Chapter 12
Evan looked sad.
Neville had felt sad too, talking about his parents, but now he felt more sad for Evan than for himself, and he wished he knew what to say to comfort the other boy. He had thought nothing could be worse than having crazy parents, but at least Neville had parents he could go visit, warm hands he could hold sometimes, while Evan hadn't even met his mum and dad. That was worse, in a way. More sad.
He felt like he should say something, but he was afraid whatever he said would be the wrong thing, so he kept quiet. Neville preferred it when people kept quiet instead of offering their condolences or asking uncomfortable questions. He also didn't like it when they looked at him with pity, so he tried not to stare at Evan so much, although that was much harder to do. His eyes just kept wandering back to the boy, he couldn't help it.
Looking for something else to focus his eyes on, he glanced down at the cup Evan had been hovering before. It was now resting on an empty seat, but tilted in a perilous angle that made Neville feel the urge to reach for it before it could fall. He resisted the impulse, though, because he was pretty sure that Evan had stuck the cup to the seat —else the train movement would have already knocked it over—, and he would embarrass himself trying to pick up something glued into place with magic.
Magic that Evan seemed to have done without using a wand and without saying any words, just like he had locked the door and blurred the glass earlier. It was as if the boy could do magic with just his hands and thoughts, the way house-elves did. And he had said Neville might learn to do the same. Could that be true? Neville had been so afraid to come to Hogwarts, afraid that they might send him back home within the week if he couldn't prove that he had magic... He was still afraid, but what Evan had told him about his own magic had given him hope.
Maybe he just had to work at it, like Evan said. Maybe the teachers would explain how, and they would give him time to learn before pronouncing him a hopeless case.
Neville closed his fingers around his father's wand again, and swallowed a knot in his throat when he felt the magic rushing up his arm. He knew it wasn't his magic, and he knew it wasn't his father's magic either —Gran had quickly disabused him of that silly notion—, but he felt closer to him when he held it, as if the wand remembered its previous owner and recognized Neville as his son. And the idea that he might someday be able to do with this wand the same things his father had been able to do, that he could maybe honour him that way, make him proud...
Blinking away tears, Neville put the wand back in his pocket —Gran had threatened with disowning him if he ever lost it— and glanced at the other boy again, wishing he could be like him. Evan was weird, sure, and a little scary, but he was also brave, and confident, and he had rescued Trevor. No doubt he would be sorted into Gryffindor, while Neville...
Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach. He knew that he had to get into Gryffindor, like both his parents and all his grandparents, but he couldn't imagine why anyone would consider to put him in that house. Gran might not be too disappointed if he went to Ravenclaw instead, but Neville had even less of a chance of getting sorted there, what with his bad memory and difficulty to concentrate, and he knew that Hufflepuff wasn't an acceptable option for a Longbottom —especially not for the Heir. Hufflepuff would be better than Slytherin, though. That would be horrible. Gran would definitely disown him if he went to the same house than the evil people that had tortured his parents to insanity. You-Know-Who's house...
Like he often did when he felt sad or scared, Neville sought comfort in sweets. Chocolate in particular always made him feel better, so he rummaged in his bag of candy until he found a Chocolate Frog. He hesitated before unwrapping it, though, his eyes darting back to the boy that sat staring sadly out the window.
"Um... would you like one?"
His heart gave a nervous jolt when Evan turned his head sharply in his direction. There wasn't malice nor threat in the boy's eyes, on the contrary, but Neville couldn't help feeling uneasy and self-conscious subjected to such intense, unbreakable gaze. He wasn't used to people looking at him so directly, holding his eye instead of just glancing over him without really seeing him, and while it was sort of nice to be fully noticed Neville found a lot harder to concentrate under so much unblinking attention. In fact he forgot his own question the instant Evan fixed his unnerving green eyes on him —eyes really really green, and sort of... luminous, as if they had magic flowing out of them.
