EVAN ROSIER

Evan usually spent his weekends catching up on sleep. Making up for all the rest he missed during the week. Today, however, he stood in the library at seven in the morning, searching for every book he could find about bloodroots. He had to admit, he was surprised to hear that Crouch would put so much effort into figuring out something they'd be told on Monday anyway. In general, that Crouch would put effort into anything at all. In the weeks Evan had known him, he had come across as someone who couldn't care less about school—someone who slept in class and never did his homework himself. Evan must have underestimated him.

Or are you afraid it's too much for you?

Crouch's words were the reason Evan was now carrying a pile of books back to the Slytherin common room. He would prove to him that he could absolutely put effort into something. Why he had all this motivation was beyond him. Especially since he'd come back late from Quidditch practice the night before and had gotten up early today. Normally, he'd be unbearable with so little sleep, grumbling about wanting to go back to bed. Strangely enough, that hadn't even crossed his mind. He was so... excited? Was he actually looking forward to working on this with Crouch? No, he was just very motivated to get to the bottom of this mystery. That was all. Still, a smile crept onto his face as he thought about the hours to come.

As he entered the Slytherin common room, Black came storming out, as though he couldn't leave fast enough. As he passed Evan, he shot him a look sharp enough to kill. Black had never seemed to like Evan before, but now he hated him with a burning passion. To be honest, Evan didn't know what Black's problem was. Sure, he had sat next to Crouch in their last class yesterday—a seat that, as Evan had noticed, Black usually claimed exclusively for himself—but it wasn't a big deal. Black had sat next to Lestrange, with whom he seemed to get along quite well. That left Priscilla Nott to sit next to Avery, which Avery didn't seem to mind at all. So, it was all pretty trivial.

Naturally, Avery had asked about it later. On the way to Quidditch practice, he had raised his eyebrows and said, "Why on earth were you sitting next to Crouch?"

Evan had shrugged and replied, "We had to work together in Care of Magical Creatures. We just wanted to continue our conversation about our project for Herbology." Avery had shot him a skeptical look but quickly changed the subject.

Now, the next morning, Avery was probably already at breakfast. When Evan had headed to the library, the other three had still been fast asleep. By the time he returned with a stack of books, their dormitory was empty. He let himself fall onto his bed, dumping the books beside him, and briefly considered skipping breakfast altogether.

The bathroom door opened, and out stepped none other than Barty Crouch. "Reg?" he asked absently, clearly expecting Regulus to be there.

"Not quite," Evan replied dryly.

"Not even remotely," Crouch countered, his gaze drifting to the books on Evan's bed. "What are you up to, Rosier? Starting a book club?"

Evan wasn't fazed. "Absolutely. We're reading fascinating works like Dangerous Vegetation: A Guide to Handling Toxic Plants, Mandrakes and Other Marvelous Roots, Underground: Secrets of Magical Roots, or From Gurdyroots to Bloodroots: Healing and Dangerous Plants."

Crouch gave him an unreadable look. Was it surprise? Amusement? Or something else Evan couldn't quite place?
"You don't seriously expect me to read all that before breakfast, do you?" Crouch finally said, throwing Evan a dismissive glance before heading for the door.

Evan rolled his eyes, as if he'd expected nothing else. Crouch paused in the doorway and asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "Are you coming or not?"

For a moment, Evan just stared at him. The casual way Crouch said that was disconcerting. But then he grabbed his robe and followed him out of the dormitory, crossing the common room. As always in the morning, the room was nearly empty. A few tired Slytherins were hunched over parchments and books in the deep green armchairs. A group of second-years whispered quietly in a corner, apparently about a failed Charms project.

Crouch walked briskly ahead, not bothering to look back, as if it were a given that Evan would follow. Evan quickened his pace to walk beside him rather than behind him.

As they descended the staircase to the Great Hall, Evan decided to ask him something. "What's going on with Regulus anyway? He spent all of yesterday evening avoiding you. Apart from the obvious, which is that you're with me right now instead of him."
Barty shrugged, but Evan could see he'd already been expecting the question. "He's upset, I suppose."

"Upset? Why? Because you sat next to me in Herbology yesterday?"

"Yes, Rosier, exactly that."

Evan stopped in his tracks, incredulous. "You're joking."
"I'm not." Barty stopped too, turning to face him with his arms crossed. "Regulus is... sensitive about these things. We've been friends for years, and he's used to me always being by his side. If I suddenly choose someone else, he feels... replaced."
"Replaced? Over one Herbology lesson?" Evan shook his head, finding it hard to believe anyone could be so petty. "That's ridiculous."

