was excited to learn about Evaline, and Enzo painted a vivid picture of her. "She's a delight to be around, immensely knowledgeable, sharp as a blade," he said. "Remarkably, she's mentally 32 and leads a life as an Unspeakable in her original timeline."

High Lord Este's brow furrowed at this revelation, his confusion evident. "An Este should usually pursue a path in politics," he remarked.

Enzo quickly clarified, "She's deeply involved in politics as well, though her Unspeakable career is her primary focus. A mastery in warding and runes," He went on to explain the whatever he knew of Evaline's life, how her mother had perished when she was only five, and her grandfather had followed when she turned thirteen. 

It was then that Evaline had informed him about her need for extensive protective runes woven into her clothing because she had become a target once her grandfather was no longer around. 

High Lord Este wore a displeased expression.

"Is she safe at Hogwarts?"

Enzo hesitated briefly before responding, "Evaline is more than capable of defending herself. She possesses incredible magical skills." He continued, "She mentioned that she has been targeted by someone, but regrettably, she didn't provide specific details."

The Heir Este's eyes narrowed at this, displaying a keen curiosity. Enzo realized why many considered the heir to be even more dangerous than his father. The heir demanded a thorough account, and Enzo complied, describing how a girl named Lucia Zabini had made two attempts to harm Evaline. 

The first involved an invasion of Evaline's dormitory in search of information, while the second was an attempt to curse her when Evaline's back was turned. Then there was the poisoning attempt.

High Lord Este's frown deepened as Enzo recounted the incidents with Lucia Zabini. He leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Zabini," he muttered under his breath. "Troublesome family. Traditori ."

[Betrayers.]

Heir Este, who had been listening attentively, now spoke with a dangerous glint in his eye. "You said Lucia Zabini attempted to curse her and failed twice. What did Evaline do in response?"

Enzo shifted in his seat, feeling the gravity of the situation. "She managed to counter the curse both times, and she erased Lucia's memory of both incidents."

High Lord Este raised a brow at the revelation. He absorbed the information with a contemplative expression.

In contrast, Lady Isotta, who had remained silent throughout the conversation, let out a delicate snort, her slender fingers elegantly covering her mouth. A devious smile curled upon her lips as she spoke, "Ragazza intelligente."

[Smart Girl.]

Enzo noticed the satisfaction in her tone, and it sent a shiver down his spine. 

The Este family, in all their intelligence and cunning, was a force to be reckoned with. Lady Isotta leaned forward, her demeanor shifting from disinterest to curiosity. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, fixed on Enzo.

"It's quite cunning," she purred, her tone dripping with admiration, "to erase the memory of someone who attempts harm. Such a move leaves your nemico sciocco in the dark, and when they can't remember their failures, they can't learn from them."

[Foolish Enemy]

Heir Este, who had been watching Enzo with a rather dangerous look in his eyes when Evaline’s safety was mentioned, leaned back into the couch, his posture regal as he smirked, "Clever, indeed. Erasing the attacker's memory ensures that she remains in control of the situation, a silent puppeteer in a world of oblivious marionettes."

With a subtle glance, Enzo observed the sharpness in Heir Este's eyes, a dangerous glint that betrayed his excitement, as if he relished the thrill of the chase. Enzo suppressed the urge to gulp. Before he couldn’t see a resemblance between Isotta and Evaline, but now, that dangerous glint in her eyes and words- that was all Evaline behaviour. 

Uncanny resemblance, once again.

Theodore leaned forward, his voice smooth but dripping with an unsettling undercurrent of menace. "What else?"

“There was an incident with the Lamiaceae poisioning-”

Sharp inhales of breath from all three royals.

“-though that was mostly due to the schools incompetence”

”Tricky thing about Lamiaceae is that the herb family is also used in cooking- mint, for example,” the High Lord started, more to himself than anyone in particular, “Which means it isn’t untraceable through basic detection charms.”

Enzo gulped as he witnessed the flash of pure rage that passed Heir Este’s face.

”Surely a little girl cannot come up with something as technical as this,” Heir Este said, mainly to his father with a set jaw, “To understand its ability to remain undetected, one must need to have a deep rooted understanding in alchemy.”

“Which means this Zabini is merely a messenger,” Lady Isotta said plainly as she inspected her nails, not even bothering to look at her brother.

Enzo hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully, "Evaline did recently discovered that Lucia Zabini is acting under orders to target her, orders that originate from someone outside of Hogwarts."

Theodore's lips curled into a chilling grin, one that sent shivers down Enzo's spine. 

" Meraviglioso ," he drawled, his excitement barely contained. "Outside of Hogwarts? Sei pronta per una partita al gatto e al topo, sorella? "

[Excellent…Are you up for a game of cat and mouse, sister?]

The High Lord chuckled at his son's enthusiasm, a proud smile playing on his lips. He turned to Enzo, his expression softer but no less intense. "Tell her that the matter will be dealt with accordingly. Famiglia su tutto. "

[Family over all.]

Lady Isotta, her sharp gaze never leaving Enzo, spoke up, her voice dripping with calculated interest. "Do you know the purpose of Evaline's mission here at Hogwarts?"

Enzo shook his head slightly, "Not the specifics, Lady Isotta. She's been rather discreet about that, given the circumstances. All I know is that it involves a young boy named Tom Riddle."

Heir Este, who had been quiet until now, appeared visibly irritated at the mention of a boy. "Whats this about a boy?"

Enzo hesitated for only a moment before he began to explain, "His name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. He's an extraordinary student, charismatic, intelligent, and incredibly influential. Evaline and he are close friends, almost inseparable. He has a remarkable talent for magic, and his ambition knows no bounds."

Isotta tilted her head slightly, her perceptive mind connecting the dots. A smile tugged at her lips as she mused, "It seems that Evaline may have played a significant role in shaping Tom Riddle into the person he is today."

Enzo couldn't help but notice the annoyance that flashed across Heir Este's face at the mere mention of Tom Riddle. His protectiveness was somewhat amusing considering that Heir Este had never even met Evaline. Besides, Evaline was technically 32 years old, significantly older than Heir Este himself.

On the other hand, Lady Isotta seemed more amused than anything else, her lips curving into a sly smile which she easily covered as she lifted the teacup to her lips, observing the situation unfolding before her.

The High Lord Este remained contemplative, his fingers drumming his armrest as he leaned back in his chair. After a moment of silence, he spoke in his deep, resonant voice, "It seems that this Tom Riddle is destined to be a great figure in the future—whether for good or ill, Resta da vedere. And it seems our Evaline has a crucial role to play in his journey." 

[That remains to be seen.]

Heir Theodore leaned forward, eyes narrowed, “You have mentioned her mother's death. What of her father?”

༺═──────────────═༻

Yule Break for the 5th year had come and Tom, like the previous years, stayed with Evaline in the closest place he could call home. They had arrived at the Villa yesterday, where Tom spent most of his time debating with Norril -the elf was remarkably knowledgeable on the most interesting topics and made a great conversationalist- while Evaline had spent the day resting in her room. Tom found it odd but when she emerged for dinner, looking well and not ill, he brushed it aside for simple fatigue.

Today, they ventured to Britain, much to Evaline’s displeasure. Amid the festive hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley, people hurried about with a sense of urgency, wrapped in warm robes and carrying bags of gifts for the upcoming Yule celebrations. Tom found it all rather repulsive and annoying. 

He shot a glare at a passing woman who had elbowed Evaline, and without a second thought, he pulled her closer to him, his irritation evident on his face.

Despite the annoyance of the crowd, Tom pressed on, making sure to keep a tight grip on Evaline as they made their way through the lively thoroughfare. The colourful shops and enchanting decorations that once held a certain charm for Tom now seemed frivolous and mundane.

His attention was focused on a singular task - the blood test that awaited him at Gringotts.

Tom's excitement was palpable, his nerves tinged with a touch of apprehension. The blood test awaited him, the key to unlocking the secrets of his lineage, potentially revealing his ties to Slytherin himself. This could be the moment he discovered if he was the rightful Heir of Slytherin.

As they reached the entrance of Gringotts, Evaline brought herself to a halt, turning to Tom, "I'll meet up with you once you've finished your business."

Tom blinked, surprise flickering in his eyes, "You're not coming with me?"

A soft smile curved Evaline's lips as she shook her head, her gaze thoughtful, "I think you should do this by yourself. It's a personal matter, after all. About your family," She then patted her robes' pockets, checking for something, before looking at him inquisitively, "You've got your mirror?"

Tom instinctively patted his chest, his hand making contact with the cold surface of the mirror hidden within his inner chest pocket. Ever since Evaline had given it to him, it had remained in his left chest inner pocket- always, at all times. 

"Good. Call me when you've finished your business," Evaline said, her voice laced with reassurance. She gave him a warm hug, and Tom instinctively wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Resting his chin on her head, he felt an unusual sense of comfort in her presence.

It had become a familiar gesture between them, ever since the day she had calmed down his panic attack after apparating him away from the Orphanage and simply refusng to let him return to the wretched place. Not that Tom wanted to, but Evaline had all but spit at the mere mention of the Orphanage, which Tom, despite himself, found sweet.

As time went by, Tom had grown accustomed to Evaline's close company. Her hugs, her support—they had become something he secretly longed for. He couldn't quite decipher the meaning behind his feelings, but in those moments of agitation or anger, he found solace in her presence. For now, he cherished it, content to explore the complexities of his emotions at a later time.

She pulled away after a short moment, her voice soft, “Good luck, Marvolo. Whatever happens, you’ll forever be the stesso vecchio Marvolo for me.”

[Same old Marvolo]

He smiled at her words, an odd sensation of warmth spreading in his chest, “Even if I turn out to be some pathetic muggleborn?” He had to physically suppress a scowl at the mere prospect of being a muggleborn.

“I’m Italian,” Evaline grinned, pointing a finger at herself, “We only see abilità e potenza. Not blood.”

[Ability and power.]

Evaline's ability to see beyond blood status was something Tom had always cherished. He remembered that first day of classes when they were both eleven, and how her attitude had immediately set her apart from the other students. It was a defining moment, one that Tom had never forgotten.

The only person to see him for who he truly was. The only person who saw past his mask of indifference. The only person who wasn’t terrified of his magic. The only person who willingly extended her hand first.

Before he could respond, Evaline waved goodbye and vanished into the bustling crowd, leaving Tom to face the imposing facade of Gringotts on his own. He stared into the crowd for a moment longer before he squared his shoulders, a sense of determination settling over him.

It was time.

The grand interior of Gringotts greeted him, and Tom's gaze swept over the goblin tellers and the numerous wizards and witches conducting their business. It was a reminder of the magical world's intricacies and complexities, a world he had grown accustomed to, yet one that still held surprises and challenges.

The line moved steadily, and soon he found himself at a counter, facing a sneering goblin. Tom mentally reviewed the etiquette that Evaline had briefed him on. He inclined his head slightly as they approached, offering the appropriate greeting to the sneering goblin behind the counter "May your coffers never be empty. Well met, Sir Goblin."

The goblin's initial sneer seemed to relent a bit as he regarded Tom with a newfound curiosity. He nodded in acknowledgment of Tom's greeting, his demeanour slightly more amiable, "Well met, wizard. How can I help you today?"

Tom wasted no time, his request precise and to the point, "I'd like to request a blood test."

The goblin's nod was sharp and businesslike, "Of course. Seven drops of blood on the parchment.”

Tom carefully accepted the offered blade from the goblin, his gaze intent as he followed the instructions he had been given. He allowed the blade to make a shallow cut on his finger, watching with a mix of curiosity and anticipation as the crimson droplets fell onto the parchment. The blood was quickly absorbed, and his eyes fixed on the surface as if expecting some mystical revelation.

His patience was soon rewarded as writing began to materialise on the parchment. He scanned the parchment. Then scanned it again. His eyes widened as his heart beat increased in excitement. 

Tom was the Heir of Slytheirn.

He was also the Heir of the Ancient and Noble House of Gaunt.

His heart raced as he took in the words before him, the revelation hitting him with a mix of shock and exhilaration. The truth was laid bare on the parchment: he was the heir of Slytherin and Gaunt -Heir a founder and one of the Sacred 28- both names carrying weight and history within the wizarding world.

He traced his finger over the writing, absorbing every detail and implication.

A smug smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he lifted his gaze to the goblin before him, his confidence palpable. "Can I claim my heirships?"

The goblin regarded him with a shrewd expression, as if measuring the young wizard's worthiness. After a pause, the goblin nodded, acknowledging Tom's newfound status, "You may. However, access to the properties, lordship, and vaults is restricted until you reach the legal age. The heir vaults are accessible to you immediately."

Tom's mind was already racing with possibilities as he absorbed the goblin's words. The weight of his heritage came with not only personal significance but also political implications. He leaned in slightly, his curiosity evident, "And the political agenda? Do I have any seats in the Ministry?"

The goblin's sharp eyes met Tom's, its response was precise and quick, "Slytherin House holds four seats, while Gaunt House holds two."

༺═──────────────═༻

Meanwhile, Evaline swiftly slipped into Knockturn Alley, the dim and shadowy atmosphere providing her with the privacy she needed. With practised ease, she released the glamour ward that had concealed her appearance, allowing her to transform back into her 27-year-old self.

She relished the freedom of her true appearance, rolling her shoulders with a satisfied grin. It had been quite some time since she had the chance to shed her glamour. While at Hogwarts or during breaks, she had always kept the facade in place, especially since Marvolo opted to stay with her rather than return to the orphanage.

Emerging from the shadows, Evaline reveled in the sensation of her trained body moving without the restrictions of the disguise.

Cracking her neck, she swept her gaze across the various stores lining the darkened alley. Knockturn Alley was notorious for its association with the "dark" side of the magical world in Britain, so the shops here likely dabbled in practices that bordered on illegal or highly questionable.

How intriguing. 

Evaline's desire to explore the various stores warred with her sense of purpose. She pulled up her hood to obscure her features and navigated the bustling crowd with purpose, her steps leading her unerringly to her destination.

As she entered the store, the bell above the door chimed softly, announcing her presence. A young woman, perhaps around 25 years old, materialized behind the counter. She was striking, with white hair cascading around her shoulders, her pale skin almost ethereal. Her eyes held a touch of hollowness, in contrast to her vivid red lipstick.

Evaline immediately recognized the woman as a vampire. She felt an odd sense of familiarity being around the Dark Creature, relaxing a little.

The woman's gaze settled on Evaline, her voice cool and measured, "What can I get for you?"

Evaline handed over a scroll, "Information.”

The vampire woman took the scroll from Evaline's hand, her long fingers graceful as they unfurled the parchment and read the contents. Her crimson lips curled into a faint smile as she looked back up at Evaline, her eyes holding a glint of amusement mixed with curiosity.

"I see," she purred, her voice carrying a hint of intrigue. "You're looking for quite the elusive individual. Someone well-versed in hiding, I presume?"

“As far as my sources are aware- this man does not exist.” Evaline admitted after a beat of contemplation.

The vampire tapped a finger against her chin, considering the request. "Well, finding someone who prefers the shadows can be a bit tricky, even for someone as resourceful as myself."

Evaline leaned in slightly, her tone low and persuasive, "I've heard that you have a certain... knack for uncovering secrets and locating those who wish to stay hidden Ms…?"

“Just Megan, darling,” The woman's - Megan’s- smile deepened, her eyes glittering with amusement and Evaline knew the vampire could see through her as clear as glass. "And what would you be willing to offer in exchange for my expertise?"

Evaline reached into her robes and produced a small, unmarked vial containing a shimmering silver potion. "A sample of Elisir Dreamwalker, " she said, her voice holding a note of certainty. "Extremely rare, and quite valuable to those who know its properties."

[Dreamwalker Elixir]

The vampire's gaze sharpened as she eyed the vial, a flicker of greed momentarily crossing her features before she regained her composure. 

"Very well," she conceded quickly, extending a hand. "I'll need more details about this man and any other relevant information. In return, I'll do my best to track him down without attracting any unwanted attention."

Evaline handed over a small piece of parchment containing the man's physical description, known aliases, and any other pertinent details she had gathered as well as a rough sketch 

Evaline herself had drawn after seeing the man in the firecall the other night. The woman scanned the information, her eyes pausing on the sketch for longer than a beat, before tucking it away.

"Consider it done," Megan assured Evaline with a nod. "The Dreamwalker Elixir, please."

Evaline's lips curved into a smirk as she smoothly slipped the vial back into her robes. “Sorry, love. Rewards after services. I’ll be back in a week or so.”

Megan’s eyes flashed with a hint of annoyance before transforming into amusement. A smile curved on her lips as she leaned on the counter, her pale skin gleaming in the dim light of the shop. “Very well, darling. I look forward to seeing you again. Until then, take care.”

With a final smirk shot at the vampire, Evaline turned to leave, the bell above the door chiming once more as she stepped back into the crowded streets of Knockturn Alley. However, as fate would have it, smooth outcomes were a rarity in Evaline's life. 

Just as she stepped out the door, the ground beneath her exploded.

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom stared at the two heirship rings on his hand, feeling the surge of family magic as they recognized him as the heir. A triumphant smirk tugged at his lips, but his attention quickly shifted to the parchment he held. He was scanning through the details when one particular section caught his eye. 

He pointed at it, his expression tense, "These people… they're alive?"

The goblin nodded, almost bored as it drawled, "Your father, Tom Riddle Sr., is a muggle. Your maternal uncle, Morfin Gaunt, has recently been released from Azkaban. However, rumors suggest Morfin Gaunt has gone into hiding due to extreme paranoia."

Tom's brow furrowed in a mixture of anger and disbelief. He had living relatives, yet they had abandoned him to the mercy of muggles for so many years. His family had the means to provide him a magical upbringing, but instead, they left him vulnerable and powerless in the clutches of uncaring muggles.

He had living family members who had turned their backs on him, leaving him to suffer in an orphanage under the care of muggles. The bitterness of their abandonment gnawed at his heart. 

As his anger towards his blood relatives grew, threatening to consume him, a piercing alarm suddenly shattered the tense air in Gringotts. Tom's head snapped up, his heart racing, as the alarm's wails reverberated through the marble halls.

With a swift motion, Tom was on his feet, sliding the parchment into his robes and gripping his wand tightly. The goblin rose as well, his eyes wide with concern, "Stay here, Heir Slytherin-Gaunt."

