The train finally rolled into the station, its screeching brakes pulling the compartment back into reality. The excitement on the platform was palpable, the chatter of students and the clinking of trunks filling the air as the train slowed to a stop. Evan stepped off with the rest of the group, keeping his head down, letting the throngs of students around him push him forward. The familiar sights of Hogwarts, with its towering spires and the Hogwarts Express at its base, seemed both comforting and suffocating at once. It was home, but it wasn't. Not anymore.

Pandora was already beside Lily and Mary, chatting animatedly, her laughter echoing in the crisp night air. James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter were together, already making plans for the start of the school year, while Regulus, though still slightly apart, was heading off to the Slytherin carriage with a few other students from his house. Barty, too, moved with a sense of purpose, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd, though he briefly looked over at Evan, as if making sure he was still there.

As the students made their way toward the Great Hall, the chill of the night settled around them. Evan walked along, keeping his distance from the group, feeling more and more like an outsider despite being surrounded by so many familiar faces. He could hear snippets of conversation as they passed by, snippets of laughter and plans for the year ahead, but it all felt distant, as if he were listening from behind a thick glass. The weight inside him didn't lift. It only seemed to grow heavier.

Inside the Great Hall, the Sorting Ceremony was underway. Evan knew that it was supposed to be a time of excitement, but it only felt like an obligation now. He couldn't focus on the first-years nervously waiting to be sorted, couldn't even bring himself to pay attention to the usual jovial chatter of the tables. His eyes flicked briefly to the Gryffindor table, where James and Sirius sat, their usual grins plastered on their faces, as if nothing had changed. Remus was beside them, a quiet smile on his lips, while Peter looked nervous as always, stealing glances at the others.

And then there was Pandora, sitting at the Gryffindor table with her friends, her posture perfect, her face bright with a smile that made Evan feel all the more hollow inside. She glanced up briefly, catching his eye from across the room. For a moment, their gazes locked, and he saw the concern in her eyes. It was the same look she'd always given him, the one that made him feel both loved and burdened. She wanted to reach out, to help him, but he didn't know how to let her in. He looked away quickly, pushing the discomfort deep down.

"Ev?" Barty's voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, and Evan looked up to see his best friend leaning in, his face more serious than usual. "You okay?"

Evan gave him a tight, forced smile. "Yeah. Just... tired. Long trip."

Barty didn't buy it, but he didn't press. Instead, he gave a single, knowing nod before turning his attention back to the Sorting. Evan felt a flicker of appreciation for the way Barty never pushed too hard. It was the kind of friendship that didn't need to be constant or all-consuming—it just was, even when neither of them spoke.

When the Sorting ended, the usual feast began. The tables were heaving with food, the air filled with the mingling scents of roast meats, vegetables, and sweets. The chatter grew louder, and the noise in the hall seemed to drown out Evan's thoughts for a moment. He took his seat at the Slytherin table, the familiar green and silver around him offering some comfort, though it did little to ease the gnawing emptiness inside.

Pandora had joined Lily and Mary again, laughing and talking as if nothing was wrong. But Evan could feel the distance between them grow with every passing moment. He envied the way they could just be, the way they could live without the heavy burden of things unsaid.

Barty sat beside him, offering a slight smile, though his expression was still taut with the same intensity that always accompanied him. He reached for a glass of pumpkin juice and turned to Evan. "You sure you're alright?" His voice was quieter this time, more insistent.

Evan paused, his gaze flicking around the table, avoiding eye contact. He felt the eyes of others on him—James, Sirius, even Regulus, who glanced over from the other side of the hall, his face unreadable. Evan couldn't tell if they saw through him or if they were too wrapped up in their own lives to notice. Either way, it didn't matter.

He exhaled sharply. "Yeah. Just... not feeling great. I'll be fine."

Barty stared at him for a moment, his sharp eyes assessing. He didn't argue, though. He just nodded, taking a bite of his food and falling into his own thoughts, letting the conversation shift back to lighter topics.

Evan picked at his food, his thoughts drifting as the clatter of silverware and the buzz of chatter filled the hall. It was like a symphony of noise, but all of it felt hollow to him. Even the warmth of the castle, the familiar faces around him—it all seemed so far out of reach. It was like he was living in another world, one where he was just an observer, disconnected from everything he used to hold dear.

When the feast finally ended, and the students slowly trickled out to their respective common rooms, Evan felt the weight settle back into his chest. He didn't know what he was hoping for—some kind of change, some kind of relief—but all he had was the same emptiness. He glanced at Barty, who was already heading toward the Slytherin common room, and felt a pang of loneliness.

"Same old, right?" Barty's voice reached him once more as he fell into step beside him, his expression unreadable.

