A promise
The numbness in Evan’s chest had not worn off when he and Pandora were dropped off at the train station or when they got on the Hogwarts express. It had not worn off when his friends entered the compartment. It had not worn off since last week when his father, Lord Rosier, had announced to him that he will, being his successor and all, be officially joining the ranks of the death eaters as soon as the term was over. He would not return to school after Easter and he would become one of the most powerful dark wizards of his time. That moment, the heart in his chest had stopped beating, air had stopped filling his lungs and the light in Evan’s eyes had dimmed. Evan had died that day, that very moment, and he had never woken up again. The thing about Evan’s death is, that nobody had noticed, that they’d solely because his heart started to beat again, and he’d taken a breath again, he was still alive. But the truth was and always would be that Evan Rosier died the day he’d known that he’d get the dark mark. Because his eyes never lit up again. The numbness took over and regardless what anyone might tell you, healers, his father or even his friends, he was dead. Dead in any way one could be dead, except for maybe the physical one.
His sister nudged his side. He looked up, eyes observing, but not quite seeing. Barty looked down at him, one eyebrow lifted in question.
“He asked you how you’re doing.” Regulus said, with that empty voice he’d always had.
“Fine.” He glanced back out of the window.
“What’s up your brother’s ass today?” Barty turned to Pandora.
That’s when Evan spaced out again. When they arrived at Hogwarts he stayed in his dorm, skipping dinner. The next two weeks went similar. He went to most of his classes, skipped most of his meals pretended to be asleep when his friends returned to the dorm. It was easier to isolate himself. Being with his friends could make him feel alive, which he feared most these days. He would not be alive for the rest of his life. Not when he’d be forced to turn against everyone he cared about, to go against everything he stood for as a person. Evan was not a murderer, but he would be. Evan was not a traitor, but he would be. Evan was most of all not a bad person, having fought his entire life to not become one, but soon, he would be.
On the evening of the fifteenth day he’d been back at school, the curtains around his bed were pushed back, a sudden weight settled on his mattress and then they closed again.
“I know that you’re awake, Evan.” Regulus said.
Evan didn’t move nor acknowledge his friend at all.
“I am going to get it too, you know? The day before Easter. You won’t have to go through this alone.”
No response.
“You need to snap out of it, Evan. This isn’t healthy. You’re not eating, you barely talk. Barty is going up the walls, because he wants to give you the space you need, but he needs you. He really does.”
Barty…
Once that would’ve made his stomach explode with butterflies. The sole thought of Barty caring for him. Now there was only a faint flutter. More than he’d felt in a month. His eyes almost flickered open. Barty… He did not like that the power that simple sentence could have over him. Almost making him feel. To close to making him feel.
“I need you.” Regulus’ voice was barely a whisper.
There it was, the flicker of light. His eyes opened and he was not surprised to find them teary. He looked up at his friend, crouching at his feet.
“I’m sorry.” Evan choked out. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Regulus. I don’t feel alive.”
“It’s okay… I have a plan, Evan. How we can get out of this. How we can make him pay.” Regulus’ voice was for the first time almost drenched with emotion. He sounded almost uncertain.
“I’ll need you. Your help. We’ll destroy them from the inside. Barty too. We can do this. We have to, Evan. I don’t want to live like this.” In seven years of friendship, the only time he’d seen Regulus like that was when his brother had run away. He’d come to Evan the first night they were back at Hogwarts that year. He’d sat down in his bed, just like he did now. And he’d cried. He’d cried and cried and cried. Evan had held him until there could not be possibly any tears left in his eyes. Until his face had been red and puffy. Then he’d slit out of the curtains. They never had spoke of it again.
“How?” Evan asked, not daring to hope. Because the dead do not hope.
“He has horcruxes. An ancient kind of dark magic, allowing you to contain a part of your mortal soul inside an object of your choice. Horcruxes will grant their master immortality as long as they exist. We’ll have to destroy them before we can get to destroy him.”
It sounded so absurd, almost as if Regulus actually believed he could overcome the dark Lord with that little trick. It was naïve. He wouldn’t have taken Regulus to be that desperate. But when he looked his friend in the eyes, he could not possibly deny him his help. Not when he sat there like a little child, just wanting to live. So desperate to just make it out alive. Deep inside Evan knew. He knew that neither of them would.
“I’ll help you, Reg. I promise.” He did not intend to break that promise.