"No, thanks," said Evan, breaking eye contact and looking suddenly uncomfortable. "I should be going, actually."
"What? No please don't leave!" squeaked Neville in panic when the boy began to pack up what remained of his sandwich. "What if they come back for Trevor? Please."
Evan paused, but then shook his head and reached for the cup, seeming to vanish the water with a glance before putting it back into his bag.
"I can't protect you forever," he said without meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to learn to stand up for yourself."
"But... I'm not brave like you," mumbled Neville, feeling his eyes fill with tears.
Evan paused again. For a moment he looked guilty and worried, but then his eyes hardened, and when he spoke his tone was sharp.
"You can be brave, and you'll have to be," he said sternly. "Bullies can smell fear, and they'll think you're an easy target if they see you crying all over the place. I'm not saying you should fight them, but you should try not to look so scared. And to hold your ground if they tried to push you around."
"But... what if they hurt me?" whispered Neville.
"Then you'll be sore for a few days," said Evan with a shrug, "and you'll learn how to defend yourself better next time."
What if there isn't a next time? thought Neville miserably. His parents hadn't had a next time. They had been hurt so badly that they had gone insane. And they had known how to fight. They had known how to defend themselves, but it hadn't been enough.
"Magic makes it easier," added the boy while he finished fastening his rucksack. "So you have to learn as much as possible. Make sure you're better at it than that blond prat."
Evan climbed to his feet, and Neville did the same, desperately trying to think up something to say to convince the boy of staying. And not just because he was afraid. Neville felt safer with Evan around, but that wasn't the only reason why he didn't want the boy to go.
"I... You... Are we... friends?" he asked shyly. "I-I mean... do you want to? Be my friend, I mean."
He had known the answer from the moment Evan had refused the Chocolate Frog, but he still felt the rejection when the boy averted his gaze and shook his head without even taking a moment to consider it. There was regret in the bright green eyes, but not hesitation, as if being friends with Neville wasn't even an option.
It hurt.
Before Evan could reject his friendship out loud, however, they were interrupted by a loud and demanding knocking at the door. Neville's heart gave a jump when he saw a very tall silhouette looming on the other side of the blurred window, and he retreated in panic as far as the compartment allowed clutching Trevor firmly against his chest. Evan, on his part, jumped forwards instead of backwards, moving to stand in front of Neville like a shield, or perhaps like a lion posed to attack.
"Open up!" ordered a voice in between knocks. "Locking the train doors is against the rules!"
Evan's defensive posture relaxed.
"I think it's one of those Prefects," he whispered, glancing back at him. "They're supposed to be good."
"Are you going to open?" asked Neville nervously. "What if we get punished for locking the door?"
"We won't get punished," said Evan confidently. "You just try not to look guilty and let me do the talking."
The knocking stopped a moment later, but the person didn't go away. Instead they heard the voice tell someone to step back, followed by some muffled incantation, and a moment later the compartment door slid open revealing a tall student with red hair and freckles. The boy was scowling menacingly through his horn-rimmed glasses, but his expression softened and became worried instead when he saw them.
"Oh," he said awkwardly. "I thought..." The boy cleared his throat and pointed importantly at a badge on his chest. "I'm a Prefect. Have you been locked up in here for long?"
Neville opened his mouth to answer, but he was distracted by a sharp kick in the shin.
"A while," said Evan, throwing him a warning glance that promised more pain if he tried to speak again. Neville whimpered a little, but otherwise kept quiet. "Thank you for helping us, we thought we'd be trapped here forever."
"Are you two all right?" asked the Prefect, looking at Neville in concern. "Did someone hurt you?
"No, we're fine," said Evan. "I mean... someone stole Neville's toad earlier, and they locked us up in here, but they just mocked us for the most part."
The Prefect frowned.
"That's not right," he said. "Do you know who did it?"
"I think one of them was named Cormac," said Evan with a shrug.
