April, 1995.
It was widely known that Mr. Nott continuously refused to connect the main house of his Cornwall estate to the Floo Network. He claimed he was an old-fashioned man who enjoyed his morning and evening strolls across the grounds, often adding that they provided him with much-needed clarity of mind after a day's work. But his children knew better.
In truth, Wilfred Nott was a deeply paranoid wizard. The extensive charms and impenetrable protections around the estate allowed him to stay informed of all activity around the impressive stretch of land and to ward off any unwelcome visitors. The only connected fireplace was in the cottage on the estate's southern border. If one could call a two-story hunting house connected to the stables a "cottage." Still, the long walk across the estate was a more comfortable option than spending a whole day traveling from Scotland by train and other means.
As they hauled their luggage through the long, winding driveway leading up to the gates that separated the main house and gardens, Rose and Theo couldn't help but regret not accepting their house-elf Puck's offer of help. The gravel crunched underfoot as they trudged along, the weight of their trunks feeling more burdensome with each step. The manor loomed in the distance, its dark stone walls and imposing structure standing as a testament to the family's legacy.
When they finally reached the tall wrought-iron gates, disappointment washed over their faces. The gates were not only locked but seemed to shimmer with an additional layer of enchantments, a sign that their father's paranoia had reached new heights.
"Fucking hell, since when does he lock the inner gates too?" Theo wiped sweat from his brow.
Rose glanced at her brother, her own irritation mirrored in his expression. "Of course he does. It's not enough that we have to drag our stuff all the way from the cottage; he has to make it a bloody obstacle course."
Theo sighed, leaning against the gate and looking up at the manor. "Sometimes I think he just does it to mess with us. Keeps us on our toes, you know?"
Rose snorted. "Maybe it's his way of telling us he wishes we'd stay at school."
They stood in silence for a moment, catching their breath and contemplating their next move. The estate, with its manicured gardens and meticulously maintained pathways, stretched out before them like a scene from a painting.
"Alright," Rose finally said, straightening up. "Let's get this over with."
With a wave of her wand, she tried the unlocking charm, but the gates remained firmly shut. She sighed and turned to Theo. "Looks like we'll have to do it the hard way."
Theo groaned but nodded in agreement. Together, they began the climb over the gate, their movements careful and practiced from years of navigating their father's most fortified defenses. Once over, they resumed their journey, the final stretch to the manor still ahead of them.
The main house of the Nott estate was as grand as its protections, its Elizabethan architecture imposing and slightly foreboding. Tall, narrow windows lined the stone walls, giving the impression of silent sentinels watching over the grounds.
As they approached, the heavy wooden doors seemed to creak open of their own accord, revealing the dimly lit interior.
"All of this fuss and he keeps the front door open?" Rose said, rolling her eyes.
Theo shrugged. "It was probably Magda."
Inside, the manor was a labyrinth of corridors and rooms, each more opulent than the last. Tapestries depicting scenes from Greek legends adorned the walls, and the air was thick with the scent of polished wood and old books. The grand staircase, with its intricately carved banister, led up to the family's private quarters, while the drawing room and library stood on the ground floor.
Rose looked around, her eyes narrowing at the walls. "Is that some new wallpaper?"
Theo dropped his trunk with a thud, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders. "Funny," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
As they began to ascend the grand staircase, the manor seemed to close in around them with its oppressive silence. The walls, lined with portraits, felt like they were watching their every move, the eyes following them with silent judgment.
An old woman with a stern expression and a high lace collar spoke up from her portrait as they passed. "No—"
Theo turned to face her, plastering on a fake smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Yes, yes, we know. No mud on the carpets." His voice was laced with a mixture of sarcasm and resignation, a familiar response to a familiar reprimand.
Rose couldn't help but roll her eyes at the exchange. The portraits, with their incessant nagging and unsolicited advice, were just another thing she disliked about the manor. She glanced up at the old woman, who was now muttering about the importance of cleanliness and decorum.
At the top of the stairs, the long corridor stretched out before them, its dark wood floors muffling their footsteps.
"Do you think he'll be happy to see us?" Rose asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Theo glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "We'll find out once he's back for supper."
They continued down the corridor, and the door to Rose's room creaked open as she pushed it, revealing the familiar surroundings of her own personal sanctuary. The large four-poster bed stood against one wall, while the antique wardrobe and desk by the window were as cluttered as she remembered. Everything was just as she had left it, yet it felt different, almost foreign.
Later, they reconvened in the drawing room, sinking into the plush armchairs with a sense of relief. The room, with its rich drapes and crackling fireplace, offered a brief respite from the oppressive atmosphere of the manor. The flames danced and flickered, casting shadows on the walls and adding to the room's cozy ambiance.
