The string quartet eased into a slower tempo. A waltz drifted across the ballroom like woodsmoke. Couples moved onto the floor, but most guests lingered at the edges with champagne flutes in hand, their voices low and careful.
Augusta Longbottom stood near the windows, an eagle perched on her shoulder. The bird's head turned slowly, assessing the room with the same gaze its mistress wore. Neville clung to her hand, his small face pale against the dark green of his formal robes.
Augusta tracked the room in sections, her eyes landing first on the Rosiers in the corner near the east wall. Old Lord Rosier stood with his back to the room, speaking to a man she didn't recognise. His son, Lucian Rosier, hovered nearby with his wife. Augusta watched them. The eagle shifted its weight.
No Rosier had faced trial after the war, and no name had been officially recorded, yet everyone in the room knew where their gold had gone
She looked away before anyone could meet her gaze.
Near the centre of the room, Susan Bones stood with her aunt. Amelia Bones wore formal plum robes with the family crest embroidered at the collar, her grip on the champagne flute as firm as if it were a wand. Her posture carried the weight of someone who spent her days scrutinising evidence.
"Stay close," Amelia murmured to Susan without moving her lips.
Susan nodded. She had her aunt's steady gaze. She watched the dark families as she had been taught, not staring, but noticing every detail. She noted how the Parkinsons clustered together and how the Malfoys commanded a pocket of space near the fireplace, where no one dared stand close.
Draco Malfoy stood between his parents, his pale hair catching the light of the chandeliers. He did not fidget. Lucius had taught him the value of stillness early in life.
Lord Cyrus Greengrass drifted through the centre of the room with his wife on his arm. Selene Greengrass wore a gown of pale silver, her eyes cataloguing the room.
She knew exactly which wives had stopped speaking to one another and where the social fault lines ran. Daphne Greengrass walked behind them with her hands clasped at her waist. Astoria held her mother's free hand, her head turning toward every sparkle and sound.
Selene stopped near the Macmillan table. "Lady Macmillan, what a lovely gown," she said.
The women exchanged pleasantries about fabric and embroidery, but they said nothing about the war or the trials. They certainly didn't mention the Dark Marks that had covered from some forearms but remained etched in memory.
Across the room, Augusta's eagle let out a soft click. Her gaze landed on the Malfoys. Lucius stood with his weight on his silver-topped cane, his white-blonde hair catching the light.
Narcissa stood beside him, calm and pale, her hands folded. Draco moved half a step away to watch the dancers. Augusta remembered the reports and the testimonies, the gold that allowed these people to walk free. Her son and daughter-in-law sat in St Mungo's, their minds shattered beyond healing. She turned and looked out the window.
Neville tugged at her sleeve. "Grandmother?"
"Yes, Neville."
"Can I see the garden?"
She looked down at him. His round face was pale, his grip on her hand too tight. His eyes kept straying to the dark families. "Not yet," she said. "Stay with me."
He nodded and pressed closer to her side.
Across the room, Jack moved through the crowd with a tray of champagne. He stopped at the Bones table, offered a glass to Amelia, and leaned in just enough to be heard over the music. "Lady Bones, thank you for coming."
Amelia took the glass. "The manor is beautiful."
"It's old," Jack said. It was neither denial nor argument. "Nimue will be circulating soon. I hope you will introduce Susan."
Amelia glanced at her niece. Susan stood straight with her brown hair pinned back and her expression carefully neutral, a look she had learned from her aunt. "I'm sure they'll get along," Amelia replied.
Jack moved on, stopping at the Macmillan table, then the Browns, and finally the Bulstrodes. Every exchange was measured, every word precisely chosen. Jane watched him from across the room, her hand resting on Morwenna's shoulder.
Morwenna hadn't moved from her spot near the dais. Her green dress caught the light, and the gold and silver embroidery shifted with every movement. Her hands were clasped at her waist, her face still, but her eyes moved constantly.
Augusta Longbottom turned her head when the Malfoys came too close. Amelia Bones positioned herself where she could see the entire room. The Rosiers kept their backs to the walls.
"Mom," she whispered.
Jane leaned down. "Yes?"
"They hate each other."
Jane didn't answer immediately. She looked at the room the way Morwenna was looking at it, not as a hostess greeting guests, but as someone reading the weather before a storm.
