Minerva thought of the years that would fallow her graduation of Hogwarts and most specifically what had become of Evan.
Evan would, as she found out so many years after, become a Death Eater. The thought still haunted her, of the things she had done with someone who would destroy lives later in her life, many of them not very appropriate.
She had talked to Moody and had lightly asked him about his capture of Evan Rosier, not trying to imply anything. He had grinned and informed her that the chunk missing out of his was taken by non other than Mr. Rosier.
The thought of this let a shudder down her spine, because it seemed so preposterous to her. Yes, when she had gone to Hogwarts with him, he'd been obsessed with the Dark Arts, friends with a crowd of almost entirely future-Death Eaters, but nothing else suggested his fate.
She could easily recall getting his last form of contact. It had been the winter of 1979, and it was a short letter with a small package. When she shut her eyes, she could still see the parchment.
Minerva,
I know I'll regret sending this letter – but I feel I must. I am nearly 60 years old, and I have made a few mistakes in my life and put many innocent people in danger. Including you. The Ministry of Magic is on my trail, for reasons I don't care to express with you in this letter. They will, indubitably, search my house and could have found the enclosed pictures. I don't want to put in you in any form of danger – you deserve more than that.
Yours always,
Evan
She remembered reading it a thousand times, crying out (and alarming someone upstairs – she was, by this time, teaching at Hogwarts) and throwing it into the fire. The pictures, which were all that was enclosed, along with some notes she'd written him at Hogwarts.
Another memory was resurfacing, the memory of not accepting the letter. It didn't sound like Evan, Evan had always used simply words – this didn't sound like him at all. But she had gotten over it, and forgotten about it.
But the forgotten stage did not last long, almost an exact year after she'd received his owl; she heard news that they'd gotten two Death Eaters at once. Two Death Eaters by the names of Alfred Wilkes and Evan Rosier. This had sent her into an extreme state.
She bit her lip at the horrible memory of having to teach, and go on like normal, as she had found out her first (and last) boyfriend was a murder, a follower of Voldemort. It had been hard, but she had done it.
The pictures he had sent her had slowly fallen into the cracks of her life, finding their ways into the garbage until finally she found them all and burnt them. Or so she thought.
Now there was this one, one of the most memorable pictures, sitting here. Somehow she'd shoved the picture into a book and continued on and now here it was, back to haunt her.
She was jerked back to reality when she heard someone walking by her office door, and found that the photograph was back on the desk – the picture side down.
"Minerva," she thought to herself, "Pull yourself together."
- - - - - - - -
Authors Note: This is *not* the ending, by the way. I just had a bit of a bother with the Creativity Demon and the suspense wasn't there for this chapter-ending. Sorry.^.-
Hot damn, I got a review, which is a first – especially considering I've never written fanfics before. Ah well.
Evan would, as she found out so many years after, become a Death Eater. The thought still haunted her, of the things she had done with someone who would destroy lives later in her life, many of them not very appropriate.
She had talked to Moody and had lightly asked him about his capture of Evan Rosier, not trying to imply anything. He had grinned and informed her that the chunk missing out of his was taken by non other than Mr. Rosier.
The thought of this let a shudder down her spine, because it seemed so preposterous to her. Yes, when she had gone to Hogwarts with him, he'd been obsessed with the Dark Arts, friends with a crowd of almost entirely future-Death Eaters, but nothing else suggested his fate.
She could easily recall getting his last form of contact. It had been the winter of 1979, and it was a short letter with a small package. When she shut her eyes, she could still see the parchment.
Minerva,
I know I'll regret sending this letter – but I feel I must. I am nearly 60 years old, and I have made a few mistakes in my life and put many innocent people in danger. Including you. The Ministry of Magic is on my trail, for reasons I don't care to express with you in this letter. They will, indubitably, search my house and could have found the enclosed pictures. I don't want to put in you in any form of danger – you deserve more than that.
Yours always,
Evan
She remembered reading it a thousand times, crying out (and alarming someone upstairs – she was, by this time, teaching at Hogwarts) and throwing it into the fire. The pictures, which were all that was enclosed, along with some notes she'd written him at Hogwarts.
Another memory was resurfacing, the memory of not accepting the letter. It didn't sound like Evan, Evan had always used simply words – this didn't sound like him at all. But she had gotten over it, and forgotten about it.
But the forgotten stage did not last long, almost an exact year after she'd received his owl; she heard news that they'd gotten two Death Eaters at once. Two Death Eaters by the names of Alfred Wilkes and Evan Rosier. This had sent her into an extreme state.
She bit her lip at the horrible memory of having to teach, and go on like normal, as she had found out her first (and last) boyfriend was a murder, a follower of Voldemort. It had been hard, but she had done it.
The pictures he had sent her had slowly fallen into the cracks of her life, finding their ways into the garbage until finally she found them all and burnt them. Or so she thought.
Now there was this one, one of the most memorable pictures, sitting here. Somehow she'd shoved the picture into a book and continued on and now here it was, back to haunt her.
She was jerked back to reality when she heard someone walking by her office door, and found that the photograph was back on the desk – the picture side down.
"Minerva," she thought to herself, "Pull yourself together."
- - - - - - - -
Authors Note: This is *not* the ending, by the way. I just had a bit of a bother with the Creativity Demon and the suspense wasn't there for this chapter-ending. Sorry.^.-
Hot damn, I got a review, which is a first – especially considering I've never written fanfics before. Ah well.
