We stepped out of the fireplace, and the air immediately grew cleaner and colder. Behind me stretched a long, wide corridor with numerous hearths, each dancing with a bright green flame. This was the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, and I was as impressed as I had been two years ago when I was brought here as a ten-year-old.
The black polished stone slabs at the joints took on a magical green hue, forming a wondrous ceiling that created the image of a monumental and majestic pestle. The high, arching walls of dark green marble soared upwards, giving the sensation of being in the heart of an ancient temple rather than the main building of Magical Britain. The air here was slightly cool, yet thick with magic — the kind woven into the very fabric of this place. Fortunately, my perception of magic had become more distinct over the past two years.
It all might have seemed a bit gloomy, but I'd call the Ministry building the most interesting magical structure in Britain. Though Hogwarts was perhaps more complex and mysterious, the Ministry was a more modern construction, employing more advanced solutions of magical civilization, and everything looked far more elegant.
In the center of the hall, the Fountain of Magical Brotherhood streamed jets of water. Golden statues of a wizard and a witch towered over a goblin, a centaur, and a house-elf, who gazed up at them adoringly. From the fireplaces emerged well-dressed wizards and witches, many with children flaunting expensive robes and impeccable hairstyles. After a brief inspection, they approached a row of Ministry employees standing along the wall. These officials checked invitations, cross-referenced names with a list, and, bowing politely, escorted the guests further — towards the foyer.
Around nine or ten years old, it was acceptable to bring a child once, to introduce them, especially if it was your heir. Back at ten, everything had seemed enormous and almost unreal. Well, I can confidently say this place is impressive.
"Don't lag behind," Mother said quietly. Her slender hand rested softly yet firmly on my shoulder.
"Of course."
We followed in Father's wake, whose presence required no loud words. His brilliantly white hair gleamed in the light, and his face was set in the expression of superiority belonging to a man who was one of the most important people in this building. Amusingly, he spent even more time here than some employees. The crowd seemed to part around us; Father projected with his entire being that he didn't even notice the throng, but I knew — he noticed everything. Any glance, any word spoken within several meters did not escape the attention of 'Malfoy Senior.'
"There will be many important figures today," Narcissa noted quietly, her gaze skimming over the passing figures. "The Minister, members of the Wizengamot — that is, many families from the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Also, some wealthy and noble families, recipients of the Order of Merlin and others. Try to remember some of these people and be cautious with your words."
"I remember. Mother, you've already said this a couple of times," I replied, still restrained.
"That's good. But remembering is not the same as understanding."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Lucius gave a soft snort.
"At least you've learned to speak properly," he uttered quietly, but loud enough for me to hear. "Now you just need to learn to be silent at the right moment."
I accepted his words without argument. In our home, criticism rarely demanded a response.
"Every year, the same thing," Father murmured softly, casting a glance at the fountain. "Symbolism for the sake of symbolism."
It was about a formal charity; every coin tossed into the fountain's basin went to fund St. Mungo's for those who couldn't afford treatment. We threw a dozen Galleons in as well.
I walked between them, listening to their familiar exchange of barbs, and perhaps for the first time understood the harmony within their coldness. Mother was a sobering force, the opposite of Father, yet complementary. And when needed, she became the obedient and dutiful wife who didn't contradict her husband.
My parents conversed with everyone they encountered, for in these highest circles, everyone knew each other perfectly.
As we moved towards the foyer, the stream of guests only grew denser. I recognized several: the Nott family, the Selwyns, Lord Yaxley and his wife… they used to frequent our manor. These were the senior generations from families standing at the foundations of Britain's magical world. Almost all held seats on the Wizengamot, meaning they wielded true power in magical Britain. All the aforementioned were from the "Dark" faction — that is, the faction of former Death Eaters and former blood purity radicals, which is why I knew them by sight.
A Ministry employee, a young man in a neat uniform, approached and bowed respectfully. We had an invitation, of course, but there was no need to show it.
"Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy, young sir," he intoned. "Your invitations are confirmed. Allow me to escort you to the ballroom."
