[Completed]
An alchemist who poisoned himself, an assassin who stabbed his own heart, an arsonist who burned herself, and a hero who couldn't defeat his inner monster.
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( A re-enact of Hades...
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September 1st, 1977 was one less-packed up day in King's Cross station. Evan Rosier's cologne sparked into mist lingering on her nose, Gemma didn't bask the pheromones-like scent. Their eyes darted away, while the two were pushing their trolleys. That day neither Fidelya nor Alpha could take the girl for the first day of school. There was an attack in a muggle summer festival and rumored to be orchestrated by the Dark Lord. With that, she suggested she would go with the Rosier's heir. The Slytherin boy flicked his wrist to check the time, smirking.
"Girly." Rosier called, eyes onto his wristwatch, the Irish threw a side-eye at him, quirking her brows in confusion. His left hand returned to grip the trolley's handle, honey eyes darted behind them. "Do they always follow you around like this?"
Gammaliel gave a faint nod, motioned her eyes to platform nine and ten, "It was worse, Evan." said the witch under her breath, huffing. Explaining the two footsteps of auror in training behind them, "Since last year, it's like this or not going at all. If Alpha's here they sure take their distance even further."
"Why would they do this massive exaggeration anyway?" Rosier scoffed, peering down to his bat, "He's not coming for you nor your family, isn't he?"
The Irish girl slightly turned her head, and her jaw stiffened at his statement. "No idea." replied Gemma briskly, her eyes darted away from the Slytherin boy, "Has he or his followers paid a visit for yours?"
Rosier quirked an eyebrow, "Not that I know. I told you girly, I'm so lost in southern France. Have no idea what's happening in this cold and tedious England." began the boy mildly, eyes to the side to make sure the Aurors were far enough, "However, my uncles began to take a certain interest of him. You see, sympathetic to be precise."
The Irish winced, knowing how Prometheus Rosier would think. The Rosier like any other thought highly of their status. They came from a long line of Slytherins family, but the Irish knew better about the charming french by her side since childhood. He was the cheerful, narky kid next door.
His parents had died from dragon pox before the boy could even speak. Rosier had never talked about them but he was sure they were lovely. That made the french boy resided in his uncle's estate. Though they were seen holding a flask of whiskey at 9 am. She knew for sure they treated Evan like a son.