"What's happening?" Tom demanded, forgetting the minor Etiquette Evaline had told him, ignoring the goblin's warning and following the creature instead.

As they reached the main lobby of Gringotts, chaos unfolded before them. Panicked witches and wizards were shouting, and alarmed goblins rushed around their stations. The goblin guardians at the main entrance were barring anyone from entering or leaving. Emergency steel doors crashed down, sealing off the main entrances and windows.

The blaring red alarm light above the entrance added to the tension in the air. 

Complete and Utter Chaos.

"There's been an attack at Diagon Alley," Tom overheard a goblin reporting, his voice tense, "Grindelwald's forces are said to be involved. We're going into lockdown until further notice."

Dread gripped Tom's heart like an icy hand. 

Evaline was out there, in the middle of Diagon Alley, which was under attack by Grindelwald's forces. Panic surged within him as he dashed toward the entrance, but his way was abruptly blocked by the guards, their spears slammed down in front of him.

"Gringotts is in lockdown, wizard," one of them stated firmly.

Tom's chest heaved with desperation and urgency. He refused to accept this obstacle. "I need to get out!” He all but demanded, teeth grit and haw clenched.

But the guards remained steadfast, unyielding in their duty to uphold the lockdown. Tom's frustration grew into a furious whirlwind, his mind racing for a solution. He spun around, scanning the frantic scene for any alternative way out. Yet, the main lobby seemed to be a labyrinth, with no obvious escape route. His heart pounded, his thoughts consumed by the image of Evaline in danger. 

He couldn't just stay here; he had to get to her.

༺═──────────────═༻

In the midst of the chaos, Evaline's instincts kicked in, and she swiftly retreated back into the shop where Megan was. She wasn't about to foolishly face hostile forces head-on without a proper plan. Megan's voice pulled her attention as the woman teased, "Coming back for more, darling?"

Evaline's annoyance was palpable as she sighed in exasperation. It seemed like catching a break was beyond her reach. Dealing with a young Voldemort, who Evaline just knew, would leave Gringotts with double the pride he usually had, was troublesome enough. Now she found herself trapped in the midst of an attack.

"Ambush," Evaline grumbled, her irritation evident.

Evaline planned to give Lady Fate a piece of her mind when -or if- she saw her again.

Megan's playful demeanor shifted immediately to concern. She watched Evaline closely as the younger witch crouched below window level, her wand at the ready. Evaline's trained eyes scanned the scene outside, her mind calculating the situation. Masked figures, chaos, spells flying, and people scrambling for cover – it was a low budget battlefield.

As Evaline's gaze narrowed, she honed in on the distinctive cloaks the attackers wore. The realisation hit her like a punch in the gut; Grindelwald's forces were responsible for the assault. The name resonated with a dark familiarity in her mind, a grim reminder of the challenges this era faced. She bit back a groan, annoyed with herself for momentarily forgetting the existence of another dark wizard plaguing the world.

Ignoring her annoyance, Evaline considered her options. Staying hidden inside the shop could keep her safe, but it might also trap her in a dangerous situation if the attackers decided to enter. On the other hand, attempting to escape unnoticed might expose her to more risks if she was seen or caught in the crossfire.

Thinking fast, She turned her attention to Megan, "Is there a back exit in this place?" 

"Follow me."

The vampire led the way to the back exit of the shop, cracking open the door to reveal an empty alleyway. Evaline wasted no time and stepped outside, the cold air hitting her face. She glanced back at Megan, who seemed slightly nervous despite her reassurances.

"Are you coming?" Evaline asked, frowning slightly.

Megan's response was hesitant yet resolute. "They won't harm me. They can't afford a war against the vampires."

As the door closed behind her, Evaline was left alone in the alleyway.

The distant sounds of screams and chaos only added to the urgency of the situation. Despite Megan's proclamation, Evaline quickly cast a protective rune, one of her own creations so it was basically impenetrable, on the backdoor of the shop, ensuring that no one with malicious intentions could enter. She paused as a pulse of protective energy spread around the store. 

With a protective rune placed on the backdoor, Evaline's mind was focused on the impending danger. The sounds of panic and destruction echoed through the air, and she knew she needed to act swiftly and decisively. Her steps were deliberate as she moved towards the main street, her eyes never leaving the chaotic scene that unfolded before her.

Spells illuminated the air with bursts of colour as they flew in every direction. A sickly yellow spell narrowly missed Evaline, prompting her to duck behind a corner. Her frown deepened as she observed the turmoil, analysing the situation and the attackers with a trained eye.

While part of her mind briefly thought about Marvolo's safety, Evaline quickly dismissed the worry. He hadn’t contacted her yet which meant he was still in Gringotts, and the bank was probably under lockdown. He would be fine; she had other concerns to address at the moment.

Evaline's original plan had been to discreetly escape the chaotic scene and avoid unnecessary confrontation. However, her attempts at apparating had been foiled by the anti-apparition wards that were undoubtedly set up around the perimeter. As she observed the turmoil and spells flying around, her focus was suddenly drawn to a familiar face—the man with the distinctive stud earring and the odd moustache.

Frozen in place, Evaline's trained eyes locked onto him. 

This was the man who had contacted Lucia through the Floo network just a few nights ago. The man who was after her. The man who sent a child into Hogwarts to gather information on her. 

Now, seeing him in the midst of an attack? 

Evaline watched him carefully. 

He moved with an air of authority, casually wreaking havoc by sending explosive spells into stores and damaging the infrastructure. Her mind raced to connect the dots. The pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together, and she realized that confronting this man was no longer an option—it was a necessity.

Fate seems to work in mysterious ways indeed. An opportunity to get to know the man personally. 

How nice of Lady Fate.

A small smirk curved Evaline's lips. Amidst the chaos and danger, a surge of anticipation flowed through her veins. This was a chance she had been waiting for—an opportunity to finally pursue someone with real duelling skills, someone who could provide her with answers instead of engaging in duels with children as she had been since her arrival in this era.

She observed the man's movements, analyzing his tactics and noting the efficiency with which he cast spells. This was no mere amateur; he was skilled and confident in his abilities. 

But so was she.

And she was just itching for a good duel.

Evaline decided that confronting the man amidst the ongoing chaos would be unwise. He had backup, and she needed to play this smartly. She didn’t have enough information about his skill set or his friends' duelling skills either. Luring him into a more controlled environment was the key. 

She turned back into the alley, a maniacal grin slowly growing on her face and got to work. Five minutes later, Evaline leaned back on her heels, her keen eyes scrutinizing the intricate runes inscribed on the ground. Her lips curled into a satisfied grin as her gaze lingered on the more complex and delicate sections, finding no faults or errors in her work.

Evelyn stood, dusting her hands off, pondering her strategy to lure the unsuspecting target into her trap. She crouched at the end of the dimly lit alley, her eyes narrowing as she honed in on her target's position.

"Well done, mortal," a raspy voice suddenly echoed through the narrow space.

She startled, her heart skipping a beat, and spun around to face the speaker. There, hovering above her carefully crafted rune, was the deity of death. His presence was both awe-inspiring and chilling, as he observed her with a mild curiosity that sent shivers down her spine. She let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank Merlin it's just you," she murmured, her tension easing slightly.

Death grinned at her, his bony features contorting in an unsettling manner. "Few mortals are so delighted to see me."

"Well, you are usually an omen of something grave," she replied, her voice holding a touch of amusement. "I'd say my relief is quite justified."

Death let out a hollow, echoing laugh that sent shivers down her spine. "Indeed, mortal. I usually am. But today, I am merely an observer."

“I can’t say I’ve been expecting you,” Evaline raised a brow, leaning against the cobble wall, "It hasn't been that long since your visit to my unconsciousness."

Death hovered closer, the darkness around him seeming to intensify as he regarded her. "Time is a peculiar concept in my realm. It has little meaning."

༺═──────────────═༻

in the chaos of Gringotts, his mind was consumed by a singular thought—Evaline's safety. He had seen enough upheaval, enough destruction in the past to know that safety was a fragile illusion, easily shattered.

Something hit him and Tom cursed his own foolishness. His mirror!

His fingers shook as he fumbled for the mirror in his pocket, nearly dropping it in his urgency. Desperation clawed at him as he hastily recalled the ridiculous incantation Evaline had gleefully charmed onto the mirror. 

No matter how hard he tried to change it, he couldn't. It was a maddening reminder of the times when she had found his futile attempts amusing. But right now, all he wanted to do was see her smile.

"Accio Evaline's attention," Tom muttered, his voice almost a tremor, eyes fixed on his own reflection. The seconds that followed felt like hours as he willed her face to appear. His mind was a whirlwind of fears and frantic pleas, the silent mirror a merciless barrier.

His heart pounded. Once. Twice.

Still, she didn't pick up. The mirror remained cold in his trembling hands.

No. He couldn't accept this. Tom tried again, his voice a desperate plea as he repeated the incantation, "Accio Evaline's attention."

His voice more desperate this time, the engraved snake circling it seeming to mock his futile attempts. Yet, the mirror's surface remained stubbornly unchanged, a reflection of his growing sense of dread.

Tom's pulse quickened with each second that Evaline didn't appear in the mirror. Panic clawed at the edges of his mind, and he felt an unfamiliar sensation of helplessness. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She always answered his calls, no matter the circumstances.

His voice trembled with a mixture of fear and frustration as he tried once more, "Accio Evaline's attention!"

The mirror flickered, the engraved snake writhing as if in agitation, but still, there was no response from Evaline. Tom's dread deepened, and he clenched his jaw so hard that his teeth ached.

What was happening out there in Diagon Alley? Was she in danger? Why wasn't she answering? Thoughts raced through his mind, and he felt a mounting sense of urgency. If something had happened to her- 

And then the mirror grew warm.

Tom’s knees threatened to buckle right then and there in relief. Tom's heart was still racing, but at least now he could breathe a little easier. Evaline's face, though worried, provided a sense of comfort amid the chaos. Her image in the mirror was somewhat shaky, likely due to her hurried movements.

"Are you alright? Where are you?" he blurted out urgently.

"A Bombarda was thrown at the Magical Menagerie by some knucklehead, and now there's Aurors scrambling after rats in Diagon." Evaline scowled as she physically dodged something that looked suspiciously like an owl. Her hood was drawn up, obscuring her face partially, but her sharp gaze remained as focused as ever. She seemed to be moving swiftly, the mirror swaying with her steps. "You're inside Gringotts?"

Tom nodded, though Evaline wasn’t looking at him, her eyes urgently scanning her surroundings. 

"I'm fine," she assured him with a murmur, her eyes darting to something beyond his view. Tom couldn't help but feel a pang of helplessness, unable to see the situation unfolding around her. "It was a spontaneous attack, Aurors are saying. There was no coordination or objective. Grindelwald's people, from what I could tell."

Tom's brows furrowed in concern. Grindelwald's followers were known for their chaotic and destructive methods. The fact that Evaline had identified them made the situation even more unsettling. Grindelwald preferred to carry out raids more discreetly.

"Be careful, Evaline," he muttered, brows drawn in worry, “Keep talking to me. Don’t hang up.”

She let out a soft chuckle, which made him feel strangely lighter despite the tension in the situation. "It's under control now, I think," she murmured, her voice low as she pulled her hood further over her head and abruptly switched directions, "The Aurors got here a while ago, and Grindelwald's people fled. Their leader's missing, though.”

Tom was too relieved to notice the gleeful undertone in that last statement. Instead, he sighed in relief, his tense shoulders relaxing slightly. "You're not hurt, are you?" 

“Not a scratch. Don't worry, Marvolo. How did your business go at Gringotts?"

He frowned at the abrupt shift in the conversation but chose to go along with it. "I found out my father and uncle are alive."

Evaline's expression contorted into one of fury and annoyance. "They won't be for very long once I get my hands on those pieces of scum," she seethed, her protective instincts coming to the forefront. "What were they thinking, abandoning a child? Absolutely pathetic."

Her passionate reaction, though alarming in its intensity, warmed Tom's heart. He had never had anyone on his side like this before Evaline entered his life. It felt strangely comforting to know that someone cared so deeply about his well-being.

"I'm also the heir to two houses," he continued, a smug smile spreading across his face. "Slytherin and Gaunt."

Evaline raised an eyebrow, her grin matching his. "That's hardly a surprise, is it?" she teased. "I always knew you were of the high class simply by how long you take on your hair every morning."

He scowled, glaring at the mirror with all the intensity he could muster, "It takes time to achieve perfection, Evaline. You should try it sometime."

She snorted, "Well, perfection is quite a high bar to reach. I'll leave it to you Nobles’, Heir Slytherin-Gaunt."

Tom couldn't help but grin.

༺═──────────────═༻

The second they apparated back to the villa and left the chaos of Diagon Alley behind, Marvolo couldn't help himself. He turned to Evaline and began checking her frantically for any injuries. His hands moved swiftly over her shoulders, arms, and sides, his eyes searching her face for any signs of harm.

Evaline stood there, a bemused smile playing on her lips, watching his frantic inspection. Once Marvolo was done with his thorough inspection and was relieved to see that she was unharmed, he couldn't help himself. He drew her into a tight hug, as if needing the physical reassurance that she was indeed safe. 

She let out an affectionate huff, patting his back as he held her close, her cheek squished onto his chest.

A second later, Marvolo stiffened and pulled away from their hug, his brows furrowed deeply. "What?" he asked, looking puzzled.

Evaline blinked, equally confused. "What?" she echoed.

"Why would you say that?" he continued, his frown deepening.

She blinked again, her confusion growing. "Say what? I didn't say anything."

Marvolo's expression shifted from confusion to a near pout. "Yes, you did. You told me to stop squeezing the life out of you." he said, his voice filled with confusion and a hint of hurt, almost like a scolded child.

A puzzled laugh escaped Evaline's lips. "Did you hit your head or something?"

But before Marvolo could respond, both of them heard it—a faint hissing sound. Evaline's eyes widened as she realized it was coming from inside her robes. She felt Marvolo's hand on her arm, and he murmured softly, "Evaline, stay still."

She complied, her heart pounding as she watched Marvolo raise his wand. Slowly, he moved her outer robe away from her waist, revealing the source of the hissing sound. She stiffened when she saw what was coiled around the silver chain on her waist, which she usually used to clip on a coin pouch.

It was a snake, and not just any snake. It had olive-green scales with striking black and white bands on its trunk that converged to the head. The serpent looked like it could coil into a threatening pose at any moment, measuring about a foot long.

For a moment, they all remained still, locked in a tense standoff.

And then Marvolo started hissing. 

Evaline almost tripped on her feet at the sudden parseltongue. 

His voice had a certain authority, a command that Evaline had never heard before. Slowly, he crouched in front of her, speaking to the serpent face to face. The serpent, which had been poised to strike, slowly lowered its head and seemed to be listening.

Evaline watched in astonishment as the snake responded to Marvolo's Parseltongue. 

"Marvolo, as much as I find this development fascinating, would you please ask the snake to release me?" she requested with a wry smile, “You can release me as well, on that note.”

He blinked, realizing that he was still holding onto her waist, and carefully released her. "My apologies."

Marvolo turned his attention to the snake and hissed a series of words. The snake blinked, its tongue flickering in thought, before it slowly began to uncoil itself from Evaline's waist. It slithered down to the ground and then coiled there, still eyeing them with curiosity.

At her questioning look, Marvolo explained, looking somewhat bemused, "She was locked up at the Magical Menagerie and escaped during the raid. She said she sensed the strongest magic nearby and attached herself to the person with it, which just so happens to be you. She refuses to leave now."

The snake, now on the ground, swirled its head to look up at Evaline, its tongue flickering with interest. It seemed calmer now, its initial aggression subsiding in the presence of a Parseltongue speaker.

Evaline smirked, quirking an eyebrow at the snake and she crouched. "Well, it's nice to meet you too," she said in a conversational tone, as if addressing a fellow witch or wizard, “Do you happen to have a name?”

The snake responded with a series of hisses, and Marvolo translated, "Her name is Nagini."

Oh dear. 

Nagini, as in Lord Voldemort’s 6th horcrux, Nagini? 

The very name sent shivers down the spines of those who knew the dark history of Lord Voldemort and his horcruxes. Yet, here before her, in her hands, was a small and seemingly harmless snake named Nagini.

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on her. In her own time, Nagini was a dreaded creature, a symbol of Voldemort's malevolence. But here, she appeared as a tiny, innocent snake, and Evaline couldn't help but find her rather adorable. It was a strange contrast to the horror she associated with the name Nagini in her normal timeline.

Evaline arched an eyebrow at the tiny snake, extending her hand closer. "Nagini means 'a girl turned into a snake,' doesn't it? Are you a Maledictus by any chance?"

The name was rather peculiar. 

A Maledictus was a female individual who carried a blood curse that eventually turned her into a type of beast permanently. The curse was carried from birth and passed down from mother to daughter.

Nagini hissed in response, and Marvolo looked rather intrigued as he observed the snake with curiosity. "She is. She just recently turned into a snake, a couple of years ago when she was captured. She says it's nice to be around humans again and that real snakes are idiots."

The snake, Nagini, flickered her tongue at Evaline's fingertips before she slithered onto Evaline's palm, coiling herself comfortably. Evaline slowly stood, her eyes locked on the tiny snake in fascination.

Marvolo snorted when Nagini hissed something else. "She said you smell nice, like rain."

Evaline dragged a finger over the snake's scaly head, amused as the snake hissed in satisfaction, and cast a sidelong glance at Marvolo. "Well, isn't this interesting? A Slytherin heir and a snake just 'Slytherin'ed' into my villa."

Marvolo stared at her for a moment, a mixture of disbelief and pique in his eyes, before he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Evaline's grin only widened in response, and to her delight, Nagini let out a series of abrupt hisses, almost as if she was laughing.

"The snake has a better sense of humour than you do, Marvolo," she teased, giving Nagini another gentle pat with her free hand.

Marvolo let out an aggravated groan, his exasperation evident in his posture and tone as he turned and left the room, muttering under his breath. "There's two of you now, like one of you wasn't enough."

Evaline couldn't help but laugh at Marvolo's reaction, her amusement dancing in her eyes as she looked at the snake coiled comfortably in her hand. "I think we'll get along just fine, Nagini."

Chapter Text

Evaline slammed a pile of heavy, ancient tomes onto the table next to Tom. He blinked, his quill hovering just above the parchment where he had been working on an essay. The sudden interruption left his brows raised in surprise.

