Dances, Deception and Death Eaters

Chapter 1

The polished marble floors of Beauxbatons gleamed under the light of a hundred floating lanterns, reflecting the soft pastels and gentle silks that adorned the grand corridors. Outside the prefects' bathroom, Evie Potter crouched low, her wand in hand, and a devilish grin spreading across her face. Her bright eyes sparkled with mischief as she whispered a quiet incantation.

A soft click echoed as the enchanted soap, charmed to explode into vivid purple bubbles at the faintest touch, slid into place just behind the door handle. She pressed her ear to the bathroom door, listening intently. Inside, there was the usual splashing of water and murmured conversations—blissfully unaware of what was about to unfold.

Evie straightened up and scanned the corridor. The coast was clear. A small, victorious smile played on her lips. She took a step back, admiring her handiwork, before quietly retreating into the shadow of a nearby statue. Her movements were quick, almost feline, as she slid behind the stone figure, her heart racing, adrenaline buzzing in her veins.

Those girls deserved it. All year they had been making Evie's life hell. She didn't live up to the standards of the Beauxbaton ladies and something told her that she probably never would. This would be her masterpiece.

But the corridors of Beauxbatons were never truly silent. Just as Evie was about to slip away, she heard a sound that made her stomach drop: the distinct clack of heels on the stone floors. Not just any heels.

Professor Carraway.

Evie's breath hitched, and she glanced around the corner, hoping the dark blue robes wouldn't catch her eye. But there she was, tall and severe, gliding towards the prefects' bathroom with an elegance that somehow made her even more terrifying. Evie felt her pulse quicken. She couldn't let herself get caught—not again.

She started to move—slowly, carefully, towards the nearest stairwell, gathering up the soft, silky blue material of her Beauxbatons' uniform—but it was too late.

"Miss Potter!" Professor Carraway's voice rang out like a whip crack.

Evie froze for a moment, the name hanging in the air, tension filling the space between them. A quick turn of her head to look back at the professor was all it took before her legs began to carry her away. Her soft, copper wavy hair bounced behind her as she moved. She had no time to waste. Without thinking, she bolted, sprinting down the hall as fast as her legs could carry her. Behind her, she heard the unmistakable sound of a wand being drawn.

Not good. Evie only hoped that this time it wouldn't be Locomotor Mortis that Carraway used. Last time her legs bound so quickly that she toppled over and very nearly broke her ribs and she slammed into the ground with a hard thud..

A flash of blue light zipped past her shoulder, narrowly missing her as she ducked into the courtyard. Evie didn't stop, her feet pounding against the ancient stones. The fresh evening air stung her cheeks as she ran, her hair whipping behind her.

"Expelliarmus!" Professor Carraway's voice rang out, and Evie barely managed to leap behind a fountain as the spell flew overhead, scattering droplets of water in all directions. She crouched, heart hammering, before sprinting again across the open space.

The courtyard was wide and sprawling, with stone archways and flowering vines climbing the walls. There were few places to hide, and Evie could hear Carraway's quick footsteps gaining on her.

With a quick flick of her wrist, Evie sent a bench toppling behind her, hoping to slow down her pursuer. For a brief moment, it worked. She could hear Carraway muttering in frustration as the bench clattered to the ground, but the spells didn't stop. Another flash of light whizzed by her ear, and Evie felt the hum of the magic in the air as it crackled, narrowly missing her again.

But she was running out of time—and space.

Her lungs burned as she pushed herself harder, her feet skidding around the corner towards the rose garden. She couldn't let herself get caught, not this time. She'd evaded Carraway before, and she could do it again. Just a little further, she thought, her eyes darting towards the gate that led to the stables. If she could just make it there—

"Incarcerous!"

Ropes shot out from behind her, catching her around the ankles. Evie yelped as she crashed to the ground no doubt causing bruises up her sides, her hands scrambling at the stone, desperately trying to free herself. But it was no use. Professor Carraway was upon her, wand raised, her expression stern but triumphant.

"That," Carraway said, her voice dangerously calm, "Is quite enough, Miss Potter."

Evie groaned as the ropes tightened, forcing her to stand. "Professor, I was just—"

"Oh, I know what you were just doing," Carraway cut her off, her eyes flashing. "And now, you're going to explain it to Madame Maxime."

---

The headmistress's office was as grand as the school itself. Towering windows let in the soft moonlight, casting long shadows across the velvet drapes. Madame Olympe Maxime sat behind her desk, her enormous figure imposing even in the soft light of the room. She looked down at Evie, who stood awkwardly before her, Professor Carraway by her side.

Madame Maxime sighed, her voice rumbling like distant thunder. "Miss Potter. Again?"

Evie shifted uncomfortably, "They deserved it, you have no idea what it has been like for me here, it was only enchanted soap, it's harmless."

"Harmless?" Professor Carraway interjected. "That 'harmless' prank could have caused serious damage."

Madame Maxime held up a hand to silence her. "We have warned you before, Evie. These... antics must stop."

Evie's stomach twisted uncomfortably as she looked up at the headmistress. "I've tried to fit in Madame Maxime I have but they," Evie sighed. It was no use, they had been over this many many times before and it was her word against theirs. At the end of the day, Evie wasn't a Beauxbaton and never would be. "It was exploding purple soap, I didn't mean any harm," she mumbled but her protest felt hollow even to her.

Maxime sat back, folding her massive hands. "I'm afraid I will have to inform your guardians."

The words hit her like a ton of bricks. Her guardians. Sirius and Remus. She could already imagine the look on Remus' face, the disappointment in his voice which she would no doubt hear soon in the form of yet another Howler. Sirius, now Sirius understood. His letters to Evie had been full of guidance and some of these pranks on the girls had even been his idea.

"Professor Lupin will be most displeased, I expect," Maxime continued.

---

The next morning, Evie sat at the long dining table in the great hall, pushing her breakfast around her plate. The other students whispered and giggled, casting furtive glances in her direction. She didn't care. She was too busy dreading what was to come.

A few moments later, a bright red envelope shot through the open windows, zigzagging through the air before landing squarely in front of her.

Evie swallowed. A Howler.

Slowly, she opened it. The letter unfolded itself, and Remus Lupin's voice, echoed through the hall, now strained with disappointment.

"Evie Potter," the voice began, causing the entire room to hush. "I have heard about your latest prank, and I must say, this is not what we expected from you. I thought once you were away from Hogwarts this kind of nonsense would stop. You know better. If you keep on this path, you'll find yourself in far more trouble than you can handle. And if you ever wish to return to Hogwarts, you must earn that privilege. Pulling stunts like this will only keep you further away. I expect better, Evie. Much better."

The letter crumpled into ashes as the hall remained deathly silent, the echo of his words hanging in the air. It had been such a long time since Remus had spoken to Evie with warmth that she was beginning to forget what it sounded like.

Evie's face flushed, her heart sinking. She swallowed hard, the weight of Remus's words weighing heavy on her chest. She would have to earn her way back to Hogwarts? Would they really keep her in this hell, Beauxbatons had been far worse than anyone had ever rumoured.