Chapter 2
James
James woke up to the taste of blood.
It was metallic on his tongue, thick and coppery, and for a few disoriented moments, he didn’t understand why. His whole body felt sluggish, heavy, like his limbs had been filled with cement. There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears, drowning out everything else. He tried to blink the haze from his vision, but it only made things worse—the world around him blurred, shapes and colors smearing together like a painting left out in the rain.
Something wasn’t right.
He swallowed, wincing at the sharp pain in his throat. His head lolled to the side, and that was when he noticed the smoke. It curled through the air, thick and black, creeping into his lungs. His nose burned. His stomach twisted. Somewhere far away, a voice was screaming.
No, not just one voice.
James’ brow furrowed. The ringing in his ears was starting to fade, and beneath it, he could hear chaos. Shouting. Coughing. The unmistakable sound of something burning.
What the hell—
Then it hit him.
The plane.
The trip.
They’d crashed.
James inhaled sharply, his body lurching upright. The sudden movement sent a wave of nausea crashing over him, and he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as the world spun. His seatbelt dug into his chest, locking him in place, but it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing forward.
Everything hurt.
The side of his face was wet, and when he lifted a hand to touch it, his fingers came away slick with blood. His head pounded, vision swimming as he forced himself to look at his surroundings. The plane was… wrong. It was tilted, one side slumped lower than the other. The overhead compartments had burst open, spilling luggage and broken pieces of plastic into the aisle.
And the screaming—god, the screaming.
James turned his head, trying to push through the thick fog in his brain. People were moving, clawing at their seatbelts, dragging themselves toward the broken emergency exit. Smoke was everywhere.
His stomach lurched. He needed to move.
His gaze snapped to the seat beside him. Peter was slumped over, his face pale beneath the dim emergency lights.
“Pete,” James croaked, reaching out and shaking him. “Peter, wake up.”
Peter didn’t stir.
James’ heartbeat stuttered. No. No, he was fine. He had to be.
Gritting his teeth, James shook him harder. “Peter, wake up! We have to get out of here.”
Peter groaned, his head lolling to the side. “Mmm…?”
Relief crashed over James so fast he almost went lightheaded. “Yeah, yeah, come on, wake up.” He fumbled with Peter’s seatbelt, his fingers shaking too much to get a proper grip. “We need to move.”
Peter blinked blearily at him, his face twisted in confusion. “What…?”
James yanked the buckle free. “Plane crashed.” His voice was hoarse. “We need to go.”
Peter’s eyes widened, but James didn’t give him time to react. He hauled Peter up, ignoring the way his own legs nearly buckled under the effort. The plane was groaning, the metal shifting under its own weight. They didn’t have time to waste.
The exit. He needed to get to the exit.
James turned toward the emergency door, barely registering the figures stumbling through the wreckage.
And then—
A bloodcurdling scream.
James’ breath caught in his throat as he whipped around.
Avery was on fire.
It took his brain a second too long to comprehend what he was seeing. The flames clung to Avery’s body, bright and all-consuming, crackling as they devoured his clothes, his skin—his screams echoed through the broken cabin, but James couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
Holy shit.
The smell was unbearable. Burnt flesh, smoke, something James’ brain refused to place.
He forced himself to look away—but his gaze landed on something worse.
A body. Skewered by a jagged piece of metal, pinned to the seat like a butterfly on display. Blood pooled beneath the seat, soaking into the fabric, spreading outward in thick, dark rivers. James didn’t know who it was.
He swallowed the bile rising in his throat.
“James,” Peter rasped behind him, voice weak. “We have to go.”
Right. The door.
James tore his eyes away from the carnage and stumbled forward, heading for the broken exit. Smoke burned his eyes, made them water, but he didn’t stop. He shoved past fallen luggage, climbed over twisted pieces of metal, until—
“Help!”
James froze.
The voice was close.
He turned his head, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. Through the haze of smoke, he saw them—Lily, Mary, and Pandora, struggling to free themselves from their seats.
His stomach lurched.
Without thinking, James changed course, pushing past debris until he reached them. Lily was coughing, her face streaked with soot. Mary was wrestling with her seatbelt, her hands trembling. Pandora was pinned under a fallen piece of the overhead compartment, her face contorted in pain.
