the completion of the cycle, new beginnings
Evan ~
Much had changed leading up to their final year at Hogwarts. He and Barty were still as close as ever. Closer, even, now that they would be serving the Dark Lord together. They finally had matching tattoos, a skull and a snake. Much had changed and more change was coming. Evan was excited. The wizarding world was on a new path. A different path.
Not everyone saw it his way. Regulus barely did, but then again, Reg was much too miserable for anything these days. He’d cut James off like severing a limb and spiralled into a vicious depression. He didn’t even speak with Pandora anymore, who had started going out with Xenophilius, much to Evan’s horror. Dorcas was too busy turning into a Gryffindor and making eyes at her girlfriend to think to the future and the incredible possibilities that awaited them at the hands of the Dark Lord. All of them lacked vision, even Pandora, with her Seer blood, was only following the path she had glimpsed in her visions.
But there were better, bigger things to look forward to, no matter what he was leaving behind. He had Barty, and they had a cause.
Not too many years ago, in the times of Grindelwald, Vinda Rosier had been one of his closest informants and followers. Now, the opportunity for change had risen again, and it was Evan who would renew this legacy. Perhaps Vinda’s hard work would not be for nothing.
As he sat among the rows of Slytherins for his graduation, Evan thought over his years at Hogwarts. At the front of the Great Hall, Dumbledore rambled on about ‘not being led astray’ and ‘community’ and ‘new beginnings’. Next to him, Barty leaned over, putting his mouth next to his ear.
“D’you reckon he stays up writing this stuff?” he whispered. Evan smirked.
“Oh, hours and hours,” he mocked. Barty laughed into the crook of his neck. The poor boy could only sit still for so long, and Evan had a feeling that in twenty minutes or so he’d start to reach his limit. He needed a distraction, and frankly, so did Evan. “Fancy sneaking out of here?” he offered. Barty shot up with a grin. Above his loose tie and messily-buttoned shirt collar was his favourite (and possibly Evan’s favourite, too) tattoo; a wreath of thorns and roses that twisted around his neck. The petals bloomed and fell with Evan’s emotions, and right now the flowers looked especially full. It made him smile.
“Have you got a cigarette?” asked Barty hungrily.
“You know I hate that muggle filth.”
“Yeah but did you bring some for me?”
“...Yes,” he admitted.
“Good,” winked Barty, “Then let’s get out of here.”
Evan discreetly raised his wand, and streaked red plumes of smoke outside the window behind the Headmaster. Many heads turned. He did it once more, and while everyone was distracted by the meaningless red clouds, Barty and Evan ducked down under the seats and began to crawl away to the exit. As they bumped through legs, shoes and chairs, the two of them cast up a few confundus charms, and soon they had reached a side door and escaped. Rather discreet for them, but Evan made sure they picked their battles, and he wasn’t willing to lose his diploma over a cigarette (though Barty surely was).
“Nicotine, please?” said Barty sweetly, and Evan handed him a packet with a roll of his eyes. He lit one and brought it to his lips, then blew smoke into Evan’s face. Evan gave him a hard look and Barty winked again. “Doesn’t it just kill you, hiding around like this?”
“What are you thinking?” asked Evan suspiciously.
“Only that we should go out with a bang.”
“No explosions.” he quipped sternly. Barty pouted at him.
“I didn’t mean explosions specifically…”
“Then what?”
“Will you carry me?” he asked innocently.
“...To receive your diploma?” Barty nodded, smiling his sweetest smile. “Absolutely fucking not, I’m not going to carry you, Bats. That’s ridiculous. We could get in serious trouble, you know!”
Half an hour later Evan found himself carrying Barty bridal-style up to the stage.
Barty ~
Barty smirked out at the shocked crowd as he was carried gracefully up to receive his diploma. He was feeling very smug.
“I'm very unsteady on my legs at the moment, Proffesor,” he explained dramatically to Slughorn, who had gone red and was stiffly holding out the certificate of graduation to him. “I simply couldn’t have walked.”
Slughorn said nothing, and Barty took his diploma, and soon he was back in his chair.
“Happy?” asked Evan.
“Very.” he replied.
His father would’ve hated this public display, but that was no longer an issue for Barty. He was of age now, and that meant he could ignore as many letters as he liked. And he could do what he liked. Live where he liked. Be with who he liked.
The only opinion that mattered now was that of the Dark Lord’s, whom Barty had actually met, in person. Face to face. And despite the fact that everyone knew Barty Crouch Jr was a major fuckup, a slag, a lazy idiot-genius and a heavy drinker and smoker, the Dark Lord had praised him as one of the brightest wizards of his age. He’d slandered Barty Crouch Sr (how could a father mistreat and undervalue his remarkable son so much?) and asked for Barty’s loyalty to the cause, which he’d readily given. In the Dark Lord’s eyes, he had ‘immeasurable potential’ and was sure to accomplish great things. In fact, Barty had even reminded him of himself at that age. Needless to say, Barty Crouch jr was special. Important. Irreplaceable, even.
Evan tapped him on the shoulder, startling him from his thoughts.
“Got you something,” he whispered. In his hand was a little green velvet box.
“Really?” grinned Barty. Evan handed it to him and he opened it. Inside was a small, pink ring. A rose-quartz ring, Barty realised. “Are you proposing?” he teased.
“You wish,” cut back Evan. “It soothes negative influences. It’s for healing. And for love.”
‘And for love’. The words stood out to him. He looked into Evan’s dark eyes to see if he’d really meant it. Evan looked away bashfully, and Barty smiled. He slipped the ring onto one of his fingers and admired it.
“Thanks Rosie,” he sing-songed.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Evan gruffly. Barty kissed his cheek. The ceremony continued (Merlin it was dragging on).
“Wait,” he said after a while, “Soothes negative influences? Are you trying to get me to stop smoking again?”
“Of course not,” scoffed Evan.
“Yes you are,” he insisted.
“No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Dirty bastard.”
“Shut up.”
And he did.
No one told Barty what to do, no one except for Evan Rosier.