Harry Potter: The Forgotten Chronicles- Book 8

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Evelyn bounded down the stairs of Shell Cottage, her footsteps light but her heart heavy with the weight of recent events. The peaceful atmosphere of the cottage was a stark contrast to the turmoil that had engulfed her since the escape from Malfoy Manor. Everything felt different now, as if a part of her had been left behind in that dark place.

Entering the kitchen, she found Hermione already seated at the table, her expression weary but relieved. Evelyn offered a small, hesitant smile and took a seat beside her. Fleur, moving gracefully around the kitchen, handed her a cup of tea. The warmth of the cup seeped into her hands, but it did little to chase away the chill that seemed to have settled in her bones.

Luna stood by the door, her gaze dreamy and distant as she gently tapped a wind chime hanging in the window. A ghostly refrain filled the room, the soft melody adding an ethereal quality to the quiet morning.

"It's beautiful here," Evelyn commented, her voice soft and contemplative.

"It was our Aunt's," Bill replied from where he stood near the stove, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "We used to come here as kids. The Order uses it now as a safe house—what's left of us, at least."

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken grief and the stark reality of their situation. Evelyn nodded, her mind drifting back to the horrors they had narrowly escaped. The safety and serenity of Shell Cottage felt almost surreal, like a fragile bubble that could burst at any moment.

Evelyn had been reserved and quiet since their arrival at Shell Cottage, the events at Malfoy Manor casting a long, suffocating shadow over her. Every detail of that night replayed in her mind with relentless clarity, haunting her every waking moment. It was as if the horrors they had faced there had embedded themselves into her very soul, making it impossible to escape their grip.

The sight of Hermione screaming and thrashing in Bellatrix's grip, was seared into Evelyn's memory. She had never felt so helpless, so utterly powerless to protect her friend. Every scream that echoed through the manor's cold halls had been a knife to Evelyn's heart, a reminder of the brutality they were up against. Hermione's cries of agony had seemed to go on forever, each one twisting the knife deeper until Evelyn thought she might go mad with the sheer intensity of her helplessness.

She had tried to stay strong, to keep her fear at bay, but the sight of Draco, had shattered something inside her. Seeing him again, alive and yet so far from her reach, had been almost more than she could bear. The conflict in his eyes, the way his hand had trembled as he hesitated, had told her everything she needed to know—he was as trapped in this nightmare as they were. And yet, when he nudged her toward Harry, urging her to go, it had taken every ounce of strength she had to turn away from him, to leave him behind in that dark place.

Then there was Dobby. Brave, selfless Dobby, who had appeared just when all hope seemed lost. The sight of him standing defiantly against Bellatrix, determined to save them, had filled Evelyn with a brief, flickering hope. But that hope had been cruelly snatched away in the blink of an eye. The image of Dobby, standing with that strange, peaceful smile on his face, the hilt of Bellatrix's dagger protruding from his chest, was one Evelyn would never forget. She had watched the life drain from his eyes, felt the warmth of his small body grow cold in Harry's arms, and in that moment, something inside her had shattered beyond repair.

The weight of it all was crushing, leaving Evelyn feeling hollow and numb. She couldn't find the words to express the depth of her sorrow, the guilt that gnawed at her for surviving when Dobby hadn't, for leaving Draco behind when he had needed her most. The events at Malfoy Manor had changed her in ways she couldn't yet fully understand, and she feared that she might never be the same again.