"Why, yes…there was Rosier," said Karkaroff hurriedly. "Evan Rosier." "Rosier is dead," said Crouch. "He was caught shortly after you were too. He preferred to fight rather than come quietly and was killed in the struggle." "Took a bit of me with him, though," whispered Moody to Harry's right. Harry looked around at him once more, and saw him indicating the large chunk out of his nose to Dumbledore. "No - no more than Rosier deserved!" said Karkaroff. - Goblet of Fire, Chapter 30
The safe-house was in Kent.
No one really knew exactly where. They were simply given an address and told to apparate there if they were in need of shelter. The house once belonged to a pureblood family, but it lay uninhabited for years. When Evan Rosier arrived, it was empty, though it looked as though someone had been there. Whoever it was cleaned up after themselves, but there was an odd smell to the place. A sort of bright, wholesome smell that didn't often accompany the men who served the Dark Lord. He was immediately on his guard, wand at the ready. Quick spells assured him that no one was in the house. Still, something was coming. He knew it as surely as he'd known the day Regulus Black died.
Evan was only just settled at the top of the stairs, on a narrow window seat with a piece of sweet bread, when a noise from the front door disturbed him. He doused the nearby lamp with a flick of his wrist and was on his feet.
The door opened and several lit wands preceded a familiar voice.
"Anyone there?"
"Wilkes?" Evan inquired, incredulous.
"Evan Rosier, as I live and breathe." Caspar Wilkes stood at the foot of the stairwell, a few of their compatriots behind him. The others, seeing it was friend and not foe who awaited them, moved down the hallway into the kitchen. Caspar met Evan on the second floor. "What are you doing here, man? I thought you'd disappeared with Reg for as much as we've seen you."
"I told you Cas," Evan said wearily, sitting back down by his window. "I'm tired of war. I don't trust anyone anymore. Not even our Lord." Caspar's eyes widened. "That's blasphemy, Rosier. He'd have you killed for thinking it. You should have a care." He motioned vaguely at the stairs to indicate the men below. Evan shook his head vehemently. "I don't, Caspar! That's just it. I don't give a damn if we lose! Regulus came to me, Wilkes. He told me something that I could barely believe, but all the same, he never lied to me. Never! He was our friend. More and more I'm beginning to think he was right. That the Dark Lord means to keep all the glory for himself. That he…"
He trailed off as shouts echoed from outside. Jets of light illuminated the yard as the front door was blasted off its hinges. What looked like half the Order charged in, some firing spells through the portal, others simply looking stunned to find Death Eaters waiting for them. Evan and Caspar were still separated from the action by the stairs, but not for long. Alastor Moody's magical eye caught sight of them and he splintered the top of the banister with a hastily-aimed Stunning charm. The two Death Eaters broke for cover, sprinting for a room at the opposite end of the hall.
They were nearly there when the house trembled violently and all the lights were extinguished. Here and there, small fires burned where curses had gone astray and hit the walls and furniture. Caspar whirled, wand raised.
"Avada Kedavra!" he cried, but the curse flew wild as the house shook again, the green jet shattering the window behind Moody and the others.
The duel that followed was intense. In the semi-darkness, it was hard to see if a spell hit home as the caster and potential victim were often pelted by a rain of plaster and wood or blinded by light from their wands. It was four against one and Evan knew Wilkes wouldn't last long under such an onslaught. He hesitated, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Wilkes' body arced backward as the force of a spell hit him, crashing through the railings and down to the hallway below. Evan didn't have time to check on him; the Aurors were closing in fast. He turned to face his attackers, well aware that he was outnumbered. But it didn't matter anymore. He would go down fighting, like Regulus had.
"Diffindo!"
Moody let out a roar of pain and his free hand flew to his nose. Blood spurted from between his fingers and the severed chunk of flesh fell to the floor. Three wands pointed in Rosier's direction. In the space of a moment, several things happened. Sirius Black lunged up the stairs, his face ashen, his hands raised to stop what was happening.
"NO!" he yelled.
So unexpected was his appearance that it gave Evan time to dive for the nearest doorway. Just as he did, the wall behind him exploded. It seemed the last straw for the already-unstable dwelling. Ominous sounds began to come from the outer walls. Moody, back in control after he managed to stop his nose bleeding, gave orders for everyone to evacuate immediately. At the foot of the stairs, they passed Wilkes' still form.
"Leave him," Moody barked. "There's nothing we can do."
They reached safety just in time to see the house crumble in on itself.
Several hours passed before they started pulling bodies from the rubble. The Death Eaters left alive were transported to Azkaban, while the wounded members of the Order were rushed to St. Mungo's.
Sirius stayed behind to assist with the recovery, but he was strangely silent. The others tried talking to him, but his answers were clipped and standoffish. They finally left him alone. No one had any clue why he'd tried to defend Evan Rosier and they weren't sure whether they wanted to know. He wasn't even supposed to be with them.
With a wave of his wand, Sirius lifted aside part of the roof. A pale hand was visible, emerging from a tangled pile of beams and other detritus. He felt a lump rise in his throat and averted his eyes as he continued to shift the ruins out of his way. At last, Evan's body lay completely uncovered in the moonlight, dusty and littered with cuts from the falling debris. He looked as though he might be sleeping. Sirius knelt beside him to feel for a pulse, even though he knew there was none. He touched the younger boy's face as tears streamed down his own.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I tried. Tell Regulus I tried."