Malfoy Manor had been transformed in a way it had not since before Evanna and Draco had started Hogwarts. As a small child, Evanna had always watched the house elves decorating the manor with a touch of awe and envy, as she was never allowed to so much as leave her room during the party. Yet, she had dreamt of the day where she would get to see the beautiful decorations and swirl around the ballroom floor in her own glorious set of dress robes, a line a mile long of handsome young men wishing to ask her to dance. When she was a child, it was usually Gregory Cotton, the rather good looking Seeker of the Appleby Arrows, who would take one look at her and make the offer to whisk her away from her miserable isolation to a beautiful castle in the South of France where she would host balls and banquets every night of the week. As she got older, her hero's hair had darkened from blonde to black, his eyes lightening from brown to green. She didn't linger too long on those thoughts though.

After all, she no longer needed to be whisked away to a castle in France. As of that night, she would be announced as the Dark Lord's daughter, a Dark Lady in her own right. Her father had made it clear that the Death Eaters were to follow her orders as they would his own. Beyond that, he had also indulged Evanna's whims-even going so far as to bringing in her favorite band, The Hobgoblins, for the night. (She had not, however, asked exactly how he had managed such a thing when he was supposed to be disembodied in a forest in Albania.)

Evanna smiled as she placed the circlet her father had given her on her head. Her curls sprung out beneath it, the spelled glitter in her hair catching the light prettily. Her dress was dark green chiffon, the top pulled into a silver choker, forming a triangle at the top. The flowing fabric was belted at the waist with silvery leaves, before flowing all the way to the floor. She pulled on black opera gloves and hooked glittering emerald earring on, before checking her lipstick one last time. She stood back and admired herself in the mirror-she could have been Morgana, straight out of Camelot in the days of legends.

Glancing at the clock, Evanna slipped into her heels and tucked her wand into her left glove. It would not do to be caught unawares. The ball was officially underway, but the Dark Lord had wanted her to make an entrance. To be perfectly honest, she rather relished the idea herself. With one last look in the mirror, Evanna made her way out of her bedroom and down the hall to the doors of the Grand Ballroom. Two House Elves in matching black satin pillowcases stood on either side of the door. She nodded at them to open the door. The magical announcer called out her name as they did so.

"Introducing Evanna Belinda, Dark Lady, heir to the Dark Lord!"

Evanna swallowed, lifting her skirt as she walked out onto the landing of the staircase. She caught a glimpse of Narcissa standing in the far corner, giving her a little smile, as she knelt. Evanna knew that it would happen, but it still came as a shock to see the entire room kneeling before her.

Had no idea-

She is quite a little thing isn't she-

Upstart thinks she can order me-

That bastard Malfoy has to be-

You'd best keep your mouth shut, girl.

Evanna met harsh grey eyes. Lucius, though kneeling, was glaring at her. She rose her chin higher in challenge, glaring back at him to keep the growing anxiety at bay. The Death Eaters were kneeling before her now, but that did not mean they would not jump on any hint of weakness as soon as they were out of sight of-

She waited until Lucius looked down before she scanned the room for the one man who would not be kneeling. Finally, she spotted her father, emerging from the shadows, wearing green dress robes so dark they were practically black. For the first time, Evanna caught a glimpse of the man that the figure from the diary two years ago must have grown into. The Dark Lord seemed to exude charm and power and when one looked past the skeletal pale skin, one could almost see the handsome young Slytherin he had been.

The Dark Lord nodded at her, a proud smile on his lips and she took that as her cue to begin walking down the stairs, the train of her dress fanning out behind her as she did so. Her father met her on the last step of the staircase. He took another step so he was standing above her.

"Rise, my servants," he said.

They did so, and Evanna's skin prickled under the gaze of so many eyes. The Dark Lord placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Our world has never been so ready for the taking. After thirteen long years of exile, I have returned, more powerful than ever before. And, standing before us as a symbol of what is to come, is my heir, ready to stand by my side as we restore the world to the glorious days of old where magic ruled!"

The Dark Lord's speech was met with cheers. Evanna felt her heart flutter somewhere in her throat as she regarded the scene with wide eyes.

