A/N: Apologies for the wrong Chapter.
The next few days passed quietly.
For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, there were no clubs to manage, no professors to convince, no students to organize, and no projects demanding immediate attention. The relative peace allowed me to focus on things that had been pushed aside during the school term.
Most of my time was spent studying enchantments.
The books I had borrowed from the Peverell archives proved invaluable. While much of the material remained beyond my current ability, several sections discussing magical persistence, Spell constructs, and memory imprinting helped me identify flaws in my own designs. The solution still eluded me, but at least I understood the problem more clearly than before.
Blake spent most of her mornings working on the Howler enchantment research while I focused on projection magic. During meals we compared notes, debated theories, and occasionally discovered entirely new problems neither of us had considered before.
Not every day was spent buried in books, however.
We traveled to Diagon Alley to have dress robes prepared for the upcoming Yule Ball.
Many noble families treated such gatherings as opportunities to display wealth and status. Judging by some of the designs on display, subtlety was considered a weakness by a disturbing number of people.
Blake and I disagreed.
Rather than selecting robes covered in excessive embroidery, enchanted gemstones, family crests the size of dinner plates, or enough gold thread to bankrupt a small merchant, we opted for something considerably more restrained.
The materials were among the finest available.
The designs were elegant.
The craftsmanship was exceptional.
Most importantly, they did not look ridiculous.
Arcturus approved immediately.
That alone convinced me we had made the correct decision.
I also spent part of the week corresponding with several friends from Hogwarts. Most of the Slytherin first years would be attending the ball alongside their families, and more than one owl arrived asking questions about what to expect.
Unfortunately, I knew little more than they did.
What I did know was that the event would be filled with influential families, political maneuvering, and enough gossip to fuel British wizarding society for months.
Among the replies I received was a letter from Tonks.
Her father had agreed to meet with me regarding the legal matters surrounding the Salvius properties. After exchanging several letters, we settled on the twenty-seventh of December as the most convenient date.
The timing worked perfectly.
Shortly afterward, Arcturus informed us of his own plans.
He intended to take Blake on a short trip following Christmas.
To my mild surprise, he invited me as well.
I declined.
The invitation was genuine, but I had already made arrangements with the Weasleys for the New Year. Considering how many times Fred and George had reminded me of that fact through owls, changing plans now would likely result in retaliation of some kind.
Neither of us wished to discover what form that retaliation might take.
And so the days passed.
Research.
Letters.
Preparations.
Waiting.
Then, almost before I realized it, Christmas Eve arrived.
The day of the Yule Ball.
As I adjusted the cuff of my dress robe and looked at my reflection one final time, I found myself feeling surprisingly calm.
The coming evening would place me before some of the most influential families in magical Britain. Every word would be observed. Every action would be judged. Opinions would be formed long before conversations were finished.
In many ways, it was not so different from Hogwarts.
Only the stakes were higher.
I straightened my sleeves, took a steady breath, and allowed myself a small smile.
I was ready to meet the noble families.
This year's Yule Ball was being hosted at Malfoy Manor.
That fact alone was enough to ensure a large turnout. The Malfoys remained one of the wealthiest and most influential families in Britain, and whatever opinions people held of them, few could deny their ability to host a proper gathering.
We arrived through the Floo Network shortly after sunset.
The moment I stepped out of the emerald flames, I found myself inside an expansive reception hall decorated for the occasion. The manor had been transformed for the celebration. Enchanted snow drifted gently from the ceiling high above, swirling through the air in delicate patterns before vanishing moments before touching the polished marble floor.
The effect was subtle enough to appear elegant rather than excessive.
Crystal chandeliers illuminated the hall with warm golden light while garlands of silver and white adorned the walls. Soft music drifted through the corridors beyond, carried by enchantments rather than visible musicians.
I glanced around briefly.
The Malfoys had spared no expense.
Near the fireplace stood a small figure dressed in an pillowcase.
Dobby.
The house-elf was welcoming guests as they arrived.
Each time someone emerged from the Floo, he immediately hurried forward and bowed so deeply that his nose nearly touched the floor.
His ears twitched nervously before he hurried to greet the next arrivals.
When our turn came, Dobby performed another deep bow.
"Welcome, honored sir," he said to Arcturus. "Dobby's master and mistress are welcoming guests right through this door."
Arcturus continued forward without acknowledging him.
I lingered for half a second.
Perhaps it was because I had spent the last few months interacting with house-elves on a daily basis. Perhaps it was simply habit at this point.
Either way, I found myself speaking before moving on.
"Thank you, Dobby."
The elf froze.
His head snapped upward.
For a brief moment, our eyes met.
Recognition flashed across his face.
Then, as though suddenly remembering where he was and who surrounded him, he immediately lowered his gaze again and stepped aside.
"Dobby is happy to help, sir."
There was something odd in his voice.
Not fear.
Surprise.
Before I could think further on it, the large doors ahead swung open.
A pair of servants standing on either side pushed them inward in perfect synchronization, revealing the grand ballroom beyond.
Conversation spilled outward immediately.
Dozens of voices.
Laughter.
Music.
The soft clinking of crystal glasses.
Families from across magical Britain filled the hall, their robes displaying every imaginable style of wealth and status. Lords, ladies, heirs, and influential figures moved through carefully arranged groups, speaking in tones that appeared casual but were undoubtedly anything but.
For a brief moment, the conversations nearest the entrance faltered.
Eyes turned toward the newest arrivals.
Toward Arcturus Black.
Toward Blake.
And, inevitably, toward me.
The Yule Ball had begun.
__________________________
Members for daily release: 13/20
Support me on p@treon:
[email protected]/blaze98