CRESTS
Soon enough, Christmas break had arrived. Evangeline sat in one of her favorite perches, an alcove next to one of the main staircases. It had a low hole through which the entrance to the great hall was visible. She had found this one on one of her excursions with the intention of enlightening herself on the secrets of the moving staircases. Though it was disappointing not to have any more knowledge about that, the alcove was a nice place to do homework. And likewise a nice place to hide.
She wasn’t hiding from anything in particular, she still planned to go home on the train that left in a few hours and see her friends off in even less. But, sometimes it was more fun to just watch what happened around her rather than be part of it. She’d also brought a library book with her, this being her last chance to read it before the holidays.
The faculty of Hogwarts was decorating the Great Hall for Christmas. Through the hole she could see the caretaker, Hagrid, dragging in a massive pine tree. He was greeted by an impressed Mr.Flitwick who’s wand was already moving to decorate the others. She hummed softly to herself, pondering how unfortunate it was she would likely never be able to create such lovely light shows and ornaments, then turned back to her book.
Ever since spotting the red horse on Theodore’s papers the week before, she had been attempting to find its origins. Her readings on arcane symbols, dark powers, and the occult had come up short. She had to chastise herself for so quickly thinking the worst of him, but based on her experience she supposed the caution was not unwarranted. Currently, she had turned her readings to more mundane pursuits such as old pureblooded house crests.
They were, for the most part, interesting. The house of Black’s crest featured three ravens on a field of orange-gold. The Malfoy’s was an ostentatious “M” surrounded with checkered green and black. Two dragons framed either side. She read their histories and vaguely understood their importance to each family – their history more ancient then some of them even knew.
The book was centered around the “Sacred 28”, supposedly the most pure-blooded wizarding families, but it held some of the so-called ‘lesser’ houses such as her own as well. The House of Dox’s exclusion from the Sacred 28 had not been for lack of heinous obsession with blood purity or connection to the dark arts. No, those were present quite enough. Rather, it had to do with their history of dealings with muggles – both currently and of ages past. Doxs had always been willing to play to both sides of a conflict and when they began to breed and train magical beasts, they did so for the non-magical as well. And before the beasts there was wandworking, which they also extended into woodworking for the non-magical folk. This connection was seen as unseemly when they were being considered for addition onto the list.
While families such as the Potters had also been on that cusp, the Dox family tended to be given more trust by dark groups. Their wealth likely helped, as did their unfortunate support of both Grindelwald and-. And the Dark Lord. They, likewise, commanded the respect of many other pure-blooded houses – most notably that of Malfoy. The two houses had been allied for centuries.
All this had likely resulted in the Dox standard being included in a book titled, “The Sacred 28 and the Meaning Behind their Crests”. Comparatively, it was simple: a jet black stallion at a gallop with a sharp stylized shadow of a forest behind it. She tapped the standard, smoothing her index finger over the horse’s flank. To her, the stallion had always seemed ready for war, its simple eyes filled with an unnerving intensity.
She had already considered that both the standard of her family and the symbol she had seen on Theodore’s paper featured horses. It did seem to be a bit too much of a coincidence when she let go of her assumptions that he had fled to dark magic. But besides that they were almost completely different. The horse on Theodore’s paper had seemed ready for nap, not for war. It was calm, placid. The lines there had been more smooth rather than hard and sharp edges.
A quick check of her watch proved it was time for Evangeline to return the book. She snapped it closed with a sigh and crept out of the alcove, making her way down the staircase and to the library. On her way, she passed Li and Brockelhurst who each quietly wished her a happy Christmas. She nodded to them as they passed. Her relationship with them had been iffy ever since she wandered off on Halloween. She hadn’t bothered explaining to anyone except Patil, who also had been spared the full story, except that her brother was involved.
When she reached the library, she offered the book back to Madam Price, who for her part, promised to keep it for her for a bit after the holidays. Evangeline smiled at that, happy that her frequent visits and very well timed returns had put her on Price’s goodside, even though she did not need the book after break. But when Price glared at her as always, she cleared her throat and wiped the grin off of her face.
“Thank you ma’am,” she said politely. Price nodded sharply and Evangeline scurried away, reminding even herself of Edmund. This was probably as close to Price’s “goodside” that she was ever going to get.
The next thing she knew, her and her trunk were being pulled in a carriage by the thestrals again. Patil was besider her, or rather, the Patils were. Padma and her twin sister Pavarti were having a discussion about how they would spend their holiday. Parvati seemed louder than Padma, more willing to speak her mind. She laughed louder and more often too. It was an easy way to tell them apart besides the color of their ties. Edmund was curled up in her left hand, her right stroking the bridge of his nose and in between his closed eyes, but he woke up when she had to leave the carriage to get on the train.
Unable to find Theodore, Evangeline found herself at a loss. Most of the compartments with anyone she knew were full. Her discomfort grew as every compartment she passed was full of a large sum of people too. Or, even worse, only a few people in an obviously tightly knit friend group, no way she was going anywhere near that. In the end, she was forced to settle for one largely unoccupied, save for Hermione Granger.
