Waxing Gibbous Moon
31st of October, 1979
The room fell silent as an ominous presence filled the air, pulling everyone's gaze toward the entrance to the Dark Lord's wing in the Averys' estate. Evan shifted in his seat, his eyes wandering over the figures of the estate's owners, Alaric and Sapia Avery. A pang of jealousy tugged at him as he envied the privileged family that hosted their lord. Not once had his lord favoured the Rosiers in such a manner, for reasons unknown to him. He often blamed the Dark Lord's unwillingness to request anything from him nowadays on his former friend Regulus. Alone in his room at night, with nothing else to do but think, Evan regularly pondered how Regulus' betrayal had affected his position in the Inner Circle.
Nails dug into the palms of his hands as he balled his fists, the only way he could relieve his anger without raising eyebrows. No, he couldn't bring shame to his family's name. Evan, in the most discreet way possible, tried to control his breathing. His short temper was known by all who were acquainted with him, which had led his mother to teach him to breathe in moments such as this. The scent of old wood and faint incense filled his nostrils, grounding him.
As his gaze passed through the other Death Eaters, he couldn't help but notice a paled and terrified-looking Lucius Malfoy, sitting beside his equally paled father. There were whispers of punishments against the Malfoys, Evan knew. No one was sure what could have been the reason for the Dark Lord to punish the two Malfoys, but it couldn't be anything minor. He looked at Bellatrix, certain about who had spread the rumours of the consequences of failing their lord. Evan was sure the new addition to the Lestranges had not consulted her sister, Narcissa, before smearing the image of her sister's new family. He shook his head, unable to comprehend the obvious treachery. By the glare Narcissa was giving her older sister, the blonde was very much aware of who the culprit behind the rumours was. She truly is a Lestrange, Evan thought bitterly. A family of backstabbers.
Evan swiftly took his eyes off the Death Eater as the door opened. He straightened his back and tried to hide his nerves. The Dark Lord's bloodlust had been greater in recent days than Evan could ever remember. Not even the losses to Dumbledore and his excuse of a vigilante group had enraged his lord as much as he was now.
The Dark Lord entered the room, one lazy step after the other. Evan tensed as he saw the man walk towards his chair, and he could tell by the atmosphere in the room that he was not the only one. The waves of rage and dark magic passed through him like a wall of bricks hitting his magical cores. Many of the other Death Eaters flinched and cowered away.
It was almost imperceptible, but he could see the anger in the Dark Lord's red eyes, and it took all his willpower to look at the man's eyes, even though the Heir of Slytherin's gaze was not on Evan. The man sat there in silence, staring at nothing. The desire to let out an awkward cough to lessen his internal struggle to remain in silence was only stopped by the glare his older brother Raphaël sent him. Evan checked his Occlumency walls to make sure he was not letting anything out and sneered at his brother for reading his intentions so easily.
“Bellatrix,” the hissing intertwined with actual words left the Dark Lord's mouth, making the people closest to the man stiffen. “Have you brought me what I bequeathed you?”
The woman froze, her eyes wide as she looked at the Dark Lord. Evan felt something was wrong instantly. No longer was the eagerness to please her lord present in her grey eyes, and her entire demeanour had changed. She moved slightly to her left, as if trying to put more space between her and the Dark Lord. Evan saw the moment the Dark wizard narrowed his eyes at Lestrange, as well as the woman lowering her head.
“Bellatrix, you'll answer me now. I gave you something for safekeeping, as a prize for the dutiful way you behaved in the raids, and I wish for it back. Will you deny your Lord this?” the man's crimson eyes were locked on the woman, who shivered at the attention.
Morgana, she'll be dead before sunrise, Evan thought. Bellatrix Lestrange was conducting herself in a way so unlike the prideful and pretentious woman she was known to be. It was interesting to see how much she had changed, just by not adhering to the Dark Lord's wishes. Perhaps she knows she'll be dead soon.
“N-No, my lord,” the woman shook her head, her eyes pleading. “The goblins, my lord. Someone took it from my vault and those filthy creatures did not notify me. It was the same day the dragon escaped! I did not know, my lord. Gringotts was supposed to be the most guarded place in the world, but the goblins, they-they are,” screams left Lestrange's throat, as if ripping their way out, as the Dark Lord sent the Cruciatus Curse on the woman. She thrashed in her seat. Blood started to run down the sides of her mouth, and Evan could only assume the woman was biting her tongue to stop the screams of pure pain from escaping.
To her right, Rodolphus Lestrange looked more concerned as time passed and the Dark Lord continued to torture the woman. Evan made himself smaller in his seat, not willing to draw his lord's ire towards him. Tears left Lestrange's eyes as she tried to stop her chest from hitting the wooden table, but the pain from the curse seemed too much for her to be able to control her own body.
