The world twisted.
Colors stretched, blurred, then snapped into focus as my feet touched stone—the Pensieve memory pulling me into a life that wasn't mine…
But was.
My mother's life.
What I saw were not slow, continuous scenes.
They came in bursts—like fragments of a story told by a fading flame.
Evelyn at Age 5
A small cottage.
Warm yellow windows glowing in the falling dusk.
Laughter spills out.
A little girl with wild black hair races through the garden, chased by a man with the same sharp grin she would one day pass to me.
"Daddy, you'll never catch me!"
Her mother watches from the porch, smiling softly, knitting needles pausing to admire her daughter's joy.
Peace.
Warmth.
The kind that lives in the bones.
Then, slowly, the memory dissolves.
First Magic
A young Evelyn—now maybe seven or eight—sits at a kitchen table, tongue sticking out as she tries to write her name.
The quill snaps.
And floats.
Her gasp is loud enough to make her father sprint into the room.
Her mother bursts in moments later.
Their fear lasts only a second… before turning into wonder.
Her father lifts her into his arms, laughing.
"You're magical, sweetheart!"
Her mother wipes her tears.
But underneath the joy, a shadow flickers across her father's eyes.
A worry.
A secret.
Then the memory fades.
Hogwarts Letter (1967)
The memory shifts to a warm summer morning.
Evelyn—now eleven—sits at the kitchen table, legs swinging as she eats porridge. Her father reads the Daily Prophet. Her mother hums softly while washing dishes with a flick of her wand.
A soft fluttering sound interrupts the calm.
Evelyn looks up.
An owl taps at the window—sleek, brown, official-looking.
Her mother goes still.
Her father's hand tightens around his mug.
They exchange a quiet, loaded glance—fear, pride passing between them.
Her father opens the window.
The owl hops inside and drops a thick, cream envelope onto the table.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Evelyn gasps and grabs it with both hands.
Her mother kneels beside her, brushing a fond hand through her hair.
"Go on," she whispers. "Open it."
Evelyn tears it open eagerly.
Her eyes race across the parchment.
A bright smile bursts across her face.
"I got in! I got in!"
Her parents smile—gently, proudly—but with a shadow behind their eyes.
Her father rests a hand on her shoulder.
"Remember what we said, sweetheart. At Hogwarts… you must use only 'P'. Never the full name."
She tilts her head, confused.
"But why?"
Her mother cups her cheek.
"Because our real name is old," she says softly.
"Dangerous to the wrong ears."
Evelyn hesitates… then nods.
"Okay. I'll be Evelyn P."
Her father lets out a shaky breath of relief.
And the memory fades, leaving behind warmth—and a whisper of ancient fear.
First Year Sorting
The Great Hall.
Candles float overhead. Students whisper.
"P, Evelyn!"
She steps forward.
The Sorting Hat barely touches her head.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Cheers erupt.
Two older students approach her at dinner—a red-haired girl with a warm smile
and a tall boy with a gentle, nervous charm.
"Molly Prewett," the girl says kindly.
"And this is Arthur."
They take her under their wing from day one.
Arthur shows her how to cast Lumos.
Molly teaches her the best trick for sneaking biscuits from the kitchen.
A family formed from kindness.
Meeting Caelum (Slytherin)
A corridor.
A book spills out of Evelyn's arms.
A boy in green robes kneels to help her pick them up.
Sharp grey eyes.
Calm voice.
Controlled politeness.
"Caelum Salvius," he says.
She blinks.
"You're a Slytherin?"
He smiles faintly.
"You make that sound like a crime."
They laugh.
It is the first of many conversations.
The memory speeds through classes, hallways, late-night study sessions.
Friendship growing like a quiet flame.
1971, Snape and Lily Arrive
The Hogwarts Express.
Eleven-year-old Severus Snape sits alone.
Lily Evans stands beside him—bright hair, nervous hands.
Murmurs ripple through the older students.
Slytherins stare at Snape with calculating eyes.
Some Gryffindors glance with dislike at his patched robes.
Evelyn steps forward.
"Sit with us," she says gently.
Caelum joins her, folding his arms with authority far beyond his age.
From that day, Snape is safe in their presence.
Protected, even if he never fully understands why.
Fifth Year Exams
Evelyn stands in the courtyard helping other students revise Charms.
Caelum watches from a distance—expression softening whenever she laughs.
She punches his shoulder playfully after outscoring him in Defense.
"You studied more than me," he protests.
"I always do," she retorts.
A spark passes between them.
They don't notice.
Everyone else does.
Sixth Year: Mentorships, Winter, and First Love
Snow blanketed Hogwarts in soft white silence as Evelyn and Caelum walked toward the Training Annex — a space reserved for advanced spellwork and house mentorship assignments.
Sixth years were often paired with promising first years.
Caelum's posture was calm, disciplined, confident.
When they entered the training hall, a small first-year boy stood waiting stiffly beside a bench:
Regulus Black.
Neat black hair, aristocratic posture, eyes sharp like a hawk's.
The moment Caelum stepped inside, Regulus straightened, bowing respectfully.
"Mr. Salvius."
Caelum nodded.
"Regulus. Ready to begin?"
Regulus's chest puffed with pride.
"Yes, sir!"