Without wasting any time, Evaline flicked her wand, and a large blackboard materialized behind her. She turned to face Tom with a determined expression.

"It's time for some etiquette lessons, Heir Slytherin Gaunt."

Tom blinked, "Pardon?"

Evaline leaned forward, eyes narrowed, "You are the heir of two ancient and noble houses, one of which is from the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and the other happens to be the founder of Hogwarts."

"Yes, I am aware.” he said slowly, raising a brow.

She let out a sigh, gesturing to the pile of books she had just placed on the table, "That's your homework for tonight. You need to learn about the Sacred Twenty-Eight and where the House of Gaunt, and Slytherin stands in society."

Tom eyed the imposing stack of books sceptically, but before he could protest, Evaline had already moved on, uncaring about his opinion. "Now, onto the lesson.”

"First and foremost, you need to understand your status in society. You, Marvolo, are the heir of two prominent houses and a rather accomplished wizard. However, you lack the etiquette to act as such."

Tom bristled at the implication, "Are you saying I lack manners?"

She couldn't help but roll her eyes at his immediate response. "Manners are just one aspect of etiquette, Marvolo. While you possess charm, intelligence, and cunning, all crucial for navigating high society, you need to familiarize yourself with the expectations, greetings, traditions, and necessary protocols of the upper class."

Evaline continued, her voice firm, "Let's start with you. Your position in society. Yes, you are the heir of two houses, and yes, you're a prefect and a top student. Yes, you have incredibly powerful magical prowess and yes you’re probably smarter than half those noble fools combined.”

“Obviously,” he murmured as he looked through the pie of books. Each title sounded more boring than the last.

She ignored him, continuing smoothly, “Yes, you have pretty words and a pretty face. But you are new . You haven't been introduced to the wizarding world. Therefore, despite your heirship, when you enter society, you'll be at the bottom of the food chain."

Tom smirked, pausing his shuffling as he looked up, “You think I’m pretty?”

Evaline stared at Marvolo as if he had just said the most absurd thing in the world. She raised an eyebrow, "I'm starting to think you're delusional."

“You think I’m pretty ,” his smirk widened.

"I've seen garden gnomes that I would consider more attractive than you," she deadpanned. "Now, let's focus, shall we, pretty boy?"

His smirk fell. 

It did nothing to deter her. She tapped the board, and the words 'High Society' were written in bold letters. 

"Society is a battlefield," she declared, her tone serious. "No one is truly your ally, especially in the political arena. You must always hold yourself with the understanding that every word and gesture can have hidden agendas."

Tom raised an amused brow, “So, basically being a half blood in Slytherin?”

"Exactly," she affirmed. "In high society, even the politest words can carry hidden agendas. And those who smile at you might be plotting your downfall. You must be cautious, always. Do not get comfortable with them, they are not your friends. Not in the political field at least."

She tapped her wand again, causing the words to disappear, and then said, "But we won't dwell on that; you already know the basics seeing you rule Slytherin house now." 

“One of the many privileges of being pretty,” he interjected with another self assured smirk.

Evaline rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Oh yes, Marvolo, your charm is simply enchanting. I'm sure that's why half your followers have the intellectual capacity of a garden gnome and require you to hold their hand every step of the way."

His smirk fell. A scowl replaced it. 

He walked right into that one.

Another tap of her wand, and the words ‘Greetings & Introductions’ appeared on the blackboard.

"This is our starting point," Evaline began, utterly unaffected, holding up three fingers as she listed. "When you meet someone you've never encountered before, you begin by introducing your title, your name, and your houses.”

“In your case: The higher status house is named first and will often be shortened to the first House. This is how you would introduce yourself.” She tapped the board again, and the words appeared.

‘Heir Tom Marvolo Slytherin-Gaunt of the Ancient and Noble Houses of Slytherin and Gaunt. ’

“If you initiate the conversation, you wait for them to offer a handshake. Otherwise, you don't do so yourself, as it implies you've initiated something without their consent. You're giving them the chance to guide the conversation as they wish."

Tom nodded, taking mental notes. "And if they offer their hand first?"

"Then, you take their hand with your wand hand," Evaline explained. "It's a way of initiating trust in the conversation, a way of showing you will not harm them while their hand is engaged. Your response should be 'well met and their title’ in return."

Tom raised an intrigued eyebrow. "That seems rather paranoid, the notion of being attacked in those two seconds of a handshake."

With an air of casual wisdom, Evaline rolled her eyes. "The high class are always paranoid. They've got a bunch of dirty secrets, it comes with the title, I suppose."

He snorted and gestured for her to continue. She obliged.

“If you are greeting someone you are familiar with, the person of higher status will initiate the conversation and handshake. You, as the Heir and future Lord of two houses, will most likely be the one of higher status in most conversations, unless you are meeting someone of a Royal class, I suppose, but Britain does not have one active, so you need not worry about it-” 

She waved off easily as she tapped her wand on the board to form a triangle. At the top said ‘Royal Class’ followed by the Noble Hierarchy of Magical Britain. Marvolo watched with interest as various family names appeared in different levels of the Hierarchy.

She continued, “In this conversation, you are not to give your title or name, instead simply say ‘well met’ and continue your conversation as per normal. This indicates a sense of familiarity and shows others you are associated previously.”

Tom initially thought this conversation would be rather useless but barely 2 minutes in and he realised he knew nothing of this. So, he shut his mouth, picked up a quill and empty parchment and began taking notes. 

“And what if you are of equal standing with your conversation partner?” he asked, as he jotted down the last few words she said.

She nodded, “Then it comes down to your House status. For instance, Heir Malfoy and Heir Black are technically on the same social standing, both being Heirs of Noble houses, however, the House of Black has a higher standing in society. As such, Heir Black, will be of higher status. Similarly, the Greengrass family has a higher standing than house Malfoy.”

“And I shall hold a higher status than both of them combined.”

“Your ego shall hold a higher status than Lady Magic herself if you don't learn how to tame it.”

He clamped his mouth shut.

As he nodded, listening intently, Evaline waved her wand and summoned an old scroll from the looks of it. Its parchment was a yellow- brown worn colour and the wood was old mahogany.

“This is magical Britain. Every Ancient and Noble House. Memorise it. Top to bottom, bottom to top. Know who’s above you, know who you reside over. Even those who are not active or died out- know their names and positions.” 

He unravelled it with a curious look, scanning the names and realising he had only ever heard of about half of these names.

- - - - -

British High Society Standings

Royal Class:

• Royal House of Le Fay (Died out)

Noble Class:

• Slytherin (Not Active)/Ravenclaw (Died out)/Gryffindor (Died out)/Hufflepuff (Died out)

• Peverell (Died Out)

• Black (Active)

• Greengrass (Active)

• Prewett (Active)

• Gaunt (Not Active)

• Malfoy (Active)

• Potter (Active)

• Longbottom (Active)

• Abbott (Active)

• Lestrange (Active)

• Avery (Active)

• Crouch (Active)

• Macmillian (Active)

• Shacklebolt (Active)

• Nott (Active)

• Bones (Active)

• Rosier (Active)

• Slughorn (Active)

• Ollivander (Not Active)

• Parkinson (Active)

• Flint (Active)

• Rowle (Died Out)

• Selwyn (Died Out)

• Zabini (Active)

• Yaxley (Active)

• Weasley (Not Active)

• Bulstrode (Not Active)

• Travers (Died Out)

• Shafiq (Died Out)

• Burke (Not Active)

• Carrow (Not Active)

• Fawley (Not Active)

*Active: Bloodline is alive and involved in High Society

*Not Active: Bloodline is alive but not involved in High Society

*Died Out: No bloodline remaining, or squib descendants unable to claim titles.

- - - - - 

“Squib descendants?” he asked with a frown.

She nodded, “Squibs can always end up having magical descendants, so remember not to rule that out. British Nobles are often ignorant to that fact because the eventual magical descendant ends up being raised in the muggle world, as they’re usually born to non magical parents and only discover their heritage later.”

Tom almost smirked, knowing very well what Evaline thought of blood purity, “I see the blood purity nonsense plays over logical thinking in this aspect.”

“This and many more,” Evaline grumbled before she moved on, “Alright. Now we talk about how you greet a Lady in a social setting. There will be no shaking of hands as there is with men, by noble standards, that is simply barbaric and unbecoming-”

And so the burdens of bearing the name of two Noble Houses began. 

Tom almost regretted it. The next few hours passed with greeting demonstrations, greeting rules, particular actions that can be seen as an offence which Tom thought of to be normal until now.

For example, raising both eyebrows to someone you’ve just introduced yourself to could be taken as uncouth and apparently enough to hold you in low regard. What utter rubbish.

Another hour of Evaline forcing and observing Tom as he greeted her formally, as one should a lady, with a bow of the head and the kissing of the air above the lady’s hand.

Then she forced him to greet Norril formally, as one would with a Lord, with the shake of the hand with his dominant hand, only when Norril offered it first. The elf held a blank expression throughout the entire ordeal, while Tom was starting to feel a hint of embarrassment. 

After multiple corrections, a few stinging hexes on the wrist to fix his handshake posture -because apparently that’s a thing- and a few words of encouragement, Evaline nodded, satisfied as she declared, “Wonderful. You are ready to greet high society.”

Tom almost slumped in relief but did not since Evaline still had her wand and she looked a little too happy stinging him recently. He made to stand from his seat, utterly drained and wanted nothing more than a nap, a hot cup of tea and a book on intellectually challenging material unlike the ridiculous etiquette lessons he was forced to endure. 

His dreams were squashed as quickly as they arose.

“Now we talk about partners at social events. Balls, Gala’s, banquets, etc etc.”

Tom deflated as he sunk back into his seat. Evaline payed no attention to his wilting and miserable expression. 

He tried to keep the whine out of his voice, “Can we take a break?”

“No.”

“Please?” A word he had never uttered with such earnestness.

A pause. A trickle of hope. 

“No.”

This is what will kill him.

Not a curse. Not the muggle war. Not an illness. But etiquette lessons. 

Tom had to physically restrain himself from banging his head on the table. Evaline seemed to notice and took some pity on him. She summoned a tea set and sat across from him as she served them tea. 

That didn’t stop her lecture. 

At this point, Tom was sure not even Merlin himself could stop her.

“When you pick up or meet your date for the event, you must offer them your arm.The asking witch or wizard always provides the escort. When you ask someone to accompany you somewhere, you offer them your non-dominant arm,” She said as she poured two cups of tea, dumping three spoons of sugar in one while some honey in her own.

Sliding his sugar laced cup across the table, Tom took the cup in his hands, allowing the searing heat to burn his palms in an attempt to distract himself. Evaline stirred her tea with a small teaspoon with such precise movements. 

Tom’s eyes lingered on it. 

That was when he knew stirring tea will also be covered in etiquette lessons later on. 

Because the way- the motion she used to stir was calculated and purposeful. It wasn’t a stir - per say, more of a gentle back and forth movement. In fact, there was no stirring - no round circular movements as the word ‘stir’ was defined. 

He hated that he knew that. 

Evaline continued without acknowledging his growing dread, “It’s so the wand can be drawn quickly to protect your companion, should danger arise. As the asking wizard, you have taken the temporary responsibility to protect your partner for the event duration.”

She paused, her gaze settling on Tom in silent contemplation that made him want to squirm. "Now, let's put theory into practice. Offer me your arm."

Protesting would be futile. 

He had accepted that fact after enduring her stubbornness until third year, which was when he realised Evaline always managed to out-stubborn him one way or another. 

So Tom complied, rising from his seat as he released the warm cup of tea with reluctance. Since he was left-hand dominant, he extended his right arm toward her. Evaline nodded in approval, pleased with his choice. 

Then she let him go and shoved him back into his seat.

"Now, if you are with a partner whom you invited, you must introduce them formally to everyone you meet. Title, name and house- all of it. A matter of respect, really. It puts you both on equal footing. You brought your partner, so it's only fair you offer them all your acquaintances.”

“This is getting ridiculous,” Tom decided to voice his thoughts but was ignored without even a bat of an eye.

Evaline continued as though his mere existence wasn’t worth acknowledging, “Assuming your partner has acquaintances of their own, they are not expected to introduce you to them. Instead, their acquaintances would be expected to ask your name themselves if they wanted it."

As the day wore on, Evaline continued to impart 15 years' worth of etiquette lessons. The etiquette the pureblood heirs, the same people Tom had come to rule over at Hogwarts, were bred into.

With each piece of information she shared, he mind went back to the same doubts he started having a few years ago. She was hiding something. There was no way one could know so much about High Society without being intricately involved. 

Which led to the question: Who is Evaline really?

It had been five years since he first arrived at the villa, leaving behind the grim orphanage and embracing this peaceful sanctuary. During that time, he had become increasingly curious about Evaline's background and her family's status, or lack thereof.

Every year he came here, he searched the Villa from top to bottom- every nook and cranny for any clue, anything on Evaline’s lineage. However, despite his thorough searches, Tom hadn't discovered any genealogy, family status, or even a hint of noble lineage associated with the Este name. 

No family crest. No books about family history. Not even a damn portrait. 

Nothing . 

He searched diligently, leaving no stone unturned to uncover the truth. His frustration and curiosity drove him to sending his followers on a covert mission to investigate, to use their family connection, but the results were always the same—nothing, not a single shred of information.

It was like Evaline Este simply didn’t exist.

He thought about Evaline often. Evaline, the girl who had offered him a refuge from the muggle war, despite her own lack of parents or guardians. Evaline, who had no interest in making connections with those in power, yet possessed a deep understanding of politics that surpassed even seasoned politicians. 

She was cunning and intelligent, with a mastery of wandless and wordless magic that seemed to come to her as effortless as breathing. Evaline, who excelled in her studies without visible effort, who was on the same rank as Tom on the academic field but had no interest in putting up with others, students or professors alike, like he did.

She was graceful, well-versed in etiquette, and carried herself as if she had been born into high society. Evaline, who had an almost scary understanding of the dark arts despite her young age. 

Evaline's family, that she had barely mentioned, yet had their alliances with dark creatures. She owned a villa in Sicily, a region associated with magical nobility, yet she lacked such a title. 

Evaline, who navigated social functions with indifference, and held no interest in a future career, let alone building connections, despite being one of the most inherently Slytherin individuals he had encountered. 

Yes, he knew Evaline, the person who had stood by his side since the day he entered Hogwarts. She was his friend , the only one he could truly label as such. 

However, Tom still didn’t understand. 

At times, Evaline didn’t even seem like a real person to him. A person without ambitions, almost. She treated Hogwarts like it was a mere pass time for her, holding no real interest in anything.

And so, more often than not- Tom found himself asking the same question over and over in his mind. 

Who is Evaline?

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline rose from her seat, stretching her limbs as she felt the satisfying pops in her joints. She released a contented sigh and turned to Tom.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" 

Tom had slumped over his desk, an expression of pure irritation etched on his face. He now lifted his gaze to glare at her with a glare that could rival a Basilisk's. "I loathe you."

She responded with a dismissive eye roll. "No, you loathe high society."

Tom didn't waver. "No. I loathe you ."

Arching an eyebrow, Evaline fixed him with a bemused look, "You loathe me now . You'll thank me later."

Tom continued to grumble, his irritation palpable. Evaline, understanding that he had likely reached his limit for the day, decided to make her exit. She decided to give him some reprieve.

As she was about to leave the room, she turned back and called out to him, "Don't forget to do your homework. We'll continue tomorrow."

He merely offered a non-committal grunt in response, his attention already shifting to the pile of books he had been instructed to study. He glared at them with such intensity, she wondered if he could cast an incendio with his eyes.

༺═──────────────═༻

The next day, Tom woke to smoke. 

Thick black smoke. 

Panic gripped him as he scrambled out of bed, the book about the Sacred Twenty-Eight tumbling to the floor. He was in his pajamas, clutching his wand tightly as he coughed and stumbled his way through the haze.

"Evaline?!" he called through the smoke, still darting through the halls, skidding to a stop in front of her bedroom. He threw the door open, but it was empty. The sheets were rumpled, but the room appeared untouched. 

Panic gnawed at him.

Coughing, he covered his nose and mouth with the crook of his elbow and waved his wand to clear the smoke, panic coursing through his veins. He moved quickly, trying to clear the smoke with his wand.

He sprinted towards the kitchen, frantically dispelling the smoke in his path. Then he heard a shrill shriek that sent shivers down his spine. Bursting into the kitchen with his wand raised, he was met with the sight of Evaline frantically hovering over the source of the smoke.

"My muffins!" Evaline exclaimed, her face a mixture of frustration and disappointment.

Tom blinked in disbelief as he stood in the smoky kitchen, looking at the tray of burnt muffins that had caused the apparent smoke. She was wearing a lime green apron over a simple white, flowy dress, frantically waving her wand and fanning the burnt muffins with an airing charm.

At first, relief washed over him as he realised she was unharmed. 

He sighed, letting out breathe he didn’t know he was holding, and sagged against the wall, his racing heart starting to calm down. But then, as the adrenaline faded, anger began to replace it. 

He pushed himself off the wall and glared at Evaline.

"What on earth are you doing in here?" he snapped, He rubbed his temples with his fingers and then glared at the ruined muffins, “And how did you set off enough smoke to summon the entire Wizarding World?”

She looked up at him with an expression so distraught, Tom stumbled in surprise.

Tom immediately regretted snapping at her. 

It was unusual to see her so downhearted, and he didn't like how her frown made his stomach clench.

He softened his tone, "It's alright, Evaline. They're just muffins. Are you alright? Are you hurt?" He waved his wand to clear the last remnants of smoke from the room as he approached her, peering at the charcoal muffins now cooling on the bench. "Where's Norril?"

Evaline’s gaze remained on her burnt muffins, her expression lost. "He's opening the windows to air out the villa," she muttered absently.

Tom furrowed his brow, a bit puzzled by her strong reaction to the ruined muffins. He didn’t know how to comfort people. He found it tedious. But right now, all he wanted to do was make her sadness go away.

So he did what Evaline would do. He placed a hand between her shoulders, and rubbed her back gently in what he assumed would be comforting.

"We can make a new batch," he suggested lightly, trying to be practical as he paid careful attention to her reaction.

She shook her head, her movements mechanical as she levitated the burnt batch into the bin. He watched as each muffin fell with a thud. She untied the apron and he watched as the lime green apron was placed on the counter gently. She seemed distant, her movements stiff and stilted.