“Shit—okay, okay, I’ve got you,” James said, dropping to his knees. His fingers fumbled with Mary’s buckle first, yanking it free. “Can you stand?”
Mary nodded shakily.
“Good. Help Lily.”
Mary didn’t argue. She turned, helping Lily as James moved to Pandora. The fallen debris had crushed part of her leg, and she was biting back what had to be a scream.
James’ pulse pounded. “This is gonna hurt.”
Pandora let out a weak laugh. “No kidding.”
He gritted his teeth and pushed, lifting the metal just enough for her to free herself. She gasped in pain but managed to drag her leg free.
“Come on.” James looped an arm around her, helping her up.
The smoke was getting thicker. The fire was spreading. They didn’t have much time.
“We need to go, now,” James said, glancing at Lily and Mary.
They nodded, coughing.
Together, they stumbled toward the exit. James reached it first, bracing himself as he shoved against the half-broken door.
It didn’t budge.
Panic clawed at his chest. No, no, they couldn’t be stuck.
Gritting his teeth, he braced his shoulder against it and shoved again. Harder.
Something creaked above them—metal shifting, cracking, breaking.
James’ stomach dropped.
They didn’t have time.
“Again!” he shouted.
They all threw their weight against it. Once. Twice. The plane shuddered, something inside the wreckage giving way with a snap.
And then—
The door flew open.
James wasn’t prepared for it.
He fell forward, the momentum sending him tumbling out of the plane and onto something cold and damp. His hands hit the ground, sinking into the floor. He groaned, his vision swimming, his brain still catching up to what just happened.
Then, suddenly—air. Cold, fresh air.
He gasped, sucking in a breath so sharp it hurt his ribs. His body heaved as he tried to force oxygen back into his lungs. And then—
Dirt. Trees. Sunlight.
Woods.
They were in the woods.
Shadows stretched around them, trees towering overhead. The wind was cold against his burning skin. They were in the middle of nowhere.
But there was no time to process it.
James turned back, immediately reaching for the others. “Go! Now!”
One by one, they scrambled out. Mary. Pandora. Dorcas. Peter. Lily. Marlene.
Then, Barty, blood running down the side of his face, barely staying upright. He stumbled forward, collapsing into the dirt.
Then—
Snape.
Dragging someone.
James’ breath caught when he saw Mulciber’s body.
No. Not dragging. Holding.
Mulciber was dead.
Snape still clutched him, his face blank, his hands bloodied. He didn’t look at James, didn’t look at anyone, just stood there, as if he hadn’t fully processed what had happened.
James swallowed hard, forcing himself to look away.
More figures stumbled from the wreckage—and then Remus, clutching his ribs, his face pale.
James grabbed his arm, steadying him. “You okay?”
Remus didn’t answer, just nodded weakly.
James turned, scanning the survivors.
Something cold twisted in his stomach.
Sirius wasn’t there.
Regulus wasn’t there.
Evan wasn’t there.
James’ heart pounded. He turned back toward the plane, still burning, still collapsing in on itself.
They weren’t out.
And—
“Where’s Frank?” Mary’s voice wavered.
Silence.
No one answered.
James’ chest tightened.
They didn’t know where he was.
And Sirius, Regulus, and Evan were still inside.
James didn’t hesitate. He turned back towards the plane entrance.
“No—James!”
Lily’s voice was sharp, panicked, but James didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
He ran straight toward the wreckage, his body protesting every movement. The smoke was thicker now, choking the air. The heat pressed against his skin, sweat mixing with the soot and blood on his face.
Behind him, the others were still shouting, their voices jagged with fear.
“Where’s Frank?”
“Frank! FRANK!”
The words barely registered. He reached the torn-open door, the metal twisted and glowing hot in places. The fire was spreading, devouring the plane from the inside out.
Then—movement.
James' heart lurched when he saw them.
Sirius was struggling with Regulus near the back of the plane, trying to drag him away. But Regulus was fighting—hard.
“Let go of me!” Regulus screamed, his voice hoarse and raw.
“We have to get out!” Sirius was yelling back, gripping his brother’s arm with both hands, trying to pull him toward the exit.
But Regulus wrenched away, his face contorted with fury. “I’m not leaving him!”
