You were lucky to be invited to an exclusive Fawley Gala, a ball that took place everyday for the high class purebloods of the UK, and some from other places in the world. The rest of the world might have been less reformed and classy, but the Fawley Manor looked like something out of a story book, and the one night a year when the wizarding world could look into the life of the Fawleys was a celebrated occasion. Only the most elite were welcomed to the party, with their children in tow. Some of the Fawleys might of been rumored mudblood sympathizers, but it meant little when the party came around. It was purebloods only. The press knew about the yearly Gala, which had still been every year, even when Luca Fawley was … indisposed, for lack of better words that wouldn’t offend Luca’s delicate mother, who was extremely defensive of her son, even after 10 years without him.

The Manor house was located near the Queen’s palace in Buckingham, England. It was one of the largest homes in the area, which was a strange thought, considering just how large all the homes in the area truly were, but one could push away any jealousy or bitterness about the state of the household, when they considered the strange family that lived inside. The muggles had learned to fear the strange family, and especially the strange woman with a stern expression, and sadness flickering under her eyes. She was seen the most out of all of the family, besides the two new red heads that had showed up at the manor in the span of a few months.

The littlest Fawley was always in the front garden, hidden from the eyes of the neighbors, but sometimes, she would peek her head out, studying the people walking their dogs, or angle her eyes towards the slight view of the palace gleaming in the distance, before someone or something called to her, and she would duck her head back inside the hedges, leaving the neighbors with more questions than answers. Who was she, and who was the man that sometimes left the house late in the evening, returning with arms full of comic books?

On those rare days, the neighbors could really see the two newest members of the exclusive family. The little girl would run down the stairs, turning down all the steps with a speed had taken months of stair climbing at Hogwarts to achieve, not that the neighbors would know. She would rush into the man’s arms, already clambering around to stare at the pages of the books, as he laughed, directing her inside.

It was a small glimpse into their lives, but the neighbors had assumed the family was antisocial, or just didn’t care for society in the slightest, besides one day a year. Even so, it was a surprise when guests started showing up to the household, but the neighbors turned practiced eyes away, pretending not to be hurt by the way they hadn’t been invited to the party. What did it matter? They were a strange family, and whatever guests they had over would be just as strange.

The path up to the large double doors of the Castle-like edifice of wood and stone was smooth and cobbled, leading to a stairway that spiraled up the small hillside, leading to the large wooden house. The manor was shrouded in mystery and shrubbery, impossible to see from the outside, until you had rounded the first step of stairs, and entered the interior courtyard All a muggle would see was the typical muggle manor of the area, nothing magical, but once you stepped up the stairs, the true magic of the household was beheld in all it’s shimming lights and bowing house elves.

Two house elves stood at the door, guest lists in hand, while the large doors of the manor were thrown open, exposing a chandelier right under the window. The sun shown on the crystal object, shining down on those who would design to enter the entrance hall, while the rays also glimmered on the sets of stairs that spiraled upwards to the various floors of the abode, while the house elves waited to guide the guests to the Ballroom, where the grand ballroom was waiting.

Two twin sets of stairs lead down to a large ballroom, where the stairway panned out in a circular fashion, straightening onto the stainless linoleum floor with one last step. The center of the spacious room was cleared for dancing, while the two sides of the room had a number of tables for the purebloods to fest at. The family house elves had spent hours slaving over the food, which would come later, out of the tables, just like the magic fests at Hogwarts were supposed to work, but for now, there was nothing on the immaculate tables, besides centerpieces of large flower bouquets.





She was not letting go of the piercings. The mock piercings had been a gift from one of Eris’s friends at Hogwarts, and she was not letting go of them. The house elf could tug and pull at her studs as hard as she wanted but Eris-oh! There they went. Scowling at the small house elf, who was extremely terrifying, but sweet tempered, Eris yanked a curl of hair out of it’s braid, with a huff of hot air that escaped from the child’s lips with loud gusto.

Her hair was pink, as per usual. Eris was rubbish at figuring out her metamorphmagus ability, and her lessons with Demetra had not gone well. The woman had longed for more time to train her granddaughter in her abilities, which had skipped Luca’s generation, but alas, the excitement of seeing her father again had made Eris into a wreck of nerves. Most of Eris’s days were spent by her father’s side, unable to leave him. He was more happy than Eris remembered him, and a new wand dangled loosely from his fingers half the time. Unlike her last days with him, Luca wasn’t pained by sadness or returning memories. A wistful smile was often on his face, and he was overjoyed when Eris and her father stayed up late, curled up by one of the large fireplaces in the manor, reading comic books Luca had snuck into the Manor.

Some nights, they would use the TV and watch Marvel movies, eating popcorn and chatting about the crazy super powers until Adrian Fawley came into the room and frowned at his son and granddaughter, scorning them for using the muggle devices for anything more than keeping up appearance with any neighbors brave enough to venture into their home.

