Traditions are curious things — delicate threads passed from generation to generation, shaping perceptions and imbuing moments with meaning. In the Knight household, the eve of Christmas was no exception; their annual gala transformed the estate into a spectacle of grandeur, a prelude to the more intimate family celebrations that followed.
With Meiyu's return back to Oxford last night, she had promptly been informed of the annual Knight gala, her attendance of course, being mandatory, her brothers speculating theories amongst themselves during breakfast, though Meiyu paid no mind. This morning had been uneventful, her father left for work irregardless of the festive season, yet it was warranted due to his role within the Ministry as an Auror. Her mother, Elizabeth, prepared a delightful breakfast spread consisting of a range of fruits, toasts, a brewing pot of oolong tea in an azure printed bone china teapot. It was a much needed contrast from dining in the Great Hall, the arguably quieter environment accompanied by her mothers soft hums had been exactly what the lioness had needed, given the events that had already occurred in her first semester.
"So, did you make any friends?" Elizabeth questioned, instantaneously snapping Meiyu out of her trance-like thoughts, her lips slightly agape as her eyes diverted from the slight steam leaving the teapot's sprout, locating her mothers own brown eyes which had fixated on hers. Her two brothers, Jiamu and Bomi, already leaving the table to play outdoors, basking in the warmth the sun brought amidst the white snow which had covered their field snugly like a blanket, their melodic voices almost echoing through the ajar kitchen window. Meiyu’s silence had been enough to subsequent her mother to sighing with discontent. The lack of letters mid-semester had prompted Elizabeth’s initial worries, but she was truly shocked at the sight of her only daughter returning home with almost faded burgundy hair. A clear act of defiance against the pristine image their family had long upheld, the change represented something deeper — a quiet rebellion, subtle but pointed.
Elizabeth reached for her teacup, her movements calm yet deliberate, as though attempting to temper her growing unease. “I can’t say I expected this,” she remarked softly, her voice carrying an undertone of concern rather than reprimand. “The hair, I mean. It’s… bold.” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully, aware of Meiyu’s tendency to guard herself from emotional probing. She had experienced a similar behaviour upon their initial move to England, Meiyu's reclusively in making friends upon her enrolment to muggle primary school.
Meiyu tensed slightly at the comment, brows instinctively furrowing in disagreement, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup which provided her palms additional warmth from the slight breeze which drafted through the window. “It’s just hair.” she muttered, her tone flat and expression stoic. Elizabeth clearly was not convinced. It wasn’t just hair, not to Meiyu, and certainly not to the Knights. Every choice carried meaning, and this one spoke volumes about her daughter’s growing discontent, the evident shift in deamnour had naturally caused her to worry. “It’s not about the hair, love,” Elizabeth said gently, setting her cup down and leaning forward, her expression softening as her lips curved into a slight smile. “I just want to make sure you’re all right. That Hogwarts is treating you well. And… that you’re finding your way.” She continued, unintentionally prying with her final remark, disguising her statement as a question.
For a brief moment, Meiyu felt the familiar pang of guilt that often accompanied her mother’s quiet concern. Elizabeth had always been the one to shield her from the harsher expectations of the Knight legacy, offering an understanding presence amidst a family known for its rigidity. Yet, even in this, Meiyu found herself feeling suffocated, as though her mother’s care was another set of invisible chains, albeit gentler ones.