"We can take a day off from etiquette lessons," she stated before leaving the kitchen without offering any further explanation or meeting his gaze, leaving Tom watching her in growing worry.

Norril appeared in the kitchen a moment later, his hands folded behind his back, maintaining his usual refined and emotionless appearance. " Signore Marvolo, would you like breakfast?"

Tom's frown deepened, eyes still on the empty doorway, "What's wrong with her?"

“ Signora Evaline went to the market this morning. Upon her return, she seemed rather... distant. I am unaware of the reason."

He blinked. Market? 

Tom cast Tempus and realised he had slept in. It was already past noon. "And you think that possessed her to start baking out of the blue?"

Norril considered for a moment. "I believe that Signora Evaline employs baking as a means of relieving stress and coping with adversity."

Tom's frown deepened further, but he spotted another batch of muffins in the oven. With the presence of mind, he quickly put on the oven mitt left next to the apron and managed to save this batch from a similar fate.

༺═──────────────═༻

A few hours ago;

The gentle chime of the quaint bell above the bookstore door embraced Evaline as she entered, a familiar scent of aged paper and ink enveloping her senses. It was one of those quiet mornings when Marvolo was sleeping in late, probably because he had stayed up late reading as per usual, leaving her with the luxury of wandering the streets of muggle Italy.

The bookstore's shelves were a treasure trove of literary wonders, and Evaline strolled leisurely through the aisles. Her fingers delicately traced the spines of various books, each one a world waiting to be explored. The titles were a mix of muggle literature, unfamiliar names that sparked a curiosity in her.

Perhaps, she mused, she should indulge more in muggle literature.

Her eyes caught sight of a specific title that resonated with her. Retrieving the book from the shelf, she flipped through its pages, the words within whispering tales of another world. A smile touched her lips as she realized that Marvolo, despite his reluctance to admit it, would likely appreciate this muggle literary find.

After all, there was a certain charm to these books that even the most ardent wizard couldn't deny.

Lost in the sea of literary treasures, she didn't notice the young woman browsing the same shelf until it was too late. The collision was gentle but enough to send the girl stumbling, her books scattering in a cascade of paper and leather.

A soft gasp escaped the lips of a young girl who had stumbled and fallen, her books scattering in all directions.

"Apologies," Evaline said, her voice soft as she knelt to help gather the fallen books. Her eyes flicked up to meet the girl's, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

The stranger had a cascade of wavy blonde hair that framed her delicate features, and her eyes, a soft shade of blue, held a familiar warmth. Evaline's breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight.

The girl rambled nervously, a light laughter bubbling from her lips as she picked up her books. "Oh, clumsy me. I'm always doing this. I'm so sorry."

Evaline offered a small smile, her heart pounding. The girl stood, extending an apology with a friendly smile. Evaline continued to stare, her mind grappling with the uncanny resemblance.

The girl's voice broke through her daze, "I really am sorry. Sometimes I get lost in these books, and I don't watch where I'm going. Thanks for helping."

Evaline's hand was poised to offer assistance, but she hesitated, her eyes fixed on the stranger's face. The world seemed to blur around her, and for a fleeting moment, she saw a different pair of eyes, a different face—a face she hadn't seen in years.

The moment stretched, suspended in time.

The girl smiled again, oblivious to Evaline's inner turmoil. "I should be more careful. Little Robert here keeps telling me to watch where I'm going."

Evaline blinked, her gaze dropping to the little boy clutching the girl's skirt. A little boy, no more than five, his wide eyes turned up to her, and he asked in a sweet voice, "Sorella, when are we leaving?"

Evaline's heart sank. The word echoed in her mind. Sorella. Sister.

The girl looked down at the boy, her eyes filled with a loving warmth. "Soon, Carlo. Let's gather your books."

Reality crashed down on her like a heavy wave.

Her mother was gone. The woman before her was not her mother.

Evaline took a step back, her hand retracting as if burned. The girl noticed Evaline's sudden change.

"Are you alright?" she asked, concern in her eyes.

Evaline forced a smile, her mind grappling with the dissonance. She watched as the eyes, once a familiar shade of light blue, turned to a brown.

The illusion shattered, and reality crashed back into place.

"Yes, I...I should go," Evaline said, her voice tinged with a shaky farewell as she was already turning.

The girl nodded, her smile unwavering. "I apologize again. Take care."

She turned away, the weight of her past lingering in the air. The illusion shattered, leaving Evaline to navigate the bookstore's aisles with a heaviness in her heart.

༺═──────────────═༻

Two hours later, Tom found Evaline in the sunroom, her gaze fixed on the sea view. 

A bottle of whiskey sat next to her, and her demeanor was distant. He hesitated, his mind racing, unsure of how to approach the situation. In their time together, he had never seen Evaline in need of comfort, and he wasn't quite sure how to provide it.

Setting the plate of muffins between them, he remained silent, waiting for her to speak, realizing that words might not be enough.

For a while, he said nothing, not out of indifference, but because he didn't know how to comfort someone. Evaline had always been the strong one, the one who never seemed to need comforting from anyone. So he waited, keeping a watchful eye on her because that's all he could do.

After what felt like an eternity, Evaline finally turned to look at him, her face devoid of the warmth he had grown accustomed to. She stared at him as if questioning the reality of the moment. 

Then, she sighed, taking a direct sip from the whiskey bottle. Tom continued to watch her, a mix of concern and confusion in his eyes.

"I saw my mother," she said abruptly.

Tom's ability to speak temporarily halted. His brain went blank for a moment. Then he stammered, "I thought—"

"I'm beginning to think Lady Fate likes to play twisted games with me," she interrupted. Her gaze was back on the horizon, but Tom could tell she wasn't truly seeing it. "She looked exactly like my mother. Exactly like the woman who was gutted before my eyes."

Tom's mouth went dry. He didn’t know that. 

"Gutted?" he echoed, the word slipping from his mouth before he could stop it. 

He felt sick.

"It was odd," Evaline continued as though she didn't hear him, her voice distant. "To see her breathing and walking and smiling when all I could remember was..." She trailed off.

As Evaline gazed out at the sea, her eyes unfocused, Tom struggled to reconcile the image of the confident and intelligent woman he had come to know with the little girl who had witnessed such a horrifying event. He found himself at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

But Evaline's response was odd. She turned to him, her eyes locking onto his, and said with an odd hint of humour, "You didn't gut her."

A shiver ran down Tom's spine.

Tom blinked, not sure how to respond to that. It was true, he hadn't done anything to harm her mother. 

But the way she had dismissed it was odd. Detached.

He hesitated for a moment before asking, "What happened to your father?"

She shrugged, her expression still distant. "I never saw him again. He disappeared. My guess is he fled."

“Fled? Was he in danger?”

"Possibly. Or maybe he just couldn't bear to look at someone so useless."

"You’re not useless" Tom immediately said to her, although he felt that there was more to those words than met the eye. "I'm sure your father doesn't think so either."

She took the last remaining swig of her whiskey, then set the empty bottle down with a thud. In one swift, determined motion, she stood up abruptly, leaving her seat. 

Tom stood almost automatically as well, watching her closely. She gripped the back of the chair tightly, her breathing steady as if she's grounding herself. 

“I don’t need your pity, Marvolo. It was just…rather unexpected.” she muttered, her fingers tightening their grip as she glared at the ground.

“You may not need my pity but I’ve been told you haven't eaten,” he started after a momet as he gestured to the plate, “So…muffin?”

Her eyes flickered to him and he fought down a grimace. He really wasn’t good at this.

Then she let out a laugh that sounded like a sob and had Tom scrambling and he was at her side instantly, “I’m sorry. What did I say wrong? You dont have to eat the muffins-”

She let out another laugh, wiping at her eyes even though there were no tears. 

Tom panicked. He pulled her to his chest, not knowing what else to do. “I’ve never done this before. Tell me how to fix it-”

“You suck at this,” came the muffled reply.

“Yes, yes- I suck at this. Just tell me how to make it better-”

Chapter Text

“Where have you been?” Marvolo asked as she sat across from him for dinner. 

He had already helped himself to a chicken salad as an appetiser as he waited for her to join him. They had long stopped using the formal dining room for meals, instead choosing to eat at the kitchen counter, a much more casual and warm setting.

Evaline reached for the pitcher of water, pouring herself a glass, “Torturing a man down in my dungeons.”

Marvolo's response was a disbelieving scoff, complete with an eye roll as he served himself some mashed potatoes. 

"Fine, don't tell me," he muttered,a hint of resignation of her long time ridiculousness. He continued, "While you were supposedly torturing someone, I happened to run into Orion at Diagon Alley."

Evaline's interest piqued, her curiosity evident as he produced an envelope from his robes with an oddly self-satisfied smirk. That was never a good sign. Placing it on the table between them, he waited as she reached for it.

With the seal now open, Evaline's eyes scanned the contents of the letter. Her head snapped up after perusing the first few lines. "The Black Yule Ball?"

Marvolo nodded, a smirk on his face, excitement in his eyes, “We’ve been invited as Lord Arctus’s personal guests.”

“Not Orions? That's rather odd…” she asked with a frown before something else caught up to her, “Wait- ‘we’ ?”

“Yes, we ,” He said firmly, already sensing the argument they were about to have as they always do whenever it comes to forcing Evaline to socialise and network.

Marvolo's resolve hardened as he anticipated her response -a rejection most likely- and it was becoming rather clear when Evaline didn't share his enthusiasm. She sighed, her brows furrowing as she looked down at the invitation in her hands. 

"I refuse to attend," she said, tracing the intricate lettering on the invitation absently as she scanned the rest of the invitation.

"You're coming with me," he declared firmly again, as though that would change her mind.

It didn’t. 

Her response was equally unwavering. "I refuse.”

A sigh escaped him, tinged with the tiniest hint of exasperation. "Why can't you just fear me and listen to me like everyone else does?" he lamented.

Evaline smirked as she leaned back in her chair, letting the invitation fall from her fingers onto the table. "Because you remind me of an angry kitten most of the time." 

Marvolo made an indignant sound and glared at her, which only made her amusement grow. 

It was hilarious to see a 15 year old non-snake version of Voldemort try to intimidate her, a mentally 32 year old Unspeakable and High Lady of a Royal Family. So yes, he really did remind her of an angry kitten.

Marvolo leaned in, almost pleading. "Evaline, you can't refuse this invitation. It's a personal one from Lord Black himself. Turning it down would tarnish your reputation, and you know how crucial appearances are here. Not to mention the connections you could make as his personal guest."

An eye roll. "I have no desire to do so. I hail from Italy, British connections will do me no good."

That did little to deter him, "Yes, but I'm from Britain. Your refusal could reflect poorly on me."

“I’m sure you’re more than capable of blowing the minds of a couple of old wizards on your own. In fact, you’ll dazzle them so much, my absence will go unnoticed.

Exhaling harshly, he stared at the ridiculously tall ceiling and willed for his patience. After a moment of accepting she wasn’t to be convinced so easily, he decided to change tactics. 

Tom decided to pull out his trump card, leaning back with arrogant confidence, "You might want to come. I hear they are officially announcing the Heir of Gaunt at the ball."

Her head snapped up, suspicion evident in her narrowed eyes. She could practically smell the trap he'd set for her, and she knew he relished in the knowledge that he had her cornered. “You’re truly planning to announce yourself?” 

Tom nodded, nonchalantly picking up his fork as though he wasn't blatantly blackmailing her, "Not the Slytherin Heirship yet. I intend to reveal the Gaunt Heirship and anyone with knowledge on the British Genealogy will make the conclusion of my connections to Salazar Slytherin. If the information you've provided holds true, securing an apprenticeship will be the fastest route into the ministry and the political field.”

He paused to take a bite of his steak while Evaline eyed him, and then he continued, “Of course, I could simply wait to claim my Lordships at 17 but I feel it would be better to begin developing a reputation from now- I would be met with less resistance in the future. What better time to introduce Heir Gaunt, one of the Sacred 28, to high society than at the grandest social event of the year?"

Carefully slicing another bite, his eyes darted to her face. Her gaze had that distant look in them, like always when she was thinking about something, with a small tilt of her head.

Evaline mentally dissected the idea, weighing its flaws and advantages, while Tom watched her intently, waiting for her input on the idea, as always. She couldn't deny that there were merits to what he suggested. An announcement at the Black Yule Ball could solidify his position and set the stage for his ascent into the wizarding world's upper echelons.

“You will be under constant scrutiny after this,” Evaline felt the need to mention. It had been quite the shock when she had publicly announced her status at 17. 

The aftermath was a relentless gaze, a ceaseless watch from every direction. People sought her out, engaged her in conversation, and speculated about her every move. It was nothing short of a miracle that she had managed to shield herself from the prying eyes of news agencies.

“Any aspect of privacy will cease to exist in public.”

“I am aware,” Marvolo acknowledged.

She nodded slowly, eyes trained on her plate as she spoke her mind, “In this current time the only way you can possibly enter the Ministry with good favour when you graduate is with an apprenticeship.”

He nodded again.

She closed her eyes briefly, probably cursing herself but nodded.

His grin widened, his satisfaction evident. "So, it's settled then. We'll attend the Black Yule Ball, and I'll make my grand debut into British Society as Heir Gaunt."

She scowled as she noticed the self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips, and he raised an eyebrow, challenging her.

Then, she relaxed, picking up her fork and stabbing it through an asparagus, "Tell me, Heir Gaunt, do you happen to know how to ballroom dance?"

It was Evaline's turn to watch in amusement. 

Marvolo's sudden panicked expression was a sight to behold. Evaline took great pleasure in watching the Heir Gaunt squirm for a change, his usually unflappable demeanour now clearly rattled. 

His composed exterior cracked for a moment before he snapped at her, demanding that she teach him. “When shall we begin dance lessons?”

Evaline, still smirking, crossed her legs casually as she picked up her glass of water, "Oh, how do you know I know how to dance?" With an air of mock innocence, she raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I'm utterly terrible at it."

Marvolo scoffed at her response, his confidence unwavering, jabbing a fork in her direction. "Evaline, you've taught me everything from Magical politics to Apparition to muggle cooking to wandless magic," he retorted, eyes narrowed and without shame,  "I'm fairly confident that ballroom dancing is within your repertoire."

She hummed. "Well then, Heir Gaunt, I suppose you're in luck. Looks like you have a dance instructor for the Black Ball. For a price, of course."

Marvolo hesitated for a moment, suspicion written across his face. 

"Alright, I’ll bite, what's the price?" he finally asked, wariness evident in his voice.

"Promise me that you won't pester me to attend the Slug Club for the rest of the year and I give up my prefect badge."

Marvolo groaned, looking exasperated. "I don't understand why you refuse these networking opportunities, Evaline," he protested. "If you took half the opportunities I lay out for you, we could be ruling Slytherin House together, not just me alone."

She shrugged, undeterred by his frustration. “You’re the one who wants to attend the Ball. How devastating would it be when the Heir Gaunt trips over his feet on the dancefloor?”

Marvolo sighed in annoyance, running a hand through his hair. "Fine, fine, I promise. No Slug Club for the rest of the year…And you can forfeit your badge next year, not this year- it's much too late for that. Just teach me how to dance so I don't embarrass myself."

"Good choice, Heir Gaunt."

༺═──────────────═༻

“The Waltz is a smooth dance. Meaning it travels around the dancefloor in a counterclockwise direction. You follow the crowd’s general direction. Now, the Ancient and Noble House Of Black is known to conduct Waltz dances as their openings. As such, the rest of the Nobility follows this trend in Britain.” 

Evaline lectured as she once again, individually demonstrated the steps of a box step. Tom watched with rapt attention, eyes focused on how her heeled feet moved and the steps involved.

After demonstrating once more, Evaline stood before Tom, her expression a mix of determination and frustration. "Alright, Marvolo, let's try this again. Remember, it's all about balance and rhythm."

For the 20th time, she flicked her hand and classical waltz music echoed around the ballroom. She guided his hand to be positioned just on her shoulder blade, and held his other hand. “This is called the vertical hand position, used in the waltz, the onestep, tango and foxtrot dances.”

He nodded, trying to focus, but he couldn't help feeling like a bull in a china shop amidst all this grace and elegance. Tom couldn't help but feel frustrated as he attempted yet another awkward dance step. Dancing was not his forte, and it was becoming increasingly evident. 

He was accustomed to wielding power and control, not prancing around like a fool on the dance floor. He tried to focus on Evaline's guidance, but it was like trying to grasp a handful of smoke. Her sharp instructions and relentless corrections in combination to his reckless footword were beginning to grate on his nerves.

“Stop looking at your feet!” she snapped at him, her tone sharp, for the umpteenth time and his head snapped back up, "Look at me - Your dance partner. Eye contact is practically mandatory during this dance. Focus on the flow, the sync with your partner. Step forward with your left foot."

Tom forced himself to meet her gaze, even though it was almost as intimidating as the dance itself. This time, when he stepped forward, he was aware of her eyes on him, which only added to his discomfort.

Then, he stumbled. 

His foot collided with Evaline's, causing her to hiss in pain. Her grip on his hand tightened, making him wince, but she was right there, guiding him just as she had been for the past few days.

Frustration coursed through him; he didn't like feeling so inadequate.

"Marvolo, for the sixteenth time today, you're supposed to glide with me, not stomp on me," 

Tom scowled. "I'm trying , it's not as easy as it looks." he grumbled, concentrating heavily on the steps Evaline had already repeated 13 times already, “Why does it even have to be a ball? Couldn’t it be a normal banquet?”

He couldn't help but find the entire affair a waste of time, but he also knew the importance of appearances in the world of politics and power. 

"Balls are demonstrations of power. Balls are how the ruling class remains the ruling class." Evaline explained absently, as she adjusted his hand position on her shoulder and then pressed a hand on his shoulder to correct his posture, making him straighten his back.

He felt a twinge of irritation at the ridiculous traditions of the wizarding world. Why did everything have to be so annoyingly complicated? 

After a few more missteps and stumbles, his dance instructor had seemed to reach a breaking point. Evaline released him, taking a few steps back as she sighed, rubbing her forehead in thought. "Okay, how about we try this in your language? Imagine you're a serpent."

It was clear she had no experience as a teacher because that attempt was simply preposterous. 

Tom raised an eyebrow. "A…serpent?" 