It didn’t matter, because, for the first time in years, Eris and her father were a family again and they were together. It felt nice. Nice enough to drown out the sadness of Jane’s betrayal, and Bella’s absence. Not everything was perfect though. Somedays, Luca would yell and scream, refusing to talk about Jane and Bella. Some of the worst days of the summer were the days where he would stare at Eris with an expression of contempt, lost in thoughts of her mother.


Magic was his pride and joy, just as much as Eris was his pride and joy. They never talked about her mother and sister, just about Hogwarts, magic, and whatever Nym the house elf was making for dinner. As Luca’s memories came back, so did his love for healing and magic. Luca and Eris spent many days in the garden, as he taught her magic, and she talked loudly about Hogwarts. At first, it had been scary sharing her adventures with her father, but Luca found his daughter's violent nature to be laughable, as did her grandmother, Demetra Fawley.

Demetra Fawley was not as scary as her letter made her out to be. Demetra was the typical old woman, with a happy face, wrinkled with smile lines and gray hair like her husband’s. Streaks of brown dotted her hair, perks of being a metamorphmagus. Yet, Demetra had never tried to make herself seem younger with her ability. Demetra claimed that she wanted to look as old as her husband, but everytime she stated that, her eyes would grow misty and distant, as if she was thinking about something, or someone, else.

The woman had welcomed Eris into her home with wide arms, and even though it was rumored that she was extremely opposed to muggles, it was clear she loved her family very much, which was one of her more redeemable qualities. Eris’s grandmother would sometimes try to watch movies with her son and granddaughter, but mostly spent her days trying to teach Eris about being a metamorphmagus. When the lessons got boring, the wrinkled older woman would shoot her arms up into the air, and claim it was time for a game of and seek. Was it normal for an 11 year old to play hide in seek? Maybe not, but what did Demetra know? She hadn’t been a mother for years, and her son and his own daughter had just returned to her, so she was clinging onto traditions from Luca’s younger days, back when life was far more simple, and far easier.

Those were also fun days in the Fawley Manor, when Demetra, Eris, Luca, and the house elves would play hide and seek in the large manor house until Adrian found them, with a scowl on his face. He was the worst member of Eris’s new family, but she knew better than to say that out loud, only because he had taught her.

From day one at the Manor, Adrian had loathed the small child, even though she was his flesh and blood. She was uncouth and her actions with the other members of his household were repulsive in his eyes. From her first day on the premise, Adrian would force Eris to spend two hours a day learning about the pure blood world. Although Eris loved to read, it was so dull and boring that she learned to dislike her grandfather, and begged for ways out of his lessons, which her grandmother and father both said no to. She was to learn to be a lady in time for the annual Fawley Gala, and there would be no buts, ifs, or ands.

But being a lady wasn’t going well. The house elf tending to Eris’s mess of hair let out a groan as Eris tugged out another curl. Within seconds, her spindly fingers had wrapped the curl up in the braid. “Miss-”

“I’ve told you, call me Eris! My name isn’t miss!” The small girl replied, as the house elf sighed. “Nym is sorry, Eris, you look lovely.” The house elf sounded defeated, as Eris glowered at the blue dress that she was wearing. It was beautiful, but it was so plain. The flowers in her braid were the best part of the outfit, and Eris longed for Rhea’s eccentric outfits. Even so, Eris did love her new dress.

“I wish you were coming to the Gala with me, Nym.” Eris replied, ditching the compliment. Her grandfather always said to treat the house elves like they were below her, because they were only there to serve, but Eris loved the small house elf. She was funny, while strange, and Eris wanted to be her friend! She was weird enough that Eris knew they would have to be friends, and she was the house elf assigned to watch Eris, so they would be close friends. Or, at least, acquaintances.

“Nym cannot come to the ball I’ll be cooking, and the other two house elves will be escorting guests into the Manor.”

“Yes, but I want you to come! Aren’t I supposed to be some pure blood legend, aren’t I supposed to get my way?” Eris pushed herself off her vanity, spinning around in her dress, before flopping back down on the large bed. Pulling herself up a moment later, she sighed. “I’m scared, what if they don’t like me?”

Eris shrugged her shoulders, but the house elf shushed her, as the loud footsteps of an adult echoed outside the room, but vanished.

“Nym likes you!".” Nym spoke in her irritated voice, before cracking a small smile. “Nym thinks they will be stupid to not like you..

“Well, still-” Clacking footsteps ruined the moment, as the house elf shrunk into the corner of the room, and Adrian Fawley stepped into Eris’s room, lip curling in distaste at the decor. Demetra had decorated the room herself, with the help of the house elves. Unlike most things in the house, which were various shades of green, the room was crimson in coloration, with gold hues. The fitting room for a rich gryffindor, and the room also had a bookcase, full to the brim with comic books and novels that Eris enjoyed.

