The Sun and Her Moon- Remus Lupin

And so our story begins....

Show them that you're a Rosier.

Everyone has that phrase they remember being told by their parents (or whoever raised them for that matter)— the one they drilled into their head, whether it be good or bad.

It could be a reminder to be kind, or to sit up straight— anything of the matter really.

For Avelina Rosier, the phrase that was imprinted into her mind no matter how hard she tried to forget, was show them that you're a Rosier. When she closed her eyes she could hear the exact dictations and emphasize of her fathers voice bounding around as if she had heard it so many times, that like a parasite, his voice had wrapped around her brain cells, and wouldn't let them go.

It was the phrase she heard when she four playing with the other pureblood kids, and started crying when one of the boys pushed her down the stairs. It was the phrase that she was told when she was seven, about to attend her first pureblood ball, dressed to the nines in a fancy long gown.

And it was the phrase that was whispered into her ear, like the way a snake hissed at his prey, before she stepped onto Hogwarts express for the first time at eleven years old.

Perhaps if said by some, such a phrase would have a warm meaning; like telling your child to be proud of who they are, of where they came from. However, the way it was used by Calvus Rosier was that of double edged threat, he aimed right at his childrens chests.

Daring them to make a wrong move.

Waiting for the time they ever so slightly make a mistake, so he could dig the blade right into their hearts.

It wasn't merely the blood that ran through their veins— which was ironic since they valued the purity of such blood above all else— because truthfully they had no problem spilling each others blood, letting it bleed down into empty cracks and crevices— it was about being the sort of person who as the top.

The sort of person who looked down at those below them, and kicked them down when they got close

For to be a Rosier wasn't something you could be born into like a normal family. To be a Rosier was to be superior. It was to show the rest of the world that you were better— more cunning, more intelligent, more wealthy, more proud, more talented, more terrifying, more everything you could possibly be.

It was to be so cruel that the flowers wilted as you walked past.

To be so cunning that your friends never felt like they could relax in your presence.

To be so charming that no one could resist the way you smiled, or the sound of your voice hitting their ears.

To be so captivating that eyes followed you wherever you went.

And when needed, to be so utterly crazy that not even a conscience could hold you back from doing what needed to be done.

Avelina always seemed to struggled with this.

Despite the fact the Rosier blood that was deemed so superior rain through her veins, it never came natural to her, no matter how hard she tried.

When her father would try to make her do something cruel tears would shed down her little cheeks.

When he would try to get her to be cunning she'd burst with honesty.

And when he tried to get her to be crazy, all she would do was tilt her head and stare at him like a confused puppy.

Though the Rosier charm and captivation, the young girl arguably had down at a young age. From the moment she could form her first sentences, there was something about that girl that people seemed just to like.