58: The Summer Ball .I

Gilderoy was in trouble. He ran through the woods, chest heaving with exhaustion. His wand rested firmly on his right hand while its tip shone with light, illuminating the area around him. Tall and dark trees surrounded him, blocking the moonlight and leaving only a rugged dirt path for him to run. Small branches snapped under his steps. Bushes quivered when he lit them on fire, hoping he could take some attention away. 

How long had he been running for? For half a day at least. He barely stopped to eat or drink and much less to relieve himself. But even if he wanted, he couldn't. They would catch up to him if he did.

Just then, the sounds of shouts and yells became clearer. They were getting closer. 

Above the forest, two dozen or more witches were flying on their brooms, eyes glued on the forest's canopy. Their eyes seemed red from crying, their faces flushed with anger. Unfortunately for them, the trees' crowns were too dense to see through, so they could only weep in sadness for what their idol never was — not a fraud. 

A mob of angry magical folk, mostly witches, ran after Lockhart through the same path he took. The more skilled ones performed a series of tracking spells, and some even brought Crups along, a wizard-bred dog perfect for scavenging and hunting. 

The footfall became louder and louder, and Lockhart knew he had to do something before he was caught. It was then that he broke through the trees, reaching a clearing. However, beyond this clearing wasn't more forest but a cliff. And a hundred meters below, the ocean.

He looked over the edge and swallowed dryly. Sharp rocks protruded from the water as waves crashed violently against them and the cliff wall. But when he looked back at the forest and saw the crowd of wizards emerging, he knew he only had two options. Either be caught or try his luck. 

And so he jumped.

__________

"Took them long enough," Isadora muttered. "I wonder how they found so much evidence," 

Isadora sat inside a carriage with her son and daughter, dressed in a shimmering black bateau gown. The most recent newspaper was held in her hands. On the front page, the Lockhart headline was in bold letters, with a large moving photo of him quivering in the corner of the frame.

"Who knows," Alaric said nonchalantly. Rita Skeeter had been the perfect choice to receive everything gathered on Gilderoy. She was a terrible journalist — perfect for the occasion. "I reckon he'll have a hard time getting any credibility after this," He continued. "If he survives, that is," 

"Oh, Alaric, don't be silly," Isadora laughed. "He won't," 

There was a loud knock from the driver's side. Isadora opened the little window to reveal a rough-looking but well-dressed middle-aged man.

"We'll be passing through some turbulence shortly, Miss," he replied hoarsely.

"Thank you," Isadora said, nodding and closing the window. When she did, leather belts sprang from the velvet chairs and were quickly strapped around the three passengers' laps.

Soon enough, the carriage began to shake, and the three could hear the storm howling outside. It shook and wavered so badly that Lysandra had to grab her brother to keep her from falling out of her seat.

"Get off me," Alaric hissed as his sister nearly tripped over him. Alaric was trapped against the wall while Lysandra pressed on him, trying to push herself out of the awkward position. 

"It's not my fault this Ministry carriage has no balancing charms," she retorted, trying to get back on her seat. It shook again, and Lysandra fell, headbutting Alaric in the process.

"You little—" Alaric wanted to pinch her, but Isadora waved her hand quicker. With a flick, the twins slid along the wood, each to a corner of the seat, separated and fuming. 

"Behave, children," Isadora said before returning to her reading. Alaric shot his sister an angry look. Lysandra shrugged and showed him her tongue. 

Eventually, the trembling stopped, and the twins ceased their silent bickering. The serene silence they all liked settled in the carriage as they flew above London. Alaric entertained himself by looking out the window, watching the oblivious muggles go about their lives. 

"Where's the location again, mother?" Lysandra asked, having forgotten where the ball was taking place. 

"In the outskirts of London, dear," Isadora answered and closed the newspaper. "But they've made it unplottable a few years ago, so I can't tell you exactly where. Only the drivers know," 

"Why?" Lysandra was slightly confused. Weren't Muggle-Repellent Charms enough? 

"Well, If I were a Muggle, I'd find it weird seeing from afar hundreds of Granian-pulled flying carriages arriving at the same place, same time, every year," Alaric said and looked back at her as if she was being dumb. 

"Good point," Lysandra couldn't help but agree. If Muggles spotted them, they'd get a visit from the ICW. And no one wants the ICW at their doorstep. "And why are you looking at me like that?" she narrowed her eyes. 

"Because you headbutted me, you tosser," 

Lysandra tried to jump at him, but the leather belt held her in place, causing Alaric to laugh in her face. Isadora sighed but did nothing and just watched with a smile. They were too mature for their age because of their childhood — full of tutorships and little time to enjoy things they liked — and Isadora often blamed herself. It healed her soul seeing her children acting like people their age once in a while in contrast to how they usually were.

She did, however, pinch her son's cheek for the slang. He'd spent far too much time with British people. She was only hoping that their vocabulary wouldn't alter too much. They had grown up speaking French and German because Isadora was from France and Leopold was from Germany. English was also present — although they had lost their barely noticeable accent since attending Hogwarts. 

"We should be arriving soon," The hoarse voice of the driver came from his seat. He tightened his grip on the reins of the flying horses and whipped them upwards. The animals followed the command and flew up straight into an unmoving cloud. 