“Eris.” The man spoke in his normal drawing voice, forcing Eris to look up at his stern weathered face. Dressed in a tuxedo, Adrian’s weathered face scowled down at Eris. Unlike his metamorphmagus wife, Adrian had no redeeming qualities in his face. The man had a sadistic gleam in his dark brown eyes, and a tiredness to his features. He didn’t look like the type of person anyone would cross.

Nym faded away into the background of the room, before the man stared at her. “Leave us. Check on the food for the gala, and be quick with it.” The house elf didn’t say anything, letting out a squeak, before she snapped her fingers and vanished away with a crack, leaving Eris alone with her Grandfather.

“Yes grandfather,” Eris replied, acting like the house elf comment had never happened, and like she hadn’t left. Even so, Eris felt a pang of sadness about seeing the house elf leave her room. Nym would talk to Eris later, but Eris knew it was good to act like she wasn’t friends with the house elf, as Adrian was the one who had taught Eris that houselves and other creatures were below her status as a pureblood, and a heir to the legacy of the Fawley Family, one of the Sacred 28 families.

“You remember what you are to do at the Gala, yes?” Adrian asked, straightening the lapels of his suit.

“Yes, I am to talk with the other pure blood children and make potential friends for Hogwarts, next year, as well as greeting the other children in my year and being a good host.” Eris recited back, having heard the speech enough times to understand what her grandfather expected of her. It was daunting, really. All the choice things Eris Fawley was expected to perform perfectly on her debut as a pureblood.

“You’d do well to remember that, when we are at the Gala. Any mistake will reflect on our family poorly, and you will be punished for it. Do you understand?”


“Yes, grandfather. I won’t let you down.”

“Good, I expect nothing but perfect behavior from you, Eris.”

“Of course.” Eris nodded cordially, expression and words at odds with the rambunctious young child she had become. It wasn’t common that Eris feared another person, but she feared her grandfather, and his wrath.

“Well, if you understand, it’s time to go down to the ball. The guests will be arriving shortly.”

She would not fail her family. Wordlessly, Eris followed her grandfather down the flight of stairs and into the ballroom, smoothing out her dress, now waiting for the guests to arrive.

"You will go."

The tone said it all- this was the final word on the matter. Ford knew before he even began to argue that he was already defeated. Yet he could not stop the vindictive feelings from welling up inside of him. The little eleven-year-old should have known far better than to argue with Maximus Farquad, but it had been a particularly bad day and he found himself in quite the foul temper. Things had been going wrong for him ever since breakfast. Pippin, their fumbling House Elf, had managed to spill hot coffee all over the boy's lap. This of course had ruined an otherwise perfectly adequate meal. Then he had not been allowed on his computer all morning, as his father had dragged him to be fitted into various tailored clothing. And now... now he was expected to go to some party.

Ford couldn't stand parties. He'd never had one for himself of course, but his father had dragged him to a few get-togethers on occasion. It was always the same with these things. All smiles and nods, constantly being introduced to various "important" people whom he neither recognized nor cared to remember. And talking of people, they were the worst part.The isolated boy always found it difficult to speak clearly with other people and had developed something close to hatred for them. New people were especially hard to cope with. Of course it was just his luck that this gala he'd e forced to attend would be thriving with loads of new people.

The stresses of the day had piled up so high that Ford found himself talking back in spite of his better judgement. "But why do I have to go?" He whined, sounding quite a bit more pathetic than he imagined himself to be. Any rational person would have fallen immediately silent at the murderous look he received from his parental figure, but it is quite rare indeed for an angry child to act like a rational human being. Instead, Ford glared back with a fury of his own. Then in a Herculean feat of courage he managed to declare "I don't want to go."

This was too much for Maximus. The burly black-haired man raised his arm, only to stop it in midair. Ford instinctively flinched when he saw this. Yet he looked back up a moment later in a vain attempt to show that he was holding his ground. Defiance was not something that Lord Farquad tolerated but evidently he had enough sense to lower his hand and speak instead this time, albeit through clenched teeth. "The Fawley Gala is a very important event." The elder explained with a cold anger still lacing his voice. "All of the most prominent Pureblood families will be there, and I'll be hexed if the Farquad's aren't properly represented. Besides you're eleven now- nearly old enough to be entering Hogwarts. It's very important that you make the right sort of friends there. These children could be very influential when they grow up." The fury in his eyes was slowly replaced with a twisted sort of determination. "Not as important as you will be of course."