Jane said quietly. "Some of them, not all. The war ended five years ago, but the people in this room... some lost children, and some lost siblings. Others walked free when they shouldn't have."
Lucius Malfoy raised his glass toward someone across the room. The smile never reached his eyes.
"And some are here because they have to be," Jane added. "Because the Keiths invited them, and you don't refuse a Keith invitation. Not if you want to keep doing business in Britain."
Morwenna nodded.
A group of children gathered near the dessert table. Draco stood at the edge with his arms crossed, his eyes on the adults. Daphne stood a few feet away, watching. Neville pressed against Augusta's side, and Susan stood alone near a pillar, her hands folded. None had spoken yet.
The quartet shifted into another waltz, and more couples moved onto the floor. The room rearranged itself in small increments. Augusta released Neville's hand. "Go," she said quietly. "Find the other children. I will be watching."
Neville looked at the cluster near the dessert table and then back at his grandmother. "Do I have to?"
"Yes."
He walked toward them, his steps slow, his shoulders hunched. When he reached the edge of the group, he stopped, not quite joining but no longer entirely alone. Draco looked at him. Neither boy spoke. Draco turned back toward the adults and dismissed him.
Susan watched from her pillar. Her expression didn't change, but her hands tightened behind her back.
The string quartet played on, and the chandeliers blazed overhead. The guests of Keith Manor arranged themselves by wounds that had not yet healed, wounds that perhaps never would.
The string quartet kept playing a melody that was soft and forgettable. Morwenna stood between her parents, her green dress catching the chandelier light. She had been smiling for what felt like hours, and by now, her cheeks had begun to ache.
Jack touched her shoulder. "Ready?"
She nodded.
They moved toward the first cluster of guests with Jane on Morwenna's left and Jack on her right. They were three sets of eyes, all quietly assessing as they slipped into a practiced ease.
Morwenna kept her chin lifted as she walked. Her green dress caught the light with each step, and the gold and silver embroidery shifted like something alive. Her smile was small and controlled, lacking the careless brightness of a child but remaining warm and aware.
The neutral families had claimed the space near the west windows. The cluster held the Bones, the Macmillans, and the Browns, all standing close enough to feel like a bloc without ever saying so.
Amelia Bones turned as they approached. She stood with her back to the glass, the entire room visible before her, and set her champagne flute on a tray.
"Lord Keith, Lady Keith," she said, her gaze dropping to Morwenna. "And this must be Nimue."
Morwenna dipped into a small curtsy. The gossamer layers whispered against the floor. "Lady Bones, thank you for coming."
Her voice was clear and her smile remained steady. Amelia's expression didn't change much, but something behind her eyes softened.
"This is my niece, Susan," Amelia said.
Susan stepped forward. She was tall for nine, her brown hair pinned back, her grey eyes steady. She nodded. "Happy birthday."
"Thank you," Morwenna said.
Susan glanced at her aunt and then back at Morwenna. "I like your dress."
"Thank you. I like your necklace," Morwenna replied, her eyes catching on Susan's small silver pendant.
Susan's hand touched the silver. "It was my mother's."
Morwenna nodded. She didn't ask what had happened to Susan's mother because she already knew the tragic history.
"Amelia is pretty," Morwenna thought. "Her bearing is also quite impressive. It is a pity if she died in the future war. She is neutral, but she is also a traditionalist. It would be a genuine loss for someone with her position in the Ministry to be removed from the board."
She filed the thought away for later.
Jane steered the conversation toward safe topics, the journey from London and the manor decorations. Jack offered his hand to Lord Macmillan. The Macmillan matriarch leaned toward Jane to remark on the flowers. Lord Macmillan stood beside his wife, his eyes scanning the room with measured caution.
"Lady Macmillan was asking about your lessons," Jane said, pulling Morwenna back into the conversation.
Morwenna turned to face the other women. Lady Macmillan was round and soft in a dress of deep burgundy. Lady Brown stood beside her, sharp and thin, her eyes darting around the room. Their daughters hovered at their elbows.
"My grandmother teaches me," Morwenna said, offering her practised smile. "Seraphina is very patient."
Lady Macmillan smiled. "I've heard she has the patience of a saint."