The three passengers watched how the scenery was blocked by the grey cloud and obscured their vision. Only a sliver of light could penetrate the thick mass of evaporated water, barely allowing them to perceive their surroundings. When they finally broke through the unconventional entrance, a view far different from London was revealed. 

An enormous plateau stretched until some rocky mountains in the distance. Precisely in the middle, a mansion surrounded by lush gardens seemed to be brimming with life.  It stood as a beacon in the middle of a muggleless landscape. It was extravagant, an architectural marvel, but most of all —

"It screams excess," Lysandra said in a disgusted tone. 

The mansion itself was a sprawling edifice that seemed plucked straight from the ancient Roman Empire — a mix between a pantheon from those times and gothic architecture. The facade was made of white marble, marble which was covered with lush green vines on some of the walls, adding a natural touch to its look. The tower that graced its side pierced the sky like a sentinel. Its spiralled cupola complemented the image of the mansion in a strange way that only wizards could find pleasing to the eye. 

"Remember, children," Isadora leaned forward. "Act proper and elegant — like you always do. Some of your friends should be here, so search for them and band together before you're swarmed," 

"What do you mean 'swarmed'?" Lysandra asked. Isadora bit her lip in frustration. 

"This will be the first time the two of you make a public appearance," She said. It didn't take long for Alaric to understand. "You've only been subjected to the stigma behind our name at Hogwarts, but from what I've heard, it's long gone by now," A smile appeared on her lips but quickly went away. "This is different. These people care little about rumours. Wizards and witches from every Ministry will be present, and most of them remember or have a family member who remembers what your grandfather did. They'll look at you and only see the perpetuation of a bloodline that, to them, should've never existed," 

Alaric narrowed his eyes, but Lysandra swallowed dryly. The two could see the frustration in their mother's eyes as she gripped their shoulders. 

"This isn't Hogwarts," Isadora continued. "These aren't children your age that you can reach a mutual understanding with. And your uncle can't appease the rumours here like he does there. So, please, be careful," When she finished, Isadora caressed her children's cheeks before leaning back on the seat. 

A few minutes later, the carriage landed on a gravel path outside the mansion's boundaries. About fifty identical carriages were already there, and seeing as it was still early, many were yet to arrive. 

The driver was the first to step out. He quickly reached for the door and opened it with a bow before leaving to join the other drivers at the side of the entrance. Alaric stepped out and helped his mother and sister do the same. 

"Let's go," Isadora started to walk. The twins quickly followed suit. 

Upon approach, the high steel archway that served as entrance displayed the words 'Minister of Magic'. After that, one was met with a marble-clad swimming pool akin to an oasis in the middle of the landscape. Surrounding it, more than forty acres of manicured lawns and gardens stretched in every direction. 

"They must have the elves working endlessly to keep these bushes so trimmed," Alaric noted. He traced his hand along one of the said bushes, only for a house-elf to pop right after it, immediately fixing the minuscule imperfection the boy caused. 

At the end of the gravel pathway, a marble staircase case lead the guests inside the mansion. Two Hit-Wizards, serving as guards, stood on each end of the doorway, with more patrolling the grounds.

"Invitations," One of the two muttered with a tired sigh. Isadora took out three envelopes and gave them to the guard. He spent a few seconds looking through the three before he gave them back and stepped aside for the family to enter. 

Inside, the grandeur only intensified. The air was thick with the scent of roses and lavender, the Minister's favourite 'scent' as The Daily Prophet loved to announce. But, there was another smell...

"Do you smell it, Lys?" Alaric sniffed and grinned at his sister who grinned back. 

"Yes," she too sniffed. "The smell of money," 

The scent of money mingled with the soft strains of jazz that permeated the rooms. Crystal chandeliers floated near the vaulted ceilings, casting a soft shimmer on the carpeted floor. The walls were adorned with a plethora of artworks and moving images, each giving a different feeling than the other. 

"Greetings," A knight from one moving portrait called. 

Every room seemed to overflow with extravagance, from the plush velvet drapes to the expensive furniture, all of it chosen to display the wealth of the British Ministry of Magic. 

"They have some of your furniture here," Lysandra nudged her brother to look at the sofa some guests were already hoarding. 

"Of course they have," Alaric scoffed playfully. "The furniture pieces I do from time to time are the very best," 

"Isn't Orion that does them now," Lysandra arched an eyebrow. 

"Who do you think taught him?" Alaric shot back.

"Touche,"

Meanwhile, Isadora had taken a tulip of champagne to herself from a wandering garson. She swirled the liquid before having a taste and sighed in satisfaction when she did. Her kids were distracted, but she could already see the numerous eyes glued on them. The usual. 

"I'm going to look for someone," Isadora told her kids. "You two do what I told you," She then looked at Lysandra. "Be sure to keep your brother from lashing out to someone who can't hold their tongue," 

She blew them a kiss and left, leaving the twins all by themselves in the middle of the entrance hall. 

**********

A/N: The mystery of what language they talked at home in Austria has been revealed! Kind of late so sorry about that. 

Fun fact!  The American name for the first Harry Potter book was almost different. It was going to be Harry Potter and the School of Magic instead of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, but Rowling asked for Sorcerer's Stone instead.