60: The Summer Ball .III

"Excuse me, could you point me to the loo?"

Once Alaric parted ways with his sister, he entered the mansion and looked around. His gaze settled on a squat and portly house elf stationed beside a bust of some ancient wizard. The elf was dressed in the same white uniform as the rest of the staff, though it was comically undersized for his stout figure. His nose was elongated and crooked, his ears rather floppy, and his double chin so big that Alaric couldn't help but wonder if he was some cross between a goblin and an elf.

"Oh," The elf's ears perked up at the question. He was used to a more rude tone when wizards talked to him. "Down the hallway, the last door on the right," he said. 

Alaric nodded in appreciation. He walked towards the door and looked around to be sure nobody was watching him before he entered the bathroom. 

"Homenum Revelio," he mutured as soon as he closed the door. 

A few seconds went by before he moved. Alaric just wanted to make sure he was alone. Being seen wasn't an option. Walking near the mirror above one of the sinks, he brought out his wand. 

'Let's see,' he thought to himself.  'What should I go with?'

He placed the tip of his wand on his face. Slowly, as he grew in height, his young and unblemished skin turned rugged. His sharp jawline rose, and his haughty look became more modest. The somewhat wavy blonde hair turned black and shortened in length, and the hair on his temples grew white. 

Then came the fun part. Alaric began to trace his wand down his clothes, and as he did, they began to change. The once-black overcoat and waistcoat were replaced with light grey ones. His pants acquired the same colour, but the black shirt turned white, and his sleek red tie became dark blue. As for his shoes, they remained the same dark brown colour they had. 

Alaric, now fully transformed into Percival Graves, exited from the bathroom. A big window in front of him offered a view of the lush gardens, and he slid it open before assuming the form of a raven. With caution, he evaded through the watchful eyes of the Aurors and Hit-Wizards who had established a perimeter around the mansion. 

The two wizards guarding the entrance were so tired of checking countless envelopes that they only noticed Alaric when he drew near them. When they did spot him, their laid-back posture quickly changed to an upright one as one of the wizards extended their hand. 

"Invitation, please," he requested, palm outstretched towards Alaric.

Alaric remained silent, simply passing the envelope to the guard, whose eyes widened upon reading the name on the paper.

"Mr. Graves," The guard said with a smile. "We're glad you could come," A pointed glance at his companion prompted the other guard to hasten off and inform the Minister.

"The pleasure is all mine," Alaric replied, his tone cordial, but didn't return the smile. 

He walked through the entrance for the second time, feeling the countless protective wards wash over him again, and stopped once the soft music and chatter invaded his ears. Instead of walking to the courtyard,  he positioned himself in the centre of the entrance hall, champagne glass in hand, as if waiting for a particular something. 

"Mr Graves!"

Just like he expected, the portly Minister of Magic came half-walking, half-running into the hall, and Alaric couldn't help but wonder who was Fudge's tailor — if he even had one. Seeing his sense of style, probably not. 

"Minister," Alaric nodded and extended his arm for a handshake that Fudge quickly returned. "It's good to finally meet you," 

"Likewise, Mr Graves, likewise," Fudge said, wiping the sweat above his brows. "Why don't you follow me outside? I was just about to make the opening speech," he continues, motioning for Alaric to follow. 

As they walk, the chatter and music coming from the courtyard are louder and louder, and when an elf opens the grand door only Ministers could use, a wave of sounds washes over them. 

"I'm extremely happy you could make it, Mr. Graves," Fudge said. "I'm sure we'll be able to work on something that might benefit us both,"

More people had gathered between the time Alaric left and came back. The amalgamation of colours caused by the numerous enchantments each guest had on their clothes was so bright Alaric had to focus on his eyes to tone down the intensity. 

"A lot of important people here tonight," Alaric said, ignoring the curious stares coming his way. Many knew Percival's name, but few knew what he looked like. 

"Just the usual," Fudge bragged before pointing at some guests. "You see that man right there? Lucius Malfoy, Lord of House Malfoy. Great business partner. I'm sure he'd be willing to strike a deal with you if—" 

"Straight to the point, I see," Alaric interrupted him with a chuckle. He swirled the champagne in his glass before taking a sip. 

"A-Ah... y-yes," Fudge said in a flustered tone. The pigly man wasn't used to being interrupted like this. He cleared his throat and continued to point out some important guests. "That right there is the Norwegian Minister of Magic! He's got some shares on that large kelpie farm in Ireland. Do you see that woman by the pillar? Daughter of the late inventor of the Omnioculars. She would definitely invest in those weird telescope contraptions you also sell. And the woman who's talking to her — oh..." 

