PREVIOUSLY:
Our girl wakes up as a baby in a new and unfamiliar room and discovers her jailer/caretaker is none other than a JK ROWLING HARRY POTTER HOUSE-ELF. She remains nameless until the age of three where she meets Mother for the first time and learns her role as a Daughter of House Parkinson. Pansy does her first piece of Accidental Magic at just shy of five years old and gains a friend in Gilli the house-elf and an invitation to the social circle of upper class Pureblood children, beginning to grow under Mother and House Parkinson's exacting conditions. Now, the Yule before Hogwarts' begins, Pansy prepares to make her public debut in society at the Ministry's Annual Yule Ball...
To her alarm, Pansy found herself waking in the Library the next morning, worrying she had possibly imprinted the ink, from the open book she'd slept on, onto her left cheek. She hurried about the room, shoving the books back where she remembered them being from and rushed out into the hallway, trying to muffle any obvious noise.
It definitely would not do to be found by Mother this morning, not when the madwoman had already been more high-strung than usual recently.
It was Yule today, and while she'd been fruitlessly reading long passages about burning sage, somebody else had been a very busy elf. The hallway was vastly different from how it had been the night before; holly branches sat proudly on each hall table, backlit by the glow of small tealight candles and round, glossy red berries. The halls seemed well and truly transformed, decked out for Yuletide.
She took the stairs two at a time, not bothering for any attempt at gracefulness as she climbed. Pansy was still in her clothes from yesterday and it was nearly breakfast time. She avoided touching the lengths of pine twined around the bannister in the stairwell, dark green needles so thick they almost gave it a fluffy-looking texture.
The house smelled like a forest today, piney and earthy, but there wasn't time to enjoy it. She passed Father's study and hurried towards her room.
Gilli had been hard at work in her bedroom too. Candles lined every flat surface in the room and the windowsill in neat rows, flames dancing and swaying. Maybe it was because she'd told Gilli she liked the candles last year, but this year, they'd truly outdone themselves. Clusters of pinecones and prickly holly covered her windowsill, in rich greens, reds and deep browns.
Pansy shut the door behind her and got ready quickly.
Yule had always been a quiet affair in this house. When she was little, it had been just like any other day - Gilli would pop in to make sure she was fed and clean, and that was about it. Once Mother had given her a Name, things were different. Rich meals were taken in the Dining Room, there was a break from lessons, her day was her own. Still a quiet day, just with a little more freedom.
Then, Mother had introduced her to other children and with that new phase in her life, Yule also meant presents.
Oh, she had been absolutely bewildered when Mother had handed her her first gift. She'd blinked at it and then back at Mother, wondering what she was supposed to do with it. Mother had waved her away with a short "Open them in your room," and that was that.
She'd walked up the stairs slowly, puzzled over the strange event and eventually opened the parcels several hours later, having spent enough time staring at them to scoff at herself for being silly.
Her first Yule gifts had been a new dress, and a new quill. Hardly the sort of thing five-year olds begged for as gifts. She had turned both items over in her hands, deliberating what sort of weird manipulative lesson Mother might be trying to depart. The reason for the gifts didn't emerge until after Yuletide when the other children at Afternoon Tea had bragged about the presents they'd received. Draco was particularly vocal about a brand new Mini-Cleansweep his Father had bought him, though judging by the twitching of his mother's eyebrow it was hardly a thing she had agreed to.
"A new dress," Pansy had smiled when Greg had asked her what she'd gotten in his quiet tones, "And an Augerey feather Quill – what about you?"
So that had been the typical Yule festivities for the last few years - a break from lessons, a second helping at dinner and a few practical items that she unwrapped in the sanctuary of her bedroom. A quiet affair.
With the addition of a Ball – from this year, things were probably going to change once more.
Mother was sipping tea and perusing what was possibly the gossip column of the paper when she entered the Dining Room at five-past-eight.
"Good morning, Mother." Pansy said, pulling her chair back and sliding onto the seat. Her toes just about touched the floor now, though she missed the feeling of swinging her feet back and forth. "Blessed Yule."
Mother hummed, lowering her teacup from her mouth, "Blessed Yule." Her eyes never left the printed pages.
Gilli appeared and disappeared without a word, a slice of thick cut bread appearing on Pansy's plate and a small pot of warm marmalade in their wake.
"Thank you." She whispered, flicking her eyes up to check Mother wasn't watching but the woman merely turned the page, lowering her cup. The marmalade was sweet and tangy, and the bread nice and soft. She chewed slowly, savouring the sweet jamminess of it on her tongue. Pansy licked her lips once she was done, making sure she'd gotten every last bit.
"Were you raised by wolves?"
Pansy jumped, head snapping upwards. To her horror, Mother was looking right at her with an arched eyebrow, her newspaper down on the table, long forgotten.
Her cheeks burned - "No, Mother." Pansy snatched the corner of her napkin from her lap and quickly patted at her mouth. She reached for her teacup and drank quick gulps of hot tea to prevent from doing any more stupid things.
Instead, she kept her eyes on the table, tracing the vines painted in gold around the edge of her plate. There were peeled segments of tangerine in a small bowl to the right and a bowl of nuts and dried berries too. Further down the table, Mother had a bowl of cut fruit and a plate of ham slices and a golden croissant.
To Mother's right, in the space cleared at the head of the table, the moving picture of a giggling baby on the front of the folded morning paper caught her attention.
" WILL THE BOY-WHO-LIVED APPEAR AT HOGWARTS IN THE NEW TERM?"
The baby giggled, a single tooth peeked out from under his top lip. A soft curl flopped over his forehead.
Pansy let her eyes drift away from the headline and back to her own plate, grabbing the bowl of tangerine segments and a fork. The juice spat out as she speared one, splattering the inside of a bowl. They were a little sour for her taste, but not bad overall.
"You may busy yourself with what you choose this afternoon," Mother said, cutting a bit of cheese off of a board. "Your Yule gifts are in the Solar, but I suggest you take them to your room as usual."
