"Again."
At this point, Evie was ready to shove the quill into Blaise's eyeball. At least then he'd be matching with Draco.
Evie rolled her shoulders back and took a deep breath.
"Unus, infusionem absinthii add. Duo, adde radicem pulveris Asphodel—"
Blaise groaned. "You need to work on your r's."
Defeated, Evie gave him a look. "I've been practicing all day yesterday y'know. Feels like my tongue's turned into jelly."
It wasn't as if she had a few days to perfect it or anything. Or had other matters to worry about.
"Well," Blaise said, adding a one-sided shrug, "try harder."
"It isn't easy rolling your r's."
"Yes, it is."
She slammed her quill on the parchment. "Are you all Death Eaters painfully blunt like this?"
Blaise chuckled. Muse glistened in his eyes. He leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. "No," he said. "But you always got angry at us when we did. Seems like that's something you haven't lost."
"Well, stop it," Evie warned, feeling a little flustered.
He shook his head, laughing, and pulled the potion book closer. "If you want to learn Latin, you're going to need to learn how to roll your r's. It's the same for almost every other European country."
"How many languages do you speak?" Evie asked. Her eyes widened when he answered with seven. "Merlin's beard."
"Everyone needs to learn at least four. Makes negotiating business easier."
She hadn't realised it was a requirement for all pureblood families. Blaise only mentioned that she'd been the smartest of the group and spoke ten, whilst Draco stood in second place with nine.
The only one they had in common, was one no one else commonly used themselves, making it a perfect scapegoat when they had to speak of private matters in front of others. Manx Gaelic. Blaise made an abundantly clear argument how frustrating it was whenever they hung out throughout school.
Blaise didn't tell her any other languages Draco knew, for it was something he could tell her himself. Whatever questions she had, were either about her or their interpersonal relationship and Blaise was offering none of it.
Evie didn't prompt anything, for she was surprised he'd answered her letter rather quickly. At first, Blaise thought the letter must've been a mistake. Some sort of joke — quite like Theodore had. But when Theodore said he received a similar letter, he realised she was serious.
Unfortunately due to Blaise's temperamental schedule, his time was much more limited than anyone else's. He too, never mentioned details of what his occupancy requirements were.
Rolling her r's and familiarising herself with accents proved to be her biggest task currently. Tongues didn't naturally roll like that, surely. Each sentence structure and sending the same daily letter in every language was like running drills on a Quidditch pitch.
French was the hardest to understand the linguistics of. Bulgarian the hardest to write, Latin the hardest to speak, and often confused Cantonese with Mandarin whilst listening to the radio or re-writing the Daily Prophet.
She wasn't ready for Blaise to hear those yet.
Blaise checked his pocket watch. "I think that'll be enough for today. I've got a meeting in an hour in Small Heath. Keep practicing and you'll get there eventually."
Evie nodded, flipping her books closed. She locked them under her cabinet in the library. "When are you next free?"
Blaise laughed. "Well aren't you ever so eager. You like me that much? I've been told I'm the funniest out of the trio though, so I'm not quite surprised."
Her cheeks flushed peachy. "I made a bet with Draco."
He ticked. "So Theodore was right, then. Foolish move, that. Malfoy's as stubborn as a donkey."
"Which is why I'm so determined to prove him wrong."
"And you are still as stubborn as one too," Blaise beamed proudly. "I'm glad you're not fully gone."
Evie didn't know whether to take it as a compliment or not, so she just smiled in return.
Blaise gave an icky little cough, clearly supporting his amused scepticism. "I wish you all the luck."
A two handed salute, Blaise apparated out into nothingness, leaving her alone in silence.
After leaving the library, she called for Willow.
"Willow is here!" she yelped, clicking into existence. "What can Willow do to help?"
"What is Narcissa's schedule like today?"
The tips of Willow's ears glowed a bright yellow. "Hm. She had a meeting with with the Flint's this morning and is scheduled to make an appearance at a charity gathering later this afternoon. She'll be free between twelve and three."
Evie checked the grandfathers clock as they passed through the hallways. Twelve fifteen. She'd been home already.
"Where is she now?" Evie asked.
"In the women's living room, I suppose. Mistress Malfoy doesn't do much in her spare time," Willow replied.
"Take me to her."
Willow took Evie by the hand and began running. They descended two floors and made a sharp turn, passing a sea of unknown and unlabelled doors, they finally reached an open area.
With the manor so large, this room felt too tiny to be built in it.
