Vigor | h. granger

O N E

Evan remembered darkness. Evan remembered choking on the air that he could no longer breathe. He remembered dying, and then being brought back to life. Stillness. And anger. Merlin, so much festering raw, untouched anger. Weeks passed, and still the anger and confinement remained. Evan began to wonder if he had died and gone to hell. If so, he was certain that those accursed Slytherins would be joining him soon. But, there was nothing. Murmurs from the outside world told him he was alive, comatose, lying there like a corpse in a morgue. Still, however, his brain whirred along, planning, plotting.

Finally, Evan tried to move. Nothing. Until he tried his eyelids, and they fluttered open. They seemed to be the only thing that he could move. He could feel things on his body as his eyes darted around, scanning what he could see. The dim, creamy white ceiling. The Healer whose back was turned to him. The outline of a clear mask on his face- an oxygen mask. As a muggleborn, Evan knew exactly what this was and what it meant. It had all been so fast to do so much damage, cause so much anger and hatred. Evan tried to clear his throat and closed his eyes in relief when a sound came out. He quickly opened them again as the healer rushed over.

"Mr. Velasco!" The Healer gasped. "You're awake! Healer Smithwick!" The woman called out to the other healer. Evan watched her as much as he could. Healing had fascinated him, even before Hogwarts. Before his accident, he had wanted to be a healer. However, that dream was crushed. He was doomed to be the patient.

Healer Smithwick came over as fast as he could. Scanning Evan up and down, he gave a joyous smile.

"Good, good, not too much physical damage," Smithwick mumbled under his breath. "Can you speak, Mr. Velasco?"

"Y-yes?" His scratchy voice came out slow and impaired. It sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Of course," Smithwick said to himself again. "Merry, will you get  the potion?" Merry blushed and scuttled away quickly, before returning with a ruby red potion. She handed it to Evan before blushing furiously and hurrying back to Healer Smithwick's side. He drank the potion, half of his mouth turning down in disgust. However, his throat did feel much better. "Merry, will you keep him company while I inform Professor Dumbledore?"

"Of course, Healer Smithwick," Merry gave him a short little bow before turning away from him with a flush on her cheeks. Healer Smithwick left the room and shut the door with a click.

"Office romance?" Evan asked, his voice no longer scratchy. Merry blushed harder.

"Not really," Merry said, but her flush betrayed her. "It was only one night." Evan hummed in reply. Here he was, sitting, waiting for his verdict.

Healer Smithwick returned with Professor Dumbledore quite shortly after the conversation ended, cutting the comfortable silence off.

"How are you, Evan?" Professor Dumbledore asked him.

"Erm... Well, I've been better," Evan said, his body still stationary.

"I'm sure of that," Dumbledore gave him a smile. "How do you feel about returning to Hogwarts?"

A flash of raw anger tore through Evan, but he contained it while he was speaking to the professor. "I don't want anything more in the world."

Healer Smithwick smiled. "Well, we've decided you can be moved to the Hogwarts infirmary for the time being. Unfortunately, most of your body is paralyzed due to nervous system damage, and walking, wand waving, whatnot, will all be very difficult. You're lucky to be able to speak."

"Our solution for the time being," Dumbledore smiled at him as well, as if his words weren't dealing impossible blows to him, "is a muggle wheelchair. We will have someone in your house push you around to classes, levitate you up the stairs, protect you. As for your wand and magic, we will do what we can to save your hands so that you can preform magic. Otherwise, I will personally teach you wandless magic."

"When am I being moved?" Evan asked. Merry gave him a small smile. Dumbledore pointed his wand at him, instantly changing him into a pair of striped pyjamas.

"I am going to put your finger on the portkey, and I will disconnect you when we each our destination." Dumbledore did as he said he would, and they were whisked away back to the place that Evan considered home. As soon as they landed, Madam Pomfrey rushed over to him, muttering things and tsking rather loudly as she helped him into bed.

"Sir," Evan asked, speaking as loudly as he could. "Do you know anything about what happened to me before?"

"No," he said. "I was hoping that you could provide those details. However, if you cannot, then there is little I can do for you."

"Oh, I remember," Evan said darkly, laughing out a wheezy chuckle. "It was those Slytherins, sir. They tried to hit me with several spells at the same time. I'm sure that not all of them were legal. And well, you see how that went. They fled when I began to convulse, I believe." An anger and determination he had never felt before filled him.

"I'll see what I can do. And Evan, one last thing before I go, so I may send them in here soon. Who would you like to be your comrade through this struggle?"

"Hermione Granger," he said instantly, the only person that he could consider among all these accursed people who had ever truly been good to him in his own house.

"Very well. She shall be in here soon, and I suggest you let Madame Pomfrey tend to you," Dumbledore have Evan a kind smile before strolling out of the hospital wing, a power to his stride. Evan shut his eyes. He was already so weak, so vulnerable after the smallest amount of exertion- speaking. How he would go through classes, he did not know. But that wasn't what was in his mind. There was something else that lurked in the shadows of his mind.

Revenge.