He'd been called many things in his life, but never had anyone compared him to a snake during a dance lesson. Still, he attempted to follow her guidance, although he couldn't help but feel like a fool.

"Yes, serpents are elegant creatures," she waved off his amusement, taking his hand once more, "Now, try again, but this time, slither your foot forward smoothly. Just relax, Marvolo, we’re dancing not duelling."

He attempted to mimic a snake's movement, looking utterly confused because he had no idea what the bloody hell it meant to move like a serpent, causing Evaline to snort. "I said be a serpent, not a drunken wizard with an identity crisis!"

He tried again, and this time, he managed to smoothly step forward without crushing her toes. His next step followed just as smoothly and she sighed in relief.

"Good! See, it's all about finesse," she murmured as they fell into a slow, yet nice rhythm.

He looked up at her and smirked, breaking his intense focus on his footwork to say, "Well, you know, serpents are my speciality."

“You’ve got the general of the box steps down, I suppose- if we ignore my broken toes” She rolled her eyes, ignoring his comment and his scoff of indignation, "Now, let's work on your spins. Remember, keep your posture straight, and don't let go of my hand."

Two minutes later, Evaline found herself sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain. 

Tom had attempted a spin with her, but somewhere along the way he twisted his feet too fast and he'd lost his grip on her hand, sending her crashing into a nearby wall. She lay there, letting out a long suffering sigh, probably wondering what the hell she had gotten herself into while Tom rushed over, a grimace on his face as he offered her a hand.

He felt a mixture of guilt and amusement. Guilt because he was responsible for her fall, and amusement because seeing Evaline, typically unflappable, sprawled on the floor was a rare sight.  She scowled at him and he smiled apologetically, kneeling next to her as she sat up with his help.

“For someone who fancies himself perfect at everything in life, you're absolutely dreadful at dancing," she grumbled, rubbing her sore backside, “It was easier to teach you apparition.”

Nagini, slithering into the ballroom with grace, hissed her disapproval as she made a beeline for Evaline. The snake's menacing presence was unmistakable as she coiled herself protectively into Evaline's lap. 

She swirled her head to Tom, her black eyes menacing as she hissed, "Stupid! What did you do to wise hatchling? Ugly should learn to protect wise hatchling."

“I am not stupid!” he protested through gritted teeth. 

For some reason, the damned snake had decided to call him ‘stupid’ after she had caught him trying to break into the warded section of the Villa’s library. It had ended badly, with Tom stumbling right into another shelf and nearly causing an entire collapse of the damn room. It was only because of his quick reflexes that he was able to balance the bookshelf right before it hit anything. 

He was just lucky no one else understood parseltounge.

“You are stupid.” the snake said with the confidence of a seasoned pathological liar.

Tom’s eyes narrowed at the snake as he hissed back, "Why is she ‘wise hatchling'?"

"Her magic is older than your’s, stupid. She is more powerful as well- smart enough to protect you," Nagini replied, her tone as close to scolding as a snake's hiss could get. "You are still a stupid baby hatchling, your magic is still developing."

Tom blinked, taking in this newfound piece of information. “Older?”

But the snake was too busy hissing her concerns and fussing to Evaline who although had no idea what the snake was saying, nodded along with a smile anyways, sending her own reassurances.

༺═──────────────═༻

As sunlight streamed into the sunroom, casting warm, dappled patterns on the floor, Evaline and Nagini found themselves in an unusual yet strangely tranquil setting. Nagini, stretched luxuriously across the back of the couch, seemed to bask in the golden rays, her scales glistening in the sunlight.

Evaline sat across from her, her gaze fixed on Nagini. The book in her lap left open, abandoned as she opted to observe the snake. It was an odd moment of quiet contemplation, an almost surreal scene where a Maledictus, a woman cursed to eventually transform into a snake, and the same snake, who would have one day become one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, shared a moment of calm.

Marvolo entered the room with an air of intrigue, a letter clutched in his hand. 

He chose a chair next to Evaline, his intentions veiled beneath a mask of unreadable expression. Without a word, he extended the letter toward her, his eyes locked onto her face.

Slowly, Evaline tore her gaze from the snake and directed her attention to Marvolo. His usually expressive face had transformed into an uncharacteristic mask of emotionlessness. 

This stoic expression was a rare sight, for it typically emerged only in the presence of others. When Marvolo looked at Evaline with that emotionless face, it felt distinctly unusual, making her wonder what was going on.

Evaline accepted the letter with a quirked eyebrow, her gaze skating over the elegant parchment. As she read its contents, she couldn't help but snort in an almost dismissive manner, passing the letter back to Marvolo as if it held little importance.

He frowned at her, baffled by her reaction. "Well?" he prompted, seeking some sort of reaction.

Evaline shrugged, returning her attention to the book in her hand. "Well what?"

"What do you think?"

"Accept it or decline it, Marvolo. It’s not that difficult," Evaline replied, her tone laced with a hint of amusement. When he didn't reply, she peered at his face and slowly explained, "Lucretia Black has asked you to accompany her to the ball.

Marvolo scowled, his irritation simmering just below the surface. "I know that!"

"Then what's the problem?" Evaline inquired, unperturbed. She couldn't help but wonder what exactly Marvolo was after with this whole charade. 

What did he want?

"What do you think?" Marvolo asked again, his eyes narrowing as he carefully watched her reactions.

Evaline couldn't help but pause for a moment as the puzzle pieces clicked together in her mind. His intentions became clear, and her amusement swelled as she understood what he was trying to achieve. 

The very idea struck her as amusing. Evaline rolled her eyes inwardly; she had no interest in minors, for Merlin's sake.

The realisation made her suppress a chuckle as she feigned ignorance. "I think you should clarify what you want from me because frankly, I don't know what you want me to say."

"We were invited to the ball together ," he finally stated, his voice laced with a touch of irritation.

She shrugged. "That doesn't mean we're expected to attend as partners, Marvolo."

Marvolo's frustration reached a boiling point as Evaline remained unfazed by his attempts to provoke a reaction from her. With a hint of annoyance in his voice, he declared, "Fine, I'll go with Lucretia."

Evaline, now immersed in her book and unfazed, nodded, "If that's your choice." she said, offering no resistance and even a hint of encouragement.

Gritting his teeth, he rose abruptly from his seat, pushing back his chair with an irritable screech. "I'm going to reply to Lucretia," he muttered through clenched jaws.

She nodded, her attention already returning to her book, unaffected by the entire exchange. As Marvolo continued to shoot daggers with his eyes, Evaline calmly turned a page. After a moment, she sensed his lingering presence and looked up to find him staring at her, clearly expecting some form of reaction. 

“Wait,” She looked at him and watched as his expression slowly became smug. Evaline fought to keep the smirk off her face as she asked innocently, “Does this mean I don’t have to attend anymore?”

His smugness dropped. 

Marvolo audibly growled then in frustration, “No. You will attend. If I don’t see you at the Ball, I’ll come home and drag you there in your nightgown myself!” 

“Very well,” She sighed heavily, resigned as she went back to her book. He was apparently waiting for something and when no reaction or comment was forthcoming, he finally stormed out of the room.

As she watched Marvolo's retreating figure, she couldn't help but notice Nagini's accusing gaze fixed upon her. The snake had risen from her slumber and caught their conversation, her head was lifted to Evaline’s eye level, tongue flickering silently. 

Evaline merely shrugged, not feeling the slightest bit guilty. "What? It's fun to mess with him."

Nagini watched her for a moment, then responded with an eloquent hiss that seemed to convey both amusement and reproach. When Evaline shrugged again, obviously not understanding the snake, Nagini simply rolled her eyes at her, flicking her tongue at her before laying her head atop her coils once more.

Evaline snorted. 

Just another day babysitting emotionally unstable teenagers.

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom had been dragged into countless situations by Evaline over the years, but being yanked into an Italian boutique for new robes was, surprisingly, uncharted territory. 

He thought they could have simply chosen attire from his extensive wardrobe back at the manor, but Evaline insisted that Italian robes were different, more elegant, and suited to the occasion.

Evaline, however, had transformed into a fashion dictator. She was unleashing a level of critique and fussiness that Tom had never seen before. 

The poor saleswoman, who had initially greeted them with a polite smile, now looked utterly terrified as Evaline berated her in rapid Italian. Tom didn't understand a word of what was being said, but he could tell from the saleswoman's increasingly flustered expression that it wasn't pleasant.

She scrutinised the fabrics, the colours, the stitches, and the designs with a critical eye that Tom hadn't known she possessed. It was as if every flaw in the garments was a personal offence. 

He eyed the most recent robe that had been thrown aside and decided he had no idea what the fault was in the clothing.

"Sei cieco? O stai cercando di farlo sembrare un clown!" Evaline barked as she thrust a robe back at the flustered saleswoman.

He heard ‘clown’ and decided to trust her judgement, despite not understanding why that green robe that Evaline had thrown aside was worthy of a ‘clown’ description. If Evaline thought it looked clown worthy, then he would not grant it another glance. 

Tom, in an attempt to be helpful, dared to venture an opinion. "Perhaps something in black would be suitable," he said tentatively, only to be met with simultaneous glares from both women. 

Evaline unleashed another torrent of Italian, and the saleswoman joined in, both of them gesticulating wildly as they argued.

He quickly learned that it was best to keep his mouth firmly closed and let the fashion war rage on around him. Tom had no idea what she was saying, but he had learned over the years to stay silent when Evaline was in one of these moods.

Evaline pointed at another robe, her expression a mix of horror and disdain. "Lo chiami abito? Questo sembra un elfo domestico stracci!”

In that statement, Tom understood nothing. 

He heard something close to ‘domestic’ but for the life of him couldn't figure out what was wrong with the Black robes that Evaline had thrown away so fast like they burned her.

To her credit, the salewoman didn’t flatter and seemed to be determined to find the perfect robe for Tom, and she kept presenting options despite Evaline's increasingly harsh criticisms. 

Tom was beginning to feel bad for the woman but dared not intervene.

As Evaline rejected yet another robe with a dramatic flair, the saleswoman finally reached her limit and engaged in a heated exchange with Evaline. As the discussion between the two women grew increasingly heated, they gestured wildly, sometimes even poking him in random places to emphasise their points.

Tom leaned against a nearby display, tired and utterly drained, observing the showdown with a mixture of bemusement and trepidation. 

It was a fascinating, if slightly terrifying, spectacle.  

Evaline's transformation into a fashion critic was nothing short of terrifying, and he wondered if he'd ever escape this boutique with his sanity intact. Hours had passed, and Tom felt like he'd aged a decade. He glanced at his reflection in the floor length mirror just to make sure his hairs had not greyed.

The argument between Evaline and the saleswoman -Sansha, her name he found out when Evaline hissed at her for daring to suggest a purple robe with black linings apparently- had reached an impasse several times. It was like watching two dragons clash, and Tom had wisely chosen to stay out of their way, pressing himself against the wall near the refreshments table when he wasn’t being fitted into robes by the mad women.

Finally, when he was almost certain they'd have to leave empty-handed, the tension in the room eased. Sansha presented a deep emerald robe that caught Tom’s eye immediately. It was a deep shade of emerald, almost black, that, according to Evaline, brought out his eyes. Tom had never been particularly interested in fashion, but even he had to admit the colour was quite striking.

Evaline inspected it with narrowed eyes. 

Sasha waited with baited breath, still holding up the robe to be admired. 

Evaline poked and probed at it, muttering to herself quietly, “Si abbina ai colori della sua famiglia... E certamente dà il giusto tono all'alta società.”

[It matches the colors of its family... And it certainly sets the right tone for high society.]

“Sì, soprattutto se è la prima volta che rappresenta il suo nobile nome,” Sasha replied, her voice steady despite the faint tremble in her hand that arose from holding up the heavy fabric for too long. Tom wondered why she hadn’t just used a levitating charm.

[Yes, especially if it's the first time he's been representing his noble name]

Taking the robe from the saleswoman, Evaline whirled to Tom, shoving the robe in his hands with a crazed look in her eyes, “"Indossa questo! Affrettatevi!"

“What?” Tom stumbled a step, confused.

“Put this on! Go!” she snapped in english. Without another word,Tom was already rushing to the changing rooms.

To his surprise, he found that he actually liked the robe. It was a perfect blend of elegance and functionality. It was clear that Sansha had managed to capture Evaline's vision flawlessly.

Evaline pursed her lips as she slowly circled him when he stepped out of the dressing room. A low hum as she eyed every single stitch, eyes narrowed and for some reason, Tom couldn't help but feel like prey.

Once satisfied, Evaline had ordered Sansha to have the Gaunt crest stitched onto the robe. 

It was true apparently that the Nobility of Britain had no power or recognition in Italy because the saleswoman either didn't recognise the House of Gaunt crest or simply didn’t care. 

Tom noticed this and also observed the presence of protective runes, almost unconsciously stitched onto the fabric. They were more subtle this time, runes on the inside rather than the outside of the robes, but their presence was unmistakable. 

Evaline had been doing this for the past few years on all his clothing, adding a layer of protection that he appreciated more than he usually let on. 

Despite everything, Evaline would never speak of it- nor would she acknowledge the fact that every year, when Tom would arrive at Este Villa for break, he would find a new wardrobe of wizarding robes in his rooms.

All adjusted to his size. 

All with protective runes stitched into them. 

He didn’t think she realised what she was doing, almost as though it was second nature to be walking around heavily warded and protected.

With the final design settled and the robe paid for, Tom found himself bewildered as Evaline and Sansha exchanged an affectionate hug. The two women had argued vehemently, but now they seemed like old friends, making promises to see each other again soon. 

Tom couldn't quite comprehend how the dynamics of this shopping trip had shifted so dramatically, so he simply picked up his robes bags and walked out of the store, waiting for Evaline to finish up.

༺═──────────────═༻

Two nights later, Evaline stood in her bedroom, a vision of elegance as she slipped into her dress. The dress was a masterpiece of dark grey net, adorned with delicate silver designs on her bodice that shimmered under the light. 

It clung to her figure, tightening tastefully at her waist. The off shoulder neckline was modest, and the rest of the dress flowed gracefully to the floor, pooling around her silver heels.

As she fastened her dress, Marvolo knocked on her bedroom door. Evaline smiled and called him in, turning to face him as he entered. Her eyes scanned him, appreciating the new robes, bearing his new family crest, he wore. "Don’t you look rather dashing?"

He entered with a polite smile, but it quickly faltered as he took in her attire. “You look... exquisite," he managed to say after a moment, as she noted with amusement as his eyes roamed her outfit.

Evaline smiled at the compliment and turned back to the mirror as she put on a pair of diamond earrings. "Thank you. Now, what brings you here?"

He shook himself out of his momentary shock and cleared his throat. "I was coming to inform you I'm off to greet Lucretia."

Evaline nodded, adjusting a strand of her dark hair. "Of course. But you'll have to find another way to meet your date. I won't be opening my Floo to a British household."

As Evaline focused on the task of styling her hair, she heard Marvolo's voice, slightly hesitant, as if he were choosing his words carefully. "I'll just apparate to her manor, then," he said.

She glanced at him in the mirror, offering a supportive smile. "Good idea. I wish you luck, Marvolo- be sure to dazzle me with your entrance." she grinned, sending him a wink through the mirror reflection.

He didn’t return her smile. 

Marvolo seemed to hesitate for a moment, his gaze lingering on her. She met his eyes briefly in the reflection of the mirror, but he turned away before she could read too much into it. 

"I'll see you at the ball," he said finally, and with that, he made his exit.

“Good luck!” She called out and chuckled when she heard a muffled ‘I don't need luck’ from the distance. 

Chapter Text

The Black Manor stood like a dark sentinel against the night sky, its imposing silhouette casting an air of foreboding over the sprawling estate. Evaline entered the grand ballroom, greeted by the sight of the bustling decor. 

It was a play of contrasts, as the name suggested. Black walls, adorned with intricate silver patterns of constellations, formed a dramatic backdrop for the glittering lights that hung from the ceiling.

The chandelier, an extravagant masterpiece of crystal and metal, bathed the room in a soft, ethereal glow. It was suspended from the ceiling like a sentinel of its own, illuminating the opulent dance floor below. Tall, arched windows framed in velvet curtains allowed the moonlight to filter in.

She spared a moment to appreciate the chandelier overhead, its crystals refracting the ambient light into a thousand twinkling stars. Her fingers deftly plucked a glass of champagne from a floating tray as she moved deeper into the room. The bubbling liquid was cool against her fingertips, and she took a sip, the taste crisp and refreshing.

Evaline's eyes scanned the crowd of British nobles and Ministry workers, recognizing faces from Hogwarts. She spotted some of her classmates, but there was no eagerness in her to engage in idle chit chat. 

She was here purely for Marvolo’s introduction into Britain's High Society and nothing more. Hell, she was only here, in this era, for Marvolo.

“Entering, Lord and Lady Black of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. Presenting Heir Orion Black of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. Presenting Lucretia Black, Daughter of the Ancient and Noble House of Black.”

Evaline's gaze flicked to the approaching quartet. 

Lord Black and his wife, both posed an imposing front in matching black formal robes embroidered with the Black family crest, led the way, descending the marble staircase with its silver engraved railings. 

The heir, Orion, was at his side, one step behind his parents, looking every bit the heir apparent in his distinguished attire. 

The eldest daughter, Lucretia Black, on the other hand, wore an elegant dress with an intricate pattern of stars embroidered in silver—a clear nod to the family's name and their obsession with the night sky.

As they descended the Grand staircase, the daughter excused herself -presumably to go find her date seeing as she had no duties to greet guests as she was neither heiress or Lady- leaving Lord Black, his wife and Orion to continue their journey into the heart of the event. 

It was then that Orion noticed Evaline, standing in her corner and sent her a grin which she returned, amused. He approached her hurriedly with as much dignity as he could possibly muster, eyes lit in excitement. 

His parents trailed behind their heir after trading curious looks.

“You came!” Orion called excitedly as soon as he could without drawing too much attention. 

She inclined her glass towards him in greeting as he neared, “Orion.”

He smiled, looking at her dress over once and nodding approvingly, “I couldn’t believe it when father said you and Tom sent an acceptance notice. I know how much you hate social events. You look great!” He paused his rambling abruptly, narrowing his eyes, “What did he offer you?”

“He’s to stop bugging me about the Slug Club for the rest of the year,” she smirked, clearly smug which made Orion roll his eyes in exasperation.