Magda, their house-elf, had already scolded them for being too thin, her large, expressive eyes filled with concern as she inspected them from head to toe. Despite her small stature, she had an undeniable presence. After scolding them, the house-elf had bustled off to the kitchen, muttering about scones and biscuits that she had to prepare immediately to serve with tea.
"We made it," Theo said, raising an imaginary glass in a mock toast.
"Woo," Rose replied, a small smile playing on her lips.
Theo's brows furrowed. "Weren't you the one who begged to come home for Easter?"
Rose pretended to think for a moment before sticking out her tongue mockingly. They sat in silence for a while, the strains of the day slowly lifting.
Then, without warning, the loud sound of the grand wooden doors opening and closing echoed from the entrance hallway. They could only imagine it was their father, finally home.
They both stood up, moving to stand next to each other. Rose wasn't sure if their father would be angry, disappointed, or something even worse. As she listened to his footsteps, her breathing shallowed.
The old man appeared in the doorway, analyzing his children with a stern look. He entered the room, dropping his briefcase with a heavy thud. Suddenly, without any warning, his face softened, and he rushed forward to envelop them in a crushing hug.
"My darlings," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "How I've missed you both."
Rose and Theo, taken aback by their father's unexpected display of affection, hesitated for a moment before returning his embrace. Rose felt a lump in her throat and blinked back tears, while her brother patted their father's back awkwardly.
"We've missed you too, Father," Theo managed to say, his voice slightly muffled.
Their father finally released them, holding them at arm's length as he examined their faces. "Let me have a look at you," he said, his tone a mix of warmth and concern. "Rosalie, you're looking more like your mother every day."
Rose smiled, her earlier apprehension melting away. "Thank you, Father."
"And Theodore," their father continued, turning to his son. "I hope you've been taking good care of your sister."
Theo nodded. "Always, Father."
Their father sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. "Let me tell Magda to prepare tea and some food; you must be parched."
Rose and Theo exchanged a glance, feeling a sense of disbelief at the whole ordeal. Their father left the room, and they awkwardly sat down. As they continued to exchange looks, it was as if they were reading each other's minds. Their father was always pleased to have them both home, but this amount of enthusiasm was quite suspicious.
"Now," their father said, his tone brightening as he re-entered the drawing room. "How about we sit down and you tell your old man what you've been up to."
As they sat in the plush armchairs near the fireplace, the warm glow of the flames casting a cozy light over the room, they talked for what felt like hours. Rose couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of optimism. Their father was not only unfazed by the article, he even laughed about it.
"I'm terribly sorry, my dearest," he said, picking up an ornate teapot and filling their cups with steaming tea. "She's a most unpleasant woman. I'm quite certain her writings have more to do with me refusing an audience with her than anything you could've done."
He leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips. "So, tell me," he said, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Does Professor McGonagall still try to shake you by turning into a cat?"
Their father listened intently to their stories, nodding occasionally as they spoke. He asked questions, laughed at their anecdotes, and offered words of encouragement. The conversation flowed almost too easily, so much so that Rose found herself growing more agitated despite the pleasant exchange.
Eventually, their father glanced at the clock on the mantle. "Oh my, it's getting late. You two should get some rest. We have plenty of time to talk more tomorrow."
Theo stood up first, stretching after the long conversation. "Goodnight, Father," he said, giving their father a quick hug before heading to his room.
Rose lingered for a moment, trying to summon the courage to voice her concerns. Her father's unexpected warmth momentarily disarmed her, but a question burned in her mind. As her father began to speak again, Rose quickly interrupted him.
"I'll just come out and ask you directly," she said, her voice tinged with hesitation. She chose her next words carefully. "Who were the Knights of Walpurgis?"
Wilfred Nott stiffened noticeably. His expression shifted from warmth to one of guarded curiosity. He eyed his daughter with a scrutinizing gaze before suddenly bursting into laughter that rang hollow in the cozy room.
"Why, good Merlin!" He chuckled some more, though the sound was forced. "How did you come across that old thing?"
"On a back page of a book."
"Ah..." he eyed her warily. "It's merely an old student club I was a member of."
Rose nodded, sensing there was more he wasn't telling her.
"Nothing more, just a club?"
"Nothing more." He glanced at the watch again, another sign of his discomfort. "Tell you what, after supper tomorrow, let's continue this chat over some advanced studies."
"Of course, Father."
As she made her way upstairs, Rose felt a sense of unease settle over her. She was home, and if her father wouldn't share the information with her, she knew enough about the manor and its secrets to find the answers she needed on her own. She resolved to uncover the truth, no matter what it took.
In the morning, Rose awoke to the soft sound of Magda bustling about, leaving a tray of milk and biscuits by her bed. The early morning light filtered through the heavy emerald drapes, casting a warm glow over her room. She stretched and sat up, the comfort of her old bedroom giving her a brief sense of peace.