“Hogwarts is fine,” Meiyu replied, her tone neutral but her eyes betraying her with a flicker of something deeper — restlessness, perhaps, or even foreshadowing pain. “I would like it better if people did not assume things about me.” she muttered, as though she spoke to herself, yet loud enough for her mother to hear. Elizabeth merely ignored the remark, dubbing the shift in Meiyu's demeanour as a typical act of defiance prevalent in pre-teens. With a hearty smile, her mother sipped her oolong tea, basking in the warm sunlight which had rested on her skin. "That reminds me," she perked once more, her tone laced with enthusiasm, though her gaze which had initially remained on her only daughter, focused now on her two young boys playing in the snow outdoors, "I found you a dress for tonight, your father left it on your bed." The young lioness merely nodded in response, the desire to leave the dining table which had turned into a breakfast disguised as an interrogation, with a nod in approval from her mother, Meiyu took that as her cue to excuse herself from the dining table, her tea long finished by now.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Meiyu stood in the doorway of her bedroom, her gaze falling upon the dress draped across her neatly made bed. A beautiful muted white champagne and burgundy dress laid neatly, it was a stunning example of timeless elegance, signifying the importance of this years annual gala. She inched closer, her eyes widening in adoration at the delicately crafted fabric which shimmers with a soft metallic sheen. The dress's bodice is fitted, evidently meant to accentuate the waist with its subtle boning and structured tailoring, while the neckline plunged gracefully into a modest V and bordered with intricate beading, suitable yet sophisticated enough for a girl of her age. The silhouette is both regal and fluid, moving gracefully with each step, making it perfect for a formal occasion steeped in luxury and tradition. Her expression, initially blank, gradually shifted into one of wary curiosity.
As she inched closer to her bed, her eyes immediately noticing a note left by her father, based on the penmanship, its words simple but firm: Your mother thought this would suit you.
For a moment, Meiyu blankly stared at the intricate dress, the meaning behind the gesture washing over her in waves. Her father, often a stoic and distant figure, rarely involved himself in matters as trivial as clothing. This, however, was clearly her mother’s doing, her way of bridging the growing distance between them. The dress wasn’t just a gift, it was a statement, a reminder of the expectations she was tethered to by the Knight name.
Meiyu ran her fingers along the intricate embroidery of the dress, the cold metallic threads pricking slightly against her skin. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the deep emerald fabric, the daringly low neckline, and the dramatic slit that ran up the side. It was undeniably beautiful, crafted with precision and elegance, yet it felt like an extension of everything she had grown to resent about her family’s expectations.
With a reluctant sigh, she stepped closer, her fingers brushing the soft fabric, her fingers trailing over the ridge of the embodied beads, adding to the dresses elegance. It was undoubtably beautiful, she couldn’t deny that — elegant and tailored to perfection, the very embodiment of the Knight family’s prestige. Yet, as her hand hovered over the intricate embroidery, defiance welled up within her. The dress did not symbolise the girl who dyed her hair burgundy in an abandoned toilet, the girl who challenged others with harsh words, it was the girl her family desperately sought for: poised, polished, and perfectly moulded into the legacy they had desperately clung onto.
Meiyu let out a bitter scoff, shaking her head as she turned away from the bed in her final act of defiance. “Of course,” she muttered under her breath, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “They think a dress will fix everything.” But even as she walked to her desk, trying to focus on the clutter of books and notes spread across its surface in hopes of catching up on homework set over the break, her eyes kept drifting back to the crimson garment. There was something almost mocking about its beauty, as if it dared her to reject it outright. With a final huff of frustration, Meiyu stood and grabbed the dress from the bed, swiftly moving to hold it up against herself in her mirror, her reflection staring back at her, her own eyes becoming unreadable as her mind trailed, knowing the requirement that came with the dress, the requirement she had desperately avoided since she had received that fateful OWL.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The Knight manor was picturesque, particularly during the colder seasons. The manor's halls had been decorated with antique brass ornament candle holders, adding onto the brooding ambiance of the evening as guests chimed in. Upon her arrival, Meiyu's brothers scattered away, running to find their favourite uncle Cyrus who naturally would be in attendance. As her eyes darted across the numerous attendees, an inescapable brooding figure loomed over her shoulder, delicately whispering into her ears, the familiar voice almost sending chills down her spine.
"You have been avoiding my letters, Mei."
