In Her Eyes Lies Her Heart

Mr. Weasley woke them after only a few hours’ sleep. He used magic pack up the tents, and shrunk them down small enough to fit into his pocket. Eve joined them just as he finished, looking fresh and awake, though still in the previous days clothes. She had mud all along the edge of her cloak, which Harry hadn’t noticed the night before. He wondered where she’d gone, and then mentally shrugged the thought away. They all left the campsite as quickly as possible, passing Mr. Roberts by the door of his cottage. Mr. Roberts had a strange, glazed look about him, and he waved them off with a vague, “Merry Christmas.”
“He’ll be all right” said Mr. Weasley quietly as they marched off onto the moor. “Sometimes, when a person's memory is modified, it makes them a bit disoriented for a while. And that was a big thing they had to make him forget.”
They heard urgent voices as they approached the spot where the portkeys lay and when they reached it, they found a great number of witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of the portkeys, all clamoring to get away from the campsite as quickly as possible. Mr. Weasley had a hurried discussion with Basil; they joined the queue and were able to take an old rubber tire back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun had really risen. They walked back through Ottery St. Catchpole and up the damp plain towards the Burrow in the dawn light, talking very little because they were all so exhausted, and thinking longingly of their breakfast. As they rounded the corner, and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed down the lane.
“Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!”
Mrs. Weasley, who had evidently been waiting for them in the front yard, came running toward them, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hands. She threw herself into her husband’s arms, nearly sobbing in relief. Then she moved to the twins, who flinched as their heads bashed together when she hugged them simultaneously. The paper fell from her grip as she cried into Georges shoulder. Eve stooped to pick it up. The headline said Scenes of Terror at the Quidditch World Cup, and was complete with a twinkling black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops.
“We are all fine, Molly,” Said Eve, saving the twins from Mrs. Weasley's strangling hugs.
Mrs. Weasley turned a teary eyed, surprised smile onto Eve. “Oh, Evie dear, how lovely to see you.” She wiped her eyes. “It’s been so long, come in and have some breakfast, all of you.” She added, and they all bustled back into the house.

