Chapter: The Question

The days passed quickly in a blur of classes, common room chatter, and late-night study sessions. It was the usual Hogwarts routine—except for the subtle shift Evan felt in the air. Every moment, he was aware of the low, steady hum of dread in the pit of his stomach. He had always been able to pretend, to keep his distance, but lately, it was harder to maintain the façade. The depression that he had been silently battling was harder to hide.

Evan tried to keep it to himself, to avoid drawing attention, but it was difficult to ignore when he was surrounded by so many people who seemed so... vibrant. So full of life. His friends, his family—they seemed fine. They all had their own worlds, their own thoughts, while he felt like he was standing at the edge, detached and sinking into a place no one could see.

That afternoon, the group was hanging out in the Slytherin common room. Evan, Barty, Regulus, Pandora, and a few other friends from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were scattered around the room, talking, laughing, and drinking pumpkin juice as if everything were normal. To the others, it probably was. But to Evan, it felt like there was an invisible wall between him and them. No matter how hard he tried to join in, he felt increasingly isolated. He forced a smile when he caught Barty's eye, but it didn't quite reach his own.

Pandora noticed. She always did.

Evan was halfway through his drink when he felt her eyes on him. She was sitting beside him, flipping through a book, her brow furrowed with concentration. For a moment, he thought she hadn't noticed, but when he glanced at her, she was watching him with a slight tilt of her head.

"You okay?" Pandora asked, her voice soft, but loud enough for him to hear. Her gaze was full of concern, and though she kept her tone casual, Evan could tell she wasn't buying the act.

Evan managed a tight smile, but it didn't last long. "Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered, trying to sip his drink again, hoping she'd drop the subject.

But Pandora didn't let it go. "You sure? You've been a little... off lately," she pressed, her voice gentle but insistent. "You've been quieter than usual, and—" she paused, as if choosing her words carefully, "I noticed you're not eating much either. You always used to eat more at dinner."

Evan stiffened. His hand tightened around his cup. "I'm just not hungry," he lied quickly, his voice coming out a little too sharp. He tried to push the unease away, but it was hard when Pandora was staring at him, her expression unreadable.

Before he could say anything else, Pandora glanced around at the group, as if searching for something. She bit her lip, clearly debating something, before she spoke again, her tone quiet but pointed.

"Are you still taking your medicine, Evan?"

It was as though the room had gone quiet at her words. Pandora's question, so casual to her, had an immediate and unnerving effect on Evan. His heart skipped a beat. He froze, a chill running down his spine as every eye at the table seemed to turn toward him. His stomach twisted, and suddenly, he couldn't focus on anything except the rush of panic that filled his mind.

His fingers gripped the edge of his glass, his knuckles white.

"Pandora, don't—" Evan started, his voice unsteady. His words trailed off as the tension in the air grew thicker. Barty's gaze flickered to him, a sharp look that seemed to be questioning something. Regulus had paused mid-conversation, and even the Gryffindors, who had been deep in their own chatter, seemed to notice the sudden shift.

Pandora raised an eyebrow, not fully understanding his reaction. "What? You haven't told them, then?" she asked, a touch of surprise in her voice. She clearly didn't realize the impact of her question.

Evan's breath caught. He opened his mouth to say something, to explain, to tell them that it was nothing to worry about, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, his panic rose. The last thing he wanted was for everyone to know. The thought of his friends asking questions, probing into his personal life, made him want to retreat into the shadows.

Barty's eyes darted between Evan and Pandora, the confusion quickly turning to concern as Evan's face paled. He didn't fully understand the situation, but he could tell something was wrong. His mind raced, trying to piece it all together, but he wasn't sure where to start. All he knew was that Evan's reaction was unlike anything he'd seen before. Something wasn't right.

Barty opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Pandora spoke again, her voice softer now, but still carrying that same undercurrent of worry. "I just meant... you've been so off lately, Evan. If you're still struggling, I just thought it might help to talk about it." She smiled slightly, trying to ease the tension. "You don't have to explain to anyone else if you don't want to, but I'm worried."

The weight of Pandora's words hung in the air. She had always been protective of Evan, always trying to look out for him, even when he didn't deserve it. But now, Evan felt the sharp sting of exposure, his heart pounding in his chest.

Barty looked at Evan again, his brow furrowing, a mix of confusion and something else flickering in his gaze. He wasn't sure what Pandora was referring to, but it was clear Evan was uncomfortable. Something in him clicked. Medicine. It was the only thing that seemed to explain Evan's strange behavior, the way he'd been withdrawn, his lack of appetite, the fatigue that lingered in his eyes. It all made sense now.

Evan felt trapped under the pressure of everyone's gaze. He hated it. He hated that Pandora had brought it up in front of the group, hated that now they were all watching him, waiting for him to explain. It felt like they could see every weakness he had, every crack in the facade he'd carefully built over the years.

Barty's mouth was dry, and he ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he rarely made. He wasn't sure what to say. He'd known Evan for years—long enough to know when something wasn't right—but this? This was new. He didn't know how to help, didn't know how to reach out without making everything worse.

"Evan..." Barty's voice was lower than usual, thick with concern. "What medicine are you taking? What's going on?"