"Well met, Ms. Este," Lord Black greeted her with a graceful nod as he neared, making Orion straighten, his voice smooth and polished as he effectively stopped his sons rambling, "It's been a while since we've crossed paths. I'm pleased to see you could accept my invitation. How is your... friend?" the Black paused, eyes casted around them in search before landing on her again, “Are we to expect his attendance tonight?”

Evaline maintained her poise, her diplomatic smile unwavering. "Lord Black, Lady Black. Well met." She greeted them in return, her tone cordial, “Evaline Este of the House of Este. A pleasure to finally meet you Lady Black. I am a friend of Orion’s.” 

Evaline introduced herself to Orion's mother, a hand on her chest as she dipped her head slightly in greeting. 

While Evaline did have a higher status as a descendant from a Royal House, Evaline currently didn't hold any formal titles of Heiress or High Lady not to mention she wasn't sure if she was formally recognised as a descendant since she hasn't been born yet, so she was inclined to greet the Lady of Black as she was hostess as well as the Head of a Noble Household. 

It was an odd feeling greeting someone like this as she was used to people greeting her, as High Lady.

The Lady smiled politely in turn, copying her actions, though Evaline could see the hint of curiosity in her eyes as to why a girl with no formal title was personally invited by her husband, “Lady Melania Black of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. Well met, Ms Este. A pleasure, indeed- I’ve heard much about you from my darling Orion.”

“Is that so? All good things, I hope,” Evaline shot a look at the boy in question who looked away pointedly, a light blush on his face, before she turned her attention back to Lord Black, an amused smile on her face, "Thank you for the invitation, Lord Black. Marvolo will be arriving soon. He's been well- in fact he had quite the interesting trip to Gringotts recently."

Orion's curiosity was palpable; he sent her a questioning look, but Evaline's smile remained unfettered as she offered nothing more. It was Marvolo’s little surprise, after all. 

As she had expected, it was Lord Black who seemed to pick up on the subtle undercurrents. The little hint she had baited three years ago in the book shop was finally being reeled in.

His smile sharpened, a knowing look in his eyes as he said, "Is that so? Well, I look forward to meeting him again."

Evaline's smile remained in place as she tilted her head in agreement. "Marvolo will also be pleased to renew acquaintances as well." 

And then, as if on cue-

“Presenting, Heir Marvolo Gaunt of the Ancient and Noble House of Gaunt.”

Evaline's smirk was almost imperceptible as Orion whirled to face the grand staircase, where Marvolo descended, the epitome of confidence and charm. 

Lord and Lady Black had also snapped their gazes to the main staircase. 

She had a front-row seat to this little drama unfolding. The entire ballroom had collectively fallen into stunned silence, the only sound being Marvolo’s polished black Oxford Shoes on the black marble staircase.

Marvolo did not disappoint. 

He walked with the confidence befitting of his Noble heritage. Evaline was pleased to see all those hours at the boutique had paid off as Marvolo’s emerald robes flowed gracefully with each step, a charming smile on his lips as his eyes scanned the crowd. 

When they locked onto Lord Black, he didn't waver, striding onto the ballroom floor like he owned it.

As Marvolo stepped forth, Lucretia Black, elegantly dressed, extended her hand, publicly declaring herself his date for the night, which he gallantly kissed before offering her his arm. Together, they navigated through the crowd, making their way to where Evaline and Lord Black stood.

The crowd parted on instinct as the two made their way over, and as though a switch had been flipped, chaos erupted.

Officials and nobles jostled and stumbled over each other, eager to catch a glimpse of the new Heir Gaunt. It was a spectacle Evaline revelled in as she took another sip of her champagne to hide her smirk.

As much as she would have loved to memorise each and every noble losing their composure and gifting the memories to Marvolo, her attention was needed elsewhere. Not bothering to smother her amused expression, she shifted slightly so that she was facing the Lord Black.

He had turned away from Marvolo's approach and was now watching her with a knowing look in his eyes. She raised an elegant brow, tilting her flute in his direction slightly. 

"Well met, Lord Black. Thank you for the invitation."

Marvolo reached the small group with the grace of a seasoned aristocrat, his charm dialled to perfection. 

Lord Black responded with a smirk that held a hint of something deeper as his eyes drifted to his daughter then back to him. "Well met, Heir Gaunt. A pleasure indeed. Congratulations on your new title."

”Thank you,” Marvolo smiled, charm and all, as he pretended not to notice how Lord Black glanced fleetingly at Evaline in the last comment.

Instead, he greeted Lady Black with a gallant kiss on her hand as he had done with her daughter. "I believe it's our first time meeting. Heir Marvolo Gaunt of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Gaunt. Well met, Lady Black."

Evaline couldn't help but watch Lady Black's lack of enthusiasm with mild amusement. The woman didn't seem particularly moved by Marvolo's charm. She simply withdrew her hand gracefully and offered a polite nod.

"Lady Melania Black of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. Well met, Heir Gaunt."

If Marvolo was taken aback by the lack of interest, he hid it well.

Evaline had told him from the beginning that outside of Hogwarts, not everyone will fall head over heels for his pretty words. Obviously, the boy's ego -and not to mention Slughorn's constant coddling over the years- blocked his common sense so all Evaline could do was have the pleasure of watching him learn from experience. 

Marvolo then turned to Orion with a nod, "Well met, Heir Black, Evaline," he greeted, extending his hand to Orion.

Orion had managed to regain some composure, though his wide, stunned eyes still held traces of shock. He shook Marvolo's hand, his voice slightly shaky as he mumbled, "Well met, Heir Gaunt."

Evaline couldn't hide her amusement as she raised an elegant brow. "Well met, Heir Gaunt." 

As he held her gaze, she sent him a smirk. 

Very well done.

A subtle twitch at the corners of Marvolo's lips hinted at his amusement, and his eyes gleamed with mirth as he acknowledged her compliment. 

Evaline just knew he was going to cackle about this for days the moment they got back home.

Lord Black, ever the cunning diplomat, subtly inquired, "Heir Gaunt, may I inquire how you discovered your lineage? It's quite a unique heritage, after all."

Evaline didn’t miss the way the man’s eyes darted to her again.

Marvolo played the innocent, his expression a mix of sincerity and a touch of vulnerability as he replied, "It was an accidental revelation, Lord Black. I had a peculiar moment where I spoke in Parseltongue, and Evaline here," he nodded toward Evaline, "explained that it's a rare magical ability passed through a family line. A fact that I was unaware of."

Within earshot, the assembled guests couldn't help but react, their collective gasp spreading through the room like wildfire. Their eyes widened as they absorbed the shocking information. 

A parseltongue had emerged in High society after decades.

Evaline had to admit- He had a natural talent for the craft, effortlessly weaving the disclosure of his Parseltongue ability into the conversation without explicitly confirming or denying his status as the Heir of Slytherin.

Lord Black, clearly not having expected the parseltongue details, questioned further after a moment of recovering from his shock, "Surely, you jest? You were unaware Parseltongue was a familial trait?"

Marvolo let out a sigh that seemed weighted with years of secrets. 

"I do wish it were a jest, Lord Black. But truth be told, I've been able to speak Parseltongue since childhood. Due to unfortunate circumstances, I thought it best to keep it hidden."

The collective gasps, with the exception of Evaline, filled the air again. This was getting ridiculous, Evaline thought idly as she sipped her champagne. The pause in his narrative was expertly timed, leaving the air charged with anticipation. 

Evaline mentally applauded his strategic finesse. 

It was a brilliant tactic — a delicate balance of protection and attention. 

His words garnered the curiosity and attention he needed to spread the word about his newfound status throughout Britain, all while ensuring that no one would dare to attack him, in the off chance that he truly was the Heir of Slytherin. 

Lucretia, who was still holding Marvolo's arm, had a sickening worried look on her face as she leaned into his arm, looking up at him from under her lashes, "Why would you hide such a unique ability?"

Either not noticing her attempts to woo him or ignoring them, Marvolo paused dramatically, his eyes clouded with a mix of sadness and frustration which Evaline didn’t doubt for a second was real.

"In my first year, I confided in a certain professor about it, hoping for guidance. Unfortunately, his reaction was less than favourable, and he made it clear that such abilities weren't welcome in his vision for Hogwarts."

The revelation of a professor's bias sent ripples through the crowd.

Planting seeds of doubt about the current functioning of Hogwarts? Check.

Surely, after some snooping around, rumours about Dumbledore's very obvious disdain to the top student of Hogwarts would come to light.

As more and more guests approached Marvolo, eager to exchange pleasantries and inquiries about his background, Evaline leaned casually against a nearby pillar with a satisfied gleam in her eyes.

It was almost too simple, yet Marvolo was handling the situation with such grace that she couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for him. He was masterfully announcing himself to high society, solidified his stance, highlighted his possible relationship with Salazar Slytherin and it was working like a charm.

It was a simple yet brilliantly executed plan.

She drained her glass and casually noted Lord Black's gaze on her once again.

“Ms Este,” he said softly, and despite the sharp undertone, Evaline felt a thrill.

Oh, how she missed the games of politics.

…perhaps her grandfather's influence was a tad strong on her.

Her lips curled into a smile anyways as she decided to exchange meaningless pleasantries with the man, seeing as he had clearly not walked away to greet others as his wife had a few moments ago. 

"Lord Black, what an… interesting evening this has been. I truly must thank you for your invitation once again."

He returned her smile, his eyes holding a hint of a knowing understanding. "Indeed, it has. I must say, I personally extended invitations to those who I found... interesting."

Evaline nodded, feigning innocence as though she didn't notice the man quoting her from second year. "Marvolo has always been an interesting one."

Lord Black's gaze held an unspoken challenge as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a more confidential tone. "It's been quite intriguing to see the Gaunt Heirship's revival. Especially when one considers your own unique knowledge of such matters. Tell me, why wait so long to tell him?"

Evaline arched an eyebrow, her expression a masterful blend of innocence and curiosity. "I'm not entirely sure what you're insinuating, Lord Black. Marvolo only discovered his heritage recently, as far as I'm aware."

A knowing glint flickered in Lord Black's eyes, and he continued with a subtle emphasis on the name he used, " Marvolo . Not Tom. Quite the distinction, isn't it?"

The name 'Marvolo' hung in the air, the name which was only seen within the male descendants of the Gaunt lineage. The Gaunt family, a name that had faded into obscurity and lost its former glory decades ago, was known to only a select and educated few. Lord Black happened to be one of them, his knowledge adding an intriguing layer to the conversation.

A forgotten lineage.

A lineage known only to a select, educated few — Lord Black being one of them.

Evaline's lips curled into a small smile. "Names can hold fascinating secrets, can't they? And distinctions, well, they're the essence of high society, after all."

The significance of a name was not lost on Evaline.

She understood its power and the impact it could have on one's life. There was a reason she had insisted on using Marvolo's middle name from the very beginning, back in their first year at Hogwarts. The name 'Marvolo' held immense weight, and she had recognized it as a tool to shield him from the relentless jabs he used to endure.

'Marvolo' was the boy who exuded intelligence and magical prowess, a clear sign that he hailed from a powerful magical lineage. He was also friends with the only Heir of the Black family- the Blacks who would only befriend those of significance. 

The change was striking. 

The attacks Tom had endured suddenly ceased, replaced by a cautious respect. The heirs of Slytherin House may have still looked down on him, but they refrained from direct confrontations or derogatory comments. 

Slytherins were known for their cunning, and they quickly recognized the value of powerful connections. It became clear to them that 'Marvolo,' the boy with the magical middle name but a Muggle last name, the boy who embodied the traits of a pureblood heir almost naturally, the boys who’s intelligence and magical prowess was beyond their own was not someone they could afford to offend. 

Lord Black fixed her with a prolonged, assessing gaze, as if he were privy to the exact reasons why she had chosen to address the boy as 'Marvolo' during their second year at that book shop when they first met. 

It was as though he possessed an intimate understanding of her tactics from that time and how they had ultimately led to Marvolo being invited as a personal guest of Lord Black.

His eyes seemed to convey the knowledge that he knew precisely what she had been up to and what she had intended to do three years ago. And yet, he had allowed it to unfold. 

"You are quite the intriguing character."

“So I’ve been told,” Evaline muttered dryly. 

By Lord Death himself, no less.

Her fingers idly traced the intricate Este Crest on the gleaming golden ring adorning her right hand. She pushed off the pillar as she spotted a familiar face, “If you’ll excuse me, Lord Black. It seems my partner for the night has just arrived.”

༺═──────────────═༻

The grandeur of the Black Ball was nothing short of breathtaking. 

Tom, having just had his title announced, was the centre of attention among the attendees. He skillfully navigated the sea of aristocracy, engaging in conversations that would undoubtedly be politically advantageous.

As Tom conversed with Lord Sweldy, they delved into the topic of magical political reform, a topic that had been gaining traction in recent years. Tom listened attentively, sharing his thoughts and subtly weaving his own ideas into the discourse.

"I believe," Tom stated, his voice carrying a weight of confidence, "that magical reform must be approached with caution. While progress is essential, we cannot risk destabilizing our society. Incremental changes, guided by tradition, may be the most prudent path forward."

Lord Sweldy, although low in the social hierarchy, held a respectable position in the ministry as Undersecretary to the Head of Foreign affairs.

Lord Sweldy nodded in agreement, clearly impressed by his thoughtful perspective. Their conversation continued, with Tom skillfully maneuvering the political landscape.

However, as Tom was about to make a significant point, another guest interrupted them with unwarranted enthusiasm. The man seemed to have no filter, divulging information about various topics without discretion. Tom's patience wore thin as he realized that this conversation was leading nowhere productive.

"I appreciate your insights," Tom said politely, but with a subtle hint of dismissal. "However, I see someone I must greet. Perhaps we can continue this discussion another time."

Tom deftly disengaged from the verbose guest, his patience with the aristocratic elite rapidly waning. He scanned the opulent room, searching for Evaline. 

Engaging with individuals of such elevated status, the Lords and Ladies of Ancient Houses, had proven to be a tedious affair. 

There was a conspicuous absence of intellectual stimulation in their conversations. Most of them prattled on about their own accomplishments, while others not-so-subtly attempted to cast doubt on his authenticity.

Boredom had set in, prompting Tom to seek out the one person who could match his wit and intellect in this sea of aristocratic banality. He spotted Evaline across the ballroom, engaged in a conversation with Lord Black. 

Lord Black had shown an unusual amount of attention towards Evaline, a fact that Tom couldn't ignore. Even during conversations directed at him, the Lord's gaze seemed to drift almost subconsciously towards Evaline.

Every time he glanced at Evaline, she appeared oblivious to Lord Black's focused attention. 

Yet, there they stood, engaged in conversation like old friends.

Tom frowned but quickly masked his irritation as another guest approached him, eager to engage in small talk.

“I must say, your robes are exquisite,” A voice interrupted, and Tom turned to see a woman extending her hand, “Heiress Anabelle Yaxely, of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Yaxely. Well met, Heir Gaunt.”

She appeared a few years older than him, adorned in a stunning, pale blue gown that accentuated her features. Her attire was complemented by elegant jewellery that sparkled in the ambient light, clearly expensive and meticulously chosen. Fine silk gloves adorned her hands, completing the ensemble with a touch of sophistication.

Yaxely…the lowest ranked active Noble house in British High society, their reputation had fallen considerably when the previous Head of House had been caught embezzlng fundings from the Department of Magical misconduct.

However, Yaxely was still a part of the Sacred 28, despite everything and still held some sort of social standing in society.

“You flatter me,” Tom inclined his head a little, placing a kiss just on the air above her gloved hand, “Heir Tom Marvolo Gaunt of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Gaunt. Well met, Heiress Yaxely.”

“Oh, I must ask, wherever did you get those robes? Such a fine creation indeed,” Her eyes darted to his collar and trailed down to his chest, where the Gaunt crest that was stitched in fine silver thread, “I have never seen such a unique design in all of Britain.”

“That’s because it isn’t. This was designed at an Italian boutique by the name of,” he paused, thinking back to how Evaline pronounced it, “ah… L'eleganza della Santa, I believe.”

Tom stood there, uncertain of what to expect, but the last thing on his mind was seeing her spill champagne on her exquisite silk dress in shock. 

The audible gasp that escaped her was strangled. In a sudden burst of movement, she took a rapid step forward, and he fought against the instinct to retreat as more champagne spilled over the edge of her delicate glass.

“How did- Heir Gaunt, surely you don't mean the boutique owned by Sansha De Santis?!” Heiress Yaxely was practically gaping at this point as she stared at him with wide eyes.

He blinked. Sansha? Where had he heard that name before- Wait.

Yaxely continued, undeterred, “The woman whose clientele is so exclusive, her designs have never been seen much less worn in Britain simply because no British Noble has been able to get past her waitlist?”

Surely not the same Sansha who Evaline probably cussed out in Italian?

“You refer to the boutique L'eleganza della Santa in Strada Vecchia, correct?” he asked, a little weary as the woman's eyes widened so much they nearly popped out of her head.

“Yes! Yes, Heir Gaunt you might be the first British noble to have worn her work outside of Italy!” Heiress Yaxely seemed immensely more interested in his robes than in Tom himself. 

Her eyes were darting from stitch to stitch with such enthusiasm, Tom was sure if social etiquettes weren't so important, she would’ve reached out and touched him.

“Incredible…” she whispered breathlessly, eyes still on his robes, “To think, not only have you introduced yourself.. You’re the first person to introduce Sansha De Santis into British High Society.”

Tom suddenly latched onto the thoughts he had momentarily forgotten in the excitement. Tom hadn’t been the one who decided to go to an Italian boutique- hell he was content with wearing one of the other robes in his closet. 

It was Evaline who had insisted Italian designers were much more suited for the occasion. 

It was Evaline who had forced him to sit through hours of relentless outfit changes. It was Evaline who had dragged him into a fancy, niche boutique- where now that Tom thought about it- it was practically empty despite the high class furnishings and quality fabrics.

Evaline who had no noble family associations, no noble title, no noble heritage and absolutely no information about her.

The same Evaline had gotten him access to an exclusive boutique, and criticised an exclusive designer so that Tom could walk into High Society wearing robes that are so unique, they have never even been seen in the country.

Heiress Yaxely had realised at some point of his shock induced silence that she had spilled her champagne and with an hasty apology, she excused herself. Tom didn't bother saying anything as his mind brought up the old suspicions. 