"Cormac?" asked the Prefect, narrowing his eyes. "McLaggen?"
"I don't know. He had light copper hair, a bit curly."
"McLaggen," growled the redhead. "I will be having words with that kid. If he's the one who blocked the train..." The Prefect ran a hand through his hair and sighed before glancing at Neville again. "Well, I see you have your toad back, and um... I will be patrolling this side of the train more often, now that we're sealed off, so I'll be around if you need anything. My name is Percy."
"Thank you," said Evan gratefully. "You will look after Neville at school, won't you? The kids that stole his toad looked as though they might have hurt him if I hadn't been there."
The Prefect's blue eyes flashed angrily.
"Of course," he said, setting his jaw and nodding at Neville reassuringly. "It's my job to look after the younger students, but I'll keep a special eye on Neville, I promise."
Evan smiled and thanked him again. The red-haired boy said it was no trouble and smiled friendly at them before turning to leave, stopping by the door to examine the blurred window.
"You... you lied," whispered Neville while the Prefect tried to put the glass back to normal casting spells with his wand. "You got someone else in trouble, that's... that's wrong, you-"
"Shhh!" hissed Evan, turning to glare at him. "I just stretched the truth a little. That Cormac git is another bully, he deserves to be punished. And now you'll have a Prefect looking after you at Hogwarts." He poked Neville hard in the chest with his finger. "I did that for you, so shut it!"
Neville closed his mouth and didn't say another word, fearing Evan might hurt him if he did. He was so confused, and conflicted, and frightened... He wanted to cry, but Evan had said he shouldn't, and Neville didn't want to make the boy more angry so he struggled to hold the tears in. He relaxed a little when the Prefect finally gave up on the glass and went away, but he got nervous all over again when a bushy-haired girl entered the compartment and began to speak really fast in a bossy sort of voice that made Neville feel as though he were being scolded. It took him like a whole minute to realize that she wasn't reprimanding them, but ranting indignantly against whoever had locked them up, which according to her was in direct violation of at least three different rules.
"It is outrageous!" the girl exclaimed. "Imagine if I hadn't noticed the glass and called a Prefect to your compartment! You might have been left behind when everyone got off the train! And this is not the only stunt those awful boys have pulled. I bet it was them who melted the doors back there. They must think it's funny, but it's highly irresponsible! Now hundreds of students are trapped in the rear half of the train without a single adult to supervise or assist if someone gets hurt. Most Prefects are on this side, I heard, and the Head Boy and Girl too, and the lady who sells things. I saw a girl crying because she couldn't get back to her compartment, and there was this cat..."
The girl —who had introduced herself as Hermione Granger— kept ranting, but Neville wasn't paying much attention to her. His eyes were on Evan, who looked troubled and perhaps a little guilty. Had he done what the girl was saying? Was he responsible for all that trouble? Why would he do that? Neville didn't know what to think or feel.
"So... do you reckon we're already in the magical world?" asked Evan when the girl made a pause to breathe. "Or are we travelling towards another portal?"
It seemed like an attempt to change the subject, and it worked.
"What do you mean?" asked the girl curiously, forgetting her indignation in an instant.
"Well... it doesn't look any different from the normal world," said Evan, waving a hand at the landscape flying out the window. "I thought we had entered another dimension in King Cross, but now I'm wondering if Platform Nine and Three Quarters is actually some sort of dimensional pocket, a bit of extra space folded and crumpled between platforms. Something like a TARDIS, you know... bigger on the inside..."
"That's exactly what I thought too!" exclaimed the girl, her eyes shining with excitement. "I asked Professor McGonagall if it was like that, but she didn't understand any Doctor Who references, I don't think she even knew what a TV show was. She did say that King's Cross has been magically expanded to fit the Platform, though, and for what I've read about wizarding space it does sounds a lot like dimensional folding..."