Evan nodded, the usual answer bubbling on his lips, but this time it stuck there. He couldn't bring himself to say it. Because it wasn't the same old. And he didn't know if it ever would be again.

The walk to the Slytherin common room felt longer than usual, the corridors darker. But Evan didn't mind the darkness. It was the only place where he felt like he could exist without the need to pretend.

The Slytherin common room quieted as students began to trickle off to bed. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. Evan lingered by the window, his gaze fixed on the dark, reflective surface of the Black Lake, though he wasn't really seeing anything at all. His thoughts were too far away, his mind a tangled mess of things he couldn't bring himself to unravel.

The last of the other students filtered out of the room, and Evan stood, stretching his stiff limbs, the weight in his chest never quite lifting. He glanced toward the door as Barty, Regulus, and a couple of their housemates headed up the stairs toward their dormitory.

Barty paused when he saw Evan still standing there. "You coming?" he asked, his voice casual but with a hint of something deeper, something more perceptive. Barty had always had a knack for reading people, even if he wasn't one to press.

Evan nodded, though he didn't meet his friend's gaze. "Yeah. Just... thinking."

Barty gave a small shrug and turned to head up the stairs. Regulus, walking a few paces behind, glanced at Evan as they ascended but said nothing. His gaze lingered for just a moment, a mix of curiosity and something Evan couldn't quite place, before he too disappeared around the corner.

As they entered the dormitory, the familiar scent of damp stone and old tapestries filled the air. Barty immediately made his way to his bed, dropping his things with a practiced ease, his movements confident and fluid. Regulus, as always, took the bed farthest from the window, a quiet presence in the room, his posture unbothered and calm as he started unpacking his things.

Evan, however, couldn't find the energy to do anything but drop onto his bed with a quiet thud. The curtains around his four-poster remained open, his eyes flickering over the familiar surroundings without really seeing them. He was exhausted, physically drained from the day, but his mind refused to let him rest.

He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the soft murmurs of Barty and Regulus's quiet conversation floating over to him. It felt distant, disconnected, like they were in another world. The conversation wasn't about anything important—just casual plans for the next day, complaints about the homework load—but still, it felt like an intrusion.

It wasn't until the room grew quieter, when Regulus finally stopped talking and the rustling of sheets became the only sound, that Evan allowed his thoughts to truly wander. His gaze shifted back to the window, the darkness of the night outside a mirror to the emptiness inside. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, something in him had changed, and no one had noticed.

He thought about Pandora's concerned look earlier, about how she'd tried to talk to him, and how he'd brushed her off. He thought about Barty, always by his side, but so far away in his own world of ambition and confidence. Evan had no idea how to explain the weight that pressed down on him, how to put into words the things that made him feel like he was drowning. Even now, as the night wore on and the room around him grew still, the heaviness didn't lift.

Barty, meanwhile, had slipped into his own thoughts, his usual deflecting sarcasm and wit replaced with something quieter, more introspective. He hadn't voiced his concern aloud, but as he lay there in bed, staring up at the canopy above him, he couldn't shake the nagging thought that something wasn't right with Evan.

He had noticed, of course. The way Evan's smile never quite reached his eyes, the way he seemed more withdrawn than usual. He could always count on Evan to be there for him, to have his back without question, but lately, it felt like Evan was slipping through his fingers. And Barty didn't know how to stop it. Didn't know what to say to fix it.

His thoughts drifted as he stared up at the ceiling, his mind running through the many conversations he had with Evan over the years—those unspoken moments when Evan had seemed to want to say something but never did. Barty thought about their years of friendship, how much they had relied on one another, how much trust there was between them. But now, something had shifted, and he wasn't sure what it was.

As the room grew darker, with the only light now coming from the pale moonlight filtering through the window, Barty closed his eyes, but sleep didn't come easily. He thought about Evan one more time, about how his friend had seemed so distant today. The worry crept in again, as it had been doing for weeks. But Barty didn't voice it. He didn't know how.

Instead, he let the darkness of the room pull him under, his mind still turning, his heart heavy with the weight of things unsaid.

Barty lay in the darkness, his thoughts restless, tossing and turning in his mind like an unsettled storm. He had always been able to count on Evan to be there, steady and reliable, even when the world around them seemed to crumble. But now? Now, Evan felt like someone else entirely—someone distant and unreachable. Barty didn't know what had happened or when it started, but he couldn't deny the unease that gnawed at him every time he looked at his best friend.

The silence of the dormitory was punctuated by the occasional soft rustle of sheets from Regulus's side of the room, and Barty found himself listening to it, letting it anchor him in the stillness. He stared at the ceiling, the shadows cast by the moonlight flickering across the stone, and couldn't shake the image of Evan's hollow expression earlier in the common room.