Evan's heart skipped another beat. His stomach churned violently, and his mind screamed at him to escape. He couldn't breathe. His vision swam. No, no, no. He couldn't explain. Not here, not like this. Not in front of everyone.

"I'm fine," Evan forced out, his voice trembling despite himself. "I just... it's nothing."

Barty didn't look convinced. His eyes softened with worry, and he leaned slightly toward Evan, his voice quieter. "Evan, you don't have to keep it all in. Whatever it is, I'm not going to judge you."

Pandora had gone quiet, sensing that she had pushed too far, but her gaze remained on Evan, her concern never wavering.

The room felt too small, the pressure too much to bear. Evan's hands were shaking now, his breath shallow. He wanted to scream, to tell them to leave him alone, but all he could do was sit there, surrounded by people who cared about him, and feel like a stranger to his own life.

He couldn't tell them. He just couldn't.

"I just... I don't want to talk about it, okay?" he said, his voice breaking under the weight of his own words. He immediately regretted them, wishing he could take them back, but it was too late. The silence that followed was deafening.

Barty looked at him, conflicted. He wanted to help, but Evan had shut him out. He could see the fear in his eyes, the desperation, but he didn't know how to break through.

Pandora didn't say anything else, but her eyes held the weight of a thousand unasked questions. She wasn't going to push him. Not now.

The group awkwardly shifted, some returning to their conversations, others lingering in the tension Evan had created. But for him, the weight of it was unbearable. He wished he could disappear, but all he could do was sit there and pretend that everything was fine.

The atmosphere in the Slytherin common room was lively as the group gathered by the fire, a few Gryffindors and Ravenclaws having joined them for the evening. The talk was lighthearted, punctuated by laughter and easy conversation, but as Evan looked around at the familiar faces, he couldn't help but feel out of place. There was a buzz in the air, an energy that he couldn't quite tap into. Everyone else seemed to fit right in, but for him, the walls of the common room felt too small, and the expectations pressing in on him were suffocating.

Pandora was sitting beside him, her attention caught by a conversation between Lily Evans and Mary McDonald, who were discussing their plans for the weekend. The topic came up suddenly, a shift in the chatter, and before Evan could even brace himself, someone mentioned it.

"The Gryffindor party next week, huh? I heard it's going to be huge," said one of the third-years from Gryffindor, his voice eager and excited. "Everyone's talking about it. I'm not sure how the Slytherins are going to manage getting in, but you know how it goes. Everyone's going."

Evan's stomach tightened instantly. The Gryffindor party. It was the event of the year, and everyone at Hogwarts was expected to go—whether they wanted to or not. The party was always thrown in the Gryffindor common room, one of the few places where all the houses could mingle, and it was an unspoken rule that attendance was a must. For the past few days, it had been the only thing anyone had been talking about.

It wasn't that Evan didn't want to go—it was that the pressure of fitting in, of pretending to be okay, felt overwhelming. He had barely gotten through his last year without people noticing his distance, his lack of enthusiasm. This year was no different. The idea of facing an entire room full of students, pretending he wasn't fighting to keep himself together, felt like too much.

But the words had already been said, and now they echoed in his mind like a drumbeat. Everyone's going.

Pandora, who had been listening intently, turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "You going, Evan?" she asked casually, but there was an edge to her voice that made it clear she already knew what his answer would be.

He hesitated. "I'm not sure yet," he said, his voice flat.

"You have to go," she said, her tone almost teasing but with a glimmer of concern in her eyes. "It's the one thing everyone at Hogwarts does, you know. You'll be fine."

Evan nodded, though he didn't feel fine. How could he be? It was easy for Pandora to say. She didn't have to worry about feeling out of place, or pretending to be happy when every part of him just wanted to crawl into bed and shut the world out.

"I guess it won't be that bad," he said, trying to sound convincing.

Barty Crouch Jr., who had been sitting nearby, leaned forward, his usual smirk on his lips. "Oh, it'll be a blast," he said, though his eyes seemed to linger on Evan for just a moment too long. "A few drinks, some music, a little chaos—what could go wrong?"

Evan's heart rate sped up. The last thing he wanted was to be part of a drunken spectacle, to lose himself in the crowd. But the unspoken rule was clear—if you didn't show up, people would start asking questions. And questions were the last thing he could handle.

As the group continued to talk about the party, debating which outfits would be appropriate and which Gryffindors they hoped to see in attendance, Evan tried to tune them out. The noise was deafening, the pressure building in his chest, and all he could think about was how he would manage to get through it.

He didn't have a choice. He had to go.

Pandora gave him another look, this one softer than before. "Hey, we'll make it fun, okay?" she said, offering him a small smile. "It'll be better than you think."

But as she turned back to the others, Evan couldn't shake the feeling that nothing was ever going to be better than he thought. Not while he was carrying this weight around.

The conversation shifted again, but Evan couldn't focus on it. He was already picturing the party—the noise, the laughter, the feeling of everyone moving around him, while he stayed still, unsure of where he fit. What would he wear? What would he say? What if someone noticed he wasn't really himself?

The idea of walking into that party, pretending like everything was fine—it terrified him.

But he had no choice.

Everyone was going. And he would have to figure out how to survive it.