It was like sitting in on one of Gran's boring tea parties, where after exchanging the mandatory pleasantries upon arrival people proceeded to ignore Neville completely, leaving him out of grown-up conversations that he couldn't follow because of all the difficult words and ungraspable concepts involved. He usually had at least an idea of what they were talking about, but he got confused every time they said something he couldn't understand, and it always made him feel ashamed to realize that there were so many things he had never even thought about.
Like all this stuff Evan and Hermione were discussing. Neville didn't know what words like 'tardis', 'doctor' and 'teevee' meant, and he wasn't sure what a dimension was, but he understood that they were talking about wizarding space, and only now he realized that he had never wondered how it worked nor how it was even possible. For him it was normal to walk into places bigger than they looked from the outside. Not much to wonder about it besides how wealthy the people who owned the placed were to be able to afford so much extra space, or how powerful the enchanter had had to be to make the expansion stick for more than just a few hours.
For Neville, it was just magic that he may or may not someday learn how to do himself. For Evan and Hermione, it was a challenging mystery they were determined to figure out or at least talk through. Evan kept asking increasingly disconcerting questions —such as what was magic or how could magic be real— that the girl struggled to answer with what she had read in her books —which didn't seem to be nearly enough to satisfy Evan's complicated inquisitiveness—, and while they kept knocking heads and getting frustrated with each other's questions or answers it was obvious that they were both enjoying their conversation.
Which was why Neville wasn't surprized when Evan decided to escort the girl back to her compartment. Evan clearly had a lot more in common with her than with Neville, being both knowledgeable about muggle things and smart enough to be sorted into Ravenclaw, and he seemed interested on borrowing a book about the wizarding world that Hermione had offered to lend him, so it made sense he wanted to go with her.
And, terrified as Neville was of being left alone, he knew that escorting the girl safely back to her compartment was the chivalrous thing to do, so he didn't try to convince Evan of staying with him instead.
And that's how he found himself alone again.
Alone, and sad, and afraid, with Trevor as only company and a blurred glass as only shield against the dangers roaming the train.
Neville had been afraid to come to Hogwarts, but he hadn't expected the experience to be nearly as awful as it was turning out to be. He had feared to be turned away because of his lack of magic, to be sorted into the wrong House and disappoint his grandmother, to get lost all over the castle and receive bad grades in all his subjects, but not any of this. He hadn't expected to encounter bad people who would try to hurt him or steal his things, nor to have schoolmates so much more clever and talented than he could ever be, like Evan and Hermione.
He hadn't imagined it would be so hard to make friends. Nor that it was possible to feel so conflicted.
Neville didn't know what to think of Evan. The boy had rescued Trevor for him, and he had tried to protect them both from bad people, but he had lied and broken rules to do so. It was like he was doing the right thing, but in a wrong way, so Neville didn't know if he should approve or not. He also wasn't sure if he liked the boy or not. Evan had helped him, and he had seemed nice at first, encouraging and supportive, but then he had become distant and had rejected his friendship, and he had treated him rather harshly when the Prefect had come. Neville had also felt excluded from the conversation with the girl, and he had felt sort of replaced when Evan had chosen to go with her to talk about magical things and stay in her compartment.
It was as though Neville had proven to be a disappointment as a potential friend, too shy and too dumb to hold an interesting conversation, and so the boy had decided to start over with someone better. He felt certain that Evan would accept a Chocolate Frog if Hermione offered it, and he could imagine them exchanging cards, borrowing books from each other, being sorted together into Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, becoming best friends...
He wondered if Evan would reconsider being his friend if Neville was sorted into the same House. Ravenclaw was impossible, he knew, but as a Longbottom he at least had the blood for Gryffindor, and maybe if he stopped crying and stammering all the time... if he proved himself brave and chivalrous... Evan had seemed to believe that Neville could be brave and learn to do the same things he could do, that it was just a matter of working hard and holding his ground against bad people, so perhaps...