Pansy nodded, ignoring the remaining food on her side (she knew Gilli only put them there because they liked eating dried berries and almonds, but she was not going be swayed on the taste, or lack of it); and folded her napkin in her lap, depositing it on the used but empty plate.
"May I be excused?"
"You may – " Mother allowed. Pansy started to push the chair away from the table, her feet lowering to the ground.
" – but, daughter-mine?"
She stopped, straightening involuntarily as Mother's look went cold and sharp.
"Do avoid the Library today, your Father is in a bad mood."
Pansy did her level best not to gulp. All those books from last night better be in the right spots.
She nodded, a bit shakily, but hoped she was far enough away that it wouldn't be noticed.
"Yes, Mother."
–
Pansy retreated from the room and wound her way through to the Solar to pick up the Yule gifts from Mother. There are two brown-paper parcels waiting for her that she tucks under one arm, before going back to her room.
She was nearly finished Gilli 's present, there was only a spot of sewing to do. It would keep her busy at least, until it was time to go. She carefully avoided even looking in the direction of the Library.
It wasn't that Pansy was afraid of Father, she decided after she was back in the safety of her room. She wasn't. It was obvious that he could hardly spare her a thought, so she didn't think that he'd be particularly frightening.
He'd probably ignore her for the whole thing tonight too.
They'd shared a house for nearly ten years and she was yet to hear a word from him, so she highly doubted that meeting him in person would be any different.
Besides, she'd done just fine meeting Mother back when she could barely talk, and she'd been positively terrified then. In comparison, meeting Father would be a walk in the park.
Probably.
She left the parcels on the floor by the foot of the bed and clambered on, hands sliding under her pillow to pull out her embroidery hoop and the embroidery pattern. She wasn't quite sick of seeing the Niffler's handsome little face just yet – but she was close.
The paper this morning had questioned if Harry Potter would even turn up to Hogwarts in September, but Pansy wasn't worried. Though it seemed like she was a bit of… an anomaly? A blip? Whatever. She didn't think she'd made any waves just yet to make the Story change, and honestly, she hoped that it would stay that way, right up until she decided it shouldn't be. There was a bit of discomfort, honestly, at the idea of throwing all the foreknowledge she had to the wind - there was a bit of security in knowing what happened next. And she felt rather reluctant to give that up so early in the game. Mother and Father had actually done her a bit of a favour by keeping her as alone as they had.
There had been no chance for her grubby fingers to leave their marks over the pristine Story just yet.
Story- wise, only Draco Malfoy was really pivotal, out of all of the individuals she'd met thus far. And Pansy had made zero effort, deliberate or otherwise, to cause any change around or within him. Made no attempt to change his or the rest of their circles' racist idealogy because the idea of causing ripples this quickly was terrifying.
(Harry Potter had been with the Dursley's for over ten years. He was probably, most definitely, miserable. Was she a horrible person for leaving him there, when she could possibly change that?)
Regardless, it was useless to worry about it now. There was still nine long months to go until Hogwarts, and only then would the ripple effect of Pansy being Pansy finally rear its ugly head. She couldn't do anything blindly.
So yes, the Boy-Who-Lived would be attending Hogwarts - there was too many people (including her) that were too invested in him being there for him not to show.
" Gilli!" She called out into the empty room. Their finished Yule gift sat innocuously on her bed, wrapped in brown paper and one of her hair ribbons. "I've got a surprise for you!"
The little House-Elf appeared suddenly in the space in front of her.
"Pansy! Mistress was just now asking for Gilli to bring you a dress." They said, holding a large yellow parcel out to her, grinning at the timing.
They hugged - a rare thing! - and sat on her bed to chatter about the decorations in the house, and if it would snow during Yuletide, and if Pansy had any request for dinner tomorrow; before she finally got to the bit they were both waiting for.
"I made you something," She said directly, twisting to grab the parcel from where it's been hastily shoved behind her back. It's small, and a little lumpy looking, but she holds it out towards them with a proud grin on her face. The Niffler was probably one of her best embroidery patterns yet!
"Blessed Yule!"
Gilli's stared at her, then down at the parcel - slowly reaching their hands out to grab it from her. The paper crinkled as they did. "Not clothes?" They saod, looking down at the parcel suspiciously.
Pansy rolled her eyes. "As if I could - you've made it extremely clear what you'd do to my dinner if I even thought about it."
They'd had a talk about freedom once, back when she was much younger. She still didn't quite understand what the deal was between Wizards and House-Elves. It definitely had all the hallmarks of slavery in her opinion but Gilli was so vehemently against it that she had put all thought of it on hold until she could get more information.
"What is it?"
She laughed as Gilli gave the parcel a bit of a squish with their fingers and then boggled when it didn't bounce back. "I guess you'll have to open it and see!"
Gilli tucked the parcel into their toga, suddenly gaining a bit of a lump as the fabric bunches around their neck. "I gots you something too, Pansy!" They said proudly. They dipped their hand into a pocket for a brief moment, and then thrust a small pouch into her hands.
The little bag was no bigger than her fist and made of soft black cotton. There was a bit of string around the top keeping it shut and inside she could feel something weighty and round.
"What is it?" She asked, holding the pouch up to the window but unable to see inside
Gilli smacked their lips and made what sounded suspiciously like a snicker. "I guess Pansy be having to open it to see!"
"Ha-ha, very funny."
All this talk of heading to Hogwarts soon had her worried for Gilli. It had been the both of them for such a long time now that it felt strange knowing they'd be apart. While she was away, it would be Gilli on their own in this miserable house, with nobody to call friend. Since that awful, awful night where she'd found them bleeding and shivering at the bottom of the stairs, Pansy had never seen the House-Elf in such a state again. It had been years since then, and she was still unsure if that was because the incident was a one-off thing or if Gilli had just gotten better at hiding it.
