Evan Rosier (Harry Potter Fanfic/ Prequel)

1 | 10 | From the Rosier's

Summer of 1972

My parents don't pester me about the Rosier's anymore after that evening.

Sometimes they will talk about how nice their family is, but they haven't tried to force anything on me. My friends haven't said anything about Evan, either, even though they are sending tons of letters.

Blair, who comes over very often, doesn't send as many letters. Cassia and Cynthia send them every day, Severus less so.

Even Evan sends a couple of letters over the summer, much to my surprise and dismay.

I've kept the ring he has given me in that jewelry box, still unsure if I want to so much as touch it again, much less wear it. It's captivating, I'll give him that. I didn't know Evan's family is so rich.

Not that it matters!

His letters consisted of bland notes asking me how I am and what I'm doing. It makes me wonder if his parents just make him write me.

Luckily, my mother and father haven't seen the letters. I haven't answered any of the letters yet because honestly I don't want to. Am I scared? Probably. Why? I don't know the answer to that. Strange.

Sometimes I feel bad for leaving him hanging, but overall, I'm indifferent. Like I said, it doesn't seem as if he's writing to me because he wants to. The way those letters are, it's like he's writing an apology to some kid he was being rude to.

"Arabelle!" My mother calls me from in the kitchen. I am reading a book, but I get up to call back. "Come here for a second."

I oblige and step into the kitchen where she is.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" I almost wince at my rude tone, knowing she'll scold me for that. She merely grins and gestures down to the ugliest creature I have ever seen.

"This is Clobbey."

"Where did you get this?" I ask, nose scrunched up at the sight of a small, wrinkly, house-elf with rags as clothes.

"Hello, Miss (L/N)," the house elf squeaks at me. I step back in disgust. "I am Clobbey, and I am at your service."

"Where did you get this?" I repeat, finally looking back up at Mom.

She smiles nervously. "The Rosier's gave this to us."

I look back at Clobbey. Very small for a house elf, and skinny. No wonder they gave us this one- he's the runt, isn't he? "Wow." I've read about house elves, surprise surprise. Even though he's ugly and small, he's probably more powerful than my parents. "So did- is he still working for them?"

"No, but I'm sure if they came and ordered Clobbey to go back, he would," Mom says, sporting another nervous smile. That means we better not get too attached to this house elf. The Rosier's can take him back anytime.

"What is Clobbey's first order, ma'am?" Clobbey asks Mom, who shuffles her feet.

She doesn't answer at first, looking around the kitchen. She points at the dishes and hesitates but tells him, "Go clean those. Will you?"

"Why, of course, Mistress."

"Mistress?" Mom echoes.