The problem was the fear. Neville didn't know how to not be afraid. He wasn't like Evan, who could face danger without trembling nor crying. He didn't think he would have the courage to go rescue Trevor if someone took him again, and that made him feel horribly ashamed and cowardly. He should be brave enough to protect his own familiar, even if he got hurt doing so, and more than that: he should have the courage to rescue any innocent toad he came across, like Evan had done. Like his parents would have done. They had been so brave that they had fought in a war knowing they might be tortured or killed. And while Neville wished they hadn't, because of what had happened to them, he knew that fighting to protect innocent people had been the right thing to do. And he wanted to be the sort of person who did the right thing too.
Which was why he was so conflicted about Evan, who seemed good, but also not so good. Nice, but not always so very nice. Safe, but also dangerous. Neville wanted to be brave and strong like him, but he didn't feel comfortable with the lies, and he was afraid of getting into trouble for being part of it. He also felt horrible doing or supporting things that might cause trouble or stress to other people, like whatever Evan had done to the train doors back there.
Not that Neville was certain that it had been Evan, but he had a strong feeling, and he didn't know what he should do about it. Percy the Prefect had stopped by his compartment several times after Evan and Hermione had left, apparently determined to start making good of his promise even before reaching Hogwarts, and each time he had seemed more stressed and annoyed. Neville had heard him rant about all the trouble and worry 'that funny little prank' was causing, especially since it was suspected whoever had done it had locked himself on the other side of the train, where there were only two fifth year Prefects to handle whatever mayhem the troublemaker might be up to.
Suspecting as he did that Evan was responsible, and knowing that Evan was on this side of the Block, Neville was inclined to think that the people on the other side were safe, but he understood the Prefects' anxiety and wished he could do something to ease it. He had considered to tell Percy about Evan, so they could track down the boy and ask him to undo whatever he had done —if someone could, it had to be him—, but he couldn't bring himself to accuse Evan, not after everything the boy had done for him. Not after Evan had promised to keep the secret about his parents.
So Neville kept quiet, hoping everything would turn out all right. Hoping Evan would not get into trouble, but also wishing the boy would fix what he had done —if he had done it. Wishing he didn't have to lie nor keep secrets, even as he was grateful for the lies and secrets Evan had told and agreed to keep for him.
The train was chaos. Students crowded the corridors, loudly pushing their way out of compartments and towards the exits. The conductor's voice echoed over their heads, instructing them to leave their luggage on the train and descend to the platform in an orderly fashion; asking to report any locked doors to the Prefects or train personnel posted at the end of each carriage; stressing that only students who had been unable to change or retrieve their familiars because of the 'Block' were allowed to climb on board again, and they must wait until those descending had cleared the way before doing so.
Neville was afraid to leave the relative safety of his compartment, a big part of him wishing he could stay on board and let the train transport him back to King's Cross, where hopefully Gran would be still standing at the platform waiting to take him home. He knew that wasn't an option, though. Neville had to go to Hogwarts. Gran would just send him back if he tried to go home before the Christmas holidays, so it was pointless to even try.
Besides, deep down Neville wanted to go to Hogwarts. He wanted to be a wizard like his father, and he knew that he had to go to Hogwarts to become one. And he had to be brave if he hoped to get into Gryffindor. Fearless like Evan was. Strong like his dad had been. Determined like his mum.
Telling himself these things over and over again to boost his confidence, Neville finally joined the current of students struggling to get off the train, and next he knew he was out in the open. It was cold and dark down on the platform, he noticed with a shiver, and even more chaotic despite the wider space available. So many people yelling and rushing in all directions, struggling to climb up or down the train, calling for friends or pets...
"FIRS' YEARS! FIRS' YEARS OVER HERE!" thundered a voice in the distance. "OVER HERE, FIRS' YEARS!"