“My lord!” Lord Julius Lestrange pleaded, the old man's eyes pained as he saw his daughter-in-law suffer more every passing minute. “Please, my lord!”
As Lord Lestrange rose from his seat, Bellatrix stopped her flailing against the chair and table, and the old lord screamed. Julius Lestrange was not expecting to be hit with the curse, and the pain from the unexpected Cruciatus caused his body to fall back on the chair behind it. However, as the man's weight hit the chair, the force from the impact made the dark wooden chair fall back. The loud sound of the chair hitting the floor echoed through the room together with Lord Lestrange's screams.
Evan's eyes were wide in shock as everything happened around him so fast. His gaze went to a now weeping Bellatrix Lestrange, to the lord of the House of Lestrange screaming on the floor. He almost got up and ran out of the room in fear of being the next to be tortured, but his brother gripped his arm and held him in place.
I'm gonna bloody die today, he cried in his head. The screams, together with the Dark Lord's dark energy engulfing the room, made Evan's head spin, disoriented. He bit his lower lip and cowered behind his older brother, putting a hand on the man's shoulders to signify his need for shielding from everything happening in the room.
When Rodolphus and Rabastan both got up from their seats and ran to shelter their father from the Dark Lord's curse, Evan gasped. He could almost not believe what they were doing and was sure the men would be killed right away. He even closed his eyes and shifted closer to his brother, too afraid to see what was happening. The screams from Lord Lestrange and the shouted pleas of the brothers were enough to make him whimper.
The screaming stopped, replaced by the Lestranges' hushed breathing. Evan dared to open his eyes again and saw the three men on the floor — the two brothers embracing their father and shaking their heads. While the other Death Eaters glanced between their lord and the three Lestranges, Evan felt the need to look over at Bellatrix. One eyebrow rose on his sweating forehead as he saw Narcissa Malfoy casting something at her sister's stomach area. Lestrange was biting her lips to not cry out loud — perhaps to avoid drawing the Dark Lord's wrath against her once more — while her younger sister whispered something to her. He saw Bellatrix nod at her sister, mouthing ‘thank you’ and putting her arms around her belly in a protective action.
Evan's head snapped to look at his brother, and he winced with the sudden motion. His brother, however, did not see the interaction between the Black sisters. He shook his head and pursed his lips, deciding to focus on the other Lestranges.
Rabastan and Rodolphus lifted their father from the floor and helped the man back to his seat, all the while under the Dark Lord's furious gaze. He saw Rabastan gulp and mouth something. Rodolphus said something to their father, and the man only answered with a nod, which prompted the two brothers to go back to their seats.
Silence reigned over the room as the Dark Lord remained impassive. The Lestranges had their heads lowered, ashamed. No one dared to move an inch, too scared of possible consequences. Evan tried his best to control his breathing, too aware of his surroundings and scared of getting anyone's attention. The young Rosier was still protecting himself from the Dark Lord's view, using his brother's wide shoulders as a wall between himself and his lord.
“I will decide on the proper punishment for your actions at another time. The House of Lestrange has displeased me greatly,” the Dark Lord's eyes were shining blood red as he looked at the Lestrange. Evan had to close his eyes for a second and tell himself he was not the one under scrutiny, yet. Opening his eyes again, he saw his lord eyeing Bellatrix with distaste, but not before casting the same look at Lucius Malfoy. How curious, he thought.
“Corban,” he saw as Yaxley stiffened after suddenly being addressed by a still-angry Dark Lord. The aura of darkness around his lord only got stronger, as if every second was an internal battle to not kill someone. Yaxley visibly gulped and bowed in acknowledgement. “What of your task at the Ministry? I wish for the information you've gathered now.”
“O-Of course, my lord,” Evan eyed the man curiously as he saw Corban lift a light brown wand with a shaky hand and summon a paper file. When Yaxley passed the file to Walden Macnair, Evan could not help but shift closer, ignoring any self-preservation. “These are all the information of accounts about Albus Dumbledore the Ministry has gathered over the years. However, something is still unknown concerning the former headmaster. For example, the Ministry hasn't been able to find Dumbledore's place of residence — only speculating about it being somewhere in Scotland.”
Evan half listened as his lord talked about how paranoid Dumbledore was as Raphaël sank his nails into his wrist, making Evan wince. He glared at his older brother and bit his lip to stop himself from cursing at him. He ignored the wave of humiliation as his brother tried to control him in such a public place, deciding to focus back on his lord, Raphaël and his controlling behaviour be damned.
“Walden, you are to speak with your acquaintances and try to learn more about Dumbledore's whereabouts. Since none of you are able to find an old man outside being humiliated by him on the battlefield then I have no option but to rely on creatures. Fortunately, Dumbledore has a soft stop for creatures like the ones you're known to engage with, Walden, therefore you'll be the one to bring me more information about Dumbledore.”