Lucius gave a brief nod, and we followed him, though he grumbled along the way that he knew the route better than any 'underling.' Along the path, I saw statues, most commonly of Merlin. There were also portraits of Ministers from different eras. Some portraits conversed among themselves. I lingered on one old wizard with silver eyes. He seemed… familiar.
"Don't linger, Arcturus," Mother reminded, and I obediently moved on.
The hall was already filling. In the air floated light, silvery sparks. Along the walls stood rows of tables with drinks and dishes, and in the center — an area transformed into a dance floor. The music played subtly and purely, all thanks to an orchestra of enchanted instruments that, guided by the deft wand of one wizard — the conductor — levitated in the air and created wonderful melodies. There was no bustle here... only calm and measured luxury. The atmosphere was conducive to social conversation, which was, after all, why everyone had gathered.
"We'll approach the Minister later," Father said quietly. "First, we'll speak with the others a bit."
He surveyed the hall, seeking out the right people, and added:
"Arcturus, I remind you — your words may be remembered today."
"Of course, Father."
We moved on. I couldn't shake the thought that the cream of society was gathered here, from lords and representatives of wealthy families to important Ministry officials and others. Amusingly, all three criteria for receiving an invitation often applied to almost everyone. Though not always.
Already at the first cluster of guests, Mother began providing a running commentary on who was who. That's how I learned, for instance, of the neutral faction's Lord Greengrass, and next to him stood Barty Crouch Sr. A little further away, I spotted the future Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, if history, of course, followed the tracks of my meta-knowledge. Fudge was trying to speak with three representatives from different departments simultaneously. His face shone with agitation.
"Fussing like a market trader," Father remarked disapprovingly, though quietly.
I almost chuckled.
Now, two years later, I saw not just the glitter, but also the web of interests of the country's most important people, who on this day aimed to make the most of the year-end opportunity.
It was almost like school, only more serious. Here, matters were decided at the level of an entire country, but amusingly, from childhood, we repeated the lifestyle and behavior of our parents. Every glance here held meaning, but not for everyone, of course. There were foolish people here too, even among the noble families — there were enough of those. And let's not forget that besides representatives of the most influential families, there were other people here.
Among the guests were familiar young faces: the Selwyn family's daughter — Sophia, who was our prefect. Probably Answorth's father was still trying to arrange a betrothal between his son and Sophia, but, according to her — not without my help, of course — the Answorths would likely end up empty-handed.
I noticed quite a few familiar faces from school.
We stopped by a side fountain located right inside the hall, where Father exchanged a few polite words with Lord Abbot.
I, meanwhile, kept quiet. This was exactly what I had expected: the celebration here was one of the tools of politics, but seeing it all firsthand was useful to fully grasp what, where, and how worked.
The crowd of guests gradually dispersed between the buffet tables and the dance floor, where the first notes suitable for slow dances were beginning to sound. Father walked unhurriedly, with people constantly sticking to him, wanting to speak. And only when Father chose whom to speak with this time, the others quietly retreated, awaiting their turn. At least they weren't fighting over who got the honor of speaking with him today. I watched Father and recognized that gaze with a slight squint, sharp as a razor. He saw everything and everyone.
"Ah, I believe I see Lord Rosier," Narcissa said, touching his sleeve.
"Not the Lord," Father replied coldly, turning his head. "The old man, it seems, didn't deem it necessary to leave his mansion today."
I followed his gaze — indeed, the Rosier family was approaching us. A tall man in his forties with blondish, ash-brown hair and an elegant woman with thick chestnut curls.
And between them, connecting the couple like a bridge, walked Amanda. Her impeccable posture and graceful gait blended perfectly with her attire, which beautifully complemented her direct gaze and lovely blondish curls. It's just that I was used to her always being in school robes. Seeing me, she gave a barely perceptible smile, then immediately restored her face to flawless composure, as befits the daughter of an ancient house.
"Lord Malfoy, Lady Narcissa, young Arcturus," Amanda's father intoned respectfully, inclining his head slightly. "A pleasure to see you today."
