On an ordinary Tuesday evening in an ordinary house an ordinary pair of muggle children, perhaps reflective of the common opinion of muggle children of their era, made hazy realisations through child-like eyes as the contents of the living room blurred into a soupy hazy night.
The scintilla roseate hue of their coral and tangerine panelled wallpaper shone through the musty floor-lamp dimness that enshrouded the living room, perhaps a reminder of olden days of dollhouse like decor that had since long gone past. That was not the only relic of a longing for the olden days in the living room, where some individuals, both old and young alike, deem better and bemoan how the modern world had sapped all the wonders of an old-fashioned lifestyle trialled and tested and worth living.
The two girl tots, 7 and 9, held doll-like plastic figurines in their hands as part of a make-belief game, two large dollhouses almost as tall as they were, stood in the centre of the living room atop a cozy knitted suntan coloured rug. A large pink one with pink tiles, ivory balcony railings and engravings, fabric fern potted plans, see-through curtains with flecks of glitter embedded within the plastic fabric, and a myriad of other delicacies. Then a soft purple and white doll house a little bit smaller of much the same design, delicately detailed in all areas.
They were expensive and uncommon toys for children of this era, but their father swore their kids would have good proper toys to play with growing up, as well as remarks of regret over the influences on children these days and where it bought their focus to their mother. He got his wish, the dollhouses were evidently the centrepiece of all the plastic toys in the room, the pride and envy of all children who had been over for playdates, and it starred in all the games of princesses the girls liked to play with their figurines.
It always reverted back to princesses. Even though the muggle world was a constitutional democracy with a figurehead royalty in countries that had the most extensive monarchy (there were little countries truly governed by monarchies in absence of any form of government nowadays), there was an enchantment to royalty that captured each and every generation.
"Alice made it to the throne room and was crowned queen today," said the younger girl, marching her favourite doll to one of the highest buildings in the room, "she would much rather be queen than a lowly princess."
"Oh I've had it, this is boring," said the older one, throwing down her toy with a flick of dislike. In the background the tv droned on with reality tv of parliament and court processes. Neither of the kids understood them at the moment, but they knew enough to recognise the prime minister when they saw them on tv, and that much of the modern world was governed by the court.
"I'm almost 10. This is such a babyish thing," she rolled her eyes and there was a drawl to her voice, "who cares about kings and queens? It's such an old fashioned thing. A 1500 century thing. It's long gone. Why do we even care to pretend to be people that old?"
"It exists if you believe it does," said her little sister, "like fairies. They visit people more when they're kids but as long as you believe in fairies you can always find magic if you look for it."
"It's irrelevant," insisted the eldest, "I like the government and modern day politics more. It feels like something I could grow up to me," she said, eyeing the attire worn in parliament that resembled clothes she could see herself wearing and not the gaudy gowns of monarchies from times long past.
"It's cool," her younger sister shrugged, "even if kings and queens don't exist, I think it's magical. And a world in which they did would be amazing."
"It's not our world," said the elder sister, staring longingly at the tv. Despite the family's longing for the past there was a strong feeling of being entrenched in the modern world and gratitude at all the possibilities and opportunities it offered that existed within the household, which would eventually take over longings for the past.
For all her eagerness about believing in monarchies her little sister agreed with a small nod. Monarchies were enchanting, but a world in which they existed was not one they lived in nor were privy to.
[line break]
"Chin up. Shoulders back. I will whip you if you slouch…" Theodore's mother stalked around her two children, Theodore and Thalassa Nott, 9 and 7 respectively, from a small patch of their ballroom where they were currently taking lessons in ball etiquette, twirling her wand in her fingers.
"To be a Sacred 28 noble pureblooded family is practically like being royalty…only, without the binding laws to power, fortune, glory, that real monarchies have…" his mother whispered hungrily as she continued circling the two kids.
"What do you do at a ball?" she asked.
"Never insult or offend any of the guests," said Theodore, "especially if you're hosting."
"Good. And what's the difference between a host and a host's assistant?" she said.
"The host is the one with the reason to throw the ball, the most to gain from it. The assistant is someone who welcomes the guests and acclimatises them to the ball, allowing the host to make their grand entrance. The most memorable of the night," said Thalassa.
In the grand Nott Manor, an ancient and antique generational building, the young buds of the Sacred 28 noble houses of the wizarding world were living a life very similar to royalty - only missing, some sort of magical legal enchantment to make the privileges of being a royal binding, and so the truth is despite the muggle world having moved on from the idea and ideals of monarchies, the magical world still stroked the embers of it, a wisp of the idea of the idea of a royalty. Times were quite different.