James' eyes flickered past them, and he saw what Regulus was talking about.
Evan.
He was still strapped into his seat, pinned by collapsed wreckage. His face was streaked with soot, eyes wild with panic. His fingers clawed weakly at his seatbelt, but it wouldn’t budge. He was trapped.
James felt his stomach lurch.
“Regulus, we don’t have time!” Sirius was pleading now, still trying to pull him away.
“I am NOT leaving him!” Regulus shouted, thrashing against Sirius’ grip. He turned furiously toward James as he rushed up. “Help me, you fucking coward!”
James flinched but didn’t hesitate. He grabbed a loose piece of wreckage and tried to lift it, but the second he did, a new surge of flames shot up from beneath the seats. He stumbled back, coughing violently, eyes burning.
Regulus barely seemed to notice the fire, still yanking at Evan’s seatbelt, hands shaking. “Come on, come on, come on—”
Evan let out a broken, shuddering breath. “I—I can’t—”
“Shut up! You’re not fucking dying here!” Regulus was frantic, fingers trembling as he struggled with the belt. His movements were growing more erratic, his breath coming in harsh gasps.
James’ heart pounded. The flames were getting closer.
“Regulus, we have to go—”
“No! I can— I can get it—”
Sirius grabbed him again, yanking him back, and this time, Regulus lost it.
“NO!” His scream was raw, torn straight from his chest. He lunged forward again, thrashing against Sirius’ grip, trying to claw his way back. “Let me GO! I’m NOT leaving him—”
Evan met his eyes, his breaths sharp and uneven.
And then the fire surged forward, swallowing the seats behind him.
The explosion of heat sent James stumbling backward. The metal groaned, the structure shuddering. The fire was too close.
“REGULUS, NOW!” Sirius shouted, his voice desperate.
James didn’t think. He just moved.
Between him and Sirius, they hauled Regulus back, dragging him toward the exit. Regulus kicked and fought, screaming Evan’s name, his nails digging into James’ skin, his voice breaking with sheer panic.
“NO! EVAN! EVAN!”
The wreckage gave another groan.
James caught one last glimpse of Evan, still trapped, eyes wide and terrified, before the fire took over—
Then the explosion hit.
A deafening roar.
The force threw them out of the plane, heat scorching their backs.
James barely had time to brace before he hit the ground hard. He rolled over in the dirt, gasping for air, his ears ringing.
Sirius landed next to him with a grunt, and Regulus—Regulus was still screaming.
James pushed himself up, coughing violently, every inch of him aching.
The plane burned behind them, flames reaching up into the sky.
The heat still clawed at James’ skin, even from a distance. The fire crackled behind him, consuming what was left of the plane. Smoke rose into the sky, thick and suffocating, the air tainted with the scent of burning metal and flesh.
Around him, people were moving, shouting, cursing—barely more than distant echoes in his ears. His body still thrummed with adrenaline, muscles trembling from the aftershock of the explosion.
And then—
“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?”
Regulus’ voice cut through the noise.
James turned just in time to see Regulus shove Sirius, hard enough that Sirius stumbled back a step.
“You—” Regulus’ chest heaved, his face streaked with dirt and soot and something dangerously close to devastation. “You dragged me out! You fucking let him die—”
Sirius didn’t react, didn’t flinch, just stared at his brother with hollow eyes.
“I tried,” Sirius said, voice rough, raw.
“You should’ve tried harder,” Regulus spat.
James swallowed, something thick and awful curling in his throat. He knew Sirius. Knew he was already blaming himself. And Regulus—Regulus needed someone to blame.
He turned away, leaving them to their grief.
The others were scattered around the wreckage, some standing in shock, others sitting in the dirt, coughing on the smoke. James spotted Lily and Pandora near the treeline, Mary hovering anxiously nearby.
Pandora’s leg.
James forced his feet to move, his body protesting every step. He reached them just as Lily was pressing a strip of fabric against Pandora’s leg, her hands stained with blood.
He crouched next to Pandora, watching as Lily worked quickly, her hands steady despite the chaos still surrounding them.
“How bad is it?” he asked again, glancing at Pandora’s leg.
