The echo of Lord Voldemort's footsteps reverberated loudly along the path leading to the entrance of Malfoy Manor. His face, usually a mask of perfection and control in any situation, wore a clear, annoyed grimace of anger tonight.
The most feared dark wizard of the century had just been literally kicked out of his own home by his seventeen-year-old son, his own flesh and blood.
Aurelian had demanded that he leave Gaunt Manor on the pretext that he needed to prepare the entire place for a massive party or exhibition gala. Voldemort hadn't quite grasped the technical details or the exact reason for all the commotion, only that "extremely important" people would be present and that, for obvious security and public relations reasons, it was best for the former Dark Lord not to be lurking in the hallways while that was happening.
Upon reaching the Malfoys' massive iron gates, they swung open on their own. On the threshold of the main entrance, a small, shy, and timid house-elf was waiting for him, trembling like a leaf in the wind.
"W-welcome, my Lord," squeaked Dobby, bowing so deeply that his long nose nearly scraped the wooden floor. "The master and mistress are waiting for you in the main hall. Would… you care to follow me… my Lord?"
Voldemort snorted with disdain, ignoring the pathetic creature, and began to walk through the estate's spacious corridors. As he moved forward, his eyes scanned the walls, familiar with certain architectural details, the portraits, and the luxuries of the mansion he had used as a base of operations several times in the past.
Upon reaching the elegant living room, he found the entire Malfoy family standing before the grand fireplace. Lucius, Narcissa, and their young son stood as stiff as statues, making a titanic effort to maintain the composure expected of any pure-blood family and not appear terrified by their master's surprise visit.
Voldemort stopped in the center of the rug. He observed the family of three in a truly uncomfortable silence, letting the tension build, before fixing his piercing gaze on Lucius's son, who was clearly the palest and most frightened of them all.
With slow, determined steps, Voldemort approached the blond boy. Draco swallowed hard, feeling his legs give way.
"What is your name, boy?" Voldemort asked, his deep voice echoing through the silent room.
Draco looked up tremblingly at those red eyes that seemed to see right into his soul.
"D-Draco, my Lord... Draco Malfoy," the boy stammered, unable to keep his voice steady.
Seeing the terror on her only son's face, Narcissa's maternal instinct overcame her own fear. She moved quickly and discreetly, squeezing Draco's shoulders from behind to calm him and show her support.
Lucius, seeing the need to intervene before the situation worsened, stepped forward and bowed slightly.
"My Lord… it is an immense honor to have you in our home," Lucius said in a submissive yet curious voice. "To what do we owe the… privilege of your visit this evening?"
Voldemort looked away from Draco and snorted again. He walked to the center of the room and sank into one of the luxurious black leather sofas. He crossed his legs elegantly and, in a gesture that completely threw the Malfoys off balance, raised a hand and ran it through his hair with obvious annoyance.
"My son is throwing a damn party at our house," Voldemort muttered, his tone sounding frustrated and somewhat annoyed. "And for reasons that should be obvious to anyone with half a brain, it was best that I not be present at the event. So I've decided I'll be staying at your house for a few days, Lucius."
Voldemort lowered his hand, stared at him, and the coldness returned to his eyes.
"Will that be a problem, Lucius?"
Lucius turned the color of parchment. He widened his eyes and shook his head and waved his hands frantically.
"O-of course not, my Lord! Not at all! My home is your home! You can stay as long as you like!" Lucius hastened to assure him, gasping for breath before his mind could connect the dots. "Actually... that explains a lot. I was wondering why Dumbledore had sent us a formal invitation from the Wizengamot to attend an 'unprecedented revelation' that one of his students would be making in the coming days. The headmaster assured us it would completely revolutionize the wizarding world. I didn't understand it before, but knowing it involves your son, my Lord… now it all makes sense."
Draco, upon hearing the topic and realizing that the Dark Lord wasn't going to kill him, put his fear aside. Curiosity and pride in knowing all the Hogwarts gossip prompted him to speak up.
"It must be the Arcane Patterns!" Draco exclaimed, earning a warning glance from his father, but the boy continued, "From what I've heard in the Slytherin common room, it's a totally new branch of magic that Lord Gaunt has been working on together with Mr. Filch."
Narcissa's eyes widened, momentarily forgetting her high-society manners.
"Filch?" Narcissa asked, looking at her son in disbelief. "Am I mistaken, or isn't that the school's Squib caretaker?"
Draco nodded vigorously.
"Yeah, Mom! That's why he's so crazy and nobody really believes him." Draco smiled slightly, recalling some of the incidents at the castle. "Although no one doubts that Lord Gaunt is working on something big. Once they blew up an entire wall of the castle because, according to them, they made a miscalculation, and another time they flooded the entire third floor. Professor McGonagall always ends up yelling at them in the hallways, but Lord Gaunt just laughs and pays the school for the repairs right away."
As they listened to the boy's story, the tense silence in Malfoy Manor was broken by a sound Lucius and Narcissa never thought they'd hear.
Voldemort burst out laughing. It was a deep, vibrant laugh, full of genuine amusement. The idea of his brilliant, calculating son blowing up the walls of Hogwarts and driving Minerva McGonagall mad was simply delightful.