Who exactly was Evaline?

His eyes scanned the ballroom, and his gaze narrowed when he saw her moving gracefully through the crowd. Just as he was about to lose sight of her, she stumbled slightly as someone bumped into her and literally fell into the arms of- 

Enzo Valti.

Tom's jaw clenched with irritation as he watched them. He watched as Evaline rolled her eyes when Enzo said something while she pushed herself off him, smirking as Enzo greeted her with a kiss on the hand. 

It was a sight that stirred anger within him.

He watched as Evaline took the boys’ offered arm easily. 

Before he could react, a hand curled around his own arm. 

He turned to find Lucretia Black pressing herself against him. She looked up at Marvolo, her eyes filled with anticipation. "Shall we?"

The room fell into a hushed anticipation as the ballroom music began to play, signalling the opening dance. Lord and Lady Black took the floor, their movements graceful and mesmerising. Halfway through, Orion, the Black heir, joined with his betrothed, Walburga.

Tom felt a wave of revulsion wash over him. 

He despised Lucretia's hand touching him, loathed the way she pressed her body against his, and most of all, he hated that it wasn't Evaline dancing with him. 

"Of course." He flashed a charming smile, though it held no warmth as only one thought echoed through his mind.

His first dance should’ve been with Evaline.

༺═──────────────═༻

“So, anyone tickle your fancy?” 

She couldn't help but think of the time Stefano had said the exact same thing – like grandfather, like grandson.

Evaline couldn't help but chuckle, her feet moving gracefully to the rhythm of the dance. "Well," she replied with a deadpan tone, "you mean from this crowd of grandparents from my time? I can't look at anyone without seeing their grandchildren."

She paused, missing the way Enzo’s eyes flashed in sheer recognition as her gaze drifting toward a particular man standing across the room. "Though, Lord Greengrass is rather tasteful," she mused, her eyes locking onto the man in question. 

He appeared to be in his late twenties, dressed in finely tailored robes, with a sharp face, clean-shaven, and auburn hair.

Enzo craned his head slightly to get a better look at Lord Greengrass. 

"It's too bad his descendants are daughters in my time and half my age," Evaline sighed, her voice tinged with disappointment, even as she moved effortlessly with Enzo on the dance floor, deftly avoiding other couples.

Enzo chuckled and eyed a couple that passed them within earshot, "Careful now. You may be 30 mentally, but you look 15 right now. No need to give people the wrong idea."

She rolled her eyes in response, her grip on his hand tightening as he spun her once more, their movements becoming more intricate as the music picked up the tempo. 

"You dance better than your grandson," she mused.

The recognition was back in his eyes, Enzo's smirk widened as he caught a piece of information she had unwittingly revealed. 

"So you must be from the near future, Evaline." he said slyly. "If my grandson is the same age as you, I presume you're perhaps 60 years from the future? 70?" he tried to piece together the information he had been trying to get from her for a while

Evaline pursed her lips together, eyeing him as she watched the cogwheels turn in his mind but said nothing.

Enzo continued, “According to that logic…Heir Este must be your grandfather and the Current High Lord is your Great Grandfather, correct?”

Evaline's smirk hinted at a secret she wasn't allowed to reveal, but that was all that was needed to confirm his suspicions even when she spoke no more of the subject. She didn't worry too much, she wasn’t revealing anything important or entirely accurate about the future. 

Instead, her eyes drifted over his shoulder as she caught sight of Marvolo dancing with Lucretia. Her keen eye analysed his posture, his movements, and the way he moved with newfound grace.

Enzo followed her line of sight and commented, "Good dancer."

Evaline nodded, her eyes fixed on Marvolo. "Would you believe he learned merely a week ago?" she mused, a hint of pride in her voice. 

She watched with mild caution as Marvolo spun Lucretia, half-expecting a repeat of their earlier collision. However, this time, Marvolo held onto the girl with skill and precision, ensuring that she remained safely in his grip.

Enzo raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Impressive," he murmured as he too began analysing the boys’ grace as he moved with a critical eye, “His movements are a bit stiff but I presume that might be because of his partner's dress.” 

Both their gazes turned to the elaborate, unwieldy gown the girl was wearing, complete with a crinoline that seemed entirely unsuitable for dancing. He couldn't help but express his distaste at the choice, silently wondering why the girl hadn't considered the practicality of her attire for such an occasion.

Evaline hummed softly in agreement as she locked eyes with Marvolo from across the dance floor. She sent him a grin. He arched an eyebrow in response.

'Pay attention, ' she mouthed, her lips forming the words without sound. 

Marvolo's eyes narrowed a fraction in response. 

Her eyes shifted discreetly to someone approaching on his left. Marvolo followed her gaze and, to her amusement, his eyes widened slightly in alarm, but he didn't miss a beat. With a smooth and practiced move, he gracefully maneuvered himself and his dance partner out of the way, avoiding a collision.

"So," Evaline began, shifting her gaze away from Marvolo’s hasty retreat and returning her focus to Enzo, "care to tell me why you're here without telling me?"

Enzo grinned, his hold on her tightening slightly as he smoothly dipped her in a practised move and paused for a moment. "Is it not tradition for a Valti to accompany an Este without a partner?"

She hummed in response, her eyes locking onto his as his grip shifted a little lower on her back to pull her back up. "It is," she conceded, "but I feel there's more to it." 

"Actually, I needed to speak to you," he began, his gaze locked onto hers. "I spoke to High Lord Este."

Evaline's eyes widened in surprise, and she nearly stopped mid-step, her focus now entirely on him.

"I told them about Zabini," Enzo continued, his tone measured.

The dance had carried them gracefully -almost unconsciously- across the ballroom floor, but their conversation had taken a serious turn. Evaline opened her mouth, but Enzo acted first, abruptly pulling her closer and cutting her off. 

"Heir Este said he'll handle it," he stated firmly, his voice cutting through the soft notes of the music. His usually calm and amiable demeanor had shifted, and his eyes narrowed with intensity when she opened her mouth to protest again, "He told me to tell you to forget about it."

Evaline's chest tightened as she inhaled deeply, her jaw clenched in frustration. She didn't need help. She could handle such a small threat just fine on her own. It wasn't the first attempt on her life and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

But this was the first time someone had told her to ‘forget about it’.

“You had no right—"

"I had every right-" 

“I thought I told you I had this handled ,” she hissed, trying to reign in the urge to hex the boy for disobeying direct orders.

“You did-” Enzo said, looking a little apprehensive, “But, you have to understand- this is no small matter. Zabini poisoned you, Evaline."

Evaline's eyes blazed with intensity as she hissed her response, her voice barely above a whisper. 

"These are my matters," she suppressed a snarl, her fingers gripping the fabric of her dance partner's robes. "I am not incompetent nor am I lacking-"

“I’m not implying anything of that nature,” Enzo tried to interject, his voice calm but persuasive, "I’m simply saying Heir Este is more suitable in handling such matters. He has connections and resources at his disposal-"

Evaline cut his argument with a cold, knowing smile. She leaned in slightly, her voice laced with a hint of icy amusement. 

"That may be so," she acknowledged, "But you forget I am the High Lady of Este. Connections and resources mean nothing if you lack the experience to utilise them efficiently. I have been handling such matters longer than Heir Este has been alive ." 

Classical music played around them softly, but the only thing she could hear was the fury of bloodrush in her ears. She paused, making her point crystal clear. "And I have this situation handled ."

The final word said with such finality, she knew she got the message across. Enzo's expression faltered, his eyes widening, his mouth agape as he caught the meaning behind her words.

As the music came to an end, she took a step back and gracefully bowed to her dance partner with practised ease.

“You can report this matter as resolved,” she smirked, tilting her head, “Zabini is no longer an issue and the real threat has been… neutralised .”

Neutralised- caught, imprisoned, interrogated- same thing.

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, feeling a lot more satisfied than she had been for a while. 

It’s about time someone beat grandfather at his own game.

She didn't need to turn to know Enzo had all but sprinted after her, pushing through the crowd of the ball.

His questions were on the tip of his tongue, his incredulity evident as he blurted out, "Wait, Evaline-”

༺═──────────────═༻

"No, no, no! Everything's gone wrong!"

Walburga, ever composed, rolled her eyes and gave her bethroed’s shoulder a rather unsympathetic pat. "I don't know why you expected your plan to work, honestly. I don't think Tom understands the concept of feelings."

Orion rubbed his face in distress, muttering to himself, "I knew he was emotionally constipated, but I didn't think he was so dense . I told Father to invite them both personally, and Tom goes and takes my sister as his date instead."

"In all honesty," Walburga murmured, her eyes fixed on the dance floor, "I think Este is more interested in that Valti kid than in Tom." She watched with a critical eye as Evaline and the young Valti heir danced a remarkably elegant waltz. "Who even is Este? We've known her for years, but we still don't even know her blood status."

Orion huffed in frustration as he continued to observe the dance floor. "Does it even matter at this point? She's clearly powerful. Have you seen the way she uses wandless magic? It's like she doesn't even notice. Not to mention she's crazy smart. Hell, I’ve seen Tom ask her for help."

Walburga leaned in closer, her voice low and contemplative. "She's very clearly a noble, despite everything. Her etiquette flows from her as easily as breathing. From what I've seen, she might as well be raised as an heiress."

Orion shook his head, his brows furrowing in confusion. "But she doesn't have a title, nor has she presented herself from a noble house. Every time it comes up, she just says 'House of Este' and nothing more." He sighed, leaning back in his seat, clearly perplexed. "And I've checked—there's no noble family by the name of Este in Italy or Britain."

Walburga considered Orion's words, her gaze drifting back to the dance floor where Evaline and the Valti heir moved with effortless grace. 

"Perhaps she's a bastard child," she mused, her voice carrying a note of indifference, "or cast out from the family."

Orion shook his head, a frown etched on his features. "That doesn't explain why I can't find any record of a Noble House of Este anywhere," he pointed out. "And she certainly doesn't seem like a bastard or an outcast. Do you remember the way she told us about her alliance with dark creatures?"

Walburga made a disapproving noise, her elegant features displaying her distaste. "Absurd, to give those creatures rights."

"Absurd or not," Orion continued, "those very creatures are allied with her. She has beings like vampires and werewolves at her disposal. She's not one to cross."

“Then go investigate her if you’re so worried.”

“You think I haven't tried?” Orion sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "No one can find any information on her or the Este name," he said, his brow furrowing in thought. "I even tried to ask Gringotts, but they straight out refused despite how much gold I offered…"

"Didn't you say one of the first years knows her?" Walburga asked, a calculating glint in her eyes. "What was her name... the Zabini heiress? They don't seem to have a favorable history."

Orion paused, recalling the interaction. "Yes, Lucia Zabini mentioned knowing Evaline. She recognised her based on her eyes alone," he confirmed. "But I doubt she'd be willing to share much about her. They're not exactly friends."

“An enemy can sometimes know more than a friend,” Walburga leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. "I suggest you find out everything you can about Este, just in case."

Orion frowned, feeling conflicted. "Evaline would never betray Tom," he insisted. "She's practically his best friend."

Walburga regarded him with a cool stare. "Her loyalty lies with Tom . Not you. Not to the House of Black. Not to Britain," she replied, her tone firm. "In the world we live in, trust is a luxury we can't always afford.”

༺═──────────────═༻

As Tom approached, his eyes instinctively flickered to Enzo, who stood beside Evaline and had begun to say something but clamped his mouth shut the second he caught sight of him. The annoyance that had been simmering within him since he first spotted them together grew more pronounced. 

"Evaline," Tom greeted, his tone carrying a tinge of annoyance. He couldn't help but let his irritation show as he questioned her, "You didn't tell me you were coming with Heir Valti."

Why hadn't Evaline mentioned that she was attending the ball with someone else? Why had she hidden it from him? The questions swirled in his mind. 

“ I didnt even know I was coming with Heir Valti,” she muttered, plucking a glass of champagne from a floating tray. 

Tom eyed her, the slight clench of jaw told him she was annoyed. And the way she was blatantly ignoring Valti, it brought Tom great pleasure to know that boy was the cause of her ire.

So his glare, aimed squarely at Enzo, was unmistakable. 

He couldn't quite put a name to the tumult of emotions swirling within him—jealousy, anger, frustration—but they roiled beneath the surface.

Enzo, unfazed by the unwelcoming reception, addressed Tom with a formal congratulation. "Congratulations, Heir Gaunt. Bring greatness to the Gaunt House once again."

Tom’s eyes narrowed at the seemingly presumptuous command, his annoyance deepening. Was the boy mocking him? 

"Excuse me?" he retorted sharply.

Evaline stepped in to clarify, although her tone was more bored than anything as her gaze drifted, "In Italy, when you are publicly announced as heir, they congratulate you and traditionally tell you to bring glory to your house. ' Porta di nuovo la grandezza nella tua casa' or 'Bring greatness to your house once again.'"

Enzo nodded, struggling to find the right words. "It is a way to, how you say..." he paused, searching for the appropriate term.

"It means to continue your ancestors' legacy or establish a new one," Evaline supplied easily, her eyes finally landing on Tom. "The appropriate response is 'Con la mano di Lady Magic, sarò onorato,' or 'With the hand of Lady Magic, I shall be honored.'"

Tom’s irritation momentarily took a backseat as he absorbed this new information, making a mental note to investigate other traditions later. 

“I see,” He said, repeating the phrase, "With the hand of Lady Magic, I shall be honoured."

Enzo dipped his head respectfully, offering Tom another Italian phrase, "Il destino guida i volenterosi."

"Fate guides the willing," Evaline translated with a grin when Tom glanced at her, clearly curious about the phrase. "It means greatness will only come if you’re willing to act for it. It's a way of reminding the heir they cannot simply sit on their family legacy and do nothing— they must act to bring greatness to their name."

Tom couldn't help but find himself drawn to the world of Italian politics, a fascination that had gripped him ever since his first year when Evaline had enlightened him about the absence of the notion of blood purity in Italy. 

The concept that power belonged to those who seized it had always resonated with him. 

After all, it had been his personal motto ever since his time at the orphanage, where he had to take power to save himself from the other children. Seeing that principle manifest in governing an entire country only fueled his love for it.

"And what do you do after that?"

Evaline met his question with a sly smirk, her voice low as she whispered, "You show the world."

Tom locked eyes with Evaline, a confident smirk curling at the corners of his lips, "Then brace yourself, you’re about to witness greatness."

Evaline snorted. 

But as Tom looked into her eyes, he saw something familiar there—confidence, the unwavering confidence she had always placed in him whenever she had taught him something new. It was the same confidence she had exuded when instructing him in wandless magic or guiding him in the art of Apparition. 

That confidence had always propelled him forward, and it warmed his heart to see it in her eyes once again.

"You certainly are an interesting character, Heir Gaunt," Enzo mused as he eyed Evaline with a touch of amusement in his eyes.

Tom's grin widened, and he echoed words that held a special significance to him, words Evaline had once spoken to Lord Black three years ago. 

"Only the interesting are worth remembering, is that not correct?" Glancing to Evaline, his eyebrow raised.

She returned his grin with a sharper glint in her eyes, her response swift and confident, "Indeed."

"Now, will my esteemed teacher do me the honor of a dance?" Tom asked with a courtly bow, extending a hand toward her.

Evaline arched an amused eyebrow, "I suppose I could critique you even in the midst of a ball."

"Then allow me to demonstrate my improvement," he declared with a confident smile as he took her hand and led her onto the dance floor without letting her protest.

As they danced, Tom couldn't help but be consumed by the feeling of rightness that enveloped him. The dance with Evaline felt more than just right; it felt like a perfect match, as if they were two pieces of a puzzle finally coming together. It contrasted starkly with his earlier dance with Lucretia, which now seemed like a mere formality.

In that moment, all he could think about was how he yearned for every future dance to be with Evaline, and he was willing to do whatever it took to make that a reality.

~ ꜰɪᴛ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ~

Chapter Text

Two days after Evaline’s release from the infirmary;

"Take a seat." 

The words were simple, but they carried an undeniable weight, a command that brooked no disobedience. The air in the room seemed to grow colder as the person hesitated, their gaze locked with Evaline's.

The person entering froze in their tracks, an involuntary shiver running down their spine. The atmosphere seemed to constrict as Evaline casually crossed one leg over the other, her cheek resting on a delicate fist.

Immediately backtracking, the person spun to flee, but the door to the classroom slammed shut, echoing ominously around the room. Norril materialised by the door, arms crossed, his gaze piercing through the dim light. 

"Sit," Evaline said, the single word cutting through the silence like a razor. 

The invitation to sit carried an unspoken threat, and the smile on Evaline's face held a promise of consequences should her command be ignored. The person, swallowing hard, complied, their steps careful as they approached the seat indicated by Evaline.

The flickering candlelight cast shadows on her face, accentuating the intensity in her eyes.

"Lucia Zabini," she began, her tone measured, "daughter to Mary and Mathieus Goldburn, both squibs. Died last year, the documented cause of death..." Her gaze shifted to Zabini, and there was a palpable shift in the atmosphere, "murder."

Zabini's eyes widened with fear, and a raw terror gripped her. 

She sat frozen, caught in the unyielding gaze of Evaline Este. The room seemed to close in, and the shadows deepened, creating an almost suffocating tension.

Evaline's smile, a razor-sharp edge in the room, only deepened. For the first time in the five years she had traversed through time, Evaline shed the identity of a mere fifth-year student. 

No, she now embodied the High Lady of the Royal House of Este. 

The mantle of authority draped over her shoulders, and in this moment, Lucia Zabini wasn't facing Evaline Este but the royalty moulded by Theodore Este, a man who could topple entire bloodlines with a mere utterance.

"Lucia Zabini," Evaline continued, her gaze unwavering, "sent to Hogwarts to gather information about..." Her eyes narrowed, the intensity sharpening, "me." 

"What I wish to know is why you are after someone who has no public connection to the Este family?" Evaline spoke with an air of calm authority. She waved a hand, releasing Zabini’s mind.

Lucia cried out, a visceral reaction as if an unseen force had seized her mind. 

She doubled over, clutching her head, and Evaline observed with unaffected eyes. The room echoed with the girl's anguished gasps, tears streaming down her face as she grappled with unseen torment.

As Lucia gasped, memories flooded back into her consciousness. 