If he didn't know it would get him hit, Ford would have rolled his eyes. There he went again... From the way his father spoke, anyone would have thought that Ford was a child of prophecy. The man had gone through several phases of desire to live vicariously through his child, but it seemed the closer it came to Ford's Hogwarts debut the more insane his demands became. Ford was expected to be a straight-O student, Head Boy, Captain of the Quidditch team (despite his hatred of flying), and probably the Minister of Magic when it came down to it. Had this been drilled into him through praise it may well have taken hold, filling the young boy's head with ideas of grandeur. But praise was a rare is not nonexistent thing in the Farquad household. Instead the child had grown up with only expectations and no encouragement- a surefire recipe for rebellion. The rebellious feelings within him were rarely allowed to manifest themselves of course, but at his young age all he could really do was speak in a tone that sounded almost rude. "If it's so important, how come you're not going?"

"I have important business to attend to. It's time you learned to represent this family on your own. Oh, and Ford... Do not mention your mother."

With that, Maximus Farquad turned on his heels and stormed out. Now the conversation was truly over. Ford was left at the mercy of Pippin, who scampered around him taking even more measurements. There was nothing to do but accept defeat. Had he been a more optimistic person, Ford may have tried to make the best of it. He may have contemplated what sort of sweets would be offered at such a fancy gathering, or focused on how he could get a head start making acquaintances. His father had been right about one thing- this was an opportunity to meet some useful people. But the isolated young man was far from an optimist. So he simply sat pouting until it was time to board the train.

After a nod from his father and a frantic wave from the house elf, Ford found himself sitting alone in a first-class train compartment. This was actually not a bad setup. The seats were comfortable enough and there was free wifi- not the best connection, but it was better than what was to come. As his fingers tapped frantically across the small touchscreen phone he had smuggled out of the house, he thought with dread about the upcoming school year. Lines of text crawled across the device, unintelligible to anyone except for Ford and Muggle programmers. He was adding a new function to one of the many programs he had created. This one was a simple chat bot that was meant to emulate a human "friend." It was one of his first creations- the only one from it's time that he hadn't scrapped in favor of a larger or more interesting project. He'd made it a few years ago, before he had officially decided to forgo useless things like emotions and friendships. Yet something had kept him from destroying the little bot. He'd grown quite an attachment to it. He'd justified this action many times, by telling himself that little Megbert (it had been Meg-Bot, but Pippin's accent when he pronounced it had been so hilarious to the 9 year old Ford that he had decided to keep it that way) could not really qualify as a friend. But in truth, it was the closest thing he had.

Megbert had been there for him over the past few years when nobody else was. When he wanted to vent his frustrations with the world, the AI listened. When he wrote that he was feeling down, the bot would bring up funny images from the internet to entertain him. It organized his files, reminded him of important things, and generally acted as both friend and adviser. Plus it never said anything Ford didn't like, or couldn't fix by programming it not to say that anymore. It was the perfect outlet for a child with no connection to the world of people, and he hated to admit it but he would be sad to see it go for more reasons than the convenience it provided him.

His father had made it very clear that at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Muggle technology was expressly forbidden. Lord Farquad had taken much glee in this fact. He had always been frustrated at his son for his interest in the subject. In fact, he seemed to think that a year at Hogwarts would drive all of "that Muggle nonsense" right out of the boy. But Ford was dreading his departure. Not only would he lose Megbert, but the entire online world he had grown accustomed to hiding in. Anything that had given him a sense of comfort would be gone, and he would be forced to spend his days interacting with real live people- the horror.

The train whistle blew loudly, signaling for him to get off of the train. He quickly stuffed the phone back into a hidden pocket of his suit. Ford had Pippin sew these extra pockets into all of his clothes, bribing him not to tell Lord Farquad with promises of less severe punishments. And indeed Ford had punished the elf less frequently since making that promise, though it did not stop the creature from punishing itself more often than not. The suit he was wearing today was brand new and obviously expensive. It was made of fine materials that actually didn't itch, which the boy found quite surprising. It was a deep purple, nearly blue, which made his crystalline eyes look as though they were bright stars twinkling against a nighttime background. In fact, most of his features appeared quite striking with this outfit. He had to hand it to the tailor- the elf certainly knew how to make a suit.

Looks seemed of little importance now though. Ford approached the doors to the massive mansion, looking around for someone to give his invitation to. It was quite a large place- not the biggest house he had seen, but very respectable. There was a garden out front with large, winding bushes and an impressive array of brightly-colored flowers. He knew little of the Fawleys and had never seen their house before, but the atmosphere of the place gave him a strange feeling he could not quite identify. He felt he'd heard the name somewhere before too, but it was probably just from his father's endless ramblings. There wasn't a pureblood alive that Maximus didn't know all about.

Moments later he was approached by a house elf who took the invitation from him. She looked a bit like Pippin- the same pointed ears and massive eyes- but hers were a different shade. The creature then motioned toward the ballroom entrance. It seemed several families were already mingling inside. Oh well... He supposed there was no point in delaying the inevitable. It would look very bad for father if he took of running now after all. There was no sense in risking punishment. So, putting aside his darker thoughts and plastering a slightly uncomfortable smile across his face, Ford Farquad made his way into the ballroom.