Lily pressed her fingers gently around the swollen area, earning a sharp hiss from Pandora. “It’s not broken,” Lily said, mostly to herself. “But it’s sprained. Badly. She won’t be walking on it properly for a while.”
“Great,” Pandora muttered, her voice dry. “Exactly how I wanted to spend this trip.”
James huffed out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Yeah, well. At least you’re not on fire.”
“Silver linings,” Pandora said weakly.
James looked around. The others were still scattered in the wreckage, some standing, some sitting, all of them trying to catch their breath. Near the treeline, Mary was pacing, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Dorcas sat nearby, pressing her hand to a cut on her forehead.
His gaze landed on Sirius and Regulus again. Regulus was still fuming, his hands shaking at his sides, his breathing uneven. Sirius stood motionless, taking the brunt of Regulus’ anger without a word.
James tore his eyes away, focusing back on Pandora. “We need to find water,” he said. “Something to clean that.”
Lily nodded. “And supplies. We don’t even know the full extent of everyone’s injuries.”
A groan came from nearby, and James turned to see Barty slumped against a piece of debris, cradling his arm to his chest. His face was pale, tight with pain.
“Shit,” James muttered. He stood and made his way over, scanning Barty’s arm. “How bad?”
Barty let out a harsh, shaky breath. “It’s broken.” His voice was strained, like he was trying to sound indifferent but failing.
James winced. “Yeah, looks like it.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Lily—”
“I’ll look at it in a second,” she called back, not even turning around.
Barty exhaled sharply through his nose. “Brilliant.”
James patted his good shoulder once, then stood up again, rubbing a hand over his face. His whole body still ached from the fall, but they didn’t have time to rest. They needed a plan.
Before he could say anything, Barty spoke again.
“Have—have you seen Evan?”
James stiffened.
Barty had pushed himself onto his feet, his broken arm hanging awkwardly at his side. His face was ashen, his eyes darting around the wreckage.
No one answered.
Barty’s breathing quickened. He took a step forward, his good hand clenched into a fist. “Where is he?”
James swallowed hard. The fire still raged behind them, lighting up the wreckage, the place where Evan had been—where they’d left him.
James stayed silent.
James stayed still, watching as Barty’s face twisted in confusion, then despair, then pure panic. Barty’s eyes darted around, searching every corner of the wreckage, scanning the faces of everyone around him, but no one spoke.
Barty’s breathing quickened. His broken arm hung limply at his side as he staggered forward a few paces, his gaze frantic, a barely audible, “Where is he? Where the hell is Evan?” escaping his lips.
The weight of the silence hung heavy in the air. James stood frozen, guilt gnawing at him as he watched Barty desperately search, knowing full well that the fire had claimed so much of the plane.
When no one answered, Barty’s shoulders slumped in defeat, his face falling as he turned away from them all. His movements were jerky as he staggered off, muttering something under his breath, still looking for Evan, as if somehow hoping someone else had seen him, hoping against hope.
James felt his stomach twist. He wanted to say something, to offer reassurance that Evan wasn’t gone, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. No one knew where he was, and the wreckage was still too chaotic, the smoke too thick, the flames still far too close. There was nothing to do but wait.
Barty wandered away, continuing his frantic search, ignoring the calls from the others urging him to stay close. James turned his gaze back to the wreckage, his eyes catching the movement of Regulus, who was still standing at the edge of the crash site, his posture rigid, his expression twisted with a mix of anger and pain.
Lily walked up to James, her brow furrowed with concern. "We need to get organized, James. Find supplies, water, anything we can use," she said, her voice strained.
James nodded absently, still lost in his thoughts. He glanced toward the plane wreckage again. The fire crackled in the distance, and he could still hear the faint roar of it. They had to move soon. But what about Evan? What if he was still in there, somewhere, trapped by the twisted metal?
It didn’t feel real. Not in the way everything had just moments ago, not in the way that falling had felt when the explosion tore through the plane. He rubbed his face, trying to focus, to shake off the haze of disbelief.
“I’ll go check on Pandora,” Lily said quietly, before she turned away, leaving James standing there with nothing but the sounds of distant calls, the crackling fire, and the whimpers of pain from the others who were still trying to process what had just happened.
James ran a hand through his hair, trying to think, trying to feel some kind of clarity, but nothing was coming to him.