Failed attempts, foiled plans, each recollection a sharp pang of realization. The dorm intrusion, the thwarted spell—each incident obliterated by Evaline's obliviates.

Lucia looked up slowly, wide-eyed and trembling. The weight of her own actions now laid bare before her, a truth she could no longer escape.

"Tell me, Zabini," Evaline spoke, her tone unwavering as Lucia quieted down, "how does one go from petty dorm break-ins, cowardly spell-casting to... understanding the alchemy behind Lamiaceae?"

"I... I don't—" Lucia gasped, her voice trembling.

"Lamiaceae is the family plant for multiple herbs used in cooking—mint, oregano, lavender," 

Evaline began, her tone almost conversational as she leaned back in her seat. "It can easily be mistaken for food poisoning. Which was the original diagnosis.

“However, this particular plant family has a rare quality. 

The root, specifically the direct part connected to the stem, if carefully extracted under extreme temperatures and added to a hint of Draught of the Living Dead, can create something known as Lamiaceae poison. 

Odourless, clear as water and tasteless. A few drops could cause respiratory distress. But a mere spoonful of it could be fatal.

A poison that can slow a person's breathing, something that impedes blood flow. If ingested and a healing potion with dittany is administered, the effects are intensified. Slowing of a persons blood flow, the closing of the airway, blood clotting…”

Lucia stammered, "You've got it wrong, it wasn't me!"

“Lucky for me, you’re behaviour was odd that morning. You were up earlier than usual, you kept sending me nervous glances during breakfast. So I took a sample of my tea and sent it Norril,” Evaline nodded at the dark elf that stood at the door, expression blank. 

“Norril is a Dark Elf. He isnt affected by wixen magic and he happens to be remarkably interested in magical poisons.” Evaline tilted her head, staring at the young girl who was watching Norril with wide eyes, “Norril then sent the poison and antidote to a friend of mine and they were able to save me in time.”

Lucia’s eyes snapped to her, wide and fearful. She was trembling like a leaf. Evaline stood from her seat.

"What I want to know," Evaline continued, her movements deliberate as she walked a few steps, stopping in front of the girl, "is how a little girl with no duelling skills, a little girl with no precaution of wards, yet possesses remarkable mind shields... How did this little girl suddenly gain such an advanced understanding of Lamiaceae?"

Evaline's smile remained, but it was a predatory curve now, revealing a cunning intellect that danced on the edge of darkness. Her eyes, usually warm, now held a glint of calculated scrutiny, as if she were a cat playing with her prey before pouncing. 

Tears streamed down Lucia's face as she looked up at Evaline with eyes filled with despair. Her voice was barely a whisper, "Help me."

Evaline tilted her head. The words hung heavy in the air, a haunting plea.

Lucia's voice trembled as she continued, "Please. I can't do this anymore. I can't—"

"Who gave you the poison, Lucia?" Evaline's voice was a quiet, deadly whisper, cutting through the silence like a blade.

The girl fell silent, her tears still flowing, but her pleading words extinguished.

Evaline's mind raced, a cacophony of thoughts and emotions churning within her. 

"Speak."

Lucia continued to sob, "He'll kill me- I can’t-."

Coercion, the invisible chain that bound the young girl to a malevolent force, now presented an opportunity—an advantage that Evaline intended to exploit.

The key to understanding this elusive adversary lay in turning Lucia to her side. Security and loyalty were potent currencies, and Evaline was prepared to offer them in abundance. Loyalties, she knew, could change with remarkable speed, especially when anchored in the promise of safety and protection.

Evaline's eyes narrowed as she leaned in closer, her voice taking on a determined edge, "I won’t let him touch you," She spoke the words with unwavering conviction. "But only if you talk.”

"I...I don't know his name," Lucia whispered, her eyes fixated on the ground, hands clutching her robes in a feeble attempt to shield herself.

Lucia stared at Evaline with wide, tear-filled eyes as she poured out the story. She explained how her parents, squibs, had been killed, and Lord Zabini was ordered to give her the heiress title. Lucia had been sent to Hogwarts to gather information on Evaline Este, but she didn't know the true identity of the person giving her orders.

Evaline's eyes narrowed as she probed, "Continue."

Zabini trembled, her voice quivering as she responded, "I don't know his name or who he is. He just gives me orders, and he asks me to collect information about Evaline Este. He wants everything—from your breakfast menu to your bathroom times. I don't know why."

Evaline listened intently, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of the situation.

Zabini continued, her voice shaky, "He takes me during the holidays. I don't stay at Zabini Manor; I've never even seen it. I’ve never even met Lord Zabini! He takes me to an old house at the edge of France, surrounded by mountains, after he takes reports from me. It’s under  Fidelius' charm and he stays there until break ends."

Evaline stared at the girl for a long, contemplative moment before she asked the question that had been burning in her mind, "Why you?"

Lucia froze, her eyes filled with fear and vulnerability, and then she hesitantly confessed, "Because my grandmother is a necromancer. He thinks I might have her gift"

If Lucia was expecting some grand reaction of shock, she didn't get one. Evaline wasn’t particularly impressed, in all honesty.

Though she supposed when one is acquainted with Dark Elves, Centars, Vampire clans and other Dark creatures, a necromancer doesn't really serve as a fascinating appeal.

Evaline's expression remained unreadable as she absorbed this revelation. The pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together, and she had more questions than answers.

Lucia Zabini, previously a potential threat, now became a valuable source of information.

The man pulling the strings was still beyond Evaline's direct reach, but Lucia, with her direct contact with him, could easily become the key to unlocking the mystery surrounding him.

The game had shifted, and Evaline’s mind began to formulate a plan to turn the situation to her advantage. Fear, as she knew, was a useless motive for loyalty. Because when there is fear, there is desire for safety. 

And well, safety is something Evaline could easily arrange.

Evaline's demeanor remained composed, her focus unbroken. She asked the next question, her voice steady, "Has he ever hurt you?"

Lucia blinked, her eyes glistening with tears. She stammered, "What?”

Evaline's gaze remained unwavering, her voice filled with a calm determination. "You are a victim in this situation, Zabini. You have been coerced and threatened into doing what you've done. I need to know if he hurts you so I know how quickly I need to get you out."

Tears welled in Lucia's eyes as her voice dropped to a fragile whisper, "You'll get me out? After I tried to kill you? You'll help me?"

Evaline pulled out her wand, keeping it aimed away from the girl as she turned it to her own wrist, her voice steady, "I will. Un voto d'Este.”

[An Este’s Vow]

The family magic accepted her vow, and they felt a band of magic binding them together. A shimmering silver line appeared, wrapping around Evaline's wrist and Lucia's finger before vanishing.

Safety? Guaranteed. 

Lucia stared, gaping at her hand as a tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. 

She sobbed, desperation in her voice, "He... he does things to my mind. I don't know what he does, but it hurts... it feels like he rips apart my mind and stitches it back together. I sleep for days after that."

Evaline's frown deepened.

"He... he said he was going to send me to Azkaban for murdering my parents!" Lucia continued, her voice quivering, "I didn't kill them, I swear! He said he'll plant evidence against me, and..."

“Alright,” Evaline said after listening to her hysterical ramble. She turned away from the girl, a hand on her chin, her expression thoughtful. “Before the train reaches Platform 9 ¾  next week, you’ll be given a set of instructions via letter. They will be from me, charmed for your eyes only.”

Lucia stared at Evaline in shock, her eyes wide as if questioning the reality of the situation. "Why... why?" she stammered.

“I only need a week to figure out how to get you out,” Evaline said simply, leaning on the desk, “I just need you to return to the house as confirmation of location.The man won’t return to you after the second day.”

Evaline’s mind had already come up with a plan.

Lucia, still processing the abrupt turn of events, asked in a shaky voice, "Are you for real?"

“Focus on your classes and make some friends,” Evaline advised, offering a reassuring smile as she patted the girl on the shoulder. “You’re under the protection of Este now. Have some faith in me, will you?”

Lucia stared at her with a mix of disbelief and gratitude before the dam of her emotions burst, and she wrapped her arms around Evaline in a tight hug, sobbing, “Thank you. Thank you.”

Evaline, initially caught off guard, patted the eleven-year-old's head a few times, rolling her eyes. After a while, she gently pulled away, “Go to bed, Lucia. I’ll handle it.”

Lucia nodded, wiping her eyes hastily as she turned toward the door. However, she froze when she saw Norril still standing there. He stepped aside, silently allowing her to exit, and she all but scrambled from the room.

“You handled that quickly,” Norril remarked as he approached Evaline, his tone neutral. “Has this happened before?”

It was a fairly easy situation to navigate, compared to some other things she had dealt with. 

Border of France in the middle of mountains? That would mean she was around the south east of France, where the borders are mountain ranges, connecting with Italy, Switzerland or Spain. 

She knew that on the Italy-France border, no witches or wizards were allowed to settle due to a vampire clan that had laid claim on the land for generations. So, unless Zabini's captor had some peculiar association with vampires, it was improbable that he resided there.

However, if he desired to hide in plain sight, he would have to hide his presence from the vampire clan. After all, vampires take their territories rather seriously.

Her focus shifted to other possibilities. 

The French-Swiss border or the French-Spanish border seemed more likely. However, to confirm the presence of magical settlements, Evaline would need to contact the goblins. They would have accurate records of wixen establishments in those regions.

Having a Dark Elf who has the ability to withstand wixen mind magic was certainly useful at times like this.

“More times than I’d care to admit,” Evaline mused, a bittersweet smile on her face.

༺═──────────────═༻

Platform 9¾ was abuzz with the commotion of parents, students, and pets, creating a lively and chaotic atmosphere. Evaline disembarked from the train, her sharp eyes scanning the bustling crowd. Amidst the sea of faces, she spotted Lucia Zabini, hunched over and clutching her trunk, seemingly lost and anxious.

As Lucia navigated through the crowd, a sudden collision with a fellow student nearly knocked her off balance. Evaline observed the encounter with a discerning gaze, recognizing the familiar light auburn hair and brown eyes of the helpful boy. She watched as he assisted Lucia, exchanged farewells, and skillfully maneuvered through the throng.

Reaching the Apparition point, the boy turned, meeting Evaline's gaze through the crowd. A subtle nod passed between them before he vanished, leaving Evaline to continue her observation.

Seeing Lucia retreat to a shadowed corner of the platform, Evaline noted the hand that grabbed the girl's shoulder, whisking her away into the unseen. A moment later, a hand landed on Evaline's shoulder, and Marvolo's scolding voice broke through her concentration.

"What are you standing there for? Do you want to get stampeded on?" he chided, pulling her away from the bustling crowd.

Marvolo's stern reprimand pulled Evaline back to the present, and she turned her attention away from the disappearing figures. She shot him an amused glance, unfazed by his scolding.

"You won’t let me get stampeded on," she replied with a sly smile, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Lets just go home,” he rolled his eyes and steered her towards the apparition point. 

༺═──────────────═༻

Two days into Yule Break;

"I'm heading out!" Marvolo's voice resonated from the floo chamber.

Evaline, engrossed in writing a note, looked up at the announcement, calling out, "Say hello to Orion for me!"

A muffled "will do" reached her ears before the sound of the floo flaring, followed by silence. Evaline glanced at the note, finishing the last few lines before she folded it and stood.

"Norril?"

The dark elf materialized, holding out an outer robe. She shrugged into it, carefully placing the note in her pocket, and then took Norril's outstretched hand.

A minute later, Evaline stood on a desolate gravel road, surrounded by an eerie silence that seemed to stretch endlessly. She cast her gaze in one direction, where the road continued barren, and then turned her attention to the looming mountains, devoid of any signs of human civilization.

“We are in Lille, a city on the Belgium-France border,” Noriil stated from her side.

Lestoat Vampire clan territory.

“How do you think Amarillo Lestoat would react to an illegal squatter?” she mused quietly, a plan already forming in her mind.

“Perhaps you should find out,” Norril said blankly and Evaline snorted at the malicious undertone. Norril always was a vicious one.

Humming softly, Evaline held out the small parchment between two fingers. Beside her, Norril nodded, taking the parchment and striding a few steps forward. As she watched, he vanished from sight, blending seamlessly with the solitude.

The minutes ticked by in stillness, the landscape offering no hint of the approaching presence. Two minutes passed before Norril reappeared, his hand gently clasped around the smaller hand of a frightened Lucia Zabini. 

Evaline smirked.

“Found you.”

Lucia turned at the sound of the voice, her eyes instantly filling with tears at the sight of Evaline and without a second thought, she released Norril's hand and leaped at Evaline, a sob escaping her lips.

"You found me," Lucia whispered, her hands gripping Evaline's robes tightly, as if afraid the moment would vanish.

“You doubted me?”

The hands around her waist only tightened.

༺═──────────────═༻

Evaline stood at the edge of the bustling Spanish street, her wave carrying a mix of warmth and farewell to the now Lucia Garcia. The young girl nestled under her grandmother's protective arm returned the gesture with exuberance. 

The elderly woman beside her, a hint of tears glistening, offered Evaline a gentle smile, brimming with a kind of maternal warmth that Evaline, accustomed to avoiding such sentiments, acknowledged with a simple nod.

Silently, Evaline slid her hands into her robes, the fabric cool against her fingers, before she turned down the narrow alleyway that led away from the Spanish street.

Norril materialized by her side, blending seamlessly with the shadows.

"Back to the villa. Tom mentioned he had something to speak about," Evaline murmured, her voice carrying a quiet urgency. She extended her hand, and Norril, ever obedient, offered his in return.

༺═──────────────═༻

Meanwhile;

Amarillo Lestoat, the leader of the Lestoat Vampire Clans, stood in the flickering candle lit entrance of his manor, his piercing gaze fixed upon the unconscious body sprawled before him. The man's lifeless form was a stark contrast against the ancient stone steps. The night air hummed with an eerie stillness as the clan leader reached down, plucking the note that had been callously stabbed into the man's chest.

Blood dripped from the parchment, staining the ground beneath, but the leader paid no heed to the crimson trail. The note, bathed in the blood of its messenger, unfolded in the leader's elegant grasp and his eyes scanning the message with the ease of a predator assessing its prey.

- - - - - 

A mere wizard attempting to lay claim on the Lestoat lands. He has already vanished from wizarding society. Do with him as you wish.

- Royal House of Este.

- - - - - 

Amarillo's grin unfurled, revealing a set of bloodthirsty fangs gleaming in the low light. The audacity of a wizard challenging his clan amused him, and the prospect of dealing with the intruder ignited a predatory glint in his eyes.

The promise of dealing with the intruder sparked a predatory glint in his eyes, a thrill of a long-awaited hunt.

Indeed, the alliance forged with the Este House three centuries ago had proven to be one of Amarillo's shrewdest decisions. The connection with the royals had not only granted him and his clan protection in the world of wixens, but also a source of amusement in the face of such impudent challenges.

The Este's always were such interesting people.

༺═──────────────═༻

The sunroom, adorned with the crisp light of winter, served as a silent witness to the unfolding scene. Evaline, cocooned in a warm blanket on the couch, cradled a cup of tea in her hands. Her legs crossed comfortably as she observed Marvolo's restless pacing, the air thick with the weight of unresolved emotions.

Nagini, coiled in Evaline's lap, hissed softly in her sleep, a serpentine comfort against the cold of the room. 

Across the room, Marvolo paced restlessly, fixated on the blood test results in his hands. The rhythmic tap of his footsteps echoed in the room, creating a tension that Evaline observed in silence.

After silently witnessing Marvolo's internal turmoil for what felt like an eternity, Evaline finally broke the stillness. "You should go," she said gently, her voice cutting through the quiet of the room.

Marvolo, caught in the midst of another step, froze, his eyes snapping to meet hers. "What?"

"He's your father, Marvolo," she stated matter-of-factly, her gaze steady.

A sneer marred his features as he retorted, "He abandoned me. Tossed me to those filthy Muggles and let me suffer under their hands. He could’ve taken me in but he didn’t!"

"Then go and get closure," she suggested, her tone carrying a blend of empathy and firmness.

He stood there, caught between the ghosts of his past and the present reality, his eyes searching Evaline's face for something—perhaps understanding, perhaps approval.

 "It won't change anything," Marvolo finally muttered, more to himself than to Evaline.

Evaline's gaze remained unwavering as she set aside her cup of tea. "Maybe not, but it might bring you peace. Closure is not for him; it's for you."

Nagini stirred in Evaline's lap, sensing the tension in the room, but Evaline's gentle touch calmed the serpent back into slumber. Marvolo's eyes bore into Evaline's, a silent battle of emotions playing out.

With a sigh, he ran a hand through his dark hair, contemplating the weight of Evaline's words. The room held a heavy silence, each heartbeat echoing the unspoken struggle within Marvolo.

"Why bother?" Marvolo finally spat out, his voice laced with bitterness.

Evaline sighed, "Because closure doesn't always come in the form of forgiveness or reconciliation. Sometimes, it’s simply about facing reality and realising you may not need it."

Marvolo's gaze faltered, flickering between the blood test in his hands and Evaline's steady eyes. 

“If you dont, he’ll linger in the back of your mind for the rest of your life," Evaline continued, gaze drifting a little before she focused on Marvolo.

After a lingering pause, he exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing.

"Fine," he conceded, a mixture of determination and resignation in his voice. "I'll go."

༺═──────────────═༻

Tom stood before the disgustingly muggle-style home. 

The grandeur of the house almost overwhelmed Tom as he stood before the imposing oak door. Intricate door knockers adorned its surface, and pillars flanked either side, standing tall and regal. Large arch windows hinted at the opulence concealed within.

The stark contrast struck him—the luxury his Muggle father lived in, while Tom endured the dreariness of the orphanage. The façade seemed to mock the intricate designs and grandeur that Tom was accustomed to. 

A moment of hesitation flickered in his eyes, and for a brief second, he considered backing out. After all, he had survived and thrived without his father's presence. Whatever happens now would make no difference.

A nagging curiosity and the realization that closure might be within reach urged him to press forward.

Gritting his teeth, he dismissed the fleeting thought of fleeing and raised his hand to knock.

The door swung open, revealing a man whose features mirrored Tom's in a way that was unsettling. Brown hair and a shared bone structure marked a familial connection that could not be denied.

For a moment, neither spoke. 

The tenseness hung in the air, a palpable barrier between them. Tom's jaw clenched, and he forced himself to meet his father's gaze. There, in the lines etched on the man's face, he saw a history he had never fully understood.