“I won't disappoint you, my lord,” the sick smile Macnair gave the Dark Lord almost made Evan gag. Together with the thought of why the Death Eaters would have any relation with creatures made him wish he hadn't eaten anything today. And by the looks of the other around the table, he was not the only one to think so.
“Be sure that you don't,” the Dark Lord answered lazily and changed the topic to discuss a raid that would take place today. As his lord explained the reason for choosing a Wednesday of all day was, apparently, because of the moon. Evan listed as the Dark Lord compared the refinement typical of Waxing Gibbous Moons to the cleansing of blood, as they would rid the world of the mudbloob filth during the night. His lord also talked about the preparations for a new Wizarding World, one where purebloods would be given back control of over the Ministry and where real witches and wizards would reign again. “As the great Salazar Slytherin wanted,” his lord told them.
When the plans for the raid were looked over, and the Dark Lord gave them his usual speech to boost their confidence, Evan gulped as red eyes glared at him. He dared not to look away, especially as his brother stiffened next to him. He tried his best to remain still and not bite his lip, not wishing to anger his lord or show weakness next to his colleagues.
“Our little Rosier,” the hissed English made Evan's skin crawl and he fought a shiver. He was so confused as to why he was being addressed that he only realised he gave his lord no answer when his brother side-eyed him. Evan respectfully acknowledged the man seated at the head of the table with a slight bow. Despite the nagging voice in his head reminding him of the impropriety of someone other than the head of the family occupying that particular seat, Evan chose to disregard it. “What do you have to tell us about your treacherous friend, Evan? I heard you and Regulus Black were rather close while at Hogwarts, were you not? Imagine my delight when I found out about that information from someone else, Evan. Do you have nothing to say in your defence?”
The desire to close his eyes and wait for the punishment to come was eclipsed by the knowledge that such action would only serve to bring shame to his name, so he straightened his back slightly and bowed his head. “Regulus and I haven't been friends for a while, my lord. Though we were quite close at Hogwarts, that friendship didn't survive outside of the school walls. The last time I saw Regulus, the new Lord Peverell had sunk his claws on him already. I did try to send him a letter, telling him about the mistake he was making but it came back unopened.”
“What a tragedy,” the Dark Lord said. The sarcasm in the man's tone was so obvious Evan feared his peers would laugh at him. “It's a shame none of Regulus' former friends were able to show him the truth, don't you think? Not even your dear Barty was able to do it. Unfortunately, he couldn't be here today because of his despicable father, but I fear you're quite aware of that fact,” with every word that left the man's mouth, the mockery became more and more obvious to Evan. It wasn't unusual for his lord to pick one of them to humiliate, supposedly to humble them, but he never thought he would be the target of it. And to speak about Barty, of all things! It took everything in him to not blush and curse at everybody around him. His infatuation with the son of the head of the DMLE was no secret, but it was just crude to discuss it so openly without his or Barty's consent. Evan could only be thankful his boyfriend was not here to hear any of this. “Another unfortunate reality is that only Severus was mildly close to Regulus. Two of my most praised followers turned traitors. It does raise some suspension over other people who were also close to the heir to the House of Black, don't you think, Evan?”
His body froze, Evan glanced at his brother for help but the man was facing the other way. No way of getting himself out of this situation came to mind. His mind started panicking, divided between preparing for the punishment and trying to come up with something to say. Evan opened his mouth but closed it as no words came out.
“Nothing? How pitiful,” the pain in his left arm started before he could beg for forgiveness. First, it felt as if someone was dripping hot water on his Mark. Then, as if hot oil was being spilt on his arm, he screamed. Evan could feel his skin and muscles melting with the heat, making his cry louder. The sensation of his bones liquefying was something he never thought he would ever experience, but he had little more than a second to ponder over that after the feeling crept on his entire arm. Sweat dripped off his forehead, forcing him to close his eyes. He forced his magic to prevent his body from going into shock, only to feel the strain on his magic as it tried to fight the pain. Suddenly, the pain was gone and he was left panting in his seat. All eyes were on him, more piteous than delighted. He couldn't bear it. Humiliation was something he knew, but not pity. Evan refused to look at his brother, not willing to suffer under Raphaël's glare. Only then did he realise his right hand was gripping his left forearm. It took a second for his fingers to work and release his arm. Though he knew his arm had not melted away, the ghost pain was still lingering on his mind, and the fear of lifting his sleeve was too much for him at the moment.