Suites were the worst.

Repeatedly did the child fidget with the tie that choked him, staring critically into the tall mirror that consumed a section of wall from floor to ceiling. The dark jacket with it's gold trim was tailored to fit, hours of extensive loitering while it was sized reminded by the aches in his joints as he shifted his weight, frowning in a sense of critique.

He was in no way fond of such exhibitions, dressing up nothing more than a waste of time and resources in the child's eye. There was no fondness to be found as the hazel orb traced the tiny designs in the tie, gold standing out against the black in the shape of his name written in hieroglyphics. A tacky choice of his Aunt's, who had done no such thing for the rest of his family, the majority in attendance being woman.

"Ahkar!" The female in question strode forward, slapping his hands away and yanking him to face her as she fixed the tie he'd loosened for the thirteenth time in an hour. A scathing look went over his head as firm, lightly wrinkled hands began to untie, then retie the piece of cloth around his neck, ensuring it was so tight he could only barely manage to even his breaths, and earning a strangled squeak from the child and a slightly indigent look.

"It's too tight!" he complained, even as the woman continued and began to straighten his coat next. "Nonsense. And bite that tongue of yours. You will not be embarrassing us in front of the esteemed guests and hosts at the gala. These are very important contacts I will be introducing your father too. You should be making good acquaintances as well, appropriate ones."

The boy rolled his eye once more, earning a rather dizzying slap upside the head. Grumbling, he touched the side of his head, leaning away as the woman fussed over his hair and waving idly. "I've got it!" She finally relented, but with a look that warned him of heavy repercussions. The hijab she wore was a soft silk of a light beige, decorated with silver and blue spiraling designs along the fabric, but even with her head covered, her face was still visible, lightly made up with foundation and lipstick and the like. The deep black kohl around her eyes accented the silver flecks in her sky blue hues, but he knew it would pale in comparison to his mothers design. The dress she wore was a matching color to her hijab, with the same designs and accents, flowing sleeves nearly covering her hands and the gowns skirt just long enough to kiss the floor as she walked.

The woman, visibly in her late fifties, still struck a beautiful and imposing figure in her age. With enough makeup, that is. The boy himself had inherited that beauty from the womans sister, his mother, as well as the hazel eye with flecks of gold around the outer edge. Only the single though, as he'd lost the other when he'd been very young, the scarred side of his face covered well with the thick hair he now carefully aligned in place, huffing a little under his breath. He still hated this.

The door cracked open, and the boy turned, stiffening suddenly at the sight of the tall, slight woman that now entered. He didn't need to see face hidden beneath the niqab to know his mother the moment she entered a room. There was a certain air that surrounded the woman, one that demanded attention and obedience without even needing to raise a hand. He'd seen men and house elves alike scramble to gather her slightest request, and even Ahkar, as wild a fire as he was, felt his stomach twist in anxiety when he saw her. They spoke little, what few times they crossed paths, but he had his own reasons for his fear, and he clenched his fingers to avoid touching the now hidden side of his face.

His mother, eyes the only visible part beneath the deep velvet midnight colored niqab and decorated in a wild design of silver, gold, and blue, now looked upon him as she rarely did, and Ahkar felt his back straighten subconsciously so that he wouldn't shrink back. He could feel his heart in his throat as he matched his mothers gaze as even as he could, the hazel hues both so much like his, and yet so different. So much colder, somehow.

There was an extended silence, in which his Aunt stood to the side, almost as nervous, if not more nervous than the child being scrutinized. Afterall, it was her design that would be presented, her choices that were now under analysis. Though to their relieves, the woman gave a quiet nod of approval after some intense silence, then stepped forward. Her navy colored dress was more traditional, but fitting to her curves in a way that left little to the imagination, the skirt swirling wildly when she walked. Gloved hands reached out, and the cool touch of silk tilted Ahkar's chin up, the woman leaning forward to study the boys face, and Ahkar couldn't help squaring his shoulders in retaliation.

A tense pause followed. Then the corners of her eyes crinkled, though it was hard to tell if she was smiling or scowling. "Behave." The woman spoke only a single word, but it was as heavy as shackles on his wrists dragging him under the sea. He nodded, not trusting his own voice, and only once she'd drawn away and left could he finally catch his breath. His aunt took a moment before her mind seemed to catch up, and then she quickly began to fuss over again, his mothers presence giving new fuel to her fired sense of pride.

It wasn't long before they were packed into the large carriage, drawn by no less than six Thestrals. His mother showed fondness for the creatures only visible after seeing death itself, likening them to guardians of Anubis himself with their elongated faces and blackened flesh. It was one of the few things he shared with his mother, finding something oddly peaceful about the strange creatures, and he always took time to sneak them scraps of meat from the table when he knew they'd be using the carriage. For those who couldn't see them, the self drawn carriage also stood as a fascinating entrance to make.