"First years with Hagrid, that way!" yelled a much closer voice. "Second years, follow the rest to the carriages! Move along, everyone! Who lost a kitten? You!" Neville turned around, startled, and saw an unfamiliar Prefect looking straight at him. The older boy was holding a frightened cat against his chest with one hand and pointing in some direction with the other. "First years that way, follow the big man!"
Neville rushed to obey, but it wasn't so easy to push his way through the throng, not when people kept crossing the platform from one side of the Block to the other, many still wearing regular clothes and seeming impatient to reach their original compartments. He could still hear the roaring voice calling first years to him, but making a beeline towards it seemed impossible so he ended up taking a roundabout route, slipping through whatever gaps he saw in an attempt to escape the crowd before turning in the right direction.
He had managed to reach the outer edge of the platform, where he could circulate without running into anyone, when a boy suddenly stepped in front of him. He tried to walk around him, but the boy moved to block him again, and again when Neville tried to pass around the other side.
"There he is. The fat little cry-baby," drawled a voice coming from the left. "Got your stupid toad back, didn't you?"
Neville's heart jump to his throat and his stomach twisted in a knot when he saw a blond boy with a very mean expression standing a few feet away and realized that these must be the bullies Evan had warned him about. The ones that had taken his toad. He stumbled back, hugging Trevor tight against his chest, and felt someone pushing him from behind, blocking his escape that way too.
"I-I-I- Please don't- don't hurt me!" he begged, any notions of bravery having fled his terrified mind. "P-please, don't..."
Everything happened so fast. His feet moved without his command, his vision became a blur, the clamour of the crowd turned distant, and suddenly he was being slammed against something hard. Slowly recovering from his disorientation, Neville realized in panic that the bullies had dragged him behind an old station building, where no one from the platform could see them. An obsolete sconce burning over their heads revealed nothing but dark trees in all directions, no indication whatsoever that people ever came this way.
The train platform was only a few yards away, right on the other side of the building; Neville could still hear the Prefects yelling directions and the now muffled roar calling first years to him, but he felt completely removed from any possibility of help, acutely aware that anything could happen to him in this secluded spot and no one would ever know.
He let out an anguished wail when one of the bullies wrenched Trevor from his hands, but his scream was cut short by a hand roughly pressed over his mouth. He struggled against it, but then his arms were forced back and rendered useless too. He couldn't move, nor speak, nor do anything but shed powerless tears.
"If you try to scream again, I will kill your disgusting toad," threatened the blond boy. "Now tell me who helped you. Who took the toad from us? Was it that idiot Weasley?"
The hand was tentatively removed from his mouth, and Neville was allowed to speak, but he didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell them about Evan, could he? They would go after him if he did, and that would be a terrible way to repay the boy for his help.
"I-I- I don't know anything," he cried, suddenly remembering what Evan had instructed him to say in this very such case. "A-A Prefect returned it to me. I don't know where he found it, I swear!"
"You're a terrible liar," spat the blond boy scornfully. "The truth! Who did it? Tell me or I'll pull your toad's legs apart one by one!"
Neville choked back a sob when the boy grabbed his familiar by one of its rear legs and none-too-gently dangled it in front of him.
"I don't know!" he sobbed. "Please don't hurt Trevor, please!"
"Let him go."
Neville almost fainted in relief. He had never before felt glad to hear an angry voice, on the contrary, but Evan's wrathful command was like heavenly music to his hears. Craning his neck to look in the direction of his saviour, he saw the boy standing not so far away, glaring at the bullies in such a terrifying way that the two boys holding him instantly released him and stepped away.
His relief turned to guilty panic almost immediately, though, when he remembered that the bullies were looking for Evan and probably wanted to hurt him for helping Neville.
"Run, Evan!" he squealed. "They'll hurt y-"
"Quiet, Neville," snapped Evan without looking at him. "No one's going to hurt either of us."
"I wouldn't be so sure," said the blond boy, who had turned to glare at Evan right back. "You're going to hurt very badly if you don't turn around right now and forget you saw anything."