When they were all crammed into the tiny kitchen, and Hermione had made Mrs. Weasley a cup of Very strong tea, into which Eve insisted dumping a shot of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, Eve handed Mr. Weasley the newspaper. He skimmed the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder.
“I knew it,” said Mr. Weasley heavily. “ministry blunders… culprits not apprehended…. lax security… dark wizards running unchecked …national disgrace… who wrote this? Oh, of course, Rita Skeeter.”
“That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic,” said Percy furiously. “Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness when we should be stamping out vampires. As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph 12 of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-wizard Part Humans—“
“Do us a favor, Perce,” said Bill, yawning. “And shut up.”
Eve snorted and began bustling about the kitchen, pulling out pots and pans to make breakfast.
“I'm mentioned,” said Mr. Weasley, his eyes widening behind his glasses as he reached the bottom of the Daily Prophet article.
“Where?” spluttered Mrs. Weasley, choking on her tea and whiskey. “If I’d have seen that, I’d have known you were alive!”
“Not by name,” said Mr. Weasley. “Listen to this: ‘if the terrified wizards and witches who breathlessly waited for news at the edge of the woods expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A ministry official emerged sometime after the occurrence of the Dark Mark alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give any more information. Whether the statement will be enough to quash rumors several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later remains to be seen.’ Oh really,” said Mr. Weasley in exasperation, handing the paper to Percy. “Nobody was hurt! What was I supposed to say? Rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods… well there certainly will be rumors, now she's printed that.” he heaved a deep sigh. “Molly, I have to go to the office, this is going to take some smoothing over.”
“I'll come with you father,” said Percy importantly. “Mr. Crouch is going to need all hands on deck, and I can give him my cauldron report in person.”
He bustled out of the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley looked most upset.
“Arthur, you're supposed to be on holiday! This hasn’t got anything to do with your office. Surely they can handle this without you?”
“I’ve got to go, Molly,” said Mr. Weasley. “I've made things worse. I'll just change into my robes and I'll be off.”
He exited the kitchen, and Mrs. Weasley sighed, and then took over from Eve who had begun frying bacon.
“Mrs. Weasley” said Harry suddenly, unable to contain himself. “Hedwig hasn't arrived with the letter for me has she?”
“Hedwig, dear?” said Mrs. Weasley distractedly, now pointing her wand at some gravy to thicken it. “No, no post has come in at all.”
Ron and Hermione looked curiously Harry. He shot a meaningful look at both of them.
“Alright if I going dump my stuff in your room Ron?” Harry said.
“Yeah…. I think I will too,” Said Ron. “Hermione?”
“Yes,” she said quickly, and the three of them marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and the others did not seem to notice anything, but Harry could feel eyes following him.
Eve’s scarlet gaze held his for a moment, and then she nodded, as if in approval. He walked up the stairs quickly. When the three reached Ron’s room, Harry explained to them about his scar hurting, and the letter he sent Sirius. Harry was just explaining what he wrote and how he was worried that Hedwig wasn't back yet, when Eve knocked on the door and pushed it open.
“Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George want to play Quidditch. They've asked me to grab you so that you can go out to the orchard.” She said, leaning on the door frame. She had washed up and changed, though Harry didn’t understand how. She hadn’t had any bags with her to have fresh clothes. She was in a pair of blue, straight cut linen pants, which were tucked into short brown work boots. Her top was a cream button up, and she had the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong arms. Leaning casually, she looked a lot less intimidating. In the light streaming from the window, he could now see that her soft curls were a chocolaty brown, and, despite her still unsettlingly red eyes, Harry couldn’t help thinking that she looked very pretty
Hermione began to protest, saying they should all rest, but Harry interrupted her.
“No, I want to play Quidditch,” said Harry, “hang on, I'll get my Firebolt.”
He began rummaging through his trunk next to the extra bed in Ron’s room.
“No rush,” Eve said, “Molly just finished making breakfast. I think the others wanted to eat first.”
At this, Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurried to the door, eager for breakfast. Eve moved out of their way quickly, then fell into step behind Harry.
Downstairs, the others were all digging into a feast. Eve took a seat between Charlie and Bill and pulled bacon and eggs onto her plate. Harry sat at the other end of the table, next to Ginny and Mrs. Weasley, but kept glancing toward Eve. She was talking quietly with Charlie, who seemed to be explaining an old burn scar. He couldn’t understand how Eve and Ron’s oldest brothers were friends. She looked about Fred and George’s age, yet she spoke to them as though she were far older.
“Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, quietly. “Who exactly—“
“Is Eve?” She finished for him. “She’s an old family friend. She saved my Arthur from a nasty curse when he had just started doing raids for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office.”
“How--?” Harry began, bemused.
“Don’t let her looks fool you; Eve is far older than me. She won’t say how much older, or why she looks sixteen, so we’ve just learned to accept it. She comes and goes as she pleases. The last time we saw her was during the height of You-Know-Who’s power.” She shoveled more eggs onto Harry’s plate. “After You-Know-Who was defeated, she disappeared. Broke my poor Bill’s little eleven year old heart, he was so smitten with her, but she has her duties, as do we all.” She sighed heavily, watching Eve and Bill talking. Harry thought it looked like Bill may still like her, as he kept his arm across her chair back, and seemed to be pulling her to him at every chance.

“I only wonder what has brought her back to us this time.” said Mrs. Weasley, also watching her son. “She always shows up when something is about to happen, it seems.”
When they all finished eating, Mrs. Weasley began to clean up, and Eve extricated herself from Bill and Charlie.
“I’d best be off Molly,” she said.
“Going so soon?” asked Mrs. Weasley. “Won’t you stay for dinner?”
“Yeah, come on Eve we haven’t seen you in 14 years, you have to stay!” Protested bill and Charlie, jumping to their feet to stop her from leaving.
“I’m not leaving for long; I just have some things to take care of. I’ll drop by when I can.” She hugged the two eldest brothers then said quietly to Bill, “This isn’t like last time, I promise, I’m here to stay.”
Then she bid them all farewell, walked out onto the lawn, down the lane, and disappeared.