The dress from Twilfit and Tattings fitted perfectly, poofing out from her waist slightly to fall to her ankles. It swished when she turned, the layers of thin grey tulle and silver silk ballooning out around her. It was a bit too girly for her personal tastes, but she did admit that there seemed to be a slight, almost-glow to the silk that made her feel a bit fae-like.
Mother nodded appraisingly at it all when Pansy met her in the Solar. The woman worked an oily liquid into her loose pin-straight hair until her scalp began to tingle and the strands started to curl. A few drops of something cool and then her dark hair was blissfully oil-free, but still wavy. Gilli was directed to finish up the hairstyle, leaving tickly strands to frame her face and pulling the rest back into braids that circled her head.
"Merle?" The unfamiliar sound of a man's voice had Pansy straightening immediately. Oh - that was -
Mother dismissed Gilli and stood. "In the Solar." The woman replied, going to the door. But before she could get to it, the knob turned.
A tall man stood in the open doorway. He was dressed darkly, in a suit coat and tailored trousers.
"We're ready." Mother said, taking the man's offered arm.
Belatedly, Pansy jumped up, nearly tripping on the hem of her skirt. The sound of her clumsy feet made both of them turn to look at her. Her cheeks burned. The man's face could have been cut out of stone, it was so cold. Hard, grey eyes set into a sharp, angular face. Perhaps he would have been handsome if his expression were warmer, but the lack of it made her take note of his high cheekbones, the jut of his chin.
His nose.
Pansy herself had a nose that some might have described as slightly upturned, if kind; or perhaps pug-like as the Story had cruelly called it. Mother's nose was a perfect straight thing, thin and just the right amount of bridge. This man's nose had probably been broken before, there was a bump in the middle of his bridge and it crooked to the left unevenly. But the tip of his nose was exactly upturned like her own.
No, Pansy did not share her Mother's nose.
She had inherited it from this man.
Pansy was curtseying before she could think it through. Her skirt brushed the floor and her head felt too light.
"Father."
She kept her eyes low, on the shine of his pointed shoes.
There was silence in the Solar. The toes of his shoes were pointed towards Mother but the prickle up her spine told her his eyes were still on her.
She held the curtsey steadily.
The feet turned abruptly and she glanced upward, reflexively.
Father and Mother were walking away.
She followed after them hastily, down the stairs to the Atrium. Pansy had expected it, of course. She had been right – Father hadn't said a word to her that entire time. Pragmatically, she suddenly knew to expect the rest of the night to be the same.
Oddly, it didn't feel as comforting to be right.
They took the Floo to the Ministry, Mother and Father together, and Pansy following behind. There was a familiar flash of green fire and then she was stepping out onto smooth black tiles. They'd emerged into a large hall, their footsteps joining the echoes of others as they walked. A few clusters of other people moved through the hall, all dressed in a dizzying array of silks and glittering jewels, heading in the same direction at different paces. Some stopped to chat, while others seemed keen on making their way.
Pansy kept close behind Mother and Father, mindful of the trailing hem of Mother's glittering black dress, as they moved between groups, following the same general direction as the others. Gilded fireplaces lined the walls to either side of them, a few of the ones on the left side flaring bright for a moment before yet another group arrived for the Ball. The left side must have been for Arrivals. The right was likely for Departures.
They passed a collection of ostentatious gold statues, arranged around a white stone fountain. The five figures in gold spat a continuous stream of water into it's centre. There was an old wizard with long hair, a buxom witch with a pointed cap, a centaur with its front legs raised, a Goblin with a sword drawn, and a House-Elf with its bare hands raised in front of them.
Were the other beings pictured acting offensively or defensively? It was difficult to tell, their expressions giving nothing away.
Guards were stationed at the end of the hallway, seemingly checking invitations and… wands?
One waved them forward, "Lord Parkinson. Lady Parkinson." He greeted, straightening in recognition. "Blessed Yule."
Father nodded, passing over a glittering gold card.
"Blessed Yule." Mother replied, smiling politely.
The guard looked over the invitation, turning it once in his hands before returning it back to Father. "That's fine." His gaze flicked to the side for a moment, then back at Father's face. "Er - I'll have to see your wands as well, both of you." His hands flapped about, gesturing unintelligibly. "It's protocol, sorry, for security reasons."
Father was frowning, but nonetheless retrieved something from his sleeve – a thin, dark stick with a thick knot at the base above the handle. The guard took it with both hands, and laid it gently on an oval brass dish, attached by a metal arm horizontally to a thick triangular base. At the bottom of the triangle, a long strip of parchment curled out of a slit, like a particularly long tongue. After a second, the wand began to vibrate. There was a buzz and then the tongue of parchment grew a little longer.
"Twelve and a quarter inches, dragon heartstring core, been in use for twenty-four years." The guard squinted down at the paper, and then carefully passed the wand back. "All in order. And Lady Parkinson too, if that's okay?"
The only clue to Mother's discomfort was the slightest twitch as she handed over hers. The straight shaft of her wand was vastly different to Father's, parts of it were pointed and sharp like tiny thorns on the stem of a rose. Fitting for someone with a personality like hers.
"Nine and a half inches, dragon heartstring core, been in use for twenty-one years - thank you very much!"
Mother took it back with a smile but a tight grip. "Thank you."
"If you follow this corridor down, the steward will be able to announce your arrival to the Yule Ball." The guard directed them to the left and then ushered the next group forward.
Dozens of floating candles led the way, bobbing through the air like leaves on a lazy river, lighting up the arched ceiling above their heads. Another couple was walking ahead of them, far enough away that she couldn't hear their conversation or recognise them from behind. They had no child, so certainly not anyone she actually knew.
"I have some words for your brother later." Father said, breaking the quiet.
Pansy blinked, watching as Mother tilted her head slightly. "I'll let him know." She wondered what he could want with Lord Yaxley, something political probably. He didn't seem at all like a sentimental man.
She wasn't sure if her parents were particularly close. But neither did they seem overtly distant either. There was a familiarity in the way Father matched his steps to Mother's slightly shorter gait, the way Mother had waited for him to offer up his wand first before her's. She'd never actually seen pureblood couples together before, it occurred to her. For all she knew, this was exactly the way you should act with your spouse – familiar, but not intimate.