"Tonight, we celebrate my glorious return and the rise of my heir," the Dark Lord said as the noise died down. "Tomorrow, we will celebrate the start of a new world order!"

The cheering intensified and the Dark Lord squeezed Evanna's shoulder gently. She turned to look up at him. His red eyes practically glowed with pride as he regarded her.

"You may say something to them, if you wish," he said softly. "They are your followers."

The thought made Evanna feel ready to throw up. Speech-making had never featured in her fantasies of going to a ball. But, looking up at the Dark Lord, she knew she could not disappoint her father, who had been training her, who had granted her every wish. She would be good.

She turned back to the crowd. They looked at her expectantly, and Evanna could sense many were waiting for her to fail. The Dark Lord lifted his hand off her shoulder and backed away from her. Her breath caught as she fought for the words to say. She smoothed her dress nervously. And then it clicked.

"As a girl, I would read of Camelot," she said in a quiet voice, eyes shifting around the faces in the room nervously. Finally, she caught on some friendly blue eyes near the back. Narcissa nodded at her encouragingly. "I read of Camelot and of all the advice Merlin, the great wizard, would offer to the muggle King Arthur. And yet, nearly every time, Arthur would ignore him and Camelot fell to ruin.

"Had Merlin ruled, Camelot would have survived. Had Morgana the witch reigned, Camelot would have become a great empire! Together, wizards will rule over the world at large. Together, we will bring to an end the senseless wars of the muggles and keep humanity safe from the ways in which they try to destroy each other. Together, we will right the wrongs they have made toward nature and toward each other. Together, we will have Camelot!"

The room was silent for a moment and Evanna fought the urge to turn to her father, to know whether she had done well or not. A boy in blue robes began to clap and Evanna recognized Theodore Nott with a jolt. His father soon joined him, and then another and another and soon the entire room was cheering, just as loudly if not moreso as they had for the Dark Lord a few minutes previous.

The Dark Lord descended the stairs and held out a hand for her.

"Well done, daughter," he murmured as she took it and allowed her father to lead her into the center of the ballroom. Evanna curtseyed low before him, only barely hiding her large smile.

The ball was everything Evanna had imagined it to be and more. The sons of Death Eaters had practically lined up to dance with her and the music was always lively. Her father presided over the room from a dark throne on a raised dais as Evanna danced and danced to the music. After six consecutive dances, Evanna finally made her way to the side of the room, where a refreshments table had been set up. She poured herself a glass of punch and took a sip, watching the room in wonderment..

"May I have this dance, milady?"

Evanna turned to see Theodoe Nott, bending low over her hand. She blushed furiously.

"You may," she said. He grinned, sweeping her into a foxtrot in the center of the ballroom. The smile would not be wiped off her face as he twirled her across the dancefloor and then brought her back to his chest.

"How come you never told anyone?" he asked.

"I didn't know," she admitted. "Not until he came back and told me."

Nott nodded. "And Po-him?"

Evanna nearly froze in the middle of the dance floor. Harry. Kind Harry, who had done his best to help her, who she had saved in the maze, whose green eyes had been filled with so much anger and betrayal when she had accepted the bouquet of flowers from this boy. From Theodore Nott.

"I am my father's heir," she said warily. The lights seemed to dim, the music no longer as merry. "You ought to remember that."

Nott tensed. "There is no reason to get upset, Evanna. I would never say anything."

Evanna searched his blue eyes, pressing her mind forward. She was surprised to find that Nott was telling the truth.

"Then why-"

Evanna was cut off by Nott reaching forward and placing a swift kiss on her lips. Her eyes remained open and she looked at him in shock.

"What-why-"

Nott had gone completely red and Evanna blinked at him, unsure of what to do in that moment.

I've wanted to do that for so long. And now I've gone and messed it up.

"I'm-I am sorry, milady-"

"No-no, don't be sorry," Evanna said. Then, slowly, shyly, she reached up on her tiptoes and pressed another kiss to his lips. This one lingered a little longer and Evanna offered the boy a shy smile, which he returned just as shyly.

Yes, Evanna decided. She very much enjoyed balls. When she finally fell asleep in her new, large room that night, Evanna dreamed.