“James.” Remus’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.
He looked over to find Remus standing a few feet away, looking grim. “What’s the plan?” he asked.
James shook his head. He could hear the distant sounds of people still scrambling around the wreckage, but they were all too quiet, too lost in their own thoughts to offer any real direction. There was no real plan.
He met Remus’s gaze, nodding toward the scattered group. “We need to find Frank.”
Remus glanced around, taking in the wreckage and the scattered survivors. “Right. You think he's with the others?”
“Maybe. But we should make sure.” James turned to the group, scanning their faces, looking for any sign of Frank. Still, no one seemed to have spotted him.
They all spread out, some picking through the wreckage, others searching for supplies or trying to keep each other calm. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and burnt metal.
"James!" Remus called out. "Over here!"
James snapped back to reality. He sprinted over to where Remus stood, just as Frank’s screams split the air. They were harsh, filled with pain, the kind that sent a chill down James’s spine.
James didn’t think, just ran. He rounded a corner of twisted metal and came face-to-face with the wreckage. There, sprawled on the ground, was Peter, crouching beside Frank. The older man’s face was pale, his arm awkwardly stretched, trying to lift a massive piece of debris off his leg.
“Peter!” James yelled, rushing over. He dropped to his knees beside him, his heart racing as Frank's cries filled the air, sharp and agonized.
“Help him!” Peter cried, his voice panicked. His eyes were wide, and he looked just as frantic as James felt. “I can’t... I can’t move it. I can’t get it off.”
James’s hands shook as he assessed the situation, his mind scrambling to process the weight of the plane wreckage that pinned Frank’s leg. The metal was heavy, bent at odd angles, and there was no easy way to lift it without hurting Frank more.
“We need to get this off him,” James muttered to himself. He glanced around, but the others were still too far away to be of any help. His heart pounded in his chest as he frantically tried to figure out what to do.
Remus dropped to his knees beside him, his face tight with worry. “What do we do, James?”
“Help me find something to lever it,” James snapped, his voice tight with frustration. “Anything we can use.”
Peter’s hand trembled as he reached out, trying to hold the piece of metal steady. Frank’s breathing was labored, his face contorted in pain as he tried to push the debris off with his free leg. His hands were slick with sweat, and his voice trembled as he gritted out, “Please... please get it off me. I can’t... I can’t stay like this.”
James felt a surge of panic, but he pushed it down, forcing himself to think. He glanced over to Remus, who was already grabbing a twisted piece of metal from the ground, using it as leverage to try and lift the metal off.
“Okay,” James said, his voice tight with strain. “On three. Ready?”
Remus nodded, his jaw set with determination. “Ready.”
“One… two… three!”
Together, they heaved with all their strength, pushing the debris up as best they could. Frank screamed again, louder this time, and James winced at the rawness in his voice. His heart clenched.
“Almost there,” Remus muttered through gritted teeth, sweat beading on his forehead.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the debris was high enough for Frank to pull his leg free. He collapsed backward, his body shaking from the exertion.
He heard footsteps behind him.
James barely had time to turn before Pandora stumbled toward them, leaning heavily against Lily for support. Her face was pale, her breathing uneven, but there was something steely in her expression—something that made James’s stomach knot.
Her eyes locked onto Frank’s leg, and her face twisted with something between horror and certainty.
“Oh, fuck,” she muttered, voice tight.
James followed her gaze, and his stomach churned.
Frank’s leg was a wreck. Blood was still gushing freely from the gash, pooling in the dirt beneath him, and the skin around the wound was already darkening, swelling with something that looked dangerously close to infection. His foot, bent at a grotesque angle, twitched slightly as he let out a weak, pained groan.
Peter made a choking sound, scrambling back, one hand braced against his knee as he gagged.
“Shit,” Remus muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “We need to stop the bleeding. Now.”
Pandora swallowed hard, then straightened with as much composure as she could muster. “We need to cut it off.”
Silence.
James blinked. “What?”
“If we don’t, he’s dead,” Pandora said, her voice firm, though there was a tremor beneath it. “The wound’s too deep. He’s already lost too much blood, and if that infection spreads, it won’t matter what we do. We have to amputate.”