"She knits," Morwenna added. "Scarves. Many scarves."
The women laughed, and Morwenna held her smile. Lavender Brown stood near her mother, seven or eight years old, her brown curls falling in soft waves. She wore pale pink and stared at Morwenna's hair, fascinated.
"Is she an important character?" Morwenna wondered. "I'm not sure. I will see later. If she is, I will give her more attention."
She smiled at Lavender. The younger girl smiled back, bright and quick, then looked away, her cheeks pink.
Jack touched Morwenna's shoulder again. "We should speak with the Longbottoms."
Jane exchanged a look with him, and they walked toward the far corner of the ballroom. Augusta Longbottom stood near a pillar, an eagle on her shoulder. The bird turned its head, tracking them with a single yellow eye. Neville stood beside his grandmother, his hand gripping hers.
"Lady Longbottom," Jane said. "Thank you for coming."
Augusta inclined her head. Her gaze moved from Jane to Jack and finally to Morwenna, taking in the green dress, the silver streak in her hair, and her mismatched eyes.
"She carries herself well," Augusta remarked.
"Thank you, Lady Longbottom," Morwenna said.
Augusta looked down at her grandson. "Introduce yourself."
Neville stepped forward with his hands clasped in front of him. He was wearing formal robes that were slightly too large, causing the sleeves to bunch at his wrists. His face was round and pale, and his shoulders were hunched in the way children's often are when they are trying to appear small.
"Happy birthday," he said, his voice barely carrying over the music.
"This boy really looks like a deer in headlights," Morwenna thought. "I suddenly want to bully him. His expression would be very entertaining."
She took a breath. "No, I can't. At least, I won't bully him the way Draco did in the films. Teasing is better. Nothing too harsh, as I would feel guilty if I truly upset him. His expression is so naive and scared that I couldn't bear to actually be cruel."
She smiled at Neville, but this time it wasn't the measured hostess smile. It was something smaller and softer.
"Thank you, Neville. I'm Nimue."
He nodded.
"Have you thought about what kind of wand you want?" she asked. "When we are seven, we get our wands."
Neville's face went blank. "I... my grandmother said my father's wand might..."
She stepped closer. "When we are seven, let's go together to get our wands. You and me. Besides, I heard wands are very personal things. Who knows if you can use someone else's properly? Isn't it better to have our own?"
Neville stared at her. "Together?"
"Yes. We are the same age, and we will be in the same year at Hogwarts. We should be friends."
The word "friends" seemed to confuse him. He looked at his grandmother, then back at Morwenna, and finally down at his shoes. "I will ask my grandmother," he said quietly.
Augusta watched the exchange without speaking. Her expression didn't change, but something in her posture shifted as she looked at Jane. Jane looked back, and though neither woman said a word, Augusta eventually gave a small nod.
"Maybe," Neville said.
"Maybe is fine," Morwenna replied.
Jack touched her shoulder. "We should keep moving."
Morwenna nodded. "See you later, Neville."
"See you."
She walked away with her parents toward the far side of the ballroom, where the dark families had arranged themselves in a loose arc near the fireplace.
The Malfoys stood at the centre. Lucius rested on his cane, Narcissa pale and still beside him, Draco at her side. The Parkinsons and the Rosiers flanked them. The Greengrasses held a pocket of space near a tall window. The air was different here, not colder, but more contained and more watched.
Jack steered them toward Lucius Malfoy first.
"Lucius, thank you for coming."
Lucius inclined his head and shook Jack's hand. "The manor is impressive, as always."
"My father has maintained it well."
Narcissa leaned in to kiss Jane's cheek. "The manor is beautiful. We should have an event here more often."
Jane smiled. "We will discuss it."
Lucius looked down at Morwenna. "And this is Nimue."
Morwenna curtsied. "Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy. Thank you for coming."
Narcissa's gaze lingered on Morwenna's hair and then on her mismatched eyes. Her expression didn't change, but something in her face tightened and then relaxed. "You look like your mother, but there is something else there."
"The Keith line," Morwenna said. "From my father's side."
Narcissa nodded. "Of course."
