The majestic doors to the ballroom of Gaunt Manor stood wide open, welcoming the elite of the wizarding world.
Aurelian stood in the doorway, radiating a cold, calculating elegance, flanked on either side by Hestia and Flora. The Carrow twins, proudly and dutifully assuming their roles as the future ladies and mistresses of the House of Gaunt, welcod every family, diplomat, and bureaucrat who crossed the threshold. They were the perfect image of the wizarding world's aristocracy.
Aurelian greeted them courteously, shaking hands and nodding his head as the situation demanded. Everything flowed with the precision of a Swiss watch... until the Minister of Magic made his appearance.
Cornelius Fudge, sweating slightly inside his striped robes and wearing his usual bowler hat, entered the hall. Upon seeing the young Lord, Fudge threw all protocol to the wind. He rushed forward and, without warning, enveloped Aurelian in an effusive embrace, shouting congratulations on whatever he was about to show them, telling him he was the next coming of rlin and that he must not forget those who had helped him.
Aurelian froze completely, his arms stiff at his sides, genuinely taken aback by the minister's sudden embrace.
Fortunately, he didn't have to endure it for long.
In less than a second, Hestia and Flora sprang into action. Their instincts took over. With a physical and magical strength that belied their delicate fras, the girls grabbed Fudge by the shoulders and shoved him violently backward. The Minister stumbled awkwardly, nearly falling to the ground in front of everyone.
Looking up, Fudge t the dark eyes of the Carrow sisters, who were staring at him with such pure, visceral hatred that his blood ran cold. If looks could kill, the Minister would have dropped dead on the spot for daring to even touch their beloved Lord.
Fudge swallowed audibly. He tried to regain his composure, let out a nervous, shrill laugh, and, embarrassed, quickly slipped back to his assigned table, glancing over his shoulder with obvious fear.
Aurelian smoothed his robes, pretending nothing had happened, and continued greeting the guests.
The incident with the Minister wasn't the only thing that caught people's attention. When his father's allied families—the Nott, Parkinson, Avery, and Malfoy families—walked through the door, their greetings were more than re courtesies. The patriarchs bowed their heads in deep reverence, showing an almost reverential respect toward the seventeen-year-old. This attitude displayed by the proudest and most shadowy families in the country did not go unnoticed by the other factions of the Wizengamot, who exchanged anxious whispers, beginning to speculate about who truly held power in the shadows.
Aurelian balanced the scales by showing great respect and attention when the envoys from the International Confederation of Wizards arrived, ensuring that Gauntcorp—and by extension, the Gaunt family—projected a good image to the rest of the world.
Shortly after, the Longbottoms entered the hall, accompanied by a shift in the atmosphere as the guests greeted their host.
Frank and Alice, looking healthy and full of life, approached him to greet him cheerfully.
"We're truly excited, Aurelian," Frank said, shaking his hand firmly. "You promised to change the way we use magic, and knowing you, we know that's no exaggeration."
"We can't wait to see what you've created," Alice added with a sweet smile.
At her side, the imposing Augusta Longbottom—wearing a hat adorned with a stuffed vulture, which, if Aurelian was to be honest, was hideous—smiled at him and nodded, endorsing the words of her son and daughter-in-law. It was a level of approval the matriarch rarely bestowed upon anyone outside her family.
But the happiest of them all was, without a doubt, Neville. The boy had grown a remarkable amount. Upon seeing Aurelian, his face lit up completely. For Neville, the heir of Slytherin was his role model, his ntor, and the person he trusted most in the whole world—even more than his own parents. He was imnsely happy and proud to be there, supporting him in his ideas.
The dynamic shifted slightly when the Greengrass family arrived. As the undisputed leaders of the Gray Faction, their greeting was much more reserved and neutral. They surveyed the hall, nodded to Aurelian with the respect and formality of the mont, then made their way to their table without causing a stir, keeping their cards close to their chests.
But if there was one thing all the factions—dark, gray, light, and the foreign ones—could absolutely agree on, it was the paralyzing awe they felt as they looked toward the back of the hall.
At a table off to the side, sitting alone, were Nicolas and Perenelle Flal. The creators of the Philosopher's Stone were completely oblivious to the whispers, the gaping stares, and the politicians' attempts to approach them. They were too busy eating cream cakes and comnting to each other on how delicious the food was, completely oblivious and uninterested in the high-society drama surrounding them.
Aurelian surveyed the room from his position at the entrance. The tables were already nearly full. The murmur of conversation created an atmosphere of electric anticipation for what they were about to witness.
Only the most important guests were missing. The two figures who would truly determine the success or failure of their presentation: the Archmage of North Arica, Solomon Graye, and the Archmage of Great Britain, Albus Dumbledore.
Unfortunately for Aurelian, the next couple to cross the threshold was not who she had been expecting; this couple brought with them a completely different energy.
Sirius Black entered the lobby with his usual lanky stride and a broad, cheeky smile on his face. Walking beside him was his friend Remus Lupin.