The corridor ended abruptly in front of a set of huge - almost three times the size of any human adult - black engraved doors. The head of the lion carved into it looked like it could one-hundred percent swallow her whole. In front of them, the doors opened and looking completely unintimidated, the other couple went through, ushered by a mustached man.
"PRESENTING - Mister Ludovig Bagman, Department of Magical Games and Sports, and company." A shockingly loud voice announced and then the doors shut behind them.
Mother and Father continued forwards without pause, the sound of clicking heels on the polished tiles resounding. When they were close enough, Father reached into his jacket and presented the gold invitation card.
The mustached man, dressed in the same blues as the guard out front, nodded and then cleared his throat.
He reached up with his wand and tapped the tip twice against his throat, mouth moving, though Pansy couldn't quite hear what he was saying.
Then, he rapped once on one of the doors. There was some movement from behind it, and then the doors moved.
"PRESENTING - Lord Tarrent Parkinson, International Magical Office of Law; and Lady Merle Parkinson, and company!"
The voice was positively deafening when she walked by it's source, the mustached man. She kept her back straight and her gaze facing forwards, following somewhere between three to four steps behind her parents as per her lessons.
They stopped briefly, picking up tall champagne flutes of something golden and bubbly, before moving towards the sides of the large room they had now found themselves in. Pansy kept her eyes on Mother's back and let them stray no further than a foot around the woman - she'd be damned if she let herself get scolded for gawking at the scenery.
"Tarrent!" A jovial voice called out. Her parents stopped as an older gentleman peeled away from a group surrounding one of the tall, standing-height tables that dotted the fringes of the room. He was wide around the middle, dressed in a long black open robe, under which he wore a velvet purple vest and matching trousers. The combination was no doubt designed to catch the eye. He came forward and shook Father's hand - "Blessed Yule." He said, chin wobbling, and then dipped his head slightly at Mother. "Lady Parkinson - Blessed Yule."
"Blessed Yule, Lord Burke." Father said as Mother murmured the same. He let the arm looped with Mother's drop to his side and stepped into stride with Lord Burke as the man led them back to the rest of his group.
Pansy kept quiet, following Mother's steps. Burke was an Ancient House, just like Parkinson, and one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. They used to be landowners. There was a shop under their name now in Knockturn Alley. There was an Heir too - Gaheris - who graduated not long ago. She presumed this was the young man who quickly introduced himself ingratiatingly to Father.
"Lord Parkinson, Blessed Yule – I just wanted to thank you again for…"
Mother looked engaged, nodding every so often or making appropriate approving or disapproving noises. A background to the general conversation but not part of it unless invited. The rules and nuances of each and every situation had given her headaches at the start, but Mother had succeeded in drilling them in so that it was nearly second nature now. Her own role was somewhat similar in this situation – speak when spoken to, but otherwise seen and not heard.
With their attention elsewhere, Pansy finally let herself take in the room.
The ballroom was huge - at least as big as the orchard at the Malfoys. The centrepiece of the whole room was the large chandelier, thousands and thousands of stands of glistening crystal, suspended to make a blooming shape in the middle of the high ceiling. In the gaps between the crystals, motes of soft light drifted as if caught in a net.
At the entrance, the large doors they'd come through went all the way to the ceiling, pulled open from inside the ballroom by four men, two to a door on either side of it. She watched as, by some unknown signal, they planted their feet and pulled the doors open in unison.
The Patil's entered, dressed not in the same robes and dresses as everyone else, but in what was probably traditional clothing from India, their homeland. Lady Patil was decked in a gold dress and a white scarf, looking every bit like some sort of angel. The girls trailed behind, holding hands and wearing outfits of matching green dresses, with golden patterns tracing across the fabric.
She let her eyes fall away from them and across the others in the room. Most of the attendees either appeared to be alone, or with a plus one. There were families present, but not as much as she'd been led to believe.
Mother and Father moved off, excusing themselves from the Burkes but were quickly approached by other guests. One after the other, they were besieged by fawning greetings of "Blessed Yule!" or "Blessed Day!" and exchanges of small talk around sips of champagne; Pansy kept one ear on the conversation, curtseying and murmuring her greetings when necessary; and the other on her surroundings, trying to pick up interesting tidbits among the background chatter.
"...brought their bastard, she's -"
"- his Father got him that position, there's no way - "
"...Bagnold's getting on in age, I'm -"
"- ridiculous that they let him in here -"
Okay, so it might not have been all that useful or understandable, but it was keeping her entertained regardless.
It was clear from the way other people approached them that Father held a position of respect. Some of it was just general Yule greetings and small talk, other conversations were more pointed - steering towards drafts of different Laws and new ICW legislations. Father became more animated in the latter, leaving Mother to handle the small talk mostly and engage uninterested spouses.
She was just thinking that perhaps she'd gotten it confused, that perhaps despite their racist ideologies and questionable parenting methods, she couldn't be sure that they had been part of a radical terrorist group commiting atrocious crimes -
These delusions were unmercifully shattered by the appearance of a man with short grey hair, parted down the middle neatly. His dark eyes were narrowed, shadowed by his brow, and his face was stern. On his upper lip was a straight, toothbrush-like mustache.
Mother's fingers encircled Father's forearm in a tight grip as Father himself tensed, shifting onto the balls of his feet subtly.
"Lord Crouch." Father said, coldly.
"Parkinson." Crouch, definitely the Senior, looked disgusted to be even talking to him, his upper lip curling into a sneer. His dark eyes flicked over Mother, then stopped on her own figure for a brief moment. Instead of commenting on them, he turned back to Father, "Your submission for the ICW needs revision."
Father's nostrils flared, "Is that so?"
"Quite." The other man said.
"Davies read over it prior to submission, he found no errors." Father countered, gritting his teeth now.
