15
The Frostmark ceremony marked the beginning of the solstice gathering, a ritual as old as the castle itself. Each head of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families stepped forward, followed by representatives of noble houses both old and new, forward in turn, tracing symbols in the air with their wands. The symbols shimmered, capturing the essence of the family's past, present, and future, before dissipating into the ether. It was a reminder to all present of the enduring legacies that bound them together, and the ancient magic that still held sway over their lives.
Alice watched in silent fascination, acutely aware of the significance of the ceremony. This was not merely a gathering; it was a reaffirmation of power, a visual representation of the connections and alliances that defined the wizarding world. Despite her place at the high table, she felt strangely apart, a spectator in a world that was both familiar and utterly foreign.
As the last family completed their Frostmark, the hall shifted seamlessly into the feast. The tables groaned under the weight of magical dishes, each more exotic than the last. Silver platters bore enchanted meats that roasted themselves, vegetables that glistened with unnatural hues, and desserts that seemed to defy gravity, floating just above the surface of their plates.
Alice hesitated as a plate of cauldron cakes, piled high and glistening with various shades of icing, was placed before her. She eyed a particularly lurid pink one, studded with what looked suspiciously like candied doxy eggs. At her side, Antonin leaned closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Don't tell me you're afraid of a little sugar, Lady Waters," he murmured, low enough for only her to hear. "Though perhaps you're concerned about the doxy eggs. They can be rather… explosive." He winked, and Lady Malfoy, seated on her other side, gave a delicate sniff of disapproval.
Alice took a bite, and a burst of surprisingly sophisticated flavors danced across her tongue. Rosewater, cardamom, and something else entirely – perhaps a hint of powdered salamander skin? She couldn't suppress a small gasp of surprise, more at the complexity than the taste. Antonin’s lips curved into a genuine smile. From across the table, Voldemort observed the interaction, a flicker of sardonic amusement in his crimson eyes.
"I see the Hogwarts house-elves haven't lost their touch," Antonin commented, his tone light and teasing. "Though I confess, I always preferred the rock cakes myself. Indigestible, of course, but undeniably… memorable." Lady Malfoy shuddered dramatically.
Alice nodded, managing a small smile in return. "It's... certainly more interesting than treacle tart."
The evening progressed, the hall filled with the low murmur of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. It was a comfortingly normal backdrop, yet Alice couldn't shake the undercurrent of tension that threaded through the festivities. The Minister and his delegation sat several tables away, his gaze flicking to her more often than she liked, his expression unreadable.
As the formalities wound down, the gathering shifted into a more informal phase. The old families began to mingle, Lord Parkinson clasped hands with Lord Travers, their grips lingering a beat too long as they exchanged a look of grim understanding. Across the hall, Lady Rosier offered her forearm to Lord Nott. He drew a silver blade, so thin it was almost invisible, and with a precise movement, made an incision. A single drop of blood welled up, shimmering like a ruby in the firelight. Nott mirrored the gesture, offering his own blood in return. The exchange was swift, silent, yet Alice felt a chill crawl down her spine.
This was the sort of oath Lady Malfoy had warned her about – the binding of blood magic, the darkest of dark. It was a world away from polite handshakes and political maneuvering. This was a world of ancient power and unspoken promises, where loyalty and betrayal were measured in drops of blood.. Alice watched as groups formed and reformed, the dance of politics playing out before her.
It was during this mingling that the Minister finally approached, his expression carefully composed. "Lady Waters," he greeted, his voice smooth but carrying an edge she hadn't heard before. "You seem to have adapted... well."
"Minister," she returned, keeping her tone neutral. "I trust you are enjoying the evening."
He nodded, his eyes scanning the room before returning to her. "And you? Have you found your place here, among them?"
Alice met his gaze, her mind turning over the implications of his question. "I've found a place," she replied carefully. "Whether it is mine to keep remains to be seen."
The Minister's lips pressed into a thin line. "Do not forget why you were sent here, Alice. Or who you were meant to protect."
Her pulse quickened, but she maintained her composure. "I have not forgotten," she said quietly. "Though perhaps… I wasn’t given the full picture to begin with. Things are… more complicated than I was led to believe."
"Complicated," he repeated, his voice low. "Yes, I suppose they are." He paused, his gaze heavy with meaning. "Remember your duty, Alice. To your people."
With that, he turned and melted back into the crowd, leaving her standing there, a storm of emotions churning within her. She felt the weight of his words, the reminder of the world outside these walls, a world she had once been willing to sacrifice herself for.
A gentle touch on her arm drew her back, and she found Voldemort watching her with an inscrutable expression. "A pleasant conversation?" he inquired, his tone deceptively light.
"Enlightening," Alice replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
"Good," he said, his eyes flicking briefly in the direction the Minister had gone. "Remember, Alice, that power is not merely what you wield, but also what you understand." He moved closer, his presence a silent threat. "And here, at my court, you will understand much."
As the evening continued, Alice felt the full weight of her place in this world – a place she had never anticipated, yet one she was determined to navigate.