half return
August 31, 1975
Pandora is slowly going crazy. She’s becoming more and more restless every day, but they’re no where to put her energy. It’s been so quiet with the silencing spell. Pandora is pretty sure she’s started hearing voices. She paces around her room the majority of the day, just itching for the day she can leave.
It’s tomorrow. All of her bags are packed. She can’t wait to get out of here. Out of this house, this room. At Hogwarts she will be able to breathe. She can go outside. Her garden is the thing she misses the most. It’s been agonizing to watch her vibrant flowers wilt. Every day they lose a little more color.
She never will get to give the professor Sprout that bouquet. She only received one letter from Peter earlier in the summer, as they decided not write, because the Rosiers and Pettigrews have had conflicting views for decades. And too many letters might get them in trouble. It was a quick note about the anecdote for a Mirthroot overdose. He wrote, in the event of an overdose, one must smell florals to neutralize the reaction. She was going to bring some flowers for Peter as well.
Pandora sighs, stopping in front of her window to observe her dying garden. It was so beautiful before, so vibrant, and lively. But now it’s dull and wilted. She’s watched it happen everyday. She sat in her window and watched as they petals dropped one by one, until they were nothing more than a reminder of what once was.
Today however, Pandora notices something, in the very back of her garden grows one lone lily. It's a warm orange color standing out against the browns and greens around it. Despite the fate of those around it the lily didn’t fall.
She wonders if it’s lonely. The lily probably had friends, it must have loved being surrounded by its fellow flowers. They did everything together, the patch of flowers creating a unit as they swayed in the breeze, or trembled in the rain. Together they were washed in sunlight and together peered at the moon. But together they did not die. There’s one left.
The melancholy flower has witnessed the fading of it’s friends, it watched them die. And yet here it is, vibrant amongst the graveyard full of friends. Perhaps it wants to join them. At least it wouldn’t feel so alone.
But Pandora knows there is a greater purpose to lily, it has to live. Without it, no one knows how beautiful the garden once was. The lily has to survive to tell it’s story.
Bees take its pollen carrying it far, and using it help other flowers grow. As time passes and flowers grow, and die, and then grow again, the pollen circulates, it never disappears. Just like the lily’s friends, they may be wilted now, but their story is still being told.
Pandora leans into the window, wishing desperately she could reach the flower. But she can’t. She’s stuck. It’s too far away.
Pandora’s going to paint it. She collects her paints from a box under her bed, and starts to create her picture. She uses little brush strokes mimicking her favorite artist, however she cannot get the orange right. It’s either too red, yellow, bright, dull, or brown. It isn’t right. She can’t capture the flower's beauty. She keeps trying but the more she adds to painting the less it matches the curious flower.
She decides to paint a grassy landscape around the lily, hoping to bring out the orange color. But it doesn’t work. It still feels off.
She is about to give up when a movement catches her eye. There's a boy in the yard. Pandora can do nothing but watch as he goes straight for her garden, picking the only flower she cares about, before walking back into the house.
She stares blankly at the colorless garden, missing her lily. She looks at her painting hoping to find solace in it. She doesn’t. It’s all off, the colors don’t look right. It feels fake.
She watches the clouds drift past her window instead. It’s a good way to pass time.
Pandora doesn’t notice the moment she falls asleep, but she is dreaming now.
Her door opens and the boy is standing there holding her flower. He looks weird, there are dark circles under his eyes, and he seems colder than usual. Yet she knows him, Pandora recognizes this boy with every ounce of her existence. She misses him. He’s right here, yet she misses him. They don’t speak for a while, they just stare, adjusting to the distance between them. And then he’s coming into her room, sitting in her window. She follows, hoping the dream doesn’t end soon.
Pandora has so much to say, so many questions to ask. But she can’t. This has to come from him. After all her waiting she needs to be patient.
He doesn’t say anything, just twirls the lily in his fingers looking out the window in thought. Pandora searches the clouds for shapes, waiting. She finds a dragon fly, a train, a hairbrush, and lastly a Praying Mantis.
He sees it too.