"Maybe to you. But to him, it matters." Barty's tone was unusually serious, and it caught Evan off guard. "That's just his thing. He's loyal, but he expects the same from others. If I give him a bit of space now, he'll calm down."

"Or come up with something even more ridiculous to be upset about," Evan muttered.

"Maybe," Barty admitted, the grin returning to his face. "But that's what makes him so... unique"

Evan sighed and resumed walking. "Unique is a generous way to put it."

"I'm always generous," Barty replied with a grin as they entered the Great Hall. Evan noticed Julien watching him but decided not to meet his gaze. He could already hear Julien's snide remarks in his head.

He and Crouch eventually found a free spot at the far end of the Slytherin table. They didn't talk much as they ate. Evan noticed that Crouch occasionally glanced over at Black, always when Black wasn't glaring daggers at them. And Evan had thought Bellatrix was dramatic. Clearly, theatrics ran in the Black family.

As if on cue, a scream rang out from one of the older Slytherin girls—Zabini, if Evan remembered her name correctly. He'd often seen her with Jesse and his cousin Bella. Julien, of course, had known exactly who she was. Now her hair seemed to be turning green. No, it was definitely turning green. On the other side of the hall, there were more cries—a senior Ravenclaw boy discovered he couldn't speak. Every time he tried, a stream of soap bubbles poured from his mouth.

A Gryffindor boy in Evan's year found that his voice echoed loudly throughout the hall, even when he whispered. Meanwhile, a younger Hufflepuff began floating a few inches above the ground. Evan watched as the boy clung desperately to the table or his bench.

Evan found it all terribly amusing—until it hit him too.
As he laughed, his voice suddenly started shifting unpredictably from high to low. "What the—?" Evan clamped a hand over his mouth as his voice came out unnaturally high. That only made Crouch laugh harder. Evan shot him a glare but couldn't keep it up for long when Crouch's hair suddenly began standing on end in every direction. Evan burst out laughing and pointed silently at Crouch's head.

Crouch, realizing what was happening, started trying—unsuccessfully—to smooth his hair back down, which only made him look even more ridiculous.

The professors weren't spared either, struggling with colorful hair and levitation spells. The only ones unaffected seemed to be four Gryffindor boys, one of whom was Black's brother. So much for theatrics being a Black family trait.

While some older students desperately tried to undo the spells, a few others noticed that the effects began to wear off on their own. It was just a stupid prank by the Gryffindors, absolutely idiotic, and Evan had no doubt they'd get into trouble for it, but it was also a little funny.

Several hours later, Evan and Crouch were sitting on their beds, surrounded by the stack of books Evan had lugged in earlier. The commotion in the Great Hall had long since subsided, but the memory of it still brought a wide grin to Evan's face. His voice, like everyone else's, had returned to normal after a while. Crouch's situation, however, was a different story. His hair still stuck out in every direction, as if he'd been struck by lightning.

"I just don't get it!" Crouch complained, running his hands through his hair in frustration, which only made it worse. "Why me, of all people? What did I ever do to Potter and his stupid friends that they made the enchantment on me last permanently? Even Snape didn't have it this bad!"
He was relentless in his whining, unable to talk about anything else, seemingly caught in a loop of indignation and self-pity. What Crouch didn't know—and what Evan definitely wasn't going to tell him—was that the original spell had long since worn off, just like it had for everyone else.

Evan had developed a theory about how the Gryffindors had pulled it off. It had to be through the food. It was the only way they could have enchanted so many students, even the teachers, all at once without anyone noticing. And he had to admit, it was pretty clever.

But instead of sharing his theory with Crouch, Evan had done something else.
He had renewed the spell.

Evan knew that Crouch was an only child—he had casually asked about it when Crouch had been ranting about the elder Black and his friends. Evan, on the other hand, had grown up with two older brothers, which meant he could perform the spell and its counterspell in his sleep.

It had happened out of sheer curiosity. When the original enchantment on Crouch had started to fade, Evan had simply cast it on him again, just to see what would happen. And when Crouch reacted with such outrage, Evan had found it far too funny to stop. He kept renewing the spell repeatedly while Crouch, completely clueless, continued his tirade.

"Look at this!" Crouch had pulled a small mirror from his bedside drawer and stared into it in despair. "It's been hours, Rosier! Hours! My hair looks like I've been hit with a curse! The Gryffindors are probably still laughing their heads off in their stupid tower."
Evan suppressed a laugh, flipping nonchalantly through Dangerous Plants: A Guide to Handling Toxic Flora. "It's not that bad," he said, his voice dripping with feigned sympathy. "Actually... it kind of suits you."
Crouch shot him a death glare, his patience wearing thin. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Not in the slightest," Evan lied, barely able to keep from laughing.

