59 59: The Summer Ball .II

"Butterbeer?" 

As Isadora left somewhere, a waiter carrying a tray laden with foaming glass mugs of butterbeer approached the twins. Alaric nodded, taking two glasses from the tray, his gaze locked onto the clean white uniforms of the staff.

He handed one of the mugs to Lysandra, who noticed her brother lost in thought.

"What's on your mind?" she asked. Alaric's eyes had that faraway look, a sign of his daydreaming.

"That uniform..." he began, contemplative. "The charm's arrangement and fail-safes on it are oddly similar to some products from the Emporium. It can't be a coincidence." A small cream moustache clung to his upper lip after he took a sip.

"Do you think the Ministry tried to—"

"Imitate it? Quite likely," Alaric replied, wiping his face clean. "But it seems they fell short. That's likely why they invited Percival Graves in the first place..."

"But isn't that good?" Lysandra posed rhetorically. "It should work in your favour when they attempt to negotiate."

"Oh, it will," Alaric chuckled. "I'm just curious to see what Fudge will try now that he knows he needs the Emporium if he wants proper equipment for his workers."

"We've already won before it even started," said Lysandra as she raised her glass.

The twins smirked at each other and clinked glasses. It was going to be an enjoyable night. 

__________

The reception was only to begin at sunset, meaning there was still some time before all the guests were present. Said guests arrived constantly, almost as if in a parade of elegance. They would step out of their chauffeured carriages and be presented with a long dark blue carpet along the gravel path that led into the mansion. 

The air was alive with the sounds of silk gowns rustling and the soft clicks of polished shoes gliding across the marble floors. 

In the grand foyer, silver trays with champagne flutes either floated around the guests or were carried around by the experienced hands of the waiters. Laughter and conversations flowed like a river in between all the anticipation for the Main Event. Every year, it would be something new and amazing to witness. 

"Is everything ready, Dolores?" 

Deep in the mansion, in a room far from the gathering, Fudge sat on a golden satin sofa with a teacup in his hands. The Minister was a portly little man with rumpled grey hair and a rugged face. He wore a bottle-green suit, scarlet tie, brown shoes, and a lime green bowler hat. 

In front of him, seated on a similar sofa, a short squat woman resembling a large pale toad. She had a broad, flabby face, a wide, slack mouth, and a little neck. Her eyes were bulging and pouchy, and in her mousy brown hair, she wore a black velvet bow. 

"Yes, Cornelius. Amelia has assigned a large group of Aurors to guard the perimeter, and the last of the guests should be arriving at any moment," 

Contrary to her appearance, Umbridge spoke with a simpering high-pitched voice that was girlish and breathless. She was wearing a matching outfit with various shades of pink and had a fuzzy cardigan of the same colour on top. She looked like someone's maiden aunt, and her outfit only suited people half her age. 

"Any signs of him?" Cornelius asked the question he truly wanted the answer to. He was nervously fiddling with the cup in his hands, all the while a toad smile formed on Dolores's face. 

"No signs of Mr Graves in any shape or form," she said in her sugary tone. "Perhaps, we should release the article and be done with it, Cornelius. I'm sure we can, with time, replicate the same enchantments he creates," 

"N-no!" Fudge stuttered when he heard his Undersecretary. "We will do no s-such thing! Matter of fact, send an owl to the editor to scrap the article. We have to form a partnership with him before the other Ministries take notice!" 

"If we at least give some misinformation to the international guests here today, we could redirect them from Mr Graves," Umbridge suggested. 

"How many times is it going to take for you to understand, Dolores!" Fudge yelled. His face was red and his breathing was heavy. "We can't, under any circumstances, do anything that might jeopardize a deal with Percival Graves. If it was just another artisan, we would have more leverage. But you've seen the cloaks I ordered a while back! They're beyond what simple wizards can make!" 

Fudge carefully set down his teacup on the table, then rose and strolled toward the window. Through it, he had a clear view of the mansion's bustling inner courtyard, where guests were mingling.

"What about Pettigrew?" he asked, this time in a sombre tone. "Any news?"

"The team you dispatched have yet to find anything," Dolores answered. 

The Minister sighed and turned to look outside. 

"I'll take my leave now," he declared after a brief pause. "Please inform me once he arrives."

The door to the room closed with a resounding thud, leaving Dolores alone on the sofa, seemingly contemplating. 

__________

As the last guests arrived, the twins could make out one or two familiar faces from the crowd gathered in the courtyard. Here, a string quartet played a gentle melody that set the mood for the night. The floating trays now also had a variety of foods and other soft drinks.

"That gentleman over there is the French Minister of Magic," Alaric whispered, nudging his sister gently. Lysandra turned her gaze toward the centre of the courtyard, where a poised and elegant figure stood — François Leclair.

Standing at an average height, Minister Leclair was dressed in a tailored robe of midnight blue adorned with silver embroidery on his back. A fine silk cravat, secured by a shimmering silver pin, added a touch of refinement to his clothes. 

"He's Plan B, I believe?" she glanced at Alaric, who nodded with a knowing smile. 

