In the south of Wales, about ten miles west of the small town of Aberdare, the historic Everill Manor stood tall, overlooking the Muggle towns that surrounded it.
The earliest record of its existence dated back to the eleventh century, when it was built by Guiscard Evereux, a duke from Normandy who, following the Norman invasion, elected to settle in Britain. He was a man born into a prestigious French family of wizards, highly connected and powerful.
For centuries, the Evereux's expanded their power, spreading across the country, branching into England, marrying into other Pure-Blooded families dotted around the island. The purity of the Evereux blood was undoubted, the magical power that coursed through their veins was unmatched.
And yet, tragedy haunted the family name.
As the years went by and the notoriety of the House of Evereux grew, so did the mysterious disappearances and deaths of the youngest borns. The most powerful witches and wizards of their time who bore the tainted name of Guiscard Evereux would disappear, suffer blood curses, be defeated in duels they were fated to win. Sometimes, in a cruel twist of fate, the youngest would survive tragedy, and the apparent curse would target their siblings, another child of the House of Evereux.
Over time, the name became Everill, devised from the name of their great ancestor, changed in the hopes to escape the ill-fated destiny of the families' children. Toying with fate, however, is a dangerous feat.
As of the twentieth century, only one direct descendant of the prestigious yet plagued Guiscard Evereux had survived. Altair Everill, an Unspeakable for the Ministry of Magic, paced his study in the library at Everill Manor, watching the portrait of his ancestor who'd lived over nine hundred years ago. Guiscard was difficult to communicate with, his portrait aged and yellowed, having been created around the time of his death. He spent his days watching his descendants, quietly tutting at the mundane magic they performed during their days. He particularly favoured young Edward, who, growing up, had seemed to produce the most powerful magic.
Altair inhaled sharply, taking a seat behind his desk. He had many reasons to be stressed, and his usual calm demeanour was being overpowered by the millions of thoughts that ran through his head a thousand miles a minute. Just over a month ago, his oldest daughter had almost been killed by the mere memory of his old master. The master he believed to be dead. He was torn by the prospect: if his master returned, he wouldn't have to constantly be on his guard, constantly listening in to the minds of his colleagues, the ones who didn't trust him yet had no way to explain why. He was an Unspeakable, one of the most highly trusted members of the Ministry of Magic, a man who knew the deepest secrets of magical lore, who researched and protected some of the most powerful elements of magic. Altair Everill was, by all means, a power to be reckoned with, the strength and magic of ancient pure-blood engraved into his skin, running deep through his veins, ingrained in his very existence. His children were set to become the four most powerful witches and wizards of their age. Even his wife, his childhood sweetheart Enola Selwyn, was a descendent of Guiscard Evereux. Their family trees connected somewhere in the fifteenth century, branching off separately and then reconnecting with their union.
And yet, the legend of the Everill Curse weighed heavy on Altair's mind.
At the hands of his old master, his daughter had almost died. It was an omen, Altair was sure. He was sure the Everill Curse had followed his family; his younger brother, the youngest of three, had disappeared fourteen years earlier, while transporting dragons back to England in order to support their master. And now, his daughter had almost suffered a similar fate.
It was ironic, above all. That same daughter had aided to stop the return of his old master a year prior. And now, his memory had almost killed her.
Altair had wondered if that Harry Potter would be the next great dark wizard. After all, it was a mystery as to how he had defeated the Dark Lord. And yet, now, twice more, the child had repeated the feat.
And in both situations, Altair's daughter had been present.
A knock at the study door tore him from his thoughts. Steeling his face, Altair called for the visitor to come in.
Felix, his youngest son, stepped into the office, holding out a newspaper that was rolled and bound with a string.
'Father, the Daily Prophet.'
Altair nodded at his son. He took the newspaper from him, unbinding it to read the headline.
He nearly threw it across the study.
'Merlin's Beard,' he muttered, raking his hands through his silvery blond hair, the same colour that all his children had inherited. The same colour that the portrait of Guiscard Evereux had, who was peering curiously over Altair's shoulder at the newspaper.