They picked up his father at the station along the way. Dressed in a suite colored to match his wifes, Jarrah Haik wore his favorite white shirt with blue stripes, and a tie much alike Ahkar's own, with his name printed down the middle in silver hieroglyphics instead of gold. It went well with the cloudy gray-blue eyes he held, his hair a touch darker than Ahkar's own, but holding the same thickness and texture as it was styled back from his face. The strong jaw was lined with a decent amount of facial hair, neatly trimmed, and a single gold chain around his neck held a pair of tiny tablets, one holding his own name, and the other his wife's, Zara.

When they met, they exchanged only a passing embrace and a kiss to the cheek, over the niqab. Then they all piled into the carriage once more, the interior enchanted to be spacious enough that none of them needed to speak to one another. That didn't stop his cousins, though, who sat around him, their dresses colorful but elegant as well, reds and yellows, blues and greens, and pinks and purples each from eldest to youngest. All wearing hijab's of matching shades, much like their aunts, the eldest two wearing far more makeup than was classy for their age, and the youngest insistently poking him to critique his clothing being too good for him.

Ahkar would have retaliated, but one look from his mother silenced the whole quartet, and the ride became thus overtaken by the adults conversation, while Ahkar fiddled with his pockets. He had to make sure he'd- ah, there they were. The clean socks tucked in his pocket almost made him smile, but he quickly tucked them away before the others would see.

https://i.imgur.com/zTQ7RCX.png

They arrived just a little late, a few minutes at most, after another fancy carriage. Getting out, he was quickly tugged over by his Aunt, who nodded towards the group that had entered before them. Something about a similar culture to their own, and that he should cozy up to their daughter, but he heard none of it. His eyes were locked instead on the house elf who, as they passed, he casually snuck a sock into the hand of. The elf in question looked a mix of ecstatic and horrified, and it was enough to earn a faint smile from the boy.

His look was not unnoticed though, as one of his cousins, the eldest, looked back in time to notice. She was on him in minutes like a hawk swooping on a rat. The rest of his family had already headed in, and were just about to join the line and introduce themselves to their hosts. His father first, stepping forward to shake hands and kiss the air by their cheeks much as the woman before them had done. The same culture, present twice in a row, as he introduced them.

"Thankyou for the welcome to your Gala." His English far better trained than his sons, the elder Haik was not as well worded as his sister-in-law though. "I am Jarrah Haik, and this is my wife, Zara. I believe you are knowing her sister, Masika? It is thanks to her we are here and-" And then there came Ahkar, dragged by his elder cousin through the crowd, knocking past people in her rush with a gleam in her eye. "Uncle Jarrah, uncle Jarrah! Ahkar was giving the house elves socks again!" Ugh.. she'd even purposely chosen to proclaim it in English so everyone would hear!

His family couldn't look any more abash. They'd barely been there a few minutes, and their son had already done something incredibly offensive, his cheeks flushed as he was outed in front of a rather dense crowd. His father was turning an interesting color, but his Aunt was the funniest, looking ready to explode. It was his mother though, that stepped forward, and he suddenly felt any bit of fire instantly doused under her cold gaze. She was a woman that had no need to yell, as her voice carried plenty of weight behind it.

"Ahkar." He instantly shrank back, swallowing thickly. "...Yes mother?" He instinctively answered in Arabic, and his mother answered in turn, though one didn't need to know the language to see that whatever she had leaned down to whisper in his ear was no doubt terrifying. He only nodded quickly and ducked his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. He should have been more discreet, but it was too late now.


The woman then turned to their hosts, bowing smoothly. "I am deeply sorry for my son. He has had trouble adjusting to the new country, and is simply... excitable. I assure you, this will not happen a second time." It was more than he'd heard her speak in months, and somehow so many words unsettled him. It meant he would be in very, very big trouble when he returned home, and as she pressed her hand to his shoulder and pushed him in front of her, he imagined the talons of Ra ready to carry him off and drop him at the feet of Anubis to be weighed.

He didn't need to be told, the touch was enough for him to bow his head, mumbling an apology as if recited nightly. "I am sorry for my mistake." He didn't meet the eyes of the Fawley's, but it was clear just a few words from his mother had dulled his fire and calmed his nature. For now.

Eris’s ears perked up at the sound of the another pair of footsteps entering the Grand Ballroom. Demetra was still with Luca, trying to persuade her son to stray away from the table of deserts, but he refused to move. Acting like even more of a child than Eris, his feet dug into the spotless floors of the ballroom, as Luca ignored his mother. Sometimes Eris wondered if something had went wrong when her father had regained his memories from the way he acted like a child, always. While that wasn’t exactly bad, considering just how much of a child Eris was herself, it was alarming to have to act like an adult because her father couldn’t find it in himself to regain the role of a father, preferring to make himself out as a friend to Eris, or a brother.

