Chapter 9
Abraxas' eyes strayed to the entrance of his ballroom, decorated gorgeously by his wife, Genevive, to see a face he'd never seen before.
The man was dressed handsomely, with robes that one would only see on nobility. He'd never met the man before, which is surprising considering he knew everyone worth knowing in Britain. Perhaps he's foreign? Thought Abraxas as he observed the man from afar, tuning out the conversation he was having with some lower-ranked pureblood.
A witch was hanging off his arm, looking bored as she surveyed the room. She was attractive, though in a traditional sort of way. The duo was definitely purebred. They both carried the natural cat-like grace that pure wizards were gifted. The thought relieved Abraxas as he would rather not have filth at his prestigious party while his Lord was in attendance.
Whispers were already starting to reach him, and he listened to them in delight.
"Have you seen them before? No."
"I heard someone mention Peverell. Maybe they're long-lost descendants?"
"It can't be! The Peverell line died out ages ago. Surely British society would know if they survived."
"I just spoke with the man," Interjected a new voice apparently, he came from France, where a branch of the Peverell line had resided since the 16th century, calls himself Lord Peverell that one."
Now that indeed interested Abraxas, who listened in to the conversation of Lady Selwyn, Lady Abbott and Lady Bones more closely.
"What about the witch. Is she his wife?"
"No, his sister. She's in her mid-30s and still unmarried. There must be something wrong with her for not having wedded yet."
Abraxas decided it was enough information for now and walked toward them to investigate by himself.
"Good Evening," Abraxas started, "I'm Lord Malfoy, the host. I don't believe we've met before?" He introduced himself politely, drawing himself to his full height. It seemed as though they weren't intimidated, though. As they smiled at him, unaffected.
"Pleasure to meet you, Lord Malfoy. I'm Henri Peverell." The man, Lord Peverell, then looked to the woman to his right, "and this is my sister, Adrienne."
" 'Ello," She muttered quickly at him before averting her gaze.
The Peverells both had a thick French accent, confirming the whispers, "You're French?" he inquired, hoping the man would expand more.
"Yes, we are," Peverell replied shortly, seemingly finished. Abraxas was highly irritated. How dare the man dismiss him? He was Lord bloody Malfoy. He was practically royalty in Wizarding Britain!
Sneering subtly at them, he walked away, cobalt robes billowing behind him.
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Adelaide immediately broke out into a laugh once Malfoy was nowhere to be spotted, "did you see his face! He was always such an insufferable git at Hogwarts, glad we knocked him down a peg."
Harrison's face mirrored her expression, "A face to cherish for centuries," he nodded solemnly.
"Shall we go survey the others, brother?" She asked.
"We shall, sister."
The duo left the entrance area and strode further into the ice-themed ballroom.
Many glass chandeliers were hanging from the ceiling. Prisms transfigured to look like icicles. Snowflakes descended from the roof, yet they never touched a single person, dissipating before reaching your skin. Aside from the glass furniture, the accents were coloured the classic Malfoy Blue, gorgeously tying everything into place.
He was incredibly impressed with the decorations. Harrison almost thought he'd seen nothing more gorgeous until he remembered Hogwarts. Nothing could ever compete with Hogwarts' beauty.
"Oh! Do you see those two?" Adelaide exclaimed, pointing at two men and one woman at the centre of the room, "they're the new minister candidates. Eugenia Jenkins, Walter Ogden and Benjamin Abbott. The lot has been in quite a bit of scandal. Eugenia Jenkins was accused of sleeping with the head of the DMLE to get to her high position early on. A very clearly misogynistic statement.
Then there's Benjamin, who was accused of cheating on his wife with her best friend, Lady Macmillan. She was very pointedly uninvited from Lady Abbott's last luncheon.
And lastly, Walter Ogden. The worst The Daily Prophet has on him is that he's a dark wizard, which is hardly illegal. As long as he doesn't torture, kill or maim a person he should be alright to run. I doubt he'll make it as minister, though. The light is dominating the Wizengamot, which makes his chances slim to none." Adelaide concluded with a flourish of her hands, impressing Harrison.
"You're keeping up with politics. That's unusual." He commented, looking over the minister candidates, evaluating which one he should speak to first. Riddle would need Harrison to be as active as he could be once his debut was official. The thought of more politics was killing Harrison's fragile sanity.
"When you have nothing to do in a house all day, you get well acquainted with subjects as these," She paused, then her eyes caught a figure moving into the room, tall and powerful. He attracted the room's attention to himself as he practically glided to the stage set up in the middle of the ballroom.
"Is that Riddle?" She asked, though she already knew the answer. Harrison replied with a nod and a giddy grin.
Finally, he thought, some drama.
Riddle whispered something in Malfoy's ear, eyes flitting to Harrison ever so slightly before averting. Abraxas looked irritated if the slight twitch of his eye was something to go by, and Harrison relished it.
Malfoy's voice boomed across the near-silent room, "Ladies and Gentlemen, Wizards and Witches, it is with great pleasure that I announce a new member of our Wizengamot. Lord Henri Peverell."
Unexpected.
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As he made his way towards the centre of the ballroom, he tried not to freak out. Riddle had pulled that stunt out of nowhere. They had officially decided to introduce him slowly, gradually.
Not in a party with all of the lords and ladies in attendance.
Fuck.
When he had asked for drama, he hadn't meant this. Whichever god was watching him right now must hate him. Instead of outwardly showing his nervousness, he hoped he convinced the crowd with a charming grin.
Harrison quickly whispered into Riddle's ears as he went in for a half-hug, "I fucking hate you."
"I'm sure Lord Peverell has a quick speech prepared," Malfoy gestured to his previous spot on the elevated podium. Harrison wanted to bash the man's pompous head into the wall.
"Alright, so. I know some of you might not trust me, and I can't say I blame you. I was born and raised in France. You've 'ad no clue I existed until this day. But just because I was born in a different country doesn't mean that I don't have your best interests at heart. I've followed British politics for quite a while now," Lie, "and I can tell you in confidence you have nothing to worry of. Have a great day, enjoy the party and thank you." Applause echoed throughout the massive room before attendees started whispering amongst themselves.
"Adequate job on the speech, considering you were put on the spot," Riddle muttered to him, his usual grin in place. The man was wearing a set of classically handsome black and white robes, chocolate brown hair curled to perfection, not a single strand out of position.
"No thanks to you. I thought my introduction was to be 'slowly and gradual so that people suspect nothing.'"
Riddle nodded, "Originally, yes. But I had a change of heart. The elections are soon. I need you to gather enough sway so we can have Lord Ogden chosen. As you are a fresh new face, unassociated with the dark, the neutral and light members will trust you more. Trust that I did not make this decision lightly, Harrison."
Harrison sighed, knowing he couldn't argue further. The contract strictly dictates he had to do whatever Riddle told him to do regarding politics.
"Besides," The man continued, "perhaps you'll have some of that craved fun. Manipulating old purebloods is always amusing, and if you're lucky, someone will attack the ministry while you're inside, allowing you to fight."
That did sound somewhat entertaining to Harrison, and he cheered reluctantly when he remembered the other clause of their contract, "When does my 'training' start?"
Riddle raised his eyebrow, assessing him, "Soon." was all he said before leaving to mingle with the guests.
That's so fucking unfair, he thinks to himself as a steady stream of wizengamot members introduces themselves to Harrison, expressing their welcomes.
Meanwhile, Adelaide has a splendid conversation with Lady Hecate Lestrange, a ministry-approved seer.