Marlene, standing next to a large tree trunk, let out a strangled noise. “You can’t be serious.”
“Do I look like I’m fucking joking?” Pandora snapped. “We don’t have time to argue. Tie it off—now.”
James hesitated for only a second before tearing a strip from his already-ruined shirt. He pressed it just above the wound, his hands slick with sweat and blood. “Hey, man, you with us?” he asked, voice tight.
Frank let out a weak grunt, barely responsive.
Remus crouched beside him, wrapping the makeshift tourniquet around his thigh as tightly as he could. Frank sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers twitching in the dirt.
James turned away, running a hand through his hair, pulse hammering in his ears. “We need to figure out what the hell we’re doing,” he muttered to Peter and Remus, keeping his voice low.
Peter still looked green, his hands trembling. “We should—we should move him, right? Get him somewhere safer?”
Remus frowned. “Not yet. He’s losing too much blood. If we move him now—”
A sickening crunch.
James froze.
For a split second, everything slowed. From the corner of his eye, he saw movement—Pandora, her jaw clenched, her knuckles white around a jagged piece of metal from the crash.
Then came the sound.
The wet, meaty rip of flesh and tendon giving way.
Frank’s body jerked once, violently, then fell still.
And the screaming started.
James whipped around, his stomach flipping violently at the sight before him. Blood was everywhere, seeping into the dirt, pooling around the jagged end of what was left of Frank’s leg. Pandora was still kneeling beside him, her hands drenched in red, her chest rising and falling in deep, controlled breaths.
Lily was the first to react. “What the fuck did you just do?!”
Peter staggered backward, clamping both hands over his mouth as he dry-heaved.
Marlene swore loudly. “Holy—holy shit.”
Remus had gone rigid, his face pale.
Pandora wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, smearing blood across her cheek. “It had to be done.”
James could barely think past the ringing in his ears. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” His voice came out harsher than he intended, but he didn’t care. “You—you didn’t even warn us—you just—”
“I warned you.” Pandora’s voice was eerily calm. “You didn’t listen.”
Frank’s unconscious body lay sprawled in the dirt, his breathing shallow.
Lily pressed both hands to her head, her entire body trembling. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”
Dorcas swore under her breath, walking away like she couldn’t stomach it.
Sirius turned to James, eyes wide, as if waiting for him to fix this.
But there was no fixing this.
There was only the raw, bloody mess before them—and Pandora, rising slowly to her feet, the metal shard still clutched in her red-stained fingers.
Regulus
Regulus was still shaking. His breath came too fast, too shallow, his pulse pounding in his ears. His throat was raw from screaming, his fingers aching from where they had dug into James and Sirius’s arms in his fight to stay inside the wreckage. His chest felt too tight, like his ribs were caving in, like the air he was breathing wasn’t enough.
Evan was gone.
The thought sent a fresh wave of rage through him. He curled his hands into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to scream again, but there was nothing left. Just the burning wreckage, the suffocating heat still clinging to his skin, and Sirius standing too close behind him.
“Reg—”
Regulus whipped around, his fury snapping like a whip. “Don’t talk to me.”
Sirius flinched, but only for a second. Then his face hardened. “I didn’t have a fucking choice.”
“You always say that,” Regulus spat. “You always have an excuse, don’t you?”
Sirius narrowed his eyes. “We would have all died if we stayed.”
Regulus took a sharp step forward, his voice shaking with rage. “I would have rather died with him than let you drag me away from him.”
Sirius’s mouth opened, then closed.
James shifted uncomfortably behind him, but Regulus didn’t care. He turned away, exhaling sharply through his nose, forcing himself to breathe.
He needed to focus on something else.
He needed to move.
His gaze swept over the scattered wreckage, trying to process the chaos around him.
Marlene was pacing in sharp, frantic movements, running a hand through her hair. Lily stood stiffly beside Pandora, her hands clenched into fists, her face still pale. Peter was hunched over, still looking ready to vomit.
Dorcas sat with Mary a few feet away, murmuring quietly, her jaw tight.
And then—
Regulus stilled.
A few yards away, separate from the others, was Snape.
He was hunched over in the dirt, his back curved inward, his greasy hair hanging over his face. He wasn’t crying, wasn’t moving—just sitting completely still.
