Chapter Three: Hogsmeade's Disaster

Evelyn...

   On Sunday the morning, after breakfast, all the third-year students and above, were writing their names down the list in Argus Filch's hands for the Hogsmeade's weekend; checking if they were allowed to go and being checked with the Secrecy Sensor in case if they had any Dark Arts being carried around in them.

   I did not even bother, because Hogsmeade trips would need your parents or guardian's signed permission, until you are seventeen or above, and I was still sixteen.

   Let me be honest: if I did not have to buy a notebook, even if I had twenty and more of signed permissions to me, I probably would not be likely to visit a highly crowded village like Hogsmeade.

   Anyway, I thought there was no way, other than sneaking out, which was not likely for me, that I would be able to go. My father, Sirius, would not even think of sending me a signed permission, let alone really sending it; and Dumbledore, my only guardian since when I was a newborn and Sirius was in Azkaban, would be too busy to do that just for my fun-sake.

   But, unexpectedly, I was wrong: when Harry was passing the Slytherin table to write his own name down the list, he gave me an already unpacked letter with Sirius's handwriting:

   I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather, and Evelyn Black's father, hereby give them the permission to visit Hogsmeade at the weekends.

   After about five minutes starting at the parchment blankly, I finally decided to give my name to the list-in-hand Filch. And when I was giving that to Filch, looking at me as if I had murdered the only love in his life, he said, with a rather unpleasant expression, that my permission was already signed by Dumbledore.

   Even though I was pleased that now I could go to Hogsmeade, I was not, however, delighted to get noticed from either Dumbledore or Sirius. More correctly, I could not care less.

   "You're coming?" Pansy asked me in disbelief when I joined her in the walking-to-Hogsmeade trip, after being checked by the Secrecy Sensor until Filch eventually got satisfied with me.

   "I needed to buy something," I said. "Where are the Teen-Eaters gang?"

   Pansy stared at me as though I were a toad.

   I pinned her with an insouciant stare.

   She shook her head wearily then. "I didn't see them since breakfast."

...

   When we arrived at Hogsmeade, Daphne Greengrass popped up to meet with Pansy. I eyed her up and down, burying my annoyance deep inside.

   Her ostentatious looks were befitting her sweeping pride; she had long, pale-blonde hair, blue eyes, and an attitude I was surprised Pansy could stand.

   "I wish to visit that jewelry shop up there," she spoke to Pansy, her proud expression burning through my eyes.

   "We are going to separate, then." I moved my bag's strap higher on my shoulder, throwing a cold glance over at Greengrass. "I am going somewhere else."

   "Wait! We are not supposed to separate!" Pansy shouted when I began to walk away.

   "I would prefer dying alone." I narrowed my eyes darkly. "Meet you at Three Broomsticks."

   I strode down the road to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, took almost half an hour to examine the shop. I strayed between the shelves, looking carefully at the different parchments, examining the elegant quills, feeling freshed. Then, after taking a fair look in the shop, I got a black leather-cover notebook, jammed it into my messenger bag, and stepped out into the fresh air.

   I was walking up the road to Three Broomsticks, when, with people's cries of scream, the Ollivender's exploded at my feet. The shop blew into sweeping flames; people running here and there, screaming and calling for their friends, finding any shelter to hide. I stood there, the loud screams in horror ringing through my ears as the heat of the fire caressed my skin, when five ominous hooded figures wearing silver masks walked out of the burning flames. The screaming sound increased, the moment they recognized the masked figures as Death Eaters.

   Teen-Eaters, I thought to myself. No wonder why they were not anywhere in the castle.

   As I slowly backed away, a dozen witches and wizards from the Ministry of Magic popped out of thin air one after another. Wands already pointed, without a second hesitation, they all began shouting spells, jets of lights shooting from the end of their wands towards the hooded masks; and the Death Eeaters, wands already out, began to defend.

   I gazed around, looking for somewhere to run from the scene. And when my eyes settled on a narrow lane to the side, I crossed the road towards it without a second hesitation.

   Even though the sky was somehow cloudy, the lane was way darker than you would have thought in the middle of a day. It was a deserted lane, with high stony walls that made it dark as a night; the only thing in the empty lane was a broken beer bottle laying on the ground.