Evelyn stifled a smile. She had never seen a first-year so eager to impress someone who wasn't a professor.
Caelum's Mentorship Begins
Caelum stood opposite Regulus.
"Wand stance," he instructed.
Regulus adjusted instantly.
Caelum walked around him, correcting foot placement and the curve of his wrist.
"Good. Now—shield charm. Stronger. Again."
Regulus cast Protego.
It sputtered slightly.
"No force," Caelum said. "Focus. Feel your magic move through you, not against you."
Regulus inhaled, tried again.
This time, the shield shimmered stronger.
Caelum allowed the faintest nod of approval.
Regulus practically glowed.
Across the room, Marianne — the muggleborn first-year whom Evelyn was mentoring — whispered excitedly,
"He likes you, Miss Evelyn."
Evelyn blinked. "Regulus?"
"No!" Marianne giggled. "Caelum!"
Evelyn flushed. "Focus on your wand grip."
Marianne struggled with Lumos, her wand trembling.
"It's okay," Evelyn soothed, gently steadying the girl's hand. "Magic listens when you're calm. Try again."
"L-Lumos," Marianne whispered.
A tiny glow appeared.
Her face lit up brighter than the spell.
"You did it," Evelyn whispered proudly.
Marianne beamed — a warm little sun in the frozen hall.
Soon, two Hufflepuff muggleborns approached Evelyn timidly.
"Can you help us too?"
Evelyn nodded without hesitation.
She trained them all patiently:
Steady breathing
Safe wand posture
Confidence before power
Her natural magic flowed with warmth and steadiness.
She was already a healer at heart.
Across the hall, Caelum corrected Regulus's stance again.
"Your elbow is too high."
"Sorry!" Regulus muttered.
"You're improving. Don't apologize for learning."
Regulus flushed deeply, pride swelling in his tiny chest.
When the session ended, Regulus bowed sharply.
"Thank you, Mr. Salvius. I will practice everything you taught me."
"I know you will," Caelum replied, a rare softness in his voice.
"You have discipline. That is better than talent."
Regulus straightened, glowing under the praise.
Evelyn waved at Marianne and the others as they headed out, then joined Caelum.
They walked behind the greenhouses, the world quiet except for falling snow.
Caelum inhaled deeply.
"Evelyn… I need to tell you something."
She stopped beside him, snowflakes catching in her lashes.
"What is it?"
He looked—nervous.
Truly nervous.
"I've liked you for a long time."
Her breath hitched.
She stepped closer.
"How long?"
"Since… second year? Maybe first."
He ran a hand through his hair.
"I kept waiting for the right moment, but—there isn't one. Not in times like these."
She smiled softly.
"You're late."
His eyes widened.
"Late?"
"I've liked you for years, Caelum."
He froze.
"You… have?"
She laughed quietly at his shock.
"You think I didn't notice? The way you shield me in duels? How you stare at me during Mentorship days? Or the way you tried to hex that Ravenclaw who flirted with me?"
"That was one time."
"It was three times."
He flushed bright red.
"Evelyn—"
She leaned in.
And kissed him.
A soft, perfect kiss in the falling snow.
Warmth blossomed between them, dissolving the cold around them.
When they pulled apart, Caelum whispered,
"Oh."
Evelyn smiled.
"Yeah. Oh."
Behind them, from inside the training hall door, Regulus peered out silently, eyes wide in awe.
He said nothing.
But he smiled.
The memory glowed bright…
…then faded.
Seventh Year (1973–1974): Bonds Strengthened, Paths Diverging
The memory opened in the library, warm firelight glowing across Evelyn's face.
She sat cross-legged on the floor with Marianne beside her, the younger girl practicing spell diagrams on parchment.
Across from them, Caelum corrected an essay for NEWT-level Defense.
And leaning against the armchair next to him —
Regulus Black.
Now a second-year Slytherin, he watched Caelum and Evelyn with the sharp-eyed intensity of someone who adored them both.
He wasn't the cold, aloof boy he showed to his housemates.
Not here.
Not with them.
Scene 1 — Regulus & Marianne: An Unlikely Friendship
Marianne leaned closer to Regulus, holding up a parchment with a shaky wand movement sketch.
"Is this right? Evelyn says it's close, but something feels off."
Regulus examined it with a seriousness far beyond his twelve years.
"No, no… your curve is too tight. Look—"
He took her quill and redrew the stroke with precise elegance.
"Here. The magic won't flow cleanly otherwise."
Marianne blinked.
"That makes… so much more sense."
Regulus fought a smile.
"Of course it does. I explained it."
Evelyn nudged Caelum, whispering, "Look at them."
Caelum smirked.
"Regulus finally has someone he can talk to without acting like a miniature prince."
Regulus's ears turned pink when he overheard that.
"I do NOT act—"
He paused, visibly restraining himself.
"I am merely… proper."
Marianne laughed softly.
"Well, proper or not, thank you."
Regulus startled — compliments were rare for him — then dipped his head stiffly.
"You're welcome."
A friendship was forming.
Quiet.
Unlikely.
But real.
A muggleborn girl and a Black heir, drawn together because they shared the same mentors…
Because Marianne looked at Regulus without fear.
And Regulus looked at Marianne without prejudice.