Granger had a lovely shade of dark brown skin, with a much lighter color for her curly hair. And, gratefully, her nose was stuck in a book. With all her soul, Evangeline hoped her entrance wouldn’t be noticed and she could do the very same. But it was all for not, Granger glanced up as she made her way into the room and regarded her quizzically.
“I don’t think we’ve met!” she said, “I do recognize you though, are you a first year too?” Evangeline tapped Edmund’s nose. He was still in her left hand. Sometimes it became a bit awkward being someone who liked to watch the goings on around them rather than participate. She knew a lot about Granger, who she was friends with, that she had battled a troll. Thinking about it now, she almost felt a bit creepy – though she knew it wasn’t her own intention.
“Er- Yes. I’m Evangeline Dox,” she held out her right hand, “You’re Granger right?” Granger smiled and shook her hand.
“Oh yes that’s me. The first name is Hermione,” she paused, “I admit I’m still getting used to wizard formalities and the use of the last name and all.” Evangeline filed away the fact that Granger was a muggle-born, largely as not to expect the same level of formality that was normally allotted to her by purebloods.
“Mind if I take a seat? Everywhere else I’ve checked is a bit er- full,” she implored. A bit of disappointment flashed in Granger’s eyes, but she nodded. Evangeline could understand that well enough, she vowed to herself not to be an annoyance to a fellow reader. Taking her seat, she pulled out one of her own books. This one was largely for pleasure: a rereading of a book on the historical uses of dittany. She became engrossed in it quickly.
What she did not expect, however, was that Granger would become a hindrance to her. In between consuming her volume, Evangeline became conscious that she was being stared at. Over her book, she raised an eyebrow. Granger cleared her throat.
“I’m sorry it's just, well, you seem like a well-read person,” she said casually. Evangeline stared back at her, confused. Her expression hinted at an unsaid ‘yes, and?’. Granger continued, “And I was wondering if you had ever heard the name uh- the name,” she grew quieter as she spoke, telling her in a whisper, “Nicholas Flamel.”
Evangeline almost burst out in laughter. Did she know Nicholas Flamel? The maker of the sorcerer’s stone? The owner of eternal life and riches? That Nicholas Flamel? She expected nearly every child in magical and muggle Europe had heard the tale of him. But, she snapped her mouth shut before the laughter could escape. She reminded herself that everyone was lacking in certain education and that being raised as a muggle would not have helped to nurture her knowledge of magical history. That had, apparently, not stopped the crooked smile from forming on her lips. Granger looked upset, but only seemed to shrink a bit inwards. This time Evangeline cleared her throat.
“Sorry, uh, inside joke?” she said, not all too convincingly, then continued, “Nicolas Flamel was er- likely still is a famous alchemist. He created the sorcerer’s stone.” Granger still seemed upset, but was nonetheless intrigued.
“Sorcerer’s stone?” she quizzed, taking out a piece of parchment. Evangeline continued to reign in her snort of laughter.
“It was said to grant immortality, to be able to turn lead into gold. That sort of thing,” she answered, “I hesitate on the ‘was’ for that reason. He lived centuries ago, but if he were as successful as the stories say then you’d figure he’s still alive.” Evangeline racked her brain for more details and, realizing she didn’t have any, blushed at her former amusement. It wasn’t as if she were that knowledgeable either. All Granger did was write furiously, then look at her page in wonder.
“Thank you! I – you haven’t any idea how long I’ve been searching for something just that simple,” she then looked at Evangeline, “where’d you read that?” Evangeline glanced to the side.
“It’s a pretty common tale you hear growing up as a wizard,” she mumbled, then, upon remembering, “Oh, but I saw about it recently in my History of Magic readings. Didn’t you?” She hadn’t meant the last part to be accusatory, just confused. Granger crinkled her eyebrows.
“Most recently we’ve been learning about the Goblin Rebellions, I’d assume they aren’t related?” No, they weren’t, Evangeline silently cursed herself for forgetting she never went to History of Magic and was likely the only one who had had any academic interest in the poor tomes she’d been handling in a few centuries. However, Granger added, “I’ve scoured the whole library for anything related to Flamel though, no luck!” That was confusing and clearly wrong. His name must pop up in at least a couple dozen scrolls stored at Hogwarts.
“What?” Evangeline asked a while after. Granger stared at her wide eyed. “What do you mean you couldn’t find anything?”
“Er- just that. Harry and Ron were looking too.”
“You’re telling me Weasley didn’t know either?”
“No.” Evangeline deflated. They sat in silence for a while.
“Weird,” she finally said, after a long wait. Granger only nodded and continued writing something. Evangeline tried to return to her book, but just stared blankly at a page containing the image of a dittany plant for a long time. She couldn’t help but remember that it was Theodore who had taken her history book, the one containing references to Flamel.