Chapter Two: The Fiancé
Not too far away from the Evans family home, a frazzled witch and wizard were trying to convince their son to join them in the fireplace. The boy sat on the couch opposite them and sulked prettily.
"Please, son. We're going to be late if we don't leave now. What sort of impression will this have on your fiancé?" His mother pleaded from the other side of the brilliant green flames. The boy scowled.
"Who cares what she thinks! I don't even know her! Why would you arrange a marriage for me anyway?! Arranged marriages are so passé!"
"Son, please. It was either this, or have you marry one of the girls from the Black line. And you know how inbred that line is getting! I want to be sure that our Heir is going to be as normal as possible! The fact is, son, that there are just not enough pure-blood witches left! It would do our line good to have a little variety," his father explained.
"VARIETY? A bag of Bertie Botts Beans, dad. That's variety. Forcing me to marry some muggle-born bird is not variety, dad. It's mental." The boy ended his rant and returned to sulking.
"Professor Dumbledore says she's a lovely girl, son. Bright, clever, and near the top of your class!" his mother offered lamely.
"Oh great…so she's a Ravenclaw too, on top of being a mudbl-"
"DON'T YOU DARE SON! DON'T-YOU-DARE-SAY-THAT-WORD! NEVER... EVER...IN THIS HOUSE HAS THAT WORD BEEN UTTERED! HOW dare you!"
"I-I'm sorry mum... It's just I know she'll be PERFECT. Besides, Professor Dumbledore's a loon."
"THAT IS IT!" his father roared, stepping quickly out of the fire and grabbing his son by the collar of his robes. "I WILL NOT HAVE YOU INSULTING ALBUS DUMBLEDORE IN THIS HOUSE!" He shoved the teen into the fire and followed after.
"Would you like to do the honors, Albert?"
"Of course, dear," Albert Potter cleared his throat and spoke loud and clear, "EVANS RESIDENCE."
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Back inside the Evans' house, a small puff of black soot had suddenly wisped out of the empty fireplace. Lily's eyes widened.
"That's odd…I wonder what that was all about," Nigel Evans said aloud, cocking his head to peer more closely at the fireplace. He removed the grate. Lily ran into the kitchen as a cloud of ash spilled into the room, bringing with it two wizards and a witch. The magic folk straightened themselves out and brushed the soot from their robes. Staring at them in shock and horror were three muggles covered from head to toe in fine black powder. Rose Evans suppressed a muffled sob.
Albert Potter strode towards the muggle man, offering a slightly dirty hand. Nigel Evans shook it, still slightly dazed from the shock of seeing three grown people tumble out of his fireplace.
"Hello there, Mr. Evans! It is lovely to finally meet you. My name is Albert Potter; this is my lovely wife Emily, and our son James."
Nigel Evans shook the woman's hand, as well as her son's in turn. He cleared his throat, choking slightly on the thin layer of dust that now coated his lungs.
"Good morning, Albert. Welcome to our home." Albert Potter smiled.
"Ah, and this must be young Lily, then, is it?" Beside her father, Petunia paled under her coating of ash.
"No! Of course not," she cried indignantly. "As if I would ever marry your freak son!" She let out a wail and ran up the stairs to her bedroom, leaving a trail of black footprints behind her. Nigel Evans cleared his throat again, his gaze darting back and forth between the horrified Potters.
"Lily must have just gone into the kitchen. One moment please," Rose Evans offered as graciously as she could muster. She turned and hurried out of the room, through the swinging parlor doors that led to the small kitchen. Lily was kneeling awkwardly on the counter, trying feverishly to unlatch a window.
"Lily-love, they're here. Come, now. We mustn't keep your fiancé waiting!" she sang lamely. Lily groaned and slid off the counter. Her mother took her hand and more dragged than led her out of the room.
"Ah, yes! Here she is!" Nigel Evans announced.
Lily's eyes widened when she saw the young man standing in the middle of the soot-covered room, his bottle-green robes streaked with dirt, his jet black hair even more messy than usual.