A smile of pure paternal pride spread across his face. His son was creating something new, and best of all, he was shattering Dumbledore's boring order in the process.
Satisfied and in a much better mood, Voldemort rested his arm on the back of the sofa and looked at his follower.
"Tell me, Lucius... are you invited to that gala?" Voldemort asked, still smiling.
Lucius nodded frantically.
"Yes, my Lord. All members of the Wizengamot, department heads, and important international figures are invited, and many have already confirmed."
Voldemort nodded slowly, his eyes gleaming with anticipation at the chaos his heir was about to unleash upon the wizarding world. Leaning back on the Malfoy family sofa, the Dark Lord closed his eyes and silently wished his son luck.
The immense ballroom of Gaunt Manor glowed under the light of thousands of floating candles. The tables were draped in silk, and the final touches were being made to the decorations; everything was perfect.
But for Aurelian Gaunt, the decorations were the last thing on his mind at that moment.
He paced back and forth, his steps quick and erratic, betraying his current state of mind: panic.
The list of confirmed guests had exceeded his wildest expectations, but there was one name in particular that had him on edge. Solomon Graye was going to attend. The Archmage of North America and one of the oldest known magicians in the modern world, second only to the Flamels. He was a blind man, but rumors claimed he could see the very fabric of magic more clearly than any other human being on the face of the earth. Graye was the best person to evaluate the Arcane Patterns, but if there was any flaw, he would see it.
Aurelian ran a hand through his hair, which was perfectly styled for the occasion. When he had pitched the idea of the gala to Dumbledore, he had felt like he owned the world. But now that the reality of giving a speech and a technical demonstration in front of the brightest and most critical minds on the planet was just minutes away, fear was hitting him mercilessly. Deep down, and though he never showed it, Aurelian considered himself rather introverted and shy; he preferred to pull the strings from the shadows.
At that moment, two pairs of soft hands rested on his chest and arms, halting his frantic pacing.
Aurelian looked up and met the eyes of Hestia and Flora, who were watching him with concern.
The panic in Aurelian's chest subsided for a second when he saw them. They were wearing beautiful ball gowns of a blue so dark it almost seemed to turn black. The silk fit them perfectly, enhancing their figures with an elegance that would take more than one guest's breath away.
"You look gorgeous," Aurelian told them, a smile breaking through his anxiety.
The girls' cheeks flushed with a soft blush as they heard the compliment. They stepped forward and hugged him tightly, enveloping him in a familiar, protective warmth.
"Everything will be all right, my love," Hestia whispered against his shoulder, trying to give her boyfriend strength and reassurance.
"You're the most brilliant wizard who ever lived. They'll all kneel before your genius," Flora added, stroking his back to calm him.
Aurelian closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, feeling his tense muscles finally relax in his fiancées' arms. The emotional anchor the girls provided him was invaluable.
Pulling back slightly, Hestia gave him a mischievous smile and nodded toward the other end of the hall.
"Look on the bright side, Aurelian. At least you're handling your nerves much better than Mr. Filch."
Aurelian turned his head in the direction Hestia was pointing. In a secluded corner, Argus Filch was a bundle of nerves on the verge of collapse. Dressed in impeccably tailored formal robes that Aurelian had had custom-made for him, he was frantically reading a stack of scrolls. His hands were shaking so much that the paper crinkled, and he kept wiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief that was already soaked through.
Aurelian let out a small chuckle, the tension leaving his body at the sight of such a comical scene.
Before he could go to calm his partner down, the doors to the hall swung open.
The first guests had arrived early, and they were no ordinary guests. Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel entered the hall.
Standing beside Aurelian, Hestia and Flora were completely speechless. Their backs stiffened and their eyes widened in astonishment as they recognized the figures of the legendary alchemists walking toward them.
As soon as they were close enough, Perenelle stepped forward, opened her arms, and embraced Aurelian effusively with maternal warmth.
"Oh, dearest! We are so incredibly proud of you!" exclaimed Perenelle, holding him tightly.
A meter away, Hestia and Flora's eyes darkened. They had to summon every last ounce of their willpower to clench their fists and dig their nails into their own palms, agonizingly suppressing the impulses screaming at them to draw their wands and physically tear that woman away from their beloved Boyfriend.
When Perenelle let go of Aurelian, she turned to the two girls, who were still stiff and on the defensive. Without warning, she enveloped them both in an equally tight and affectionate embrace.
"And finally, I get to meet the famous girls who have stolen our Aurelian's heart!" Perenelle said with a dazzling smile, squeezing the two deadly Slytherin witches close to her.
Hestia and Flora stood frozen like ice statues. With their arms stiff at their sides and their eyes blinking rapidly, they didn't know what to do, what to say, or how to react to such a pure and overwhelming display of affection from someone they considered a legend.
Aurelian watched the scene with great amusement. His two beautiful and charming witches had been completely disarmed by an old woman's embrace. He looked up and exchanged a knowing glance with Nicolas Flamel, who winked at him with amusement.
Aurelian adjusted the collar of his robe, his confidence fully restored.
"This is sure to be a great party," Aurelian thought, ready to take on the world.
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