The girl shivered in the cold.

Her dress was little more than threadbare, and was cut to expose as much skin as possible. Alastrine, like all of her dying clan, had to earn coin to support herself and her aging mother, who fought to keep their princess' illness at bay. The little girl, on whom all their hopes of survival were pinned on, had experienced sickness after sickness this winter.

Tis the price to pay for so much power, her mother had told her. The crone told us that the leithor aigne would face all the more hardships in the future. It is nature's way of balancing all her power. Alastrine did her best not to resent the little girl. She had but a sliver of power left, and yet she faced just as much hardship, she was sure. Her people, once proud and strong, had been laid low by these invaders. Romans, they were called.

A man dressed in a Roman soldier's garb with pale hair noticed her and, whispering something to his lieutenant, approached her. Alastine did her best to hold her head up high, heart thundering. Despite that night ten years ago where all their people had poured their power into their princess, she had enough left to know exactly what this man wanted. Or, perhaps, it was just that all of these Romans wanted the same thing.

"Interesting," the pale-haired man said, eyes roving over her before locking onto her eyes, no longer as purple as they had once been. But, it still lingered there, just barely. "You may be whoring yourself out like the rest of these barbarians, but you're not quite like them, are you?"

"I'm willing to bet that you are just like all the rest of your kind," Alastrine hissed back.

The Roman ran his finger along her cheek and she did her best not to fight back. Then, a spark. A tiny fire, right on the end of his finger. Her eyes widened.

"No!"

The little princess had run outside of their hut, still wrapped in a wool blanket, her purple eyes wild with fear and fever.

"Princess, back inside," Alastrine snapped. "I am trying to earn us our bread!"

"No-but he-"

"So this is where your kind has been hiding," the soldier said. "You and your unnatural magic. Well, no matter. The might of Rome can make quick work of this."

The pale-haired man snapped his fingers and suddenly, the hut was on fire and the princess was screaming. Alastrine tried to run to the child, but the Roman had snatched her.

"Why don't you earn your bread now, girl?"

The fires grew and grew and then there were four in the belly of a castle, two wizards-one burly and redheired, the other sinewy and black-haired-and two witches-one blonde and fair, the other tanned and dark-haired-all of them standing in front of a long wooden box. One of the men was bent over the box, his shoulders shaking. The burlier of the two came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Salazar-"

"I told you," the other man said. "I told you they couldn't be trusted! But you were too proud and noble to listen to reason. And now-now-"

The tanned woman stepped forward. "We all feel your pain. We cannot turn on our friends-"

"If it weren't for him, she would be alive, Helga! Letting them in here, year after year, opening ourselves up to spies and attack!"

"I understand, Salazar, she was in my House-"

"She was my daughter," Salazar roared. "And muggles broke in here and-and-"

The man broke into fresh sobs. The other woman placed a hand on the burly man's shoulder.

"Come, Godric, we should leave him be," the blonde woman said in a gentle voice. The burly man opened his mouth to say more, but shook his head and followed her out.

"Salazar," Helga murmured, trailing a tanned hand over his arm. He captured it with ease and clasped it tightly.

"This will not happen again, Helga," he said in a quavering voice.

"I know, Salazar, we will-"

"I will take the measures necessary, blast what Gryffindor thinks!" he snarled. "Never again will a muggle see the inside of Hogwarts. Never again will their children deceive us and lead us to our ruin."

The visions went black and there was a man's voice in the darkness.

"You have much to learn, daughter, before you can right the wrongs done to and by your ancestors."

"Who are you?" Evanna demanded of the voice. "Why are you showing me these things?"

A female voice this time.

"Your powers are growing, even as your world darkens. Our kind has always faced hardship after hardship. Your line has always held lethal grudges against those who would harm you. You must rise above these, girl, if your world is to survive. Right the wrong. Mend the bond. Do not fall to the same traps as those before you."

When Evanna woke, she only remembered her dance with Theodore Nott.

A/N: So there is the ball! Just an fyi-I start back to school Monday so this may be the last chapter for awhile (though I may get out one more before break ends-depends on how much school-related things I get done, lol). Anyway, reviews give me life, so please leave one! ;)