"Likewise, my friend," Lucius responded with precisely the same tone, but without excessive warmth. I gave a slight nod of greeting. "I had thought Lord Rosier Senior might also grace us with his presence."
A barely detectable smirk slipped into Father's voice — the kind that made even the most cold-blooded diplomats begin to seethe.
"Alas," Rosier replied, not missing a beat, "my father decided his health was more important than the ball. Old bones, you know, react worse than weather charms."
"Old age is a rare luxury," Lucius tossed out briefly. "Not everyone is granted it, especially in our troubled times. Though Lord Rosier and I converse often enough in Wizengamot sessions. With you, my friend, however, we do not."
Meanwhile, Mother struck up a conversation with Amanda's mother.
"Eleanor, you look simply marvelous. What fabric! Let me guess — French silver silk weave?"
"Ah, you're infallible," she brightened, barely touching Narcissa's shoulder. "Ordered from the De Mirlande atelier. Had to wait a whole month."
"But worth the wait," Mother said approvingly. "Our tailors have been quite spoiled with orders in recent years."
"Perhaps because most of their clients are Malfoys," Eleanor added with a light smirk.
Both women laughed, albeit with cold politeness.
The men, meanwhile, discussed the Ministry, reforms in the Department, and new appointments. I listened silently. Father, as always, spoke not so much with words as with intonation. That cold restraint of his, sharper than any poisoned remark. Poor interlocutors...
Rosier replied smoothly. Clearly striving to maintain balance. Between them, there was a subtle, almost imperceptible rivalry — an old one, steeped in pride and memories of old times, but no enmity. It was simply the norm in our society for communication to be like this.
Amanda and I stood slightly apart from our parents, understanding that childish chatter was inappropriate now. But when Mother steered the topic to education, and Eleanor gladly began talking about children, attention finally turned to us.
"Speaking of which, your son, Narcissa, makes an excellent impression," said Eleanor, her gaze sliding over me attentively. "Amanda has mentioned Arcturus in her letters more than once."
"Likewise," Narcissa interjected, lying brazenly. "Your daughter conducts herself wonderfully at school. From what I hear, she is very intelligent and well-mannered."
"Thank you," Amanda said with a sincere smile.
"Amanda is particularly skilled in Potions and Charms; her grandfather personally helped her with those aspects," Eleanor added.
"And seems to have succeeded quite well," Lucius noted, looking at me over the rim of his glass.
The conversation between the parents gradually shifted to general topics — teaching, order at Hogwarts, school news, questions of upbringing, homeschooling, etc.
"And what about Felix, if I recall, he graduated the year before last…"
"Yes, two years ago," said Eleanor. "He considered joining the Auror Office but chose to pursue the family business — went to Romania to study as a dragonologist."
"A wise decision," Lucius remarked dryly.
Rosier gave a slight smile, though something like a shadow of irritation flickered in his eyes.
"And yet," he said, "we should perhaps allow the young to choose their own path. Sometimes it's useful to go through others' orders to learn how to give your own."
"Sometimes," Lucius agreed. "But only if the orders don't come from fools."
Both women simultaneously pretended not to notice their spouses exchanging another light dose of venom. Narcissa was the first to end the dialogue, touching her husband's shoulder:
"Lucius, I think we should allow the children to take a stroll. We can't keep them under supervision all evening."
"You're right. Let them walk a bit."
Amanda's father nodded understandingly but decided to inject some formality.
"Of course. Young Arcturus, if you would be so kind as to escort my daughter this evening."
"With pleasure, Mr. Rosier. I shall certainly prove worthy of your trust."
We both stepped away from the adults, and only then did I allow myself to be slightly bewildered by it all. What were these hints… as if I had asked permission to be her escort for the evening… I didn't mind, but it was all rather strange. I had to respond as etiquette taught.
Though I hadn't analyzed such a case before. Maybe I just didn't understand something, but it sounded odd, considering they were simply sending us away. We separated from the adults, moving aside, just as they had dragged me here at ten.