Regulus followed his line of sight.
Mulciber’s body.
It was sprawled awkwardly across the ground, his limbs bent at strange angles, his skin too pale. His eyes were open, glassy, staring at nothing.
Regulus felt nothing.
He watched Snape for a second longer, taking in the blank look on his face. Then he turned away without a word.
There were more important things to worry about.
His attention snapped back to Frank. He needed medical attention, fast, and Regulus needed something—anything—to do. He took a step toward him—
“Reg—” Sirius tried again.
Regulus spun around so fast it made his head spin. “I told you not to fucking talk to me.”
Sirius clenched his jaw, but before he could respond—
The wreckage shifted.
Regulus heard the crunch of metal, the rustle of movement.
Then—
A cough.
Then another.
And then—
A figure stumbled out from the wreckage, soot-covered and disheveled, his clothes torn, small burns covering his skin.
Regulus’s breath caught.
Evan.
For a moment, he didn’t move. Couldn’t move.
Then his body took over before his mind could catch up.
“Evan!”
Evan barely had time to react before Regulus barreled into him, gripping his arms, his face, his clothes, anything to make sure he was real.
Evan gave a breathless laugh, his voice hoarse. “Miss me?”
Regulus didn’t answer. He just pulled him into a crushing hug, his fingers tangling into the back of his shirt, clinging to him so tightly it hurt.
Sirius was still standing a few feet away.
Evan pulled back just enough to glance at him.
The amusement drained from his face.
His eyes darkened.
He didn’t say anything, but the glare he shot Sirius was enough.
Sirius looked away.
Regulus barely noticed.
A blur of movement came from the side, and suddenly—
“EVAN!”
Barty practically tackled him, sending them both stumbling back.
Evan let out a choked laugh, barely managing to keep his balance before Barty was wrapping his good arm around his neck, holding on like he would never let go.
“I fucking knew you weren’t dead,” Barty mumbled against his shoulder, his voice thick with relief. “I knew it.”
Evan ruffled his hair, smirking. “Obviously.”
Barty pulled back just enough to punch Evan in the arm. “You absolute bastard! Don’t fucking do that again!”
“Not my fault!”
Barty ignored him, grinning so wide it looked painful. “Holy shit, I can’t believe it—I was about to fight James over it—”
Before Evan could respond, another figure limped toward them.
Pandora.
She was pale, still leaning heavily on one leg, her face streaked with blood and dirt. Her clothes were torn, her breathing uneven, but none of that seemed to matter. Her eyes locked onto Evan, wide with disbelief, and then—
“Thank God,” she whispered.
She didn’t hesitate. She threw her arms around him, gripping him tightly, her fingers digging into his back like she was afraid he might disappear if she let go.
Evan stiffened for half a second before he exhaled sharply, sinking into the hug. His chin rested against the top of her head, one of his hands gripping the back of her torn shirt. He shut his eyes, just for a moment.
“You’re okay,” Evan murmured. His voice was rough, like he was still convincing himself of it.
Pandora pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes scanning over his burns, her hands gripping his arms like she was making sure he was real. “You’re an idiot,” she muttered.
Evan gave a breathless chuckle. “You’re not supposed to swear.”
“Fuck off.” Her voice wobbled slightly.
He grinned at her, and Regulus could see the instant Pandora allowed herself to relax, just a little. Though barely seventeen, just a year older than her brother, Pandora carried herself with the mindset of someone far older, as if she had already learned to shoulder responsibilities no one her age should have to bear.
The moment stretched. The relief, the exhaustion, the weight of everything they had just survived pressing down on them all. The way Evan and Pandora clung to each other—it tugged at something deep in Regulus’s chest, something he didn’t want to name.
He swallowed hard and tore his gaze away.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted Dorcas, sitting on a rock near the edge of the wreckage. Blood was dripping down her face from a deep cut on her forehead, her hands shaking.
Regulus exhaled sharply.
“I’m going to check on Dorcas,” he muttered, not waiting for a response before turning and walking toward her.
It was easier than watching.
Regulus made his way over to Dorcas, his pulse still thrumming in his ears. As he got closer, he could see the way her fingers trembled against the hand she held to her forehead. Her jaw was tight.