'Mother wants to know if you'll join us for breakfast,' Felix said quickly, distracting his father. With one glance at his son, Altair knew that he too had seen the headline, perhaps his whole family had, and they would all know how angry this would have made him.
'Yes, I'll be down in fifteen minutes,' he said, keeping his voice steady. He rarely lost his calm countenance, yet too much was on his mind to remain in full control of his emotions.
Felix nodded and left the study, closing the door with a quiet click behind him.
For the first time in years, Altair allowed his emotions to take control. He launched the newspaper across the room, took hold of his wand and set it alight. Less than a second later, he doused the fire in water and cleared up the mess with two flicks of his wand.
The portrait of Guiscard Evereux tutted audibly behind him.
He already had enough problems, and now this.
At least, he thought, Gwenevere's involvement in these defeats of the Dark Lord makes us undoubtedly innocent.
He thought back, with a slight shiver, to that fateful night on Halloween of 1981. He had lost almost everything, and yet, his silver tongue had saved his family and himself. Following that night, Altair and Enola had agreed that they would keep their high-rank among the Death Eaters a secret from their children. What they didn't know couldn't hurt them, but rumours had a sly way of following the Everills.
Although for now, the family's position in the Wizarding War was doubted, his daughter's encounters with his old master aided in the image of his family name. That could, however, prove difficult in the future. The circumstances that would have to occur in order for it to be difficult, though, were extremely unlikely.
The Dark Lord was gone. He would not return. And if Harry Potter had anything to do with it, Altair was sure that that would be made a certainty.
He swallowed back that distasteful thought.
• • •
In the dining room of Everill Manor, Gwenevere Everill sat around the long table with her siblings and mother. Felix had just rejoined them, relaying their father's message to them, so they began their meals without him.
The house elves had made a wonderful breakfast, as always, avocado on toast with poached eggs, tomato and seasoning. The five of them had almost completely finished their food, amidst idle conversation, when their father finally joined.
'Beautiful day,' he said as he tucked into his food, noting the sunshine spilling in through the high arched window panes that lined the wall. Enola Everill nodded, gazing outside.
'I should think it would be a good day to practise your Quidditch, Ed.'
Opposite Gwen, her oldest brother Edward, closed his knife and fork on his plate. 'Yeah, could go down to the forest.' He looked out the window. 'The Muggles will be out today, though. Would have to be careful.'
'I'm sure that won't be a problem for you, Edward.'
Altair Everill's stern voice only received an obedient nod in response.
Their mother's eyes surveyed her children, who were in various stages of finishing their meals. 'Felix, you're looking rather pale.'
Felix Everill, the second oldest and youngest son, looked up from his meal, fork halfway to his mouth.
'I'm fine,' he said quickly.
'Are you sure?'
Felix nodded. He glanced at his father and continued with his meal.
'Lucille,' their mother said. 'How are you finding your homework?'
Lucille, the youngest Everill, had just completed her first year at Hogwarts. She, like Gwen, had been placed in a different house from the rest of the Everill ancestors. She was in Hufflepuff, and had been thriving in her first year.
She had a mouthful of food when her mother spoke to her, and she quickly tried to swallow it down. 'Not too bad,' she said, mouth still half full. She raised her hand to cover her lips. 'I wasn't set much because--' she cleared her throat. '--I wasn't set much so it's been alright.'
Enola nodded. 'Are you working hard?'
Lucille nodded, a little over-enthusiastically. 'Of course. I've been getting very good marks all year, I want to keep that up.'
She suddenly caught Gwen's eye, suppressing a smile.
Their mother sighed, satisfied with that answer. She surveyed the table once more.
'And you, Gwen,' she said, her voice a note softer. 'How have you been?'
Gwen's knife stopped mid cutting the last piece of toast on her plate. Suddenly, all five of her family members' eyes were on her. The silence in the brief pause settled heavy in the air.
'Yeah, I've been OK.' She forced a small smile.
'Definitely?'
She nodded. 'Yeah, just focusing on school stuff, you know.'