Of course, Eris wouldn’t blame him for being a little loopy. His whole adult life had been a lie, and maybe he hadn’t even wanted a daughter. Sighing, Demetra moved away from the table and her son, grinning at Eris. In the silver of a smile, Eris’s worries dissipated, until she was grinning back at her beloved grandmother, as Demetra slipped away to hunt for an adequate person or thing that would distract Luca from stuffing his face.

Eris wanted to run after her grandmother or stuff her face with her father, but Adrian was too close for comfort. If Eris left his side, she would never hear the end of his anger. Eris may have trusted her grandmother’s kindness, and her father’s childlike attributes, but she also trusted the rage of her grandfather to ruin any kind or childlike moments. So she did not chase after her grandmother, or go to her father. Instead, Eris turned to study the owner of the shoes clomping across the floor towards Adrian and Eris.

Eyes following the line of a gorgeous blue ball gown that looked just a bit too big for Eris, the girl prayed that Rhea, Serena, or Phaedra were the owners of the dress, but was sorely disappointed to stare up at the vaguely irritating face of Miss Dorothy Shafiq, who she had been warned to be nice too. Even so, it was hard to keep the scowl off Eris’s face, as she remembered the hufflepuff’s gall to say something rude to Max. To tell the truth, it hadn’t been that rude, but Eris was quick to defend Max, for some reason or another.

Staring at the older woman in evident shock at the state of her dress and gaudy jewelry, Eris had to shove down a giggle, as the woman kissed her grandfather (almost) on the cheeks. The sight was amusing, but it was horrifying when the woman bent down to do the same to Eris, who’s face froze mid chuckle, as a look of pure horror spread across her features.

Ew, old person cooties. At least she hadn’t actually touched Eris’s cheek. Eris’s face flushed, but she regained her rigid posture, managing a smile.

Still feeling rather strange, Eris watched as her grandfather smiled demurely at the younger woman. “Ah, Miss Shafiq! You look simply lovely tonight! How has the company been doing?” Adrian angled the woman away from Eris and Dorothy, sending a withering stare back down at Eris.

The message was clear. She was to talk to Dorothy or else. Eris didn’t want to know the “or else.” Clearing her throat, willing her glare to vanish, Eris sighed. Small talk was always boring, but it was expected at parties, when one’s grandfather was watching to make sure they didn’t mess up and accidently start another pureblood war. “You look amazing, Dorothy! You clean up well.” Eris’s eyes sparkled, a hint of boredom sliding into her smile, as she pulled a strand of hair from it’s braid, twisting it around in her hands, before smirking at Dorothy “Oh! I just can’t wait for next year, it should be fun to see all my friends again. You do have friends you want to visit back at the castle, right Dorothy?”

As they talked, another child walked into the room, and Eris frowned at the boy. She knew she was supposed to greet any children her age, but it really wasn’t that hard to go up to a group, but before Eris could chase after the brown haired boy, she heard the ending of a conversation and turned around to see her grandfather lightly touch the shoulder of Madame Shafiq.

“One moment please, I have more guests to greet with my granddaughter. We shall be back shortly.” With that, Adrian grabbed the hand of Eris, as she started to walk towards the family he had pointed out.

“We do not go towards them. They will come to us.”

Sure enough, the strange family came over, and kissed the air again. Wrinkling her nose, Eris said nothing, as the onslaught of strange greetings occured. Those weren’t things that Eris had been told about in her lessons about pureblood life, but she rolled with it, not wanting to get any time of scolding from her grandfather.

The man who was speaking talked strangely, but Eris bit back any comments about his words being strange, remembering her grandfather’s warning about some of the guests being foreign. “We welcome you to this party.” Adrian responded, as the two children came over.

When the proclamation of house elves being handed socks, Adrian Fawley looked at the boy in question with utmost anger and horror, while a conspirators smile crossed across Eris’s face. Adrian ignored the boy, frowning at the mother of the child with a look of displeasure.

“My dear sweet Mrs. Haik, I have no grievance with the fact your son seems to lack discipline, however, my elves would think otherwises. I expect a new elf in my manor, courtesy of your family, or rest assured, this is the last Gala your family will be attending. There are no hard feelings, none at all, but I shall not an elf out of my custody without receiving another one.”

Adrian frowned again, before bowing down. “Enjoy the party, I must check on my other less rude guests. Come find me after you have taken care of your son. I don’t want to be here for the discipline that I pray will occur.”

