This is connected to the story.
The White Heir
It was a massive party. Food and guests and wine- Ted had never seen more alcohol in one place. Most of the guests were already red faced and slurring their words. Ted sent a plea to Merlin for their souls when his godfather arrived and swept past them in the ballroom. He didn't have the mask on yet, and he was glad for it. Despite the lightweight and airing charms he'd swept on it when no one was looking, it still carried the unmistakable weight of magic. Not Dark magic of course, light magic- the heavy, complex kind.
Uncle Ron had probably cast them. He didn't know- nobody told him anything anymore except the things he absolutely had to know. Like that the punch was spiked, or that his godfather would be arriving late, always the what and never the why. Well, he was tired of it. Maybe even sick of it, but he didn't let himself think that.
He found George at the main table, picking at the silken table cloth with a calloused hand. Uncle George had the hints of a laugh line on his stolid face, barely enough that Ted could have mistaken him for a serious person. He lit up when he saw him and went to ruffle his hair. Ted ducked out of the way with years of practice and with the fear of his grandmother guiding him.
"Oi, Teddykins!" George laughed, and Ted internally cringed but grinned back.
"Glad to see you've left that mask off," said George. "We both know it's too ugly for the ladies."
"Victoire thinks it's wicked," Ted countered. ",and I'm thinking of letting her have it."
"Good riddance to bad rubbish, I'd say, but we both know what your Aunt Hermione would think of that."
The silence felt awkward because Teddy did know what Aunt Hermione would say. Some tirade about protection and safety and how he couldn't give away the mask because was meant to be more of a concept than a visual.
He left George to his devices and wandered on. Neville and Hannah were there of course- as was the quiet Lord Malfoy. He and his wife were sitting at a table in the corner, talking in hushed voices. They had probably left their son at home. Ted wondered where Scorpius was at the moment, despite only having met him once. He would have to be about ten years old around now, and around the age to pester him for details about Hogwarts. Ted thought he could have used the distraction.
He suddenly missed Victoire again. No, he didn't . . miss her. He thought this whole event could have been bearable if she had been there. Why hadn't they invited her? Maybe he could ask Hermione to. Or Ron. He wasn't sure who controlled the guest list at these events anymore.
It was the third one of its kind- a new novelty that his classmates whispered about when his back was turned. 'The White Heir's Debut' sounded like a bad play rather than the official name of a ball to him, but he couldn't choose. Except that he should have actually, because the ball was for him. He was the White Heir. It was his debut.