Evan Rosier (Harry Potter Fanfic/ Prequel)

6 | 73 | First Mission

Monday, February 14

Shock fills me when I wake up to the sound of Cynthia talking about the holiday: Valentine's Day.

It seemed only yesterday that I went to that party last year and went to sleep knowing I had just become Evan's girlfriend. I remember that vividly.

To celebrate our one-year anniversary and Valentine's Day itself, I'm giving Evan a gift. It's sort of a reminder of an old nickname that I have been forgetting to use.

After applying strangely dark makeup (I've been in the mood lately), I slip on a burgundy dress with rose lace at the bottom- curtesy of Cynthia. Heading downstairs and out of the tower, I realize how out of place I look for the small holiday. No one else has dressed up.

I don't see anyone with blood red lipstick or silver, smoky eyeshadow. In fact, the further I walk down the sides of people wearing every day clothes, the more embarrassed I get. How was I to know I'd be the only one who dressed up? It's Valentine's Day!

Evan, thank Merlin, put on a black suit for me. I lean forward and brush my lips on his upon seeing him. He smirks back and I finally realize he's holding something behind his back.

"What's that?" I ask, poking around in curiosity.

"Just a gift for my lovely girlfriend." He hands a black box to me, so I give him his gift as well well.

"Same time?" I ask, indicating that we should open the presents together.

"Same time."

After a brief countdown, we carefully undo the ties of our gifts. Evan has given me a pair of gloves, very expensive leather ones I may add. They have navy sapphires and a brown gem that I don't recognize lining the edge, which shows off my Ravenclaw colors.

"Evan!" I hold them out and smile. "These are gorgeous."

"I love it," he says back, already trying on the silver ring. It has "Rosier" etched into the outside and rose patterns in the inside. I thought it'd be perfect for him, considering the meaning of his name.

"I thought you might," I respond, holding his ring to the light. "I think I've outdone myself this year."

"You outdo yourself and everyone else every year," he tells me. "You're just like that."

"You flatter me." I tilt my head to hide my blush.

He drapes an arm around my torso and escorts me to the Great Hall, where we eat breakfast together. His friends, for once, say nothing about me nor my status. I may not be in Slytherin, but I am pure-blood and confident... Sort of.

~ * ~ *
Arabelle,

We will be out for a mission. Please do not try to contact us; our job is to stay low for a while until the deed is finished. We'll write back in two weeks or so.
    This is our first mission. Bear with us, okay? We won't mess anything up this time.
    Love always,
    Mother and father

~ * ~ *
Their first mission?

I know it's for Voldemort, but how could they be of use to him? My parents are brilliant, yes, but not well-known nor the best. Perhaps they have to do something with the Rosier's, because I know they haven't been really acquainted with any other Death Eater family.

I'm just glad that they told me instead of wasting time dwelling on it.

I frown, recalling the last time they kept their Death Eater business a secret. It was not pretty.

No matter what they're doing, I'm sure they'll do it quickly and affectively. They'll be fine.

~ * ~ *
In the pouring rain, a couple sneak past the almost completely broken door and step inside. The house looks like it's been unused for the past century, but according to their master, this was false.

"I'll check upstairs," the man whispers, although they have nothing to be afraid of.

"You don't think she's left, do you?" The woman asks before he reaches the steps.

He looks back and lets out an exasperated sigh. "The Dark Lord knows all, Freda. He wouldn't have ordered us to come here if he knew this place was empty."

She nods and finds the kitchen. In the sink, several dishes lay with a thin layer of dust coating them. A fresh drop of water falls and hits one of them. She looks up in disgust at the leaking ceiling.

"Come on, Yolanda. We haven't all day."

She hears the creak of a footstep behind her, and the shaky breath of the old woman.

The woman, Yolanda, raises her wand and tries to cast a feeble spell, but she is disarmed without much effort. The other woman steps towards her with her own wand raised.

"Yolanda Astralis?"

"You've no right," Yolanda snaps, tears filling her eyes. "This is my home. Please don't take me. I've done nothing wrong."

"You found her." The man appears in the doorway and cast a silencing charm on the older woman. "I could hear her pleas from upstairs."

A part of the woman felt guilty, ashamed as she looked at the old, crying woman. But another less sensitive part took over. "Let's just get her out of here. This place is filthy."

Yolanda's mouth opens wide as she silently begs the couple to leave her alone. With a stunning charm, they Apparate her to the Rosier Manor.

Yolanda's ashy-white hair falls in her face over her tan skin. Tears roll down her already puffed up cheeks, but no one listens to her cries.

She is pushed at the feet of the Dark Lord himself.

He stands from a too-casual armchair and regards the woman with a snake-like smile.

"Yolanda Astralis, for months now I have asked for your cooperation, and yet you have denied me. Would you care to tell me why? It's the polite thing to do."

He waits for her to answer, but the silencing charm holds off for longer.

"Feline got your tongue?" He taunts, effortlessly picking her up with an enchantment. "No matter. You used to be of use to me, but I do not need you anymore."

Her eyes flicker to his hand, the one carrying his wand.

He continues. "No, I have all I need now. The information from your sister was helpful indeed, yes, will you give her a word of thanks in the afterlife?"

Yolanda seems to realize what he is saying, and her head thrashes around violently.

"Do not be upset," Voldemort snarls. "I am being merciful." With that, he casts the Unforgiveable and watches her now lifeless form drop to the floor with a thud.

Heather Rosier flinches. She'll have to get one of her house-elves to deep clean the tiles.

"I am off," the Dark Lord says. "Do not pester me with your tea party invitations," he adds when the Rosier's stand up to offer him a drink before he leaves.

"You two have been of good work today," he says to the other couple. "One day, you may even prove yourselves deeming of my attention and trust."

He leaves without waiting for their answer.

~ * ~ *
Published 8-7-20