Draco stood beside his mother, his posture perfect, his pale hair slicked back. His grey eyes moved over Morwenna with the same assessing quality his father used in negotiations. His expression was bored, practiced, the mask of a child who tried too hard to look unimpressed.
"Look at his face," Morwenna thought. "He is still young, but he already has that little arrogance. I really want to smack him. How can anyone be more arrogant than me?"
"Draco," Lucius said. "Say hello."
Draco stepped forward. "Happy birthday."
"Thank you."
"I am also six," he said. "My birthday is in June."
"Then I am older than you."
"By almost two months," Draco replied.
Morwenna nodded. She said nothing else. Draco expected admiration or curiosity, but she just stood there, watching him the way she watched everyone else. He looked away first.
Narcissa nudged her son. "Perhaps you would like to dance with Nimue later."
Draco's expression flickered with something that might have been alarm. "I don't..."
"Maybe later," Morwenna said smoothly, smiling at Narcissa. "I'm still greeting guests."
Narcissa's mouth curved. "Of course."
Pansy Parkinson stood a few steps behind Draco, her dark hair cut in a sharp bob as she watched Morwenna with open interest.
"Wow. Is this girl already has her sights set on Draco?" Morwenna thought. "Or maybe she is just curious."
She didn't have time to decide, as Jane's hand pressed lightly at her back to steer her toward the Greengrasses.
Lord Cyrus Greengrass stood with his back to the window, the light catching the silver at his temples. Lady Selene stood beside him, her ash-blonde hair pinned up, her grey-blue eyes calm.
"Nimue," Jane said, "this is Lord and Lady Greengrass. And their daughters, Daphne and Astoria."
Cyrus greeted Jack with a handshake while Selene kissed Jane's cheek. Then they stepped aside, revealing their daughters more fully.
Daphne was small for her age, her platinum-blonde hair pulled back neatly. Her grey-blue eyes swept Morwenna's dress and face in a single glance. She didn't smile, but she didn't look away.
Astoria was smaller, softer. She held her mother's hand and watched Morwenna with wide eyes.
"Astoria doesn't look like she did in the film," Morwenna thought. "She has blonde hair here. But being near them feels comfortable. I like it."
"Hello," Morwenna said. "I'm glad you came."
Daphne inclined her head. "Thank you for the invitation."
Astoria let go of her mother's hand and stepped closer. "Your dress is pretty."
"Thank you. Yours too." Astoria's dress was pale pink with tiny silver flowers, and she looked delighted that Morwenna had noticed. Selene smiled, and it was the first genuine expression Morwenna had seen on her all evening.
"Do you like dancing?" Morwenna asked Daphne.
Daphne considered the question. "I hasn't danced much, but I can learn."
"We could learn together, if you want."
Daphne's expression didn't change, but her posture became less guarded. "Perhaps," she said.
"What do you like to read?" Morwenna asked.
"History and magical theory," Daphne replied. "My mother says I shouldn't read curse-breaking texts yet, but I do anyway."
Morwenna felt her mouth curve. "I also read things I'm not supposed to."
Daphne's eyes held hers. "What is your favourite subject?"
"Runes," Morwenna said. "My grandfather is teaching me."
"I am learning arithmancy."
"That is harder than runes."
Daphne tilted her head. "Maybe. I like the precision of it."
Morwenna nodded. She didn't speak, but she didn't look away. Selene watched them, smiling. Jane looked elsewhere.
"We will let you continue your rounds," Selene said. "But perhaps the girls can spend some time together later."
Jane nodded. "We would like that."
Morwenna curtsied to the Greengrasses. "Thank you for coming."
"Thank you for having us," Selene replied.
Jack touched Morwenna's shoulder again. "We should finish the circuit."
Morwenna looked at Daphne. The other girl was already looking at her. Their eyes met and held. Daphne looked away first. Morwenna turned back to her parents, suppressing the urge to smile.
Something about that feels like a win for Morwenna.
"See you later, Daphne."
"Perhaps."
Astoria tugged her mother's sleeve. "Mother, can I have more cake?"
Selene laughed. "In a moment, sweetheart."
Morwenna let her parents guide her away toward the Rosiers. She kept her smile in place and her hands clasped, maintaininig a pleasant expression as the evening stretched on. The room was full, and somewhere across the ballroom, she could feel Fleur watching her.