"And I run this department, not Davies." Crouch Senior replied in short, clipped tones. He looked up as someone about them called over to him in greeting; though why anyone would, Pansy could hardly guess. "I expect it on my desk by Monday." And with that, he turned on his heel and left them – not even a polite excusal.
Father took a breath, winding down quickly until he was back to his cold, unflinching self. It was Mother, on the other hand, who fumed as she continued her tight grip on his arm. "What a foul, horrendous little man." She hissed under her breath. "What a rotten, disgusting, putrid –"
A loud chime filled the room, interrupting what would have been an ear-rending vitriolic speech.
"PRESENTING – Madam Millicent Bagnold, Minister of Magic!" The booming voice declared as all at once the doors were swept open.
Around them people started to applaud loudly. From her vertically disadvantaged viewpoint, Pansy could see little of what was going on. There were adults around them and not a single gap to see through.
When the noise dwindled, a woman's voice resounded through the room.
"Blessed Yule, all. I would first like to thank you all for attending this year's Ministry Yule Ball." Bagnold spoke in brisk tones, not necessarily charismatically but authoritatively, regardless. "I commend you all in your dedication this past year to our Magical Isles, we have passed twenty-four bills, attended two ICW forums and laboured long hours for this country. Regardless of your department, I congratulate you all on a job well done."
It was a good speech. People around them were smiling and clapping, looking pleased with themselves irrespective of whether they actually worked for the Ministry or not.
"Finally," The Minister said, sounding less jovial. "I would like to announce to you all tonight, that I will be stepping down as Minister for Magic after the next quarter."
Instantly, the room was in uproar; people talking over one another, clamouring their questions to the woman upfront. By her side, Father and Mother exchanged glances.
"I am proud to have served this nation for the last decade, and nothing has given me more pleasure than to see it grow from tragedy and regain its splendour." The woman spoke over it all, pressing onwards. "But I must confess that I am getting older, and this post demands much of it's holder." She sounded tired, and Pansy wondered how old she was. "My aides and I have led Magical Britain from the tragedy of war to the peace we have today. It is up to a new generation to lead us to a new beginning, to times of prosperity and growth. As the current Minister for Magic, I toast to you all – to new beginnings!"
Around them, people raised their glasses and applause echoed throughout the room. The reactions on the faces of the guests differed wildly, however. Most looked perturbed at the idea of change, eyes darting around as if guessing who among them would hold the position next. A political bomb had been set amongst the masses. Father and Mother were already conversing, looking about tensely.
"We invite all honoured guests upstairs to dine." An announcement said.
As one, the crowd began to move slowly towards the opposite side of the room, up a grand staircase. It was slow going with so many people but eventually, Pansy found herself seated to Mother's left, around a circular table in a large hall. House Parkinson had been seated alongside the familiar faces of Lord and Lady Burke and Heir Burke, a couple that had introduced themselves as Mister and Mrs Blishwick, and House Rosier consisting of Lord Rosier and his children, Heir Evander and second son Felix.
The Blishwick couple looked obviously surprised at being seated amongst them despite their offered pure-blood status. They both ate and spoke nervously, the man explaining himself to be the Head of the Apparition Test Centre and the woman being a secretary at British Quidditch League Headquarters. All of the younger men at the table had perked up the moment the Q-word was mentioned, Gaheris Burke jumping to ask her what team she worked with.
Mother was pleased with their seating arrangements, judging by the turn of her lips as she listened idly to Lady Burke's compliments. They were sat with two Houses from the Sacred Twenty Eight – in other words, Ancient Houses. Better yet, they were houses with Heirs. Mother was looking at each of the boys in turn, eyes assessing every time they opened their mouths or moved even slightly.
Like herself, Felix Rosier was still clearly a child – though he was a few years older – and kept quiet unless spoken too. He was fair looking, with reddish-brown hair and brown eyes. His brother, Evander, was much older – looking closer to eighteen and stockily built. He had to be graduating soon and seemed intent on listening closely to Father when he spoke. It looked like both the Heirs knew each other too, unsurprising given their close age and similar circumstances.
Pansy tried to eat her small portion of briny caviar and delicate quail egg halves slowly. There was only one egg in her bowl, cut into half and topped with black roe, drizzled with some sort of herby green vinaigrette. Very tasty, but disappointingly small.
"This is your daughter then, Lady Parkinson?" Lady Burke was saying. "I must be getting older, have I met you before, child?"
"I don't think so, Lady Burke." Pansy said, "but it's lovely to meet you."
"Oh, what a dear!" Lady Burke exclaimed.
Mother shook her head, sighing lightly. "Pansy was a bit of a sickly babe," she confessed, like it pained her to admit. "She recovered of course, but, well," Here, she added a look of guilt. "I have always been a bit overprotective since."
Lady Burke nodded sagely, seeming fully onboard with the sad truth. "What a shame, do not begrudge your Mother, young lady. Mothers love their children more than you know."
If only you knew.
Mrs Blishwick eyed Mother and Pansy both with sympathy in her eyes, Mr Blishwick did the same, more interested in the gossip than whatever the men were speaking about. To Mother's right, Father and Lord Burke continued without pause.
"Yes, Lady Burke." Pansy answered regardless, lowering her eyes to the table. "I know."
Mrs Blishwick looked a step above pulling her into a hug. Lady Burke's expression softened. "I'm sure you'll do your House proud, my dear – Hogwarts soon, is that right?"
Mother laughed lightly, "Oh, you should have seen her Accidental Magic as a child! Such bright magic – she shattered a window in the Piano Room once."
"Really?" Mrs Blishwick blinked, looking impressed. Lady Burke's eyes on Pansy were now assessing. Pansy reddened appropriately.
"Really." Mother echoed, clearly sensing a willing audience to brag at. "She was quite good at surprising us with all sorts, she near apparated to reach me once when I called her for dinner, not a single lost limb."
It had not been an experience she was keen to repeat honestly. She'd completely blacked out afterwards, running on shear terror at having lost track of time, her heart pounding. She'd been incredibly lucky she hadn't lost any fingers in the incident, and Pansy was definitely not about to try it again before she was of age to do so.
