Haunted by her second year and now with a murderer on the loose, Gwenevere Everill finds herself facing more battles that she does not think she can win.
Tormented by dementors and struggling under the impact of her new studies, will Gwen be able t...
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In the south of Wales, about ten miles west of the small town of Aberdare, the historic Everill Manor stood tall, overlooking the Muggle towns that surrounded it.
The earliest record of its existence dated back to the eleventh century, when it was built by Guiscard Evereux, a duke from Normandy who, following the Norman invasion, elected to settle in Britain. He was a man born into a prestigious French family of wizards, highly connected and powerful.
For centuries, the Evereux's expanded their power, spreading across the country, branching into England, marrying into other Pure-Blooded families dotted around the island. The purity of the Evereux blood was undoubted, the magical power that coursed through their veins was unmatched.
And yet, tragedy haunted the family name.
As the years went by and the notoriety of the House of Evereux grew, so did the mysterious disappearances and deaths of the youngest borns. The most powerful witches and wizards of their time who bore the tainted name of Guiscard Evereux would disappear, suffer blood curses, be defeated in duels they were fated to win. Sometimes, in a cruel twist of fate, the youngest would survive tragedy, and the apparent curse would target their siblings, another child of the House of Evereux.
Over time, the name became Everill, devised from the name of their great ancestor, changed in the hopes to escape the ill-fated destiny of the families' children. Toying with fate, however, is a dangerous feat.
As of the twentieth century, only one direct descendant of the prestigious yet plagued Guiscard Evereux had survived. Altair Everill, an Unspeakable for the Ministry of Magic, paced his study in the library at Everill Manor, watching the portrait of his ancestor who'd lived over nine hundred years ago. Guiscard was difficult to communicate with, his portrait aged and yellowed, having been created around the time of his death. He spent his days watching his descendants, quietly tutting at the mundane magic they performed during their days. He particularly favoured young Edward, who, growing up, had seemed to produce the most powerful magic.
Altair inhaled sharply, taking a seat behind his desk. He had many reasons to be stressed, and his usual calm demeanour was being overpowered by the millions of thoughts that ran through his head a thousand miles a minute. Just over a month ago, his oldest daughter had almost been killed by the mere memory of his old master. The master he believed to be dead. He was torn by the prospect: if his master returned, he wouldn't have to constantly be on his guard, constantly listening in to the minds of his colleagues, the ones who didn't trust him yet had no way to explain why. He was an Unspeakable, one of the most highly trusted members of the Ministry of Magic, a man who knew the deepest secrets of magical lore, who researched and protected some of the most powerful elements of magic. Altair Everill was, by all means, a power to be reckoned with, the strength and magic of ancient pure-blood engraved into his skin, running deep through his veins, ingrained in his very existence. His children were set to become the four most powerful witches and wizards of their age. Even his wife, his childhood sweetheart Enola Selwyn, was a descendent of Guiscard Evereux. Their family trees connected somewhere in the fifteenth century, branching off separately and then reconnecting with their union.