The answer seemed to satisfy their mother, but Gwen knew the questions wouldn't stop. In truth, since the end of her second year, she had been plagued with constant nightmares and phantom whispers deep inside her head, and she hid it better than if she'd changed her entire appearance with her metamorphmagus gift, as though she'd taken a Polyjuice Potion. She held her head high, ignoring the shadows that she caught in her peripherals, the pressing fear she had of keeping any kind of diary, in case that too had been cursed by the soul of the Dark Lord.
Gwen hid it all. She hid it better than she hid her slightly uneven nose, the one she was so insecure about, or her naturally silver eyes, that she'd changed to green because she preferred the colour. She hid the trauma, the nightmares, the constant fear. It had been little over a month since she'd been taken into the Chamber, almost losing her life to the memory of Lord Voldemort.
And yet, no one would ever know the full extent of what she was going through. Just as she'd done for the entirety of her second year, she hid the fear that ate her from the inside out.
She was fine. If she kept telling herself that, then she would be. Eventually.
And to everyone else, she was.
The idle conversation continued among the family, until their father closed his cutlery on his plate. He leaned back in his seat at the head of the table, clicking his fingers at one of the house elves waiting in the doorway. The house elf scurried from sight and returned seconds later, holding the Daily Prophet out to Mr Everill, now unrolled and scorched at one of the corners.
'I'm sure you're all aware of today's headline,' he said carefully. He flicked the newspaper, raising an eyebrow. The house elf, gasping quietly, snapped his fingers, and the empty plates on the table disappeared. Altair sighed, placing the newspaper in the wake of his plate.
'Felix brought it straight up to you,' Enola told him. 'Once the house elves brought in the post, I saw it and thought you'd better know.' She lowered her voice slightly. 'I didn't want to alarm them.'
Gwen, Eddie and Lucille shared a look. Felix kept his eyes downcast.
With somewhat of a flourish, Altair Everill turned the newspaper around and slid it down the table, pulling out his wand and raising the paper in the air. It began to turn, as though it were a relic on show in a museum, allowing each of the Four Everills to see the face that stared back at them, the large, black, block letter headline right above the blinking image.
The man was gaunt, his skin stretching over his skull as though it could break at any second, and his hair was long, elbow-length, black and matted. He stared into the faces of each of the Everills, his dark eyes sunken, dull. Beneath his tattered Azkaban shirt, tattoos decorated his chest. If it weren't for the headline, Gwen would've felt bad for this man. He was sickly, his eyes lacking any sort of glimmer. He looked like a man who'd given up.
But the bold, black letters above his swaying image made her stomach churn.
MASS MURDERER SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES AZKABAN.
Altair flicked his wand, and the newspaper landed back in front of him. 'I will give you all a chance to read this properly, once I have,' he said calmly. 'And while this news does not directly affect us,' he gave Gwen a pointed look. 'I feel it would be best that you're all aware. Sirius Black did what we all wanted to.'
Enola sent her husband a warning look. Gwen did not miss the exchange. Sometimes, she was sure her parents could communicate telepathically. She did not know much about Sirius Black, except, of course, that he'd killed a group of innocent Muggles in London after the defeat of Voldemort. She wondered if her father meant more in that final comment than he let on. She knew he didn't like Muggles, and strongly disapproved of her friendship with the Muggle Born Hermione Granger. He didn't like that Gwen was close with the Weasleys, either, who, although they were pure blooded, were widely considered by the rest of the pure blooded Wizarding community to be blood traitors, as they were affiliated with Muggle culture. He did not like them, no, but she did not believe that her father, the father she knew and loved, would go as far as to kill Muggles.
She tried not to think about that.
'Stay on your guard,' he finished, opening the paper and beginning to read. 'Sirius Black will not affect any of you, but I would not risk any more near misses striking this family.'
________________________________
A/N
Woo, that took a while to upload
I apologise for the delay, but if you've been waiting for the start of this story, then, here it is!!
I hope you're looking forward to this one, it's my favourite book so I'm so excited to write it.
Thanks for reading !!
~ softjinri x