Evan hadn't even looked at him when he said he was fine. Barty knew better. He knew Evan wasn't fine. But the question was, what was he supposed to do about it?

He sighed softly, the sound barely audible in the quiet room. There was nothing he could do tonight, nothing he could do in that moment to fix whatever was broken inside Evan. So, all he could do was wait, keep an eye out, and try to be there for him the way he always had been. But how long would that last? How much longer could he ignore the nagging feeling that his friend was slipping further and further away?

Barty shifted under the covers, pulling them up tighter around his shoulders as if that could shield him from his worries. He glanced over at Evan's bed, still visible in the dim light. Evan hadn't closed his curtains, as was usual when he felt off. The bed was dark, silent, a stark contrast to the warmth and noise of their usual camaraderie. Barty had tried to talk to him earlier, tried to offer that simple, "You okay?" But Evan had brushed him off with his usual half-hearted assurances. It was never enough. And now, Barty could feel the weight of it all, pressing down on him.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but the worry wouldn't let him. He wasn't sure what was going on with Evan, but it didn't matter. He couldn't let it go. Not yet.

Evan's eyes snapped open, the remnants of a nightmare fading from his mind like fog in the morning light. He lay still for a moment, his heart still hammering in his chest as he stared at the canopy of his bed. It was still dark, and the quiet of the room pressed in on him, making the space feel smaller, more suffocating.

His thoughts were a tangled mess again—blurred memories of what he couldn't quite face, of things he couldn't let go of. He shifted under the covers, but his limbs felt heavy, like they belonged to someone else.

The bed beside him creaked as Barty shifted in his sleep, and Evan couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. He hated that Barty, his best friend, had to see him like this, had to witness him fading. It was the last thing he wanted to burden him with. Evan had always been the one to keep it together, the one who made sure Barty didn't have to worry about him. But now, Barty's concern was like a weight he couldn't escape.

Evan turned his head, his eyes landing on the darkened window. The moonlight was faint, casting thin, silvery lines across the floor. Everything felt still, like the world outside had paused in sympathy for him, waiting for something to change.

The guilt built up again—the nagging thought that maybe Pandora had noticed, that maybe she was right to be worried. But Evan didn't want to face it. He didn't know how to. Not when he couldn't even understand what was wrong with him in the first place. He had tried so hard to push it all down, to hold it together, but it was getting harder to do. The lies he told to everyone around him, the "I'm fine"s and the fake smiles—it was starting to feel like too much.

Evan exhaled sharply, sitting up slowly, trying not to disturb Barty or Regulus. The bed was still warm, but the weight inside him only grew. He glanced at the clock, knowing the morning would come soon enough, and he would have to pretend like everything was fine again. The thought of facing another day, of walking through the halls of Hogwarts and pretending he was the same person he had been a year ago, felt like a mountain to climb.

But it wasn't just the weight of the day that pressed down on him—it was the weight of the hidden things, the things he couldn't tell anyone. He had tried to bury it all, to ignore the gnawing feeling inside of him, but it always came back. Always.

He wanted to scream, to break something—anything to release the pressure. But he knew that wouldn't solve anything. It wouldn't fix the brokenness inside him.

Barty had offered him an out earlier, hadn't he? He'd said, "If you need to talk, you know where I am." And maybe Barty's words were enough for some, but not for Evan. Talking wouldn't change anything. Talking wouldn't stop the nightmares or the constant ache in his chest, the one that seemed to grow deeper with every passing day.

A small sound broke his thoughts—Regulus shifting in his sleep. Evan immediately froze, watching the other boy, but Regulus didn't wake. With a quiet sigh, Evan stood from his bed, trying not to disturb anyone. He tiptoed toward the door of the dormitory, the cool stone beneath his feet grounding him in a strange way, though it didn't ease the feeling of isolation he carried.

He stepped into the hallway, pulling his robe tighter around him as he moved down the corridor. The castle was empty, save for the distant echoes of other students going about their late-night business. As Evan walked, he felt the weight of his thoughts pressing down harder, the silence amplifying everything he tried to ignore.

He didn't know what he was looking for, but he couldn't stay in that room any longer. The darkness, the suffocating silence—it was too much.

He walked until he found a quiet corner near the entrance to the dungeons, sitting down on the cold stone floor. It wasn't much, but it was better than the suffocating confines of the dormitory. Here, at least, he could be alone with his thoughts.

But even as he sat there, head in his hands, the thought that he wasn't fine clung to him like a second skin. And no matter how far he tried to push it away, it would never be enough. The weight would never leave.