[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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Alchemy was not a subject for the negligent. Much more than potion-making, the study was ancient, running for centuries. Sorcerers had competed to master the said practice for fame, power, and glory. It disintegrated, reassembled, and transfigured a matter composition to much more valuables items; turning white to red, metals to gold—some said it could grant eternal life.
As powerful as it sounded, the art was not basic chemistry. It was much more than tossing flies' wings, fermented cherry, or spider legs into a cauldron of moon water. The study required; time, precision, patience, and an understanding of both photoscientific and philosophical nous. For these reasons too, the study required intelligence beyond average for one to call themselves; an Alchemist.
This ancient practice was the explanation why some potions were proven to induce chemical or photoscientific transfiguration in organisms; the reason why felix felicis could give a shot of luck for one-self, how polyjuice was able to give the DNA's owner appearance or why amortentia had different scent for anyone.
Alchemy—was the answer Regulus Black gave on Slughorn's career consultation. It was a celestial high dream that Walburga and Orion would always bring up in their glamorous banquets. That their younger son ( now, their only son ) would one day become a great alchemist.
Ambition was running in the Black's blood that Regulus was determined to become the said profession. Horace Slughorn did not doubt for a second that the Slytherin's prefect was capable, it was apparent from the moment he saw the boy's curiosity and skills in his class. What Slughorn did not know, the prefect was so skilled at Potions due to his series of illegal potion-brewing.
The first time was his second year, slipping concussion potion to James Potter's pumpkin juice. The commotion was committed when the said boy had made fun of him for failing to catch the golden snitch on his first match. Then, a numerous amount of wide-eyed potion for Evan Rosier when caffeine no longer kicked in. Reaching his fourth year, the Black's heir would carry several amounts of potion vials in case something happened.
So far, he didn't have to use the garotting gas vial on anyone.
Although, he was tempted to use it once—on a group of Slytherin girls when they made fun of the Irish witch right after her grandmother's passing. Regulus's anger was ticked off, steams fumed from both reddening ears when he heard the numerous accusations that the witch was a spoiled brat who weighed nothing but her name. ( Un ) fortunately, Rosier had managed to stop the impulsive act as it could attract attention. Instead, the prefect spiked up their tea with botched potions, enough to send them to the matron's care.