Pandora jolts as the boy springs onto her, hugging her like life depends on it. Her alarm only grows as he starts to cry, burying his face into her shoulder.
Her shock fades into fear, as she holds him. They’re touching yet she feels so far away.
“Shhh–it’s alright–shh” She tries to comfort the boy, but her attempts are futile. She doesn’t know what’s wrong.
“I’m sorry” He sobs
“I’m so sorry”
“I don’t know what you’ve done” Pandora responds
“I fucked up, i’m sorry” The boy is hicupping
“If you want me to understand you need to tell me”
“It’s my fault they locked you up, I’m sorry, i’m so sorry”
Pandora considers this information, it’s true. She was looking for him that night. She could blame him, she wants to blame him, because yes, if he hadn't gone missing she wouldn't be locked up like this, but she doesn’t. No matter how badly she wants to, Pandora cannot blame this boy.
At this point Pandora glances at her palm. It’s wet with the boy’s tears. The red lines of her cuts are still visible, she can see them. She can feel them. When she dreams the lines aren’t there, when she dreams her skin is clean.
This isn’t a dream. It’s really happening. Evan is real.
She hugs her brother tighter.
“I don’t care that I got in trouble. I only cared that you were missing.”
“I’m *sob* sorry”
“Please Evan, just tell me what’s going on.”
“I-”
“And don’t make up some excuse, I know somethings wrong. You can’t lie to me this time.”
The boy takes a few shaking breaths, she can feel his ribcage expand and contract, in her arms. He’s alive.
“My mentor, his name is Rodolphus Lestrange. *exhale* He’s a really rotten guy. *snif* He’s been teaching me all about blood lines, pure blood lines, mudded blood lines, all of it. *snif* He believes that muggle-borns and half-bloods are inferior.” *snif* He’s avoiding her eye contact.
“I–I used to believe him. Mum and dad taught me to believe him, but I just don’t. It’s not right, and I-I told him that. The day before they locked you up. I told Lesrange I wanted to leave, but he didn’t let me. He held me there, and he told me about his boss. Sounds like a bastard, it’s some Voldemort guy who's starting this blood purist movement. Lestrange said I have to join him. So naturally I said “no” and tried to get out. But had me trapped, doors locked. I had to stay there and listen. This Voldy guy has had an eye on the Rosiers for a while now. He wants me.” Evan looks to the floor, as if waiting for it to swallow him whole.
“You’re not going to work for him right?” He doesn't move.
“Evan?”
Finally he looks at her, he doesn’t say it but another apology hidden behind his eyes.
“Why would you do that?”
“I didn’t have a choice. The only reason mum and dad sent me to this internship is so Voldemort would have me.”
“It’s your decision Evan”
“No it’s not. I refused, but Lestrange said if*snif*if Voldemort can’t have me, he’ll take you.”
Evan’s crying again. Pandora hugs him tight.
“I’ll take your place.”
She would. Everytime, no matter what the consequences are, she would take his place.
“No, I won’t let him have you. You’re my sister Pandora. I can’t lose you.”
Maybe this is all she needs. Nothing else matters, as long as Evan and Pandora are together. Nothing can hurt them if the other is safe.
Evan sniffs fidgeting with the flower, and she misses him. Still after three years, she misses him.
“You have been losing me. Since first year you’ve been losing me.” She’s finally gotten something out of Evan, she shouldn’t ruin it. But it’s not enough, this moment of vulnerability doesn’t erase the past years. She can’t just pretend not to be hurt. Pandora has to speak up, or she’ll never forgive herself.
“I’m sorry”
“I don’t want an apology, I just want to know why.”
Her brother goes quiet, he lets go of her sliding over to peer out the window. It takes time, everything with them does, but finally he speaks.
“When I started at Hogwarts I wanted to make our parents proud. I thought being a Rosier made me special. I thought I could be the son they wanted me to be. I tried so fucking hard. I had good grades, I made pureblood friends, I was perfect. But it wasn’t sustainable. Everything started to feel wrong. I hated the person I was becoming. And I didn’t handle it well. I stopped eating. I isolated myself from everyone. I isolated myself from you. I didn’t know how to get better so I didn’t try. I let myself go.” He pauses mind going somewhere else. “Regulus saved me.”