"Good morning, Miss," Magda said, her large eyes shining with devotion as she lingered by the door.
"Thank you, Magda," Rose replied, smiling as she reached for a biscuit. The buttery sweetness melted in her mouth, and she stood up to look out of her window. Spring.
After washing up and getting dressed, she made her way down the grand staircase silently, her footsteps light on the polished wood. She decided to avoid the drawing room where she caught a glimpse of Theo eating breakfast. She wasn't in the mood for company just yet.
The estate was still and quiet, the morning dew glistening on the manicured lawns. She walked towards the gardens, taking in the sight of the apple trees that had started blooming with delicate flowers. The scent of blossoms filled the air, and Rose couldn't help but feel a little nostalgic.
She soon retrieved her riding cloak from the cottage near the stables. The stables were a hub of activity, with horses whinnying and Puck going about his morning routines. Rose greeted him with a nod before heading straight to Emir, her favorite horse. The sleek, rose gray-colored stallion nickered softly as Rose approached, his large eyes reflecting the light.
"Good boy," Rose whispered, stroking Emir's neck. She quickly saddled the horse and mounted, the familiarity of the routine further calming her nerves. As she rode towards the outer gates, the rhythmic clop of Emir's hooves on the cobblestone path echoed in the stillness.
"Puck," she called. He appeared with a soft pop, his large ears twitching.
"Yes, Miss Rose?"
"I'm going for a ride," she said. "Would you open the gates? And don't tell anyone where I've gone, alright?"
Puck looked uneasy. "Puck must obey if Master asks, Miss Rose. Puck must tell the truth."
"I understand," she sighed, giving him a reassuring smile.
Rose guided Emir through the gates and onto the forest path. The light clouds and dense trees above them provided layers of protection from the morning sun, and the air was filled with the chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves. The path was familiar, one she had taken countless times, and she hoped that the solitude of the forest was exactly what she needed to clear her head.
As she rode forward, her mind drifted back to the previous evening. Her father's evasiveness and the stiffness beneath his cheerful expression proved to only set up more questions and no answers. Rose wanted, needed, to understand more, and she was determined to find out what her father was hiding. The quiet of the forest provided a contrast to the scenarios she was making up in her head. It also gave her the clarity she needed to plan her next steps.
The forest path led to a secluded glen she and Theo had discovered years ago. She dismounted and let Emir graze nearby.
Rose sat down on a moss-covered rock, her eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. She took a deep breath, inhaling the earthy scent of the woods, and let her mind wander.
Her father's reaction to her question had been too calculated, too rehearsed. It was clear he was hiding something, but was it significant? He never spoke much about his school years, it might just be him avoiding the topic altogether. His mention of advanced studies, clearly a ploy to deflect her curiosity, would have to be treaded carefully. She would have to gather the information without arousing suspicion.
Lost in thought, Rose hardly noticed the passage of time. It wasn't until Emir nickered softly, nudging her with his nose, that she realized how long she had been sitting there. She smiled, patting the horse's neck.
"Alright, let's head back."
Mounting Emir, she took a different route through the forest, the one leading to the main road where Emir could break into a well deserved gallop. When they finally approached the estate, the sun was higher in the sky, although still hidden behind clouds. She handed Emir over to Puck, giving the horse one last affectionate pat.
As she sat with Theo in the library, the smell of old parchment and leather filling the air, Rose tried her best to concentrate on her advanced Arithmancy book. The numbers and symbols swam before her eyes, but her thoughts kept drifting to the promised lesson with her father. Just as she started to nervously tap her finger against the book's spine, a soft rustling sound caught her attention. An owl swooped in through the open window, delivering a note to Theo with an elegant drop.
Rose huffed, glaring at the owl. "I see. So the blasted bird doesn't bite everyone, just me."
Theo smirked, keeping his eyes on his own book. "Maybe because I don't send it on days-long journeys around Europe."
Rose shot him a look. "Shut up."
"Just saying what I've observed," he shrugged nonchalantly. "Like how that red-haired dragon tamer seemed very interested in your performance at the first task."
"Well I've observed—" Rose snatched the note from his hand swiftly, her cheeks slightly flushed. "—that before we left, you and Pucey were talking again."
Theo's face turned red. "Just read the damn note."
Rose unfolded the parchment and scanned its contents. "Father has postponed our lessons. The Malfoys are coming for dinner," she said with a sigh.
Theo's eyes lit up with excitement. "Really?"
Rose raised an eyebrow. "How can you be friends with such a git?"
"Draco can be pleasant when he wants to be." Theo grinned. "At least with me."
They went upstairs to change into something more formal, their footsteps echoing in the grand, empty halls of the manor.