"Remarkable," Lady Burke commented, eyes flickering towards her own son, who was listening to Father and Lord Burke speak with rapt attention. "How old did you say you were, my dear?"
"I turn eleven in August, Lady Burke." Pansy said, stomach clenching. Mother was practically beaming, with how satisfied she was. Well, not beaming – it wasn't becoming, but certainly there was a content confidence in the looseness of her shoulders that betrayed her.
Oh – gross. Mother was pedalling her wares to the Burkes and the Rosiers, though there was no Lady Rosier to cater to and Pansy wasn't sure how much Lord Rosier was paying attention to the gossiping women. She eyed the boys when no one was watching. It wasn't that they were particularly unattractive or boarish, but both the Heirs were much older than her. She was ten to their eighteen and twenty.
Mother might have had no qualms about it, but Pansy certainly did.
Hopefully, they'd be married off by the time she was of age.
The Rosiers left part way during the second course - a tiny caprese salad, the older man leading his two sons from the table through an archway to one side of the room.
By the third course (cream of mushroom soup), they had returned but Lord Burke had downed much of the wine – face turning ruddy and slurring slightly. Both Lady Burke and his son looked displeased, the latter shooting frantic glances at Father and Lord Rosier's face as if he was hoping they wouldn't have noticed.
The Parkinson family rose between the fourth (an appetizer of candied carrots and prosciutto ham) and the fifth course, which was likely to be some sort of salad, judging by the way things had been going. Pansy followed Mother and Father through the hall, trying to keep track of whose eyes lingered and who was uninterested, all without tripping.
They weren't stopped on their way through the tables but she imagined they would be afterwards.
They exited the banquet room through the open archway she'd seen the Rosiers cross through earlier, into a well furnished side room that appeared to precede the Ritual room. All her searching in the Library last night had accomplished little, apart from lost sleep. There were perhaps dozens upon dozens of different Yule rituals, some of them requiring blood, some of them not. Pansy steadied herself as they were motioned to wait for the individuals inside to finish.
At a steward's signal, Father led them through a set of doors, into the adjoining room next door. It was darker in here and Pansy had to blink for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. The room itself wasn't overly large or decorated luxuriously. In the centre of the floor seven white candles, as thick as her thigh and tall as her waist, were arranged in a circle, symbols carved into the ground between them, linking each point together to complete the ring. In the middle, a deep brazier was burning a huge log - wider than Pansy's torso – flames licking at the darkening bark.
She followed Father and Mother, picking a silver needle from a pedestal next to the door and stepped over the threshold of the magic circle. They gathered around the burning wood, facing each other.
Father spoke first. His voice, deep and grounding.
" It is the season of Yule, the time of the Old Gods,
The Horned Kings bleed to bring us balance,
The rebirth of the Sun, the end of the long Dark,
Honoured eternal cycle of birth, life, death and rebirth,
May the Oak King rise to claim his throne once more –
So mote it be!"
His voice ended in a shout – as he pricked his index finger over the flames. Drops of lurid red disappeared as they fell, burned away to nothing.
Mother's prayer was different, but the woman readied her needle nonetheless.
"O Crone, the Wheel has turned once more,
The time of the winter goddess is nigh,
Let the Maiden claim what is now Her's,
As you lay down down in the Long Night and She is born again,
Honoured eternal cycle of birth, life, death and rebirth –
So mote it be!"
Mother's blood joined Father's in the flames. The air felt thick with tension as Pansy stepped forwards, lifting her needle to her fingers. She let out a shallow breath, steadying herself.
"O Crone, the Wheel has turned once more," She spoke slowly, echoing Mother's words. "the time of the winter goddess is nigh, let the Maiden claim what is now Her's, as you lay down in the Long Night and She is born again," Pansy held her hands over the flame, the heat a sharp flash of pain she ignored to finish.
"- Honoured eternal cycle of birth, life, death and rebirth -" She shivered, despite the heat of the fire. " So mote it be." The needle was strangely cold against her fingertips. She had pricked herself a little too deeply, droplets of blood spilling into the fire.
Pansy retracted her hand.
They left the room quickly after, Ritual complete, and threaded their way back through the dining guests, stopping occasionally to speak to so-and-so. Pansy was a bit underwhelmed honestly, as they slowly wound their way back to their table. Mother had said that it would only be 'a bit of blood' but she had honestly been expecting something more… magical? Awful? Intense? Instead, it was a few prayers over a fire, and a paltry few drops of blood - hardly anything to lose sleep over.
She even recognised it from one of the books she'd read last night, a ritual she'd dismissed because it seemed more religious than functional. There was little to it, from what she'd read and just seen. The book had noted that some individuals experienced brighter visual displays of magic, but the effect was largely aesthetic and not really functional. Besides, she could hardly test that out at the moment could she.
They returned to the table after being predictably stopped several times by Father's associates, and finished dinner with the Burkes, Rosiers and Blishwicks with little fuss, although Lord Burke was restrained from any more wine by his wife and son, and relegated to water only, much to his dismay.
After the dinner, the doors back to the Ballroom were opened once more, orchestral music drifting up from below signalling the commencement of the second part of the evening - the Ball.
Pansy stood to the side of the dance floor, watching Lord and Lady Malfoy dance gracefully to a waltz in the centre of the room as she trailed behind Mother and Father, networking at its edges. The talk this evening was mostly on Minister Bagnold's shocking announcement and subtle and not so subtle political proddings to determine stances and potential future candidates. Dumbledore's name had been mentioned several times, to Pansy's surprise. He was supposed to be very powerful, that much must have been true, but she didn't think he ever took up a position in the Ministry to her knowledge.
Father, and Mother to an extent although she wasn't asked often, skirted around the subjects with the other guests, not a staunch Dumbledore supporter that much was clear; but vaguely neutral towards other possible candidates.