She looked up as he approached, exhaling heavily. “Mary went to help some of the others,” she said, like she knew that would be his first question.
Regulus nodded, glancing at the gash on her forehead. The blood was still dripping sluggishly, running down the side of her face. “You need something better for that.”
Dorcas gave a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, no shit.”
Regulus ignored her tone. “I’ll get something.”
She didn’t argue, which meant she was probably feeling worse than she was letting on.
He turned away, heading toward the scattered wreckage where they had piled what little supplies they’d been able to salvage. The closer he got to the plane, the more the smell of smoke and blood thickened the air. The fire had died down, and the metal creaked occasionally, like the plane itself was breathing.
Regulus stepped carefully over the debris, his eyes scanning the wreckage for anything that might be useful. His hands were stiff, his thoughts scattered. His focus was on moving, on getting something done, but everything felt disconnected, like his mind couldn’t catch up to his body. He spotted a half-open first aid kit near one of the broken seats, its contents spilling out, and made his way toward it.
And then he saw them.
The pilots.
Their bodies were still strapped into their seats, twisted into grotesque angles, their limbs contorted unnaturally. Their faces—once human, once alive—were nearly unrecognizable beneath layers of blood and burns, the flesh blistered. The front of the plane was completely destroyed, nothing but a heap of twisted metal and char. The impact had been violent. Quick. They hadn’t stood a chance.
Regulus felt a stir in his stomach, a tight, gnawing sensation that only intensified as his eyes lingered on their lifeless forms. His breath hitched, but he didn’t flinch. He didn’t turn away. He simply stared, feeling the weight of the moment crash over him, and yet, inside him, there was nothing. No grief. No anger. Just a deep, hollow void where those emotions should have been.
He couldn’t feel anything. It was as if he was watching from a distance, detached, seeing someone else’s nightmare unfold.
But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
After what felt like an eternity, Regulus tore his gaze away. It was like peeling his eyes off a horrible memory. His feet moved before his mind could catch up, pushing through the wreckage, his body moving with a speed that he didn’t quite feel.
He found the first aid kit, reaching down for it with stiff fingers, grasping the metal tin and pulling it free from the debris. The bandages inside were half-crushed. He grabbed a few band-aids, then turned on his heel, moving quickly back toward Dorcas.
He didn’t look back at the cockpit. He didn’t look back at the pilots. He just moved, his feet carrying him forward as his mind remained distant.
Regulus finally reached Dorcas, her figure still against the backdrop of the wreckage. She wasn’t crying or speaking; her face was pale, her eyes distant, focused on nothing in particular. It wasn’t like her. She usually had something to say, something sarcastic or biting, but today, she was silent.
“Here,” Regulus muttered, crouching next to her and offering the band-aids he’d grabbed. He didn’t say much more, unsure of what to say. His hands moved mechanically, tearing a strip of his shirt to use as a makeshift cloth. His fingers were stiff as he gently pressed it to the cut on her forehead, trying to clean the blood away without hurting her more.
Dorcas flinched slightly when the fabric made contact with her skin but didn’t pull away. She just kept staring off into the distance, her expression unreadable.
Regulus didn’t look at her face as he worked; his eyes were fixed on his own hands, on the task, on the way the blood smeared into the fabric and stained his fingertips. His chest felt tight, but there was no emotion behind it. Just numbness. Just the cold sense that he was somehow losing control of everything, of everyone.
The silence stretched out between them, until Mary’s voice broke it.
“Suitcases with clothes! Some of the food is still here!” she called out, her voice ringing through the air, sharp with urgency.
Regulus didn’t respond to her. He just kept pressing the cloth to Dorcas’s forehead, tying the bandage tightly around her head, making sure it held. She hadn’t said a word, but her fingers tightened slightly around his wrist, a silent acknowledgment that she was aware of what he was doing. Still, it wasn’t like her.
“Here,” he muttered when he was done, brushing the stray strands of hair out of her face. He glanced up at her once, but she only nodded faintly, as if acknowledging the bandage, not him.
For a moment, he thought about saying something—anything—to fill the emptiness between them, but the words wouldn’t come. His mouth felt dry, and all he could focus on was the strange emptiness that had settled deep in his chest.
The world felt broken, and nothing seemed to make sense anymore.