Once we were a dozen steps away and the noise of voices had subsided a bit, Amanda let out a slight exhale:
"Our parents have known each other for ages, probably since school, and still…"
"I suppose it's their way of saying 'hello'," I replied with a smirk, turning her father's words over in my head. "Alright, let's forget about the parents. Better tell me, how are the holidays going?"
"Quite well. And coming to the Ministry's annual reception for the second time was interesting."
"I agree. Much seems different now, and there's more freedom."
We approached the buffet table, where glasses of champagne and pumpkin punch floated elegantly. There were non-alcoholic drinks as well. On silver platters lay salmon tartlets, fruits, miniature pastries in interesting shapes. We both took juice, as it was also available here. If we were ordinary teenagers, we might have tried to sneak a bit of alcohol, but the ease of access was offset by our upbringing and sense of pride.
If a child were caught with a glass of champagne here, the shame would fall on the entire family, so no one even thought of drinking what the adults did.
"Turns out you have an older brother."
"I thought you knew everything. Guess not. It seems no one is infallible," she nodded with a satisfied smirk. "He's studying in Romania to become a dragonologist, to help with our dragon farm. Our volumes aren't like Romania's, but it's enough for a portion of the British market."
"Interesting. Alright, about the brother. Would you have preferred him to be two years younger? You'd have a reliable support in school for the first two years."
"Don't I have something to lean on now?" Amanda asked, batting her eyes 'in confusion' and looking at me. Such a tease!
"You do," I replied. "And I suspect that support will only grow stronger."
Amanda gave a slight smile.
"I agree with that. What we've decided to organize is impressive in its potential… You know, sometimes I think you calculated all of this in advance. Starting with my agreement to your proposal in early September, ending with your plan."
"That would be nice. But no," I tilted my head back slightly, observing the ceiling. "I just try to look a bit further than most. And to anticipate, of course."
"For example?"
"For example, this evening," I took a sip of juice. "I'm sure half of those smiling in that crowd over there are already thinking how to inconvenience their conversation partner. And that portly, older Auror over there… the one devouring salmon tartlets, he's clearly a high-ranking Auror. He's looking at all this and regretting he came. He's used to reliable comrades, and only the buffet table is keeping him here."
She laughed quietly.
"I think you belong in that crowd. It would be interesting to see how well you'd fare among adults, not just us."
"Perhaps my place is there," I replied with a half-smile. "But I don't want to go there without a solid 'foundation.'"
We were silent for a few seconds, watching as couples began the first dance. The music shimmered in the air, and the hall, as if woven from glitter, pulsed softly with light. Nearby, Father's figure flashed — he was already conversing with someone from the Greengrass family.
Amanda said, almost in a whisper:
"Our families, and all the rest, are performing in an eternal play." Amanda said this unusually quietly, her fingers unconsciously clutching the folds of her dress.
"They truly are playing," I felt a thrumming in my temples. "But I hope our roles in this play aren't yet written in ink."
"Isn't it better to follow the adults' ready-made script, Arctur?" Her voice trembled, and this uncertainty put me on guard.
"No, Amanda. We're doing so much at school, enjoying our freedom," I swept my hand through the air. "I value freedom too much. Better to learn how to rewrite the entire play."
She nodded, and I caught her pensive, deep gaze before she lowered her eyes. I didn't dwell on it much, continuing to think about the day. Tomorrow was Yule, but for today, it was best to simply observe and remember. Because any word spoken at this ball could one day become a weapon in someone else's hands.
I was just about to suggest to Amanda that we go dance when someone cheerfully called out from behind:
"Arcturus! I didn't think you'd show up here."
I turned around — standing before me was Leonard Selwyn, with slightly tousled hair, as if he'd just emerged from a dance or a dueling platform. His face bore that open smile that always mildly irritated but also slightly amused.
"And a good day to you," I replied. "I see you've outpaced your sister again."
"Well… how to put it," he grinned. "She's somewhere with Father; he's introducing her to yet another 'promising gentleman.'"
"Hmm…" Amanda drawled. The smile vanished from her beautiful face, as if she hadn't been smiling at all today.