A small fireplace with two singular chairs was enveloped by tapestries, bookshelves and a hanging clock that ticked with Evie's heartbeat more than time itself. A circular coffee table sat in the middle, accented with designs painted only in wood stain rather than paint.
Its platter of fresh coffee and biscuits - custard creams and chocolate borbons piled up in a decorative pyramid.
Narcissa looked up from her seat, a pair of knitting needles floated beside her clicking away. She set aside the newspaper.
"Quid est lectio tua?" she asked.
Evie sat on the other chair. "Bonum. Erat bonum."
An approving nod, Narcissa waved her wand, causing a new cup to flutter onto the table. The pot poured two fresh cups of coffee.
"You need to work on your—"
"I know," Evie sighed, adding two sugar cubes. "Blaise already laughed at me for about an hour because of it. I'm more than aware."
Narcissa nodded, a knowing smile curled into her cheeks.
"This room is... cosy," Evie said, looking around.
It was surprising that so much furniture could fit into a small space.
"Good. That's the point of it." She tilted her head. "Bella and I would often stay here when I was pregnant with Draco."
"Have I been here before?" Evie asked.
Narcissa nodded as she sipped. "Us girls would always runaway here when we needed a private gossip."
A moment of silence.
"Is everything alright?" Narcissa broke it.
"I um— I just have a quick question I need to ask before I head back," Evie said, pointing back with her thumb.
Narcissa laughed. "You've really shifted into gear, Evie. I'm proud of you."
Evie smiled back. Shyly. Unsure how to respond.
"What brings you here?"
Setting aside the coffee after she quickly sipped, Evie looked around the place. "I've read all the newspapers you gave me to catch up on with the timeline of things. But before Draco left for Denmark, there was something I noticed."
"Something like what?"
Evie shifted uncomfortably. "I thought that Dark Lord wanted the Elder Wand for himself?"
When Evie first saw it she thought it was a replica. A joke of sorts or a wand so close to it, it had to be a mockup. But the engraving — the power she could hear vibrating off it. The way Draco's fingers still tingled with it when he grabbed her.
Narcissa took a sharp breath. Her eyes closed, indicating it'd been a question she'd anticipated. "Follow me, I think it'd best if I show you."
She stood from her chair, Evie following beside her until they reached a steep, descending staircase. It was only when the wallpaper mounted walls became bare stone, she realised how far deep they'd gone underground.
They entered a small room, seven padlocks wrapped around each doorknob and corner. Narcissa poked the tip of her wand at the nearby lantern which flickered from an amber flame to dark green.
Inside, a bracelet of seven fat keys appeared. The green fire, somewhat oblivious to Narcissa's skin.
Evie tried to wave a hand over it herself to test if she were immune. However, the tongue of the flame curled around her wrist and burned her flesh faster than any blast.
Pulling back, her hand returned to normal. No scratches or burns.
What was it with Malfoy's and burning things? Newspapers stated that was more of a Finnegan thing.
Once the door was unlocked, Narcissa pulled Evie inside.
"A pensieve?" Evie gawked ahead.
"The Dark Lord gifted it to Draco when he killed Dumbledore," Narcissa answered. "Do you know how to use it?"
Silvery light swirled over the water, a clear reflection of them both on opposite ends. Evie stared, slowly nodding. "I've read about it in a book."
Narcissa chuckled. She turned back to a stacked cabinet of thin vials, filled with what appeared to be light blue glowing liquid.
Memories.
"Here," Narcissa said, stepping back, "this is the one."
She handed Evie the vial and popped the cap open.
The glass in her hand felt cold. Nipping into her skin with tiny bolts of lightning. And yet, no frost cracked it into shards.
If Narcissa was willing to share her memory, then surely it'd be alright? What better way to learn of the past if not for the exact count of events?
Evie poured the memory into the water, waited for it to glow an electric blue. Black ink formed a small picture in the deep end of the bowl and before either could interject, Evie shoved her head into the water.
———
It took a few heavy blinks for Evie to familiarise herself with her surroundings.
Well, not-so-familiar surroundings.
There were a dozen lights, candles floating and lanterns pregnant with fireflies, yet barely any luminosity flared from them.
Everything was hazy. Sounds, light and her outer peripheral vision. Though when she focused dead-centre, everything was as clear as crystals.
Concrete floors with a few ancient chairs sat around, there were walls carved out of limestone and stained glass. A small side table accompanied a cauldron of magical ink on a nearby table, beside it, several thin needles and some bandages nestled into its curvature.
"Very well done," a voice hissed into existence.
