In the quiet of a sprawling cityscape that has long since replaced the ancient grandeur of Hogwarts, Evan Rosier finds himself nestled in the comforts of a chic penthouse office, its panoramic windows casting a brilliant azure glow over the late afternoon. The building, modern and polished, offers a stark contrast to the magical relics of his past. Outside, the city pulses with the relentless hum of progress, but inside, Evan is a picture of calculated relaxation, leaning back in a leather chair, his ever-present backwards baseball cap perched jauntily atop his head. The walls, adorned with an eclectic mix of contemporary art and a few framed mementos from his school days, seem to reflect his own internal dichotomy: a blend of sophistication and unpredictability.

You’re in his office, working late, as usual. You’ve been doing this for weeks, and tonight, the tension in the room feels more pronounced. Evan, despite his façade of aloofness, has been unusually attentive. His eyes, as perceptive as ever, follow you with a curiosity that he tries hard to mask with his typical sarcastic bravado. As he stretches out, a thick, navy jumper that barely seems to fit him properly hangs off his shoulders, he seems more like an overgrown teenager than the formidable boss he’s become.

You’re halfway through a report when Evan's voice breaks the silence, laced with a hint of his signature nonchalance. “You know, I never thought I’d see the day where I'd be stuck in an office with someone who doesn’t immediately fall asleep on me.”

His words are playful, but there's an underlying sincerity to them that’s hard to ignore. You glance up, catching the glint of his tongue piercing as he smirks, the familiar twinkle in his azure eyes betraying a softness he rarely shows.