The Dark Lord said nothing to him before starting to ask something to Jude Tremblay. Whatever it was the two were discussing, Evan's mind decided it was too much work to pay it any attention. He could still feel his laboured breathing and the spasms on his left arm. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to be taken home by his brother and to hide underneath his thick white duvet. The raid of today was now of major concern to him, as he felt too weak to venture on a killing spree. In such a frail state, even a Muggle could take him down. Evan could feel someone poking his leg, someone to his right. Stop it you fucker, he could only muster a response in his mind. He knew Ansel was the one on his right, poking his leg for whatever reason, but Evan couldn't care less about what Gamp wanted.
“You're gonna get punished again, you sod,” Ansel hissed in his ear while glancing towards the Dark Lord to make sure the man was not looking at them. “Sit straight, for Morgana's sake,” Evan rolled his eyes lazily, too comfortable in his own misery to give Gamp any mind. He flinched when Raphaël's hand gripped his knee and tightened his grip, probably annoyed with both Evan and Ansel for daring to speak. Reluctantly, he did as he was told, but not before glaring at his brother and kicking Ansel on the ankle. His ears were still refusing to pay attention to his lord's words, so he let his eyes go around the table. Lucius Malfoy's eyes met his and Evan couldn't help but send him a kiss, mockingly. Hopefully, the Malfoys would not gain back their place beside the Dark Lord, so the fear of retribution was a feeble one.
Merlin, how he missed Barty in times like this. The fair-haired boy understood Evan like no one else and vice-versa. He groaned internally at the thought of his boyfriend having to deal with his obnoxious father damped his mood even further — if such a thing was even possible at that point. The prospect of seeing Barty was enough to keep him going, though. His boyfriend would finally leave Bartemius Crouch Sr. to the flies and join Evan somewhere else, in a place only theirs. Rogue memories of him, Barty and Regulus promising to be always there for each other threaten to come up, before he squashed them. There was no way he would allow those memories to come back now, not while in the presence of such deceitful people. Later, when alone in his bedroom, he could think, again, about why their friendship fell apart, but not now. Not now. Neither Barty, nor Regulus, would want for him to be in a vulnerable position while in the presence of the Master Legilimens Dark Lord.
“...gather more information about the Hedwyn Peverell and Regulus Black's whereabouts,” for some reason that caught Evan's attention. Something in the Dark Lord's tone was off; as if the man was... distressed? It was most likely not a concern about the two men, that was for sure. Evan's eyes flickered back and forth, from the Dark Lord's face to that of some Death Eaters. No one but Evan seemed to see through their lord in that moment. “I wish for a detailed assessment of Peverell's day-to-day routine. If you can't find his damned residence then find me anything else you can about that man. I want to know where he studied, which classes he took, who his friends were, and what his relationship with his parents was like. Desecrate their place of rest for all I care, but you'll find me everything that there is to know about Hedwyn Aelius Peverell. And if you fail me on this... the consequences shall be severe. I tire of all the talks and praises about that man in the papers. He's become a stone on my path and I intend to turn him into sand. Too much allegiance has been given to him, with the Shafiqs, Macmillans and Boots joining his crusades in the Wizengamot. Peverell already has the Blacks and many others on his side, and I won't allow any more power to be given to him.”
By Salazar, the man is jealous, the thought came to him before he could stop it from forming. Thankfully for him, he was not looking at the Dark Lord in the eyes. One could hardly blame the Dark Lord for feeling envy towards a powerful player like Peverell, of course, but to show it so shamelessly was on the brink of prudish. He daren't to look around, too cautious about being perceived as someone who's ridiculing their lord, even if it is done in thought.
When the Dark Lord rose from his seat, signifying the end of the meeting, Evan started to dread the raid that was to come. Though he felt better than before, the strain on his body was still there. Before he could quietly complain about it to his brother, however, a silver figure entered the meeting room. All eyes were on the shining creature made of light. A crow. A silver crow invaded the Averys' home, and by the look in the Dark Lord's eyes, it was not an expected visit. Evan shivered as the dark aura of his lord passed through him. When the distinct and all too recognizable sweet but dried tone Regulus Black often used when addressing those beneath him echoed through the silent room. Evan knew for sure that someone would die that 31st of October.
“Lord Voldemort, your foe sends you his regards. After all, your power and strength shall serve him well in his quest to become the legitimate lord over the House of Slytherin. The true and honourable Heir of Slytherin will guide the Dark to a new age of unrestrained magic, guarded by his Noble Hand's behest — both in the Ministry and in the country at large.
To the Inner Circle, composed of our nation's proudest heirs, heiresses, lords and ladies, be assured the prejudice and persecution many of your families have dealt with over the centuries by the Muggle-loving Light will come to an end — by the hand of the true Dark Lord of Wizarding Britain, The Conqueror of Death, Lord Hedwyn Aelius Peverell.”
Before his lord could even react to the message left by Regulus' Patronus, a small bird came sailing through the room and hit the Dark Lord in the face. In less than a second, a light shone on the room and where their lord stood there was no one anymore. Panic arose.