Eventually, though, he stopped renewing the spell and let it fade away. Maybe he'd felt a pang of sympathy for Crouch. Not that Crouch seemed to notice the enchantment had nearly stopped working. He was fully engrossed in his book now. Evan doubted he'd ever seen him so quiet. It was a strange sight, but as much as he had enjoyed listening to Crouch complain, he relished the peace.

Unfortunately, their search for answers wasn't going much better. Everything they found about bloodroots was useless to them. Now they knew the plants thrived in bright, damp environments, such as meadows or clearings near a stream or lake. They had red roots that often shimmered like veins beneath the surface, dark green leaves, and small bell-shaped purple flowers. They were used in sleep poisons and, in very small amounts, in healing potions. Evan couldn't help but wonder who had first come up with the idea of using a deadly plant for healing potions. He'd love to have a chat with that person, ask them what was going through their mind. He shot a fleeting glance at the boy across from him. Yep, Crouch would definitely come up with ideas like that.

Still, Evan didn't know what to make of all this information. He decided to reread the school textbook for Care of Magical Creatures. Maybe they had overlooked something.

Murtlaps are sea-dwelling creatures resembling rats, with an anemone-like growth on their backs.
Bowtruckles are tiny magical creatures, about hand-sized and insectivorous. They prefer to live in trees and have bodies that resemble flat-faced stick figures made of bark and twigs, making them almost invisible when moving among branches and leaves.
Streelers are giant magical snails distinguished by their unique ability to change color every hour. They also produce toxic slime that harms and kills plants on contact.
Kneazels are magical creatures closely related to cats, both in size and appearance. Despite their similarity to ordinary cats, they possess distinct magical abilities and are known for being particularly clever and intuitive. Interestingly, Kneazels are among the few magical creatures for which bloodroots are not toxic.

Evan read the passage twice to be sure he hadn't misread. There it was. He still didn't know why they needed to remove the bloodroots if the project really had something to do with Kneazel. But on the other hand, it was the first clue they'd found in hours.

"Hey, Crouch!" Evan called, lifting his eyes from the book in his hands. Crouch sat across from him, completely absorbed in the lines before him until Evan's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Slowly, he looked up, his expression blank. "I think I might have an idea what kind of creature we're dealing with."

Crouch's eyebrow lifted slightly, his face hard to read for a moment. Then, a smug grin spread across his lips. "Finally. I thought you'd never figure it out."

Evan stared at him, incredulously. He couldn't be serious! Acting as if he'd known all along? "Oh, really? And what is it, then, Crouch?" His voice dripped with sarcasm as he crossed his arms.

"Knarl," Crouch replied simply, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Evan gasped. "If you knew that, why didn't you say anything?" His tone rose, and he grabbed the nearest pillow, which he hurled straight at Crouch.

But the other boy was prepared. He ducked nimbly, and the pillow flew harmlessly past him. "I didn't want to ruin the fun of letting you figure it out yourself," he said with a playful wink. "Besides, I wanted to see if you were smart enough to recognize it."

Smart enough? Evan almost burst out laughing. Just how high above the ground was Crouch's ego floating? "Oh, of course," he retorted sarcastically. "So, you've just been sitting around, doing nothing, waiting for me to finally figure it out? Just flipping through the books for fun?"

Crouch rolled his eyes. "Obviously not, you idiot. Sure, we know the project might have something to do with Kneazels, but we still don't know exactly what. Besides, something's missing. I mean, why do we have to remove bloodroots if they're harmless anyway?"

Evan nodded slowly. "It doesn't make sense," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the pages in front of him.

Crouch shook his head vigorously. "It only doesn't make sense because we're missing a crucial piece of the puzzle." Without further explanation, he grabbed his book again, evidently determined to find the missing information.

Evan wanted to retort with something sharp, but he knew Crouch was probably right. Sighing, he pulled another book from the stack beside him and opened it. As he flipped through the first few pages, his thoughts wandered.

Had Crouch ever done something like this before? Relentlessly pursuing something without a clear reason, so focused and obsessed with finding an answer? The thought was absurd. Of course, he had. But for Evan, this was new. Normally, he would have given up by now. Knowing the project had something to do with Kneazels would have been enough for him. But Crouch was different. He seemed like someone who couldn't stop until he had every single answer.

If Crouch wasn't giving up, then Evan certainly wouldn't either.