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( 𝔳𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔦𝔦, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝖔𝖓𝖊 ) — order of the phoenix
It had been two and a half weeks since the end of term.
In that time, Evangeline's daily routine consisted of only two things: visiting wizarding villages, and drinking copious amounts of elf-made wine in the comfort of her living quarters.
There was no surprise to anybody that she was still as lonely as she had been a year ago. Despite her individual reputation improving, the dark cloud that was her surname was still looming, raining brutal raindrops on potential friendships now more than ever. Be it Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, she was met with side-eyes and whispers everywhere she went.
So, she decided to switch it up a bit. Instead of going out for the day, she was planning to refuge under a cherry-blossom tree near the Black Lake. It's pink petals would have been admirable at any other point in her life, but now they just brought back bad memories. A willow tree on the other side of the bank would have to do.
The brunette sat down on a small cushion she had brought with her, leaning against the rough tree trunk. Nyx lolled on the ground beside her in a patch of dandelions, whilst Pinky, Dobby, and Winky — who were now as thick as thieves — paddled in the warm waters.
There was a book by her side which she should've been reading; not for entertainment, but as a distraction from her drinking and delusions. Unfortunately for her, wizarding literature was about as interesting as watching paint dry, and she had sworn to never pick up another Muggle book for as long as she lived.
''❛The Fountain of Fair Fortune❜. I must say, Miss Rosier, I didn't expect you to be a fan of fairy tales.''
''Good afternoon, Dumbledore,'' she clipped. ''What types of books did you think I was a fan of? Grindelwald's autobiography, perhaps?''
''I was thinking something more along the lines of Bellatrix Lestrange's poetry, but he will do,'' the headmaster chuckled good-naturedly. ''How are you on this fine summer day, Evangeline?''
''Fantastic. This seat gives me a good view of where Cedric Diggory's dead body lied about a month ago.''
''I appreciate that you are not in the highest of spirits, but there are urgent matters that I must discuss with you. Believe me, I have no pleasure in disrupting your holiday.''