That nickname had served more than enough as an identifier, it was her grandmother, Agatha. The same grandmother who had sent her that horrid OWL at the start of the semester, her disapproval on something as insignificant as her house placement, only led to Meiyu's looming anxiety, her nerves becoming evident with the sudden shift in her demeanour, initially cold yet confident this evening. Agatha Knight, Meiyu's maternal grandmother, played a significant role within the Knight household, enforcing traditions, particularly the annual Christmas Eve gala. Although tonight, something was evidently amidst the winter air, as though there was a revelation to come. A once intricate event such as the annual gala, transformed into something much more grandiose this time around, Agatha had clearly out-done herself this year, evidently investing much more time and money into transforming the manor to accommodate this years guests, many of which, Meiyu had not recognised.
With a a tight almost miniature smile, Meiyu turned to face the matriarch, embracing her into a brief hug. Irregardless as to how she felt and how her senses screamed at her to hide away in her bedroom at the manor, etiquette came first, disregarding a significant figure like her grandmother, at her own home, would have been a clear sign of disrespect, such behaviour was not tolerated, particularly in her circumstance. Agatha had always welcomed the Xiangs, disregarding the Xiang grandchildren's tainted blood in comparison to other blood purists, who unfortunately, were in attendance.
"I've been busy, Grandmother." She replied, breaking the embrace she briefly basked in, her heart churning with the recollection of that OWL, the harsh words she had once read; 'you do not belong there', echoing in her mind. Her grandmother was far more intelligent than some people credited her, despite Meiyu's faux expression of joy amidst the heartwarming reunion, it was more than evident to Agatha that the excuse provided by her only granddaughter, had been a mere white lie. "I doubt that," she sighed, her tone unamused yet laced with the formality that had been so familiar to her. "I trust your birthday was celebrated appropriately, without the presence of any unnecessary diversions?" Agatha resumed, shifting her position which previously faced Meiyu to now stand beside her, her gaze fixated on the guests who have been making acquaintance with one another, her palms cupped into one another as she maintained a strict posture with her chin raised.
Meiyu's brows furrowed in confusion, her body language mimicking that of her grandmothers, as her eyes trailed around the hall inspecting all the guests who attended. Aside from the usual pureblooded families she had been acquaintanced with, Meiyu's dark brown eyes landed on a pair of dark sacramento green eyes, who similarly, gaze's managed to locate the lioness. Surely not. Evpraksiya Vinogradova, a fellow first year, who happened to be Meiyu's seat-mate, appeared to be in attendance of the Knight annual gala, accompanied by a few witches and wizards who she could only assume to be her family.
"And by that you mean?" Meiyu questioned, her eyes still fixated on the guests, though one piqued her interest, a tall sickly pale, slim male, dressed in a black suit who appeared to be fixated on someone, his eyes frantically darting around the room, beads of sweat evident on the side of his face, a clearly unwelcome guest who she would have to report to her uncle Alaric. Yet more trivial matters were at hand, her grandmother scoffing at Meiyu's preplexed response. Agatha's lips curved into a faint, wry smile, her sharp eyes following Meiyu's gaze momentarily before returning to her granddaughter. “Oh, my dear, let us not feign innocence. Surely a young woman of your charm and wit has caught someone’s attention by now — or perhaps someone has caught yours?” Meiyu finally tore her eyes away from the peculiar guest, arching an eyebrow at her grandmother. “And if they had? Would that be considered one of those ‘unnecessary diversions’ you were so concerned about?”
Agatha gave a soft laugh, though it carried a touch of condescension. “That would depend entirely on the nature of the... association. A distraction, or an alliance — one can never be too careful with the distinction.” Times like these, it became painfully clear what her grandmother meant, the significance of blood purity and its maintenance, how whom Meiyu chose to find friendships in mattered, whom her heart yearned for and whether or not they would be accepted by the family. Her own mother, failing to marry a pureblood, yet graced the Knights with grandchildren whom they cherished, raised with the standards that of those born pure, untainted, provided much more use than those less fortunate to be pure.