As Adrian walked away, gesturing for Eris to follow, she stayed for a minute longer. “For the record, I think it was quite cool of you to free the elf. I mean house elves are nice and all, and i’m going to miss whichever one of our elves you took away, but I admire the bravery required to do such a thing. Hope you get into Gryffindor, then you could hang out with me, Max, and Dorian.” Her voice was low enough that the adults, hopefully, couldn’t hear, as Eris watched her grandmother let out a squeal, and take off towards the figure of a woman.

Eris couldn’t see from her spot, so she made her way to the stairs above the ballroom, peering down to study her grandmother in her green gown. Demetra made her way over to a woman, now composed, as she beamed at the woman. If Eris was to overhear, she would of heard Demetra’s excited drawl.“Oh! Morgan! It’s so lovely to see you. Let’s drop that brooding rutt of a man, we simply have to catch up!” Without a response, Demetra yanked her away.

Demetra never had given up on Morgan, and always tried to get her to be her old self, every year that she showed up for the Fawley Gala. Of course Eris did not know this, as she sighed and turned away, only to let out an “omph” of pain as Rhea’s arms wrapped around her.

Suddenly, the party faded away, and Eris wanted to cry. It felt so nice to finally have one of her friends around, and the arms around her were a pair of arms that did not scare Eris. The comfort did not scare Eris, in fact, it felt nice after so long without Rhea.

“Rhea, oh my god! I think Max, Phae, Dorian, and Serena are coming! I’ve missed you so much, Dorothy- that girl who insulted Max at the lock in, by the way- is here with a strange boy who had a sick prank about freeing the house elves- my granddad is so mad about that- and an antisocial boy without parents! The guest list should be somewhere, but who cares! You’re here, and we can dance together if we have to.”

Her parents had disappeared, off socializing with the many different pure bloods present at the ball. However, that was more of a positive thing than anything, for Rhea was left alone with her friend, not having to worry about what her parents would think of her or how they would force her to act. Rather, the little Gryffindor girl was left to enjoy herself for once; she would be able to dance the night away, her parents distracted with their own friends. 

Laughing all throughout Eris's ramble, Rhea couldn't help but look around at everyone that was there, her eyes going over each person as Eris introduced them. None of them familiar, save for that Daphne girl - whose name was apparently Dorothy - but Rhea didn't mind. She knew that by the end of the night, she would have introduced herself to mostly everyone. But for now, Rhea paid attention to her short, redhead - at this moment, at least - friend. 

"Oh, it's gonna be a party! I'm so excited," to prove her point, a wide smile stretched across her face. "I haven't seen any of you all summer; it's going to be great to see everyone in one place again before we all meet at Hogwarts in a few days!" Rhea clapped her hands and began to hop around a little bit, but as soon as she did, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise up - someone was watching her, and that someone was, of course, her father. Rhea slowly turned around to face him, and made direct eye contact with his glare. The happy expression fading from her face, Rhea stopped her clapping and her hopping. No doubt, Eris could see the change between her behavior, but Rhea hoped she wouldn't say anything. 

She slowly let go of Eris, fixing her hair and wringing her hands together. "Sick prank? Strange boy? I haven't even been here for two minutes and already so much has happened!" a quiet chuckle escaped the red head. "And your grandad is mad at you? Oh, Eris, what did you do?" Of course, she worded her question jokingly, knowing that even the slightest mistake could piss off a wealthy pureblood old man. "Dancing? I haven't danced in quite some time!" With that, Rhea curtsied dramatically, extending a hand out to Eris. "Will you do me the honor of dancing with me, darling?" She held in a giggle, staring up at Eris with wide eyes. 

As the two girls had their fun and acted like girls their age, Morgan had been dragged off by the Fawley matriarch, who did this every. Single. Time. "Demetra-" Morgan was cut off, her breath caught as she was abruptly pulled to a stop. "My husband, he-" Morgan paused, listening to what she was saying. She deserved a break from Aaron; he didn't need her to be by his side all the bloody time. Shaking her head, the blonde woman grinned at Demetra. "What plans do you have for me today, oh Mrs Fawley?"

Morgan was entertained, Rhea was catching up with her friend... that left Aaron Bishop, the long-haired, surly blonde man to make his rounds, greeting everyone in the room and attempting to strike business-related conversations whenever he could. Money seemed to be the only thing on his money; thankfully, that was the case for some of the other pure bloods as well. It seemed everything anyone cared about nowadays was simply becoming more and more successful, a fact that wasn't lost on Morgan, who simply craved to spend time with her husband. He found himself a fellow businessman and, turning his attention away from his wife and daughter, spent the entire rest of the night conversing with the man.

More and more families would enter the room, but the Bishop family would take no further notice of them. That is, unless, they specifically walked up to them - Morgan was slowly getting back into the mentality outside of the 'Bishop wife,' and Rhea was simply enjoying her time would friend; thus, neither were paying particular attention to the world around them.