"Do you remember the last time they came?" Rose asked, adjusting her dress in front of the mirror.
"Very funny." Theo chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. "I wonder what tonight will bring."
Rose laughed, shaking her head. "Hopefully not another pond incident. I don't think you two could live that down."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the manor grounds, the siblings made their way to the formal dining room. The room was already set for dinner, the table adorned with fine china and silverware, the chandelier overhead casting a warm, inviting glow and fresh flowers emanating from every corner.
Rose took a deep breath, smoothing out the fabric of her dress. "What do we think, which one of them will brag first?"
Theo shrugged. "Probably Lucius."
She turned her eyes towards him. "I'm betting five sickles on Narcissa."
Theo grinned. "It's on."
Before Rose could respond, they heard murmurs outside. Their father and the Malfoys had arrived. Rose and Theo exchanged a glance, then went to greet the guests.
Lucius was impeccably dressed, his blond hair slicked back as usual, and he greeted Theo with a firm handshake. Narcissa, ever so elegant in shimmering robes, smiled warmly at Rose, while Draco stood slightly behind his parents, offering a polite nod.
"Welcome," Wilfred said, his voice carrying the authority of the manor. "Please, after you."
As Magda took their cloaks and they entered the dining room, Rose noticed the way Lucius and her father exchanged knowing looks, a silent conversation passing between them. Narcissa turned to Rose, her smile almost genuine. "Rosalie, it's lovely to see you again. You look absolutely radiant."
"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," Rose replied, offering a small curtsy. "You look wonderful, as always."
Dinner began shortly after, the table filled with delicious dishes prepared by Magda. The conversation flowed easily, with Narcissa offering plenty of compliments to Rose, who did her best to respond with grace. Across the table, Theo and Draco were deep in their own conversation, occasionally giggling and nudging each other like little boys.
Lucius and Wilfred spoke in hushed tones, their heads close together as they discussed matters Rose couldn't quite hear, but she noticed the way Lucius kept scratching his left forearm.
As the meal progressed, Lucius turned his attention to Rose. "I must say, Rosalie, your performance in the tournament has been more than impressive. I have no doubt you will come out on top, especially against Potter."
Rose smiled politely, though inwardly she felt a twinge of discomfort as he could mention Rita Skeeter's article at any moment. "Potter is quite a formidable opponent, Mr. Malfoy. Quite talented."
"Indeed." Lucius's eyes narrowed slightly, and Draco snickered from his end of the table, but Lucius quickly shifted the conversation.
After dinner, the men retreated to Wilfred's study, while Narcissa, Draco, Theo, and Rose moved to the drawing room. The boys began a game of chess, laughing as Draco's figures smashed Theo's. After a long conversation about the importance of a good woven tapestry, Narcissa took a seat beside Rose, her expression turning motherly. She offered a round of unsolicited advice, but Rose still thanked her politely. She knew the woman was saying everything out of the goodness of her heart, however out of touch her advice might've been.
"My dear," she said, her voice soft. "It's rather amazing seeing you so grown, your mother would be very proud. I imagine we might be shopping for your wedding robes soon enough."
"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy." Rose smiled genuinely at the gesture, though her thoughts wandered to someone she knew both Narcissa and her mother would disapprove of, in which case Narcissa would certainly not take her shopping for a wedding robe. "But we might have to wait some more for that."
"You know," Narcissa began. "When I was your age..."
Suddenly, raised voices echoed from Wilfred's study. The door burst open, and Lucius stormed in, his face flushed. "It's late," he said curtly. "We must be going."
Theo protested, but Wilfred agreed. "Yes, it's best. Thank you for a pleasant evening."
After seeing the Malfoys out, Theo swiftly went upstairs, but Rose lingered behind again. Her father approached her, his expression thoughtful. "Would you like a cup of tea, my dear?"
They sat in his study, the fire casting flickering shadows on the walls. Wilfred poured the tea, his movements slow and deliberate. "Rose," he began, his voice gentle. "I wish to tell you a story."
She listened as he spoke of a young, idealistic man and his youth. "Don't trap yourself in ideologies you decide are right at seventeen," he advised, proving that he was indeed the young man from the story. "You might regret it later."
Rose felt a chill run down her spine. "Father," she asked, her voice trembling slightly, "who were the Knights of Walpurgis really?"
His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. After a moment, he forced a chuckle. "A bunch of young men who thought they could make a difference."
"And did they?" Rose pressed.
"In a way," he replied, his tone flat. "But then they grew up."
Rose nodded, though she was far from satisfied.
Before she made her way upstairs, a sense of unease settled deeply inside of her. She turned to catch another glance of her father and she noticed him deep in though, his gaze turned towards the fire.
He too was fidgeting with his left sleeve, just like Lucius did.