Only then did Meiyu truly take in how Agatha had presented herself this evening. The gown her grandmother wore was a masterpiece of elegance and tradition, a rich, velvety forest green that clung to her statuesque figure with tailored precision. The high neckline was adorned with intricate embroidery of gold and silver thread, weaving a delicate pattern of ivy and flowers that cascaded down the bodice like a gilded tapestry. The sleeves were long and fitted, ending in cuffs accented by tiny pearls that shimmered softly in the light. The skirt flowed gracefully to the floor, pooling slightly at her feet, its hemline lined with the same gold detailing that graced the neckline and bodice. While her choice of accessories, a single emerald pendant and matching earrings, completed the look with understated opulence.
Agatha’s presence in the room was commanding, the dress amplifying her authority and refinement, a reminder to all of the legacy she upheld. It forced her to gaze to return to those attending, particularly Evpraksiya, who had now begun socialising, walking off to a figure and talking away, rather different to her poised nature shared at Hogwarts, making her blood status more evident than ever, with her chin raised high and a stern smile as she spoke to another attendee, yet the conversation seemed short lived. Meiyu tilted her head, her expression stoic once more as her gaze followed the unknown figure, rushing to another and engaging in careless whispers which had for some reason left the guest crying in horror. Rather odd, though those kind of whispers had been similarly subjected to Meiyu, her presence being enough to deem her as unpleasant, not a descriptor she would use for Evpraksiya.
Within an instant, Meiyu was forced into a tight embrace, the foreign hands which gripped her shoulders almost sent her into a defence mode, her palms rushing to push the figure away only to reveal her uncle Alaric, who looked down at her with a grin, "Welcome home, Sparky." Meiyu’s startled expression quickly softened as she recognised her uncle’s occasional mischievous grin. She let out a reluctant huff, pulling herself free from his embrace. "Do you always have to greet me like I’m five?" she muttered in discontent, brushing off her shoulders as if dusting away the remnants of his unusually overly enthusiastic welcome.
Alaric let out a hearty laugh, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "What can I say? You bring out my paternal instincts." He spoke joyfully, his index finger reaching to poke her nose, earning an immediate glare from Meiyu as she swatted his hand away. He stepped back, giving her a once-over as if assessing her after months apart. "Still sharp as ever, I see. Good. You’ll need it tonight."
Meiyu raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed as though unamused by his antics. "Why? What are you up to now?" Though Alaric’s expression remained composed, there was a flicker of amusement in his sharp eyes. "Up to? Nothing untoward. I simply thought this the right moment to announce my engagement. Yelizaveta Vinogradova has accepted my proposal." Vinogradova? This had to be a twisted attempt of humour, Meiyu's head turned ever so slightly to her grandmother, who maintained a firm smile, giving the young girl a light nod, confirming his sudden confession.
Meiyu’s eyes narrowed slightly, her expression carefully neutral as her mind churned with thoughts. Vinogradova. The name carried weight — an undeniable gravitas she couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t just the shock of the announcement; it was the implications. Her uncle’s choice of partner wasn’t simply a personal matter, it was a calculated move, as most things within the Knight family tended to be. Her lips pressed into a thin line disguised as a smile of approval as she turned back to Alaric. "Congratulations." she said, her tone clipped, though not impolite. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much the news rattled her nor the implications it had on Meiyu and her seat mate, Evpraksiya.
Still, her mind lingered on the nod from her grandmother. There was something unspoken in it, something that told her this wasn’t just about a marriage — it was about the family, the legacy. And once again, she felt the weight of it all, pressing down like an invisible hand on her shoulders. Meiyu shifted her gaze away, her composure intact, though her thoughts swirled with unvoiced questions. Another move on the chessboard, another reminder of what was expected of her. Without another word, she turned and walked toward the gathering, her steps deliberate, her expression unreadable.
She wouldn’t falter, not here, not now.