Suddenly, a ray of bodies sparked inside.
Draco sat atop one of the chairs, buttoning up a white suit shirt. His skin, blanched and just as pale. Dark circles hollowed beneath his eyes to a point where they appeared bruised. Sweat trickled the crown of his head, separating his hair in a dishevelled mess.
If his chest hadn't moved from his heaving breath, she'd assumed him dead.
A cloak of feathery darkness turned to the man behind Draco, whom Evie recognised as Severus. "How long for it to heal?"
Grey skin, presence haunting and a hiss of a serpent, Evie recognised that face instantly. No doubt about it. Reality hit her square in the nose as she realised that she was in the presence of the Dark Lord.
"Four to six weeks should he take care of it," Severus replied, cleaning his hands with a bloody cloth. He acknowledged Draco. "It'll be itchy, but don't scratch it. Or you'll mess it up."
Draco didn't respond.
Evie quickly detoured around the room. Narcissa was nowhere to be found. No Lucius, no Blaise, Pansy or Theodore either.
This had to be Draco's memory.
Fighting back a gulp, she turned back to the men in the room. The Dark Lord specifically.
He said, "Do you think if we head downstairs now, we'll still be able to—"
Severus shrugged. "It could work, but this is playing with the dark—dark paranormal, mi'lord. They're always five steps ahead, regardless of who you may be. Sending him down weak and vulnerable is something I advise strongly against."
The Dark Lord's lips thinned in consideration. He turned to Draco and clicked his fingers. "Keep the shirt off. We're going now."
Draco choked on his breath, but never interjected.
"My lord, you must understand the consequences of this. It is better to wait. The monks have stated we can stay here for the night where he'd —" he gave a hard look at Draco, "be at a more appropriate state."
The Dark Lord took a few steps forward until they were inches apart. "Severus, although I appreciate your concern, we have a war to win. We need this now. Draco has suffered far worse. He'll be able to endure this just fine."
Without argument, Severus nodded and turned away. "I'll get Lucius."
"No," the Dark Lord quickly intervened. He held his hand up and summoned Draco to his feet. "Only we shall go."
Draco could barely stand by himself. His knees were weak, shivering and creaking. His skin was peppered with goose-bumps, a light sheen of sweat coating the surface. If pain had a face, it would've been him.
"I'm alright," Draco said through gritted teeth. "I can do this."
The Dark Lord smiled. "That's the spirit."
Severus, although obviously disappointed, dropped his argument.
Evie followed them as they exited the room. Heading up a short set of steps before they entered a decent sized, candlelit hallway with a few pointed, non-English shaped windows which Evie couldn't help but peak through.
Outside, there were walls, most demolished, unable to inhabit windows or doors. They stood in memoriam as the grounds were neatly lined with pebbles, its outer edges fruited to life with green grass and poppy flowers.
Above each rectangular block of flowers, thick stone crosses mounted with names unfamiliar to the English tongue. She'd not recognised it from any of the texts her and Blaise went through either.
What she could understand were the dates. Birth to death. The gravestone closest to her read '1202-1239'.
Deeper into the building, they entered a small room — bigger than the one they were in before.
Each pew was empty, a dark stand of Jesus hung on his cross among a dozen of gold and silver structures in respect of him.
Severus, ahead of her, snarled.
As they passed each pew, Evie picked up a Bible and flicked through the pages. Then turned back to the main entrance behind her where soon, utter dread and everything oh-so negative shivered her soul to the core.
Why on earth would Narcissa want her to see this?
The Abbey of St Carta, Romania. Transylvania.
Evie wanted to laugh from the ridiculousness but nevertheless, since it was only a memory, nothing could hurt her. Right?
Behind the stand of Christ, a thin door creaked open and led downstairs into a tight stairway. Severus casted Lumos as did the Dark Lord, and Evie couldn't help but shove her spirit-self in between each light, right beside Draco. Just in case.
When the stairs stopped, Evie adjusted her eyes to the darkness. Even Draco shivered. His heartbeat was staggering. Right in his throat, restricting him from turning back.
Every inch of the wall and ceiling was mounted with crosses. From wood to marble to gold to stone carvings. So — so many that a few dangled from the ceiling.
Severus, as if to ease Draco's nerves, leaned forward and said, "It's just a scare tactic for the mudbloods."
Like that made it easier.
Walking ahead, they reached a singular wooden door. No locks, no hatch or doorknob other than a dozen padlocks.
It was the sign above that caused both Evie and Draco to whimper and regret everything altogether.