"Why would you want me to go?" Evan raised an arm as if to reach for them, and an instant later Trevor flew out of the bully's grasp directly into his waiting hand. "I was under the impression that you were looking for me. Didn't you want to make me pay for spoiling your fun earlier?"
The blond seemed too shocked for words, his hand still opened before him as if his fingers hadn't yet processed the loss of what they had been holding.
"Why are you so obsessed with this toad, anyway?" asked Evan, glancing down at Trevor with distaste. "Are you in love with it? Hoping it'll turn into a handsome prince if you kiss it?"
"Shut up!" snapped the bully, his pale face flushing furiously.
"Or is it Neville you're in love with?" taunted him Evan. "Afraid he won't want to kiss you if you ask nicely? People are going to start wondering, you know, if you keep going after him."
"Shut up! It's not... I'd never..." the boy sputtered angrily. "It's a matter of respect! I'll teach you some too. But first you'll tell me who else is involved! I know it wasn't you before."
"It was me, and I acted alone. Neville didn't even know me back then, he had nothing to do with it."
"It wasn't you," insisted the bully stubbornly. "I saw who did it, he had short red hair."
"Never heard about something called magic?" drawled Evan. "You can do all sorts of things with it... well, maybe you can't," he amended with a mocking sneer, "but other, better wizards can change their hair at will."
As if to demonstrate, Evan's long hair changed colour right in front of their eyes, going from light brown to flaming red in a matter of seconds. Neville's mouth fell open. Was Evan a Metamorphmagus? Was that why he had looked different to him the second time they had met? Was this his true hair colour?
The blond boy also looked shocked.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "What's your last name name? Evan what?"
"That's none of your business," said Evan coldly.
"It might be," said the boy, seeming to consider Evan seriously for the first time. "Metamorphic magic runs in my mother's side of the family, and there aren't many lineages with the trait, so we're probably related. And closely connected, too. My father was friends with Evan Rosier, you know, and I heard him say once that Rosier slept around a lot during the war. If you're his son, we should be allies, not enemies."
A surge of panic went through Neville. He knew that Evan's last name wasn't Rosier, but he also knew that by law bastards weren't allowed to carry the family name, which was why sometimes they were given their father's first name instead. It was also true that metamorphic magic ran in old pureblood families, so Evan couldn't be a Muggle-born like Neville had thought after hearing him talk with that girl Hermione. As far as Neville could remember, there weren't any known Metamorphmagus in the Rosier lineage, but the Rosiers were related to the Blacks so he supposed it was possible for a descendant of them to be born with the Gift.
Could Evan be the son of a Death Eater? And not just any Death Eater. Evan Rosier had been one of the worst, according to his grandmother, responsible for the deaths of numerous Aurors and just as evil and brutal as the Lestranges. And he had been killed at the end of the war, Neville knew, so Evan would have been a baby when his father had died...
"I would never be allies with the likes of you," spat Evan, regarding the other boy with the deepest loathing. "And I doubt you would be so eager to claim me as a relative if you knew what happened to the last family that took me in. People related to me tend to end up dead, screaming in agony or crying over the corpses of their loved ones. The same goes for anyone who pisses me off, and you," Evan pointed an angry finger at the blond bully, "you have pissed me off. I was going to leave you alone, you know, but you had to go after Neville again, and I know you're going to do it again as soon as I turn around. Unless I stop you. The question is what is it going to take. What do I have to do to make sure you don't bother Neville or his toad ever again? Do I have to torture you, like I tortured my cousin? Will that be enough, or will I have to kill you, like I killed my uncle? Is that the only way?"
Evan sounded almost sad by the end, and that's how Neville knew he was serious. That he wasn't lying nor making up tales to scare the bullies, but telling the truth and genuinely trying to decide whether he would have to kill the boy standing in front of him or just torture him. Neville felt queasy at the prospect of watching someone getting tortured like his parents, and horrified at the realization that he had tried to make friends with someone that not only was most likely the child of a Death Eater but was sort of a Death Eater himself; someone who did bad things like lying, threatening, torturing, killing...