"Precisely. Just as a precaution," Alaric looked around the room and noticed a family of four entering the open space. "It seems your friends are here," he paused so Lysandra could spot them. "This is where we part ways," he said and bowed theatrically. 

"Are you going to leave your sister alone in the middle of a crowd of strangers," she pouted, but her tone was laced with sarcasm. 

Alaric rolled his eyes and turned around to leave. A second later, a redhead appeared out of the crowd and caught Lysandra in a hug. 

"Lys!" Hope exclaimed, holding her friend in a tight embrace, reluctant to let go.

"I thought I'd only see you at school!" Lysandra laughed warmly and returned the hug. She glanced over Hope's shoulder and spotted her parents and brother approaching, all dressed up for the occasion.

"Good to see you, Lysandra," Lily Potter, wearing a baby-blue silk gown, greeted her with a smile. "Your dress is lovely," she complimented Lysandra's pink frilly attire.

"Thank you, Ms. Potter," Lysandra replied with a bashful smile. She and her brother had made their outfits for the event, and she had been the one responsible for the design of their clothes.

After James and Harry exchanged pleasantries with Lysandra, Hope directed an annoyed look at her parents.

"Alright, alright," James said, raising his hands in surrender and chuckling. "We'll give you three some space. Lily, let's go find Sirius," he suggested, and the couple departed, their arms linked.

Hope wasted no time inquiring, "Where's your brother?"

Lysandra shrugged. "No idea. Haven't seen him since we got here."

Hope's enthusiasm seemed to wane at this news.

"Anyway," Lysandra continued, changing the subject, "I never pegged your parents as business types. I didn't expect you all to be here."

"They're not," Harry explained bashfully. "It's just... you know, I'm the Boy Who Lived and all that," he mumbled, looking a bit embarrassed.

Lysandra wouldn't admit it, but she had forgotten about Harry's fame. If this was any public gathering, especially one as lavish as this, she was certain Harry would be mobbed by journalists and photographers. Nevertheless, their presence didn't go unnoticed, and a multitude of glances were directed their way. Among these looks, she couldn't help but notice a fair share of disdainful ones, and many seemed to be directed at her. 

"Let's go somewhere else," Lysandra felt a bit overwhelmed by so many stares.

The three friends navigated through the crowd, eventually finding a quiet spot near one of the courtyard walls where they could chat more privately. Lysandra grabbed a tray filled with sweets and brought it closer to them.

"How are you two holding up?" she asked the Potter twins. They looked at her confused, wondering what she was talking about, but Lysandra wasn't stupid. "Don't play dumb with me. You've barely left the house the last month," 

"It isn't all that bad," Hope sighed. 

"Our dad's been teaching us some defensive spells we're only supposed to learn in a few years," Harry added "You know... in case we find ourselves in danger,"

"But we haven't been doing much except watching TV all day," Hope said. She wasn't happy being inside all day. 

"TV?" Lysandra seemed confused. "Oh, you mean that moving picture that's always changing?" 

"It's called television," Harry noted. "And I'm pretty sure we've told you that already,"

"On the bright side, Mom's going to be teaching Muggle Studies at Hogwarts this year!" Hope announced happily. "The headmaster came around the other day and proposed it to her. I've never seen her accepting something so quickly," 

Lysandra looked at her friend, asking herself how could someone be so oblivious. 

"She accepted so she could keep an eye on you two," It was obvious. That's how overprotective mothers usually worked, and Lysandra doubted Ms Potter would let such an opportunity to make sure her kids were safe let go. 

"N-no she didn't," Hope laughed nervously, but seeing the look Lysandra was giving her, she stopped. "Well, maybe she did, but it can't be that bad, can it?" 

"On one hand, it shows she cares about you two," Lysandra grabbed a small dark chocolate bonbon from the tray. "On the other hand, your mother will keep a constant watch on you until Pettigrew is caught. So you tell me,"

At this point, the string quartet had begun their last song before the entrance ceremony began. The chatter had died down, only a few whispers echoing from time to time. The moon hung high in the sky, shining down upon the courtyard, albeit some traces of the sun were still visible on the horizon. 

"I... bloody hell," Harry, who had never thought about their mother teaching at Hogwarts much, realized he and his sister would be pretty much on a leash. 

"I'm sure Mom won't be constantly looming over us," Hope joked, but she wasn't too sure herself. 

Just as she finished, the doors that led deeper into the mansion opened and out came Fudge strutting, his green bowler hat serving as a beacon in the middle of so many guests. 

**********

A/N: I hope you guys don't misinterpret this as Lily bashing, because it isn't. It's just how I picture her acting as an overprotective mother who almost lost her children once. And when I mean overprotective, I don't mean those chicken mothers. 

Fun fact! Did you know that Stephen King, the king of horror stories himself, admitted in an interview that he was scared of Umbridge? The same man who slept in the most haunted hotel in the US (The Stanley Hotel) because he was having a 'writer's block'. (He later wrote The Shining after his experiences in the hotel).

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!