The only other obvious opinion Father made was when the possibility of Crouch Senior as the next Minister was proposed. He had laughed outright, eyes cold. "The man was demoted from the DMLE less than a decade ago, I highly doubt he will be receiving a promotion anytime soon."
A little while after dinner, they were joined by a well-dressed middle aged man, in long flowing robes. His hair was greying, long but braided into a single rope. His features were hard and blunt, hence Pansy's surprise when Mother turned and greeted him with a small, seemingly genuine smile.
"Brother." Mother said, dipping into her first curtsey of the evening. "Blessed Yule."
Father and Lord Corban Yaxley clasped hands. "Blessed Yule."
The man was taller than Father even, thick and muscled where Father was narrow and lithe. He had a cruel looking scar that cut from his left cheek and through his lip to his chin. Grey eyes found her by Mother's skirts, and Pansy dropped into a deep curtsey before rising.
"I take it this is the Niece you've yet to show me."
"Blessed Yule, Uncle." Pansy said softly, arming herself with her pretty smile.
The man dismissed her with a glance, addressing Mother mockingly. "What was it I was hearing earlier? Lady Parkinson being overprotective, something about a villa in France?" He was speaking quietly enough that they wouldn't be overhead but clearly didn't believe a word of it, and Pansy wondered what he knew. "Merle, dear, you always knew how to stir the pot."
Her uncle snorted dismissively, and Pansy felt, more than saw, Mother bristle. Lord Yaxley replaced his empty champagne flute with a new glass from one of the passing trays floating through the air and switched his attentions to Father, talk of some recent bill going over her head.
"Go and mingle." Mother said quietly, eyes never leaving her brother. "I don't have the patience for your foolishness right now."
Pansy swallowed, her chest feeling tight. Although she was mostly sure she hadn't put a foot wrong, the doubt made her feel cold. "Yes, Mother."
She stepped away from Mother and the other two men silently, winding her way in between people as she left them behind. Pansy tried to keep away from the dancing, wanting nothing more than to avoid any sort of attention at the moment. She wove her way through the throng, keeping an eye out for any groups of children. There was a gaggle of Hogwarts aged boys milling around one side of the dance floor, egging each other on to ask different girls and women to dance. Another group of smaller children, probably no older than nine-years old, were gathered by the stairs, playing some sort of game. She even thought she'd seen Neville Longbottom, a slightly round, blond-haired boy, accompanying a severe older woman with what looked like a live bird (a turkey?) as a hat. There was, of course, no way to check if it was him or not; but there was probably only one witch who preferred her hats to also double as live party fowl so she was sure it probably was him.
Eventually, she found Padma Patil in one of the alcoves to the side of the ballroom; guarding a tray of champagne flutes filled with orange juice nervously.
"Oh, thank goodness you're here." Padma slumped onto the red velvet chaise lounge. "Parv and Daphne wanted to go dancing and told me to guard the room while they went with Blaise and Draco."
"They're here too?" Pansy asked, dropping down beside her and reaching for a glass of orange juice. She was parched.
Padma made no move to stop her. "Yes, we were seated with the Zabinis upstairs for dinner and with Greg's family and the Tripes too. The others found us after."
"Sounds like a fun table," Pansy offered back, "We were with the Burkes, the Rosiers and a guy who was Head of the Apparition Test Centre, and his wife."
"Burkes?" Padma's head cocked to the side, "Like Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley?"
"The same – I'm surprised you know about the shop though." At Pansy's questioning look, the girl blushed.
"Mum took me and Parv on her shopping trip a few months back and took us inside. There were skulls on the walls and dead birds and everything."
"Ew." Pansy wrinkled her nose. "Sounds gross."
"It was really creepy." Padma giggled. "There was a book that was kind of sentient, it had teeth and loads of eyes like a spider, and it tried to scare us. I screamed, Parv attacked it with her new bag."
Pansy let out a huff of laughter. "Sounds like Parvati alright."
Before she could continue, there was a light knocking on the wall coming from the entrance to the alcove. An older boy stood there, lowering his hand apologetically, and tugged a younger girl inside.
"It's Patil, right? And Parkinson?" The boy asked. He looked to only be a few years older than them and smiled charmingly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt – I'm Heir Magnus Bulstrode."
Ah - another Heir. Mother was going to have kneazles.
Pansy rose, and curtseyed quickly. Padma hurried to do the same. The boy himself, Bulstrode, looked embarrassed, wincing a little.
"Pansy Parkinson, Daughter of House Parkinson." She introduced herself. Next to her, Padma did the same haltingly.
"Pleasure to meet you both." Heir Bulstrode smiled, a flash of perfectly straight teeth. "This is my little sister, Millicent." He said, pushing the girl who had until now been half-hidden behind him. "I need to find some friends, is it alright if I left her with you both?"
Pansy and Padma exchanged glances. This was probably the Bulstrode bastard she'd heard about in the chatter before dinner. The girl was a half-blood, her muggleborn mother had died in what was likely suspicious circumstance and she had been taken in by House Bulstrode; it had been a major scandal several years back and been the subject of Afternoon Tea for weeks. It didn't really look like Millicent wanted to be left with them, judging by the white knuckled grip she had on her brother's hand.
"Alright," Pansy said, hoping Padma didn't mind that she was speaking for both of them. "We don't mind as long as Millicent doesn't."
The boy looked at his sister and then longingly at the Ballroom outside. He was probably ditching her to go find his friends, but at least he was foisting his sister off to kids her age and not just telling her to get lost. Unlike some people. The siblings shared a back-and-forth of hurried whisperings before they broke apart finally.
Millicent sighed, releasing her brother. "Fine, but you have to come back and get me."
Magnus Bulstrode looked relieved, nodding his head quickly. "Of course, I'll come straight back in about half-an-hour or so." With that, the boy patted her on the shoulder and walked out.
The three girls watched him go in silence, his figure getting smaller and smaller before it disappeared among the moving crowd.
"Millicent, right?" Pansy said, after an awkward moment. "Do you want to sit down?" She gestured to the space next to her on the long couch.