   I took a deep breath, avoiding the sweeping sounds of shouting witches and wizards, the screams of terrified villagers, and walked deeper through the lane; my hand inside my pocket on my wand, ready to defend.

   And it did not last any long until I thanked Merlin I was at the ready.

   With my sense in alarm, I stopped dead and drew my wand out, pointing it into the darkness: with a POP, a tall hooded figure had appeared in the dark lane some feet furth of me; groaned, then sank to the ground right away.

   "Damn it." Took his mask off, Mattheo was lying on the ground: his back leaned against the stony wall, some strands of his dark curls were stuck onto his sweaty forehead. His breathing was ragged, and he was wincing in pain, his huge, dusty hand grabbing his side harshly.

   Leave him to himself, I thought.

   No, the mission...

   He was defeated badly. There was the opportunity, and I needed to use it in despite of my own desire.

   I snorted, "For Merlin's sake," muttered under my breath, and, putting my bag down next to me, I kneeled down on the ground beside him.

   "You are hurt." My tone was forced to be soft, with a fake, only slightly concerned expression.

   This is pathetic.

   His jaw twitched. His face was sweating, his breathing was heavy, short and ragged. I knew he was in pain; but his lips curled up into a foreign grin, nevertheless. Which I would never get used to. "I'm fine, Princess. Don't worry." His voice was unbearably hoarse in agony when he hissed the words. "Just my ribs are probably broken."

   Absorbing what he just said took me longer than intended.

   Princess.

   And as long as I had my sanity and my logical mind, I would absolutely refuse to absorb this peculiar side of the Dark Lord's son.

   "Do not ever call me that again." An uncontrollable, threatful expression slipped from my hold.

   His hideous smile only widened.

   It was just it: a smile. There was nothing under it, I told myself. Nothing so deep. But it was so odd and strange itself, since I'd only heard of this absolute misery from Theo. Because I was never meant to witness it.

   And it was only enough to annoy me. To make me want to leave him there to suffer. But I had the obligations, and as much as it annoyed me, I was intent on it. So I held myself back from rolling my eyes.

   "I can fix it." I nodded towards his ribs.

   He smirked, his head sagging against the wall. "Have you ever done anything like this before?"

   My eyebrows furrowed. "No," I confessed. "But I can try."

   He shook his head, a wide smirk still on his face. "I shall see you try, then."

   I stared down at the dark clothes covering his torso. "It is not going to work with clothes on."

   His eyebrows jumped up. "Yeah?" A breathless chuckle, "Take them off, then."

   A muscle in my jaw tensed.

   Looking around, I grabbed a sharp piece of the broken beer bottle off the ground. The one that I saw when I came into the lane.

   With a snort, I carefully sliced the cloth off with the sharp glass, revealing his muscular torso. He crept his hand from the injured area, giving me access to his broken ribs.

   This is ridiculous.

   I pointed my wand under his chest, then muttered, "Brackium Emendo!" With an unpleasant crack, and a slight wince from him, his bones, seemingly, mended.

   Mattheo ran his hand over his mended ribs, looking down at his body in awe. "Hell yeah, it did work." He sat up slowly, gawking at me with a deep deep smirk.

   His eyes were glowing in amazement. But I could swear, the deathliness deep in them still remained.

   But, for Merlin's sake, this was not the Mattheo I knew.

   This was a creature ten times more annoying than the murderous one.

   I looked away, avoiding his displeasing gaze; the noises out of the lane had almost disappeared: the battle had ended.

   With a POP sound behind me, I turned just in time to look at another hooded mask, wand pointed, had appeared from nowhere. He took his mask off and lowered his wand when he recognized me and Mattheo sitting on the ground.

   "What the hell are you doing?" Theodore uttered, rather surprised to see me there. His breathing was short and heavy, and his right leg was slightly limping.

   Without hesitation, I stood up and grabbed my bag off the ground.

   "Next time you were planning to explode a shop at my feet, at least let me know. Perhaps if I wanted to stay away." I pinned Theo with a cold glance. Expect our close friendship, my words were plainly cold when I spoke to him. I was, of course, being furious that they just exploded a shop in front of me.

   Theo sighed through his nose, closing his eyes in the darkness as he rubbed his face with his hand wearily.

   Threw a forced soft glance over my shoulders at Mattheo __ who was on his feet now __ then I stormed out of the deserted lane.