He’s avoiding eye contact again, eyes focused on some faraway point out the window.
“I understood why you needed space when you were struggling. But you got better, and all I wanted was for my brother to come back. Why didn’t you?”
“Why didn’t you look for me?”
The words hit Pandora like a gut punch.
“I didn’t know I could.”
Evan doesn’t respond, he’s still fixated on something outside.
“Where were you the other night?”
“It doesn't matter”
“It does. I was panicking. I can’t exist without you, and I thought you were in danger. So yes it does matter where you were.”
“I didn’t mean to make you worry i’m s-”
“Evan Rosier if you apologize one more time I’m going to smack you upside the head. Please just tell me where you were”
“I-I went to see Barty.”
Why on earth would Evan go to visit in time of need. Regulus would be the obvious choice, though she could get behind Dorcas as well. But why Barty the boy laughs when you cry, the person who punches you for being afraid.
“Oh” Pandora is confused “why?”
“He’d just gotten back from America, and his dad went to the ministry for some emergency business. So I flooed to his house.”
“Barty Crouch Jr.’s house? I didn’t realize you two were that close.”
Evan’s expression changes.
“I just needed someone to talk to, and he was my best choice.” He pauses, countenance shifting into something soft. His puffy red eyes look more childlike, innocent.
“I was freaking out, and he err…calmed me down. I stayed with him until morning, and then came back before mum and dad woke up.”
Pandora’s confusion is replaced with relief. He was safe.
“I’m glad you’re safe.”
“For now.”
Evan scowls before asking his next question.
“How did you know something was wrong?”
Pandora doesn’t know what to say. She can’t tell him about her dreams. Not yet.
“I just had a feeling”
“You had a feeling?”
“Our whole childhood I’ve been able to feel you subconsciously. I think it’s because we’re twins. When you’re sad, or angry, I can feel it. And the other night when you were afraid, I knew.”
Evan looks at her, his eyes aren’t mean, or taunting, they’re knowing. As their identical eyes meet, for the first time in an eternity Pandora feels the invisible connection between them. It was never gone, only weak. And now it’s becoming stronger.
And so the Rosier twins sit side by side in the bay window once more. After a few minutes it starts to rain.
“This one will win for sure” Evan points to a small drop that’s collecting speed quickly.
“This one is going much faster.” Pandora counters placing her bet on another drop.
After a few rounds Evan gasps.
“I forgot to give you the flower.”
He removes the lily from its forgotten spot on the floor, handing it to her.
She accepts it with gentle fingers.
“I was admiring it when you took it. It was strange, you seemed to know the exact moment to collect it.”
“What can I say? I just have an intuition.”
“How’d you get in my room anyways?”
“Convinced mum I needed to tell you about some last minute homework for transfiguration.”
Pandora gives the flower a new home in a little vase on her desk. She'll bring it to school tomorrow, and once the petals fall she’ll press it so the lily will remain eternally beautiful, even after death.
“I noticed your garden a week ago. I wanted to save it but I don’t know how.” His voice is sad, yet his words make Pandora smile.
“I can teach you.”
“Okay”
***
September 1, 1975
2:23 A.M.
Adding a final stroke to the painting Pandora finally settles into bed.
It’s perfect. The lily is so bright, and lively. But it’s no longer surrounded by blue skies and green grass like it was before. Pandora painted the dead flowers around it. They look sad, but at least the picture doesn’t feel fake anymore. It’s true. And in their own special way the dead flowers are beautiful. They are a reminder of the inevitable. Though they are also hope. The soggy brown petals were once colorful blooms. The limp stems housed complex transportation systems, and the roots used to grow until they intertwined with each other, creating hidden connections beneath the soil.
The monotone corpses used to create a rainbow. They’re different now, but that doesn’t make them less beautiful.
Despite the hidden beauty of the wilted flowers Pandora’s favorite is still the lily. She finally made it the perfect color. All she needed was a bit of green.