"We've got orange juice." Padma gestured to the tray on the table, looking everywhere but their newest addition.
"Thanks." Millicent said curtly, sitting at the edge of the couch and picking up a glass.
"Your brother seems nice." Padma said, just as Pansy was saying, "So, how old are you?"
The three of them blinked at each other for a moment, before tentative grins found their way to their faces.
"I'm eleven," Millicent offered, "And yes he is." She looked at them challengingly as if daring them to say otherwise. "He's the best."
Pansy found herself nodding. Despite all the rumours flying around, he had gone out of his way to get his half-sister away from the crowds and with other girls her age. Of course, it could have still ended disastrously, but he had called out to them by their surnames and clearly deliberately sought them out. It made sense –a daughter of a foreign family and a daughter who was just making her first public appearance were more likely to not know the rumours surrounding his family compared to some of the more well-known children. He must have thought it through carefully before deciding to bring Millicent over.
"So, you'll be in Hogwarts with us next year then?" Padma asked softly.
Millicent nodded proudly. "I got my letter on my birthday in November."
"Oh, you'll be older than Daphne then." Pansy said and then sighed. "I think I'm going to be the youngest."
"When's your birthday, Pansy?" Padma asked, eyebrows furrowing.
"Thirtieth of August."
"That's -" Millicent gaped.
"The day before term starts?" Pansy finished for her, drily. "I know, I'm going to have to wait until then to even get my wand."
"That's annoying." Padma patted her hand comfortingly. "Me and Parv, that's my twin," she added for Millicent's benefit, "we have our birthday in February. We'll let you know what it's like at least."
"Thanks. That would be nice." Pansy said. There was nothing stopping her from buying the rest of her supplies, but her wand had to wait until her birthday according to the law. "Do you have one already, Millicent? A wand?"
The girl nodded eagerly, chestnut brown hair swaying with the motion. "It's great, Magnus told me to leave it at home," she confessed, "I was really worried that no wand was going to pick me, but mine did! I've tried a few spells from one of Magnus's old first year books, but they didn't really do much. Still - I feel like an actual witch now."
"That's so cool." Padma sighed airily. "I wish I had my wand now so I could try out all those spells."
"What do you think Hogwarts will be like?" Millicent said, leaning forwards. The girl seemed like she had warmed up to them now, looking at them excitedly. "Magnus is in Slytherin, that's where I want to go too."
"I don't know." Padma was saying, worrying her lip between her teeth. "I've read all about it but it doesn't sound like how school works in India, so Mum and Dad couldn't tell me much more about it either."
"You probably know more than we do, having an older brother," Pansy added. At the mention of her brother, Millicent perked up proudly. "I know about the houses though," Pansy volunteered, "Gryffindor for the courageous and chivalrous, Hufflepuff for hard work and loyalty, Ravenclaw for knowledge and learning, Slytherin for cunning and ambition."
Padma positively wilted in her seat. "So it really is like one of Parv's Witch Weekly personality quizzes? I was hoping my books were mistaken."
Millicent shrugged, "It's not that bad, if you get put in the same house as people who are like you, it's probably easier to make friends."
"We'll only be eleven!" Padma was still aghast. "We're going to split up from our peers and segregated according to the personality types we have when we are eleven and stay in those groups until we graduate!"
For all Padma and Parvati's differences, there were still times where it was frighteningly obvious they were twins. For example - when they reacted dramatically.
"I'm sure it'll be fine," Pansy said, soothingly. "It's been this way for years I think. Besides, even if we all end up in different houses, we can still meet up, right?" She exchanged a quick wide-eyed glance with Millicent.
"Right. Definitely." The other girl said, looking confused at how she'd been drawn into the conversation.
Padma ignored them both, looking at her hands in her lap. "I think me and Parv will be in different houses." She said after a moment, her voice low. "I read through each of the Houses' traits and she's definitely a Gryffindor." Her nose scrunched as she looked up at them, nervously. "I don't think I'm going to be a Gryffindor."
Pansy sighed. "I don't think you'd want to either." She gauged the slumped posture of the girl for a moment, wondering what it must have been like to have the possibility of being separated from her twin for the first time ever hovering over her head. "You're really clever Padma, and you love books, and learning, and getting things right. You'll probably be top of our classes." The girl blushed, straightening slightly. "None of us are really smart enough to keep up with you."
"That's not true!" Padma disagreed hotly. "You and Blaise are plenty smart. And Draco and Daphne too!"
Pansy shook her head. "But we're not like you." And they weren't. For all that Pansy enjoyed her reading, it felt at times like reading fiction. She wasn't learning for the sake of knowledge, she was learning out of self-preservation. A need to get her hands on books so that she could arm herself with what she needed to know in order to keep herself safe. Padma loved learning with a passion that was obvious to anyone that was looking. That Runes Tutor from several years ago had been suitably impressed by her well-thought out questions, even if they served the secondary purpose of slowing him down for Pansy and Blaise.
It wasn't the same thing.
Parvati, Daphne and the boys stumbled in not long after, heading straight for the orange juices and introducing themselves to Millicent, although Daphne did give her a long stare when Padma said that Magnus Bulstrode had come to find them.
Pansy sidled up to the oldest Greengrass daughter, both of them opting out of a game of Exploding Snap, how Draco smuggled them in under the watchful eye of his Mother she'd never know.
"How has your first Yule Ball been going?"
Pansy shrugged. "We were sat with the Burkes and the Rosiers."
Daphne winced, commiseratingly. "We were with the Abbots and the Slughorns, Mother was nearly beside herself, two Heirs on the same table. One for Astoria, One for me."
"Let me guess, Slughorn for you?"
Daphne made a face. "He's almost double my age. At least Heir Abbott was the same age as Astoria, even if he was a bit of a brat."
"I'm hoping someone will have married them before we're of age." Pansy said, wrinkling her nose.
Daphne raised her glass of orange juice, in a perfect imitation of her mother, nodding with enthusiasm. "Hear, hear!"