"Aurelian, it's great to see you!" Sirius greeted him enthusiastically, shaking his hand firmly. "What a party you've thrown."
As he let go, Sirius's gray eyes fell on Hestia and Flora, who flanked Aurelian with perfect posture and icy stares. Sirius's smile widened even more, and he let out a hoarse laugh.
"And as always, I see you're in good company," Sirius remarked, winking at Aurelian. "Seriously, you're living the perfect life, surrounded by luxury and with two cute little witches by your side. What more could you ask for, right?"
Hestia and Flora weren't the least bit amused that the infamous Sirius Black—a blood traitor by the purist standards their parents had instilled in them—dared to call them "cute little witches" as if they were just a couple of little girls. Their eyes flashed with sothing that promised pain, but rembering their roles as hostesses and future ladies of the Gaunt household, they chose to ignore it, lifting their chins and keeping up appearances with a sharp attitude.
Seeing the tension, Remus stepped forward. He cleared his throat, looking quite embarrassed.
"Good evening, Lord Gaunt," Remus said in a soft, polite tone. "I am well aware that I was not invited to this event. I offer my apologies; it was Sirius who, essentially, forced to accompany him here. If my presence is a nuisance, I will leave imdiately…"
"No problem at all, Professor Lupin," Aurelian interrupted, offering him a diplomatic and sincere smile. "You are more than welco in my ho. In fact, knowing you, I'm sure you'll also be deeply interested in what Mr. Filch and I are about to show."
Remus blinked, surprised by the boy's courtesy, and nodded gratefully. Sirius patted his friend on the back, and the two of them headed into the Great Hall to find their table.
As soon as they were out of sight, Aurelian noticed the tension in his fiancées' shoulders. Without wasting a second, he raised both hands and gently stroked their heads, running his fingers through their hair.
The effect was instantaneous. Hestia and Flora exhaled the breath they hadn't realized they'd been holding, smiled peacefully, and relaxed under his touch, completely forgetting the Animagus's "insult."
They were about to say sothing to Aurelian when a calm voice startled them from behind.
"A truly magnificent evening, Aurelian."
Aurelian spun around. There, standing in the doorway he had thought empty a second ago, was Albus Dumbledore. The headmaster wore his usual dazzling smile.
Beside him stood a figure who seed to have stepped out of the pages of an ancient history book. He was an elderly-looking man, bent over by the weight of the centuries, with very long hair and a thick white beard. He wore robes so dark blue that they seed to absorb the light around him. But what truly made one's blood run cold were his eyes; they were completely devoid of irises or pupils, being two entirely white spheres, which made his blindness evident.
"Aurelian, allow to introduce you to my esteed colleague and old friend," said Albus with a respectful gesture. "Solomon Graye."
Aurelian imdiately composed his expression, ready to offer the most perfect and respectful greeting of his life. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a single syllable, Solomon Graye moved with a speed unnatural for a blind old man.
The Arican Archmage extended a hand and took Aurelian's in an iron grip. Then, he leaned his face forward, coming within inches of the boy's face, his completely white eyes fixed on him as if they were scrutinizing the deepest corners of his soul and his magic.
Aurelian froze, staring at him without understanding a thing, feeling as never before that soone could read him like an open book.
The silence stretched on until Solomon let out a small, hoarse chuckle. The sound was so unexpected that even Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in clear surprise.
Solomon took a step back, without letting go of Aurelian's hand, and gave him an enigmatic smile.
"You're a truly interesting boy, Aurelian Gaunt," Solomon murmured, his voice echoing through the air. "I'm already looking forward to seeing you in reality.
With that cryptic phrase, Solomon let go of him.
Dumbledore, still sowhat bewildered by his colleague's unusual reaction, gave Aurelian a slight nod and guided Solomon into the hall.
The mont the two wizards entered, the hubbub of the party fell completely silent.
As if it had been choreographed, absolutely everyone in the vast ballroom rose from their seats. In complete silence, they bowed their heads in a slight curtsy. It wasn't every day one had the privilege—or the terror—of being in the sa room as two Archmages.
The solemn bow was abruptly broken by a shout from the back of the hall.
"Albus! Solomon, you old bat, it's about ti you showed your face! Co sit with us!"
It was Nicolas Flal, waving a hand from his exclusive table, with Perenelle laughing at his side at her husband's lack of decorum.
Dumbledore smiled broadly, the atmosphere relaxing a little, and nodded toward the alchemist. He led Solomon through the sea of guests to the Flals' table, where so of the most powerful and ancient beings in the magical world had taken their seats to enjoy the spectacle.
Aurelian remained standing at the entrance. He kept his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes fixed on Solomon Graye's back. His mind still confused, he worked through and analyzed every tone, every gesture, and every possible hidden aning of that brief conversation.
"Eager to actually see ?" Aurelian thought, curious and deeply unsettled. "What exactly did that blind old man see?"
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