𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 regulus black and
celia greengrass are in their
final year at hogwarts and in
the midst of the first wizardinng
war, delve into the history of
the world's past
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mors tua, vita mea; your death, my life
Perhaps it was a poor idea, on the behalf of the parents, to ensure that their children attended that evening's soirée. But they were at their most impressionable, and thus, it was the perfect way to introduce them to the life they would lead as they grew older.
Events of allure and refinement, celebrating their superiority to the rest of wizarding society, showing off the next set of elegant dress robes purchased from a shop outside of Diagon Alley, decorated with glittering gems and for those a little more extravagant; fur lining and gossamer silk, threads spun from Acromantula across the world.
Creating an environment exuding wealth seemed to be of the utmost importance, deciding who was and who wasn't abiding by the rules in order to receive an invite to the next party in a couple of months or so. Because as a member of the elite society of Pure-bloods outside of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, there was no guarantee of an owl delivering the dark-inked words embossed with the seal of twisting thorns that formed a never-ending wreath.
But, in the eyes of a select few, the gathering was nothing but an expensive front for what was occuring behind the scenes. Conclaves of those who beliefs were of the most extreme, sharing ideas, forming their alliance alongside none other than Lord Voldemort. He had infiltrated their society like a virius, growing and infecting, pushing their beliefs to the points of extremes and finding a way into every nook and cranny.
To a Pure-blooded wizarding family of the grandeur and expectations of the core values of ambition and pride, Voldemort was the leadership they longed for. He was the light at the end of the tunnel, the destination on a wrinkled parchment map that led them to their treasure; a world of only those who deserved to be there, who hadn't been inflicted with the curse of being associated with Muggles.
And this gathering was just another chance for those secretly joining his ranks and following his beliefs and he grew in power. Of course, there was only a select, elite few that had the trust of the Dark Lord, and thus, the meetings would have to go undetected by others - especially the Ministry, who always had at least the Minister visiting for a glass of the imported elf-made champagne he favoured so much.
Harold Minchum really was the most agreeable man when he got two glasses in, and they would take advantage of that.
And he was the first sight of the gathering that the Greengrass family got when stepping out of the fireplace in the entrance hall, a lick of green flames dying down behind them as Minister Minchum passed by the corridor in front of them, with a younger witch on his arm and a half-empty, golden-rimmed champagne flute clutched only loosely in the curve of his palm. Liquid was spilling everywhere, and the damp stain on the wrist of his blazer was only sinking deeper into the material.