HIC FINIT DEO
Evie wrapped her arms around her stomach. Tears forming. Because this she could understand.
GOD ENDS HERE
The Dark Lord turned to Draco, handed him a large cotton bag and a lantern before he said, "Do not fail me."
Draco gulped, taking the bag and nodded. Still not a word to his tongue.
Both Severus and the Dark Lord stood back, waiting, watching as Draco opened the door and entered inside.
This hallway was darker. Drips of water echoed, despite the floor as dry and cold as ice. From what she felt, anyway, since a layer of fog rose up to their knees.
Draco took a lantern and turned to the extended corridor. It took a moment for him to grip his thoughts and Evie sensed the pain and utter fear he must've felt. He appeared much younger in this memory, meaning this had to have been years before her incident.
As he took a step forward, Evie took one behind him.
Draco gasped, jumping back, turning to look. Evie joined but hadn't realised it was her he was staring at.
He uttered beneath his breath, "Calm down, Malfoy. Of course, this place is haunted. There will be someone staring at my back. This is normal here. You are alright. You're not going to die. You are safe." He turned back and walked. "Let's just get this over and done with."
A long, deep breath.
"I am alright," Draco said once more.
Then he walked deeper into the well of evil.
At the end, an archway welcomed a small, what appeared to be, moon pool. Pillars parked around the edges, the walls held back with wood, for only half of it was bricked with stone.
As though it were unfinished.
Before catastrophe struck, Evie assumed.
Draco placed the lantern by his feet.
It was then Evie realised the continuous word of encouragement he kept whispering. "You are alright. You are alright. You are alright."
Over and over again.
He pulled out a blanket, straightened it before wrapping it over his shoulders and cloaking it over his head.
Just like that, he snapped out of existence.
Minutes passed, and Evie couldn't hear or see him. She wanted to move, wanted to call his name but from the darkness of the pool alone, she feared for life.
Mouth dry and eyes swollen with tears, Evie waited.
Waited and waited.
It could've been hours for all she guessed.
She couldn't call out for him, not like she wanted to anyway. But soon, what felt like hours later, the moon pool rumbled.
Four, large lantern bowls cased against each pillar lit abruptly, illuminating the room.
The crosses around rattled too. A few fell from the ceiling, clinking onto the ground.
Draco emerged from the other side of the pool, the blanket and his body completely soaked. His eyes darted to the very same spot.
"Merlin's beard save me," Draco whispered, staring, goggle-eyed.
A dark figure emerged from the pool. Lifting, slowly.
Evie couldn't see it's face, but from Draco's expression, it was beyond ghastly. Beyond terrifying than what the Dark Lord could ever emit.
Its black dress clung onto its body like a new layer of skin, dragging below her feet like it were seven sizes too big. It wore a black bonnet, masked under a thin black veil and although only its eyes and nose were hidden, its petrifying grin did all the talking.
The monster's—ghost's—demon's growl rattled the crosses violently as it grew so inhumanely tall, Draco's neck craned up.
Then it lunged for him. Barely stopping a centimetre from his face.
"Gratulationes," it gargled. Evie could barely make out each word. "Tell me how."
Draco, in broken Latin himself, replied, "Magic."
The creature growled, tilting its head. "Many die here. You impress me."
Draco gulped.
"Would you like a prize?" it then asked, floating around, watching over him.
Her eyes were completely black, as if buttons sewed in their place with its mouth veined black too. Rotten teeth and skin patched with mould and fat leeches.
It eyed the mark behind his neck, causing her grin to widen from ear to ear.
Draco nodded, rolling his shoulders back. "I want a wand," he said. "A wand more powerful than any in existence."
It was then where everything clicked into place. Everything made sense.
This wasn't some demon. No — this was Death.
Death in its finest nature.
She smiled, floating to a patch of dirt and sprouted a sapling. And Elder tree. Death snapped it out, a glimmer of orange, green and blue swirled over it as it formed its unique shape.
This one, triangular as opposed to the regular cylindric shape. Carved with leaves and scales, it floated into Draco's hand.
"May the power grant you all you need, Master of Death."
Death floated back towards its pool and sank back into the water.
Draco didn't hesitate to conjure a bridge over the pool and run over it as quickly as possibly could.
Before Evie could follow him, her mind warped, her head pulled out of the pencieve and fell hard on her arse.
Narcissa jumped to her side, a bar of chocolate in hand.
However, Evie shoved her away, scattling back until her back pressed against the wall.
She couldn't stop the tears falling this time.