"You talk too much," drawled the blond boy. He sounded disdainful, but Neville could see uneasiness in his eyes. "It's all empty threats, though. I know you can't actually torture or kill anyone."
"I think my cousin and uncle would disagree," said Evan dryly. "Well, my uncle is not exactly capable of disagreeing with anyone anymore, but you get what I mean." He shrugged. "I know what I can do, I don't need anyone to believe me. The problem —your problem— is that if you don't take my threats seriously I will have to demonstrate how serious I am. Do you really want to risk that?"
The bully hesitated, but only for a moment before regaining his disdainful attitude and puffing his chest importantly.
"You wouldn't dare doing anything to me," he said with lordly conviction. "I'm a Malfoy, and a Black."
"Is that supposed to mean anything?" sneered Evan.
It means that he's the Malfoy Heir, thought Neville with another surge of horror. Bellatrix Lestrange's nephew. And possibly related and connected to Evan, just like he had said.
Gran would be appalled if she knew what sort of people Neville had surrounded himself with on his very first day.
"It means that I'm important," said the blond boy haughtily. "My family has power."
"You keep bringing up lineages and family names," noted Evan with disdain. "How exactly do you expect your 'powerful' family to help you now? It's not as if you can channel your daddy's magic across space, is it? And I can tell you have no power of your own."
"I do so!"
Evan snorted derisively.
"An important name is not real power. Magic is. And you clearly don't know how to control yours, else you would use it to bully people instead of relying on brute force like an ordinary muggle. Do you even have magic, or are you a... what was the word, Neville? A squib?"
Neville really wished Evan would leave him out of this, because accusing a Malfoy of being a Squib or behaving like a Muggle was probably the most dangerous thing anyone could do.
"How dare you!" hissed the Malfoy Heir, shoving a hand in his robe pocket and beginning to rummage furiously. His eyes widened in panic when he didn't seem to find what he was looking for, though.
"What's the matter?" taunted him Evan while the bully desperately checked his other pocket. "Can't find your magic stick? Afraid to face me without it?"
The boy's head snapped up.
"You... you stole my wand?" he screeched in horrified disbelief.
"Not so funny when someone takes your belongings, is it?" said Evan in an icy tone, pulling out his wand —or was it actually Malfoy's wand?— from his robe pocket. "It's also not funny when someone threatens to break something of yours, like you threatened to break Neville's toad. Maybe this will teach you to respect other people's property."
With the casualness of someone putting down a tea cup to better gesticulate with his hands during a conversation, Evan sort of 'hanged' Trevor in the air next to him and, grabbing the wand by both ends, began to bend it towards its breaking point.
"Don't you dare!" snarled Malfoy. "Vince, Greg, stop him! Hit him! Get my wand back!"
The other boys didn't move, though. Neville glanced sideways at them, and saw that they were standing completely still with absent looks in their eyes, not seeming afraid, nor angry, nor worried at all. They didn't seem to be paying any attention to what was going on, actually.
"What's the matter with you two?" spat Malfoy, elbowing his closest friend hard in the ribs. "Don't stand there like useless posts, take down the freak!"
The night seemed to get darker all of a sudden, even though the lonely sconce was still burning evenly over their heads. Evan's red hair flickered ominously, threatening to turn black, while his green eyes fulgurated like lightning under the overgrown fringe. Neville could almost feel the rage radiating out of him like a toxic mist.
Trevor fell to the ground with a muffled thud, apparently forgotten by his hoverer.
And then the other bullies finally moved. To Neville's surprize, though —and to Malfoy's unpleasant shock—, instead of charging towards Evan like they had been commanded to do the two bigger boys turned on the spot and lunged at their friend.