"What's wrong?" Alaric asked, but there was something in his eyes, and it definitely wasn't confusion. 

Fudge couldn't explain it, but he swore he felt ill for a second.

"That's — Ummm," He was trying, but the words were stuck in his throat. "That's Mrs Grindelwald," he said in a whisper, as if uttering her name was a taboo itself. 

"Daughter of Gellert Grindelwald?" Alaric asked, pretending to be confused. 

"Yes," Fudge chuckled nervously. "But need to be apprehensive. I assure you she has little to no influence in the British Isles as of now. The Ministry is keeping an eye on her in case things... get out of hand," 

"Is that so?" Alaric asked, staring into Fudge's eyes. "And how exactly does the Ministry plan to handle it if 'things get out of hand'?" 

"We have our ways," Fudge laughed and patted Alaric on the shoulder. "If you accept the deal, we might show you how—"

"No need to say it again, Minister," Alaric cut in again. He grabbed the golden pocketwatch that he always carried and checked the time. "How about making that speech? The ball should've started already," 

"A-ah, yes, the speech," Fudge stuttered when he realized he was late. 

The Minister walked to the middle of the courtyard as the crowd of guests let him pass like the sea being divided by Moses. With a quick flourish of his wand and an incantation, a small wooden step appeared before him. The tip of his wand was on his neck when he used the step to become more visible. 

"Welcome!" He said, his voice echoing loudly from the Sonorus Charm. "Welcome to the 114th Ministry Summer Ball!" He paused for a moment, making sure everyone was looking at him. "First of all, I'd like to apologize for the extra security measures in place, but in light of recent events, it had to be done,"

Fudge rummaged through his pocket before grabbing a poster from it. The dull eyes and sickly face of Peter Pettigrew were displayed by the moving picture. 

"As you know, mass murderer Peter Pettigrew has escaped from Azkaban," he said darkly. "The Ministry is doing everything in its power to catch him, but until then, we ask all of you to remain vigilant. He's a dangerous and deranged criminal, and everything he does is for his own benefit! You can take his betrayal of the Potters and what he did to those Muggles as an example,"

Murmurs and stares spread along the crowd, mostly directed at the black-haired boy who stood on the other side of the courtyard.  The Minister crumpled the poster into his pocket and began to speak again. 

"With that out of the way, how about we begin?"

__________

The ballroom's double doors stood imposingly on a marble wall, shrouded in velvet drapes. The chime of trumpets accompanied them as they swung open. The guests were led by some of the staff into the room, their steps echoing in the opulent marble corridor. Each guest received a small emblem that served no purpose apart from having a small symbolic meaning. Alaric received one for Percival but had to sneakily summon a second for himself. 

Stepping into the ballroom was like crossing into another world. For all the incompetence the current Minister of Magic had, Alaric had to admit the man had a knack for festive decoration.

Golden chandeliers floated close to the vaulted ceilings, illuminating the room with a warm glow. Gilded mirrors adorned the walls and reflected the wave of elegantly dressed guests as they flowed into the space. The centre of the chamber was dominated by a large and round buffet table, with all sorts of dishes ready to be eaten. However, this table would later be replaced by a spacious dance floor where couples could waltz and twirl to the melodies of a live orchestra and a band of dancing ghosts. 

At some point, everyone had entered the ballroom, so the double doors closed with a soft click. The music eventually started and the freakish apparitions began to swirl in the air. 

Guests mingled with each other over drinks and food, talking about business and whatnot. The staff barely stopped, constantly running around, taking care of dirtied plates or silverware, then giving it to the elves for them to wash. 

"Where's your brother?" 

This time it wasn't Hope, but Isadora who asked. She was in a very good mood, having just finished securing a deal with an important Scottish witch, but found it strange that her son wasn't accompanying his sister and her friends. She even came to tell him she saw that Greengrass girl he got along with. 

"No idea," Lysandra lied, her face completely expressionless. 

Her need for Occlumency gave away to Isadora that her daughter did know where he was, but she decided to go along with it. As long as they weren't causing any trouble, she trusted her children. 

"Is that so," Isadora gave a look to Lysandra and the girl knew she had to prepare for a talk later. No matter how much she trusted her children, Isadora hated being lied to, especially by the twins. 

As soon as her mother left, Lysandra turned to Hope and Harry.

"I'll be right back," She said hurriedly and took off, leaving the pair confused. 

Lysandra weaved through the numerous guests, her eyes darting around for her brother's transfigured face. When she saw him, she slowly approached him, with seamless steps. 

"Al!" she called in a whisper close to him. He was currently engrossed in a talk with both the British Minister of Magic and the French one. "Alaric!" she called again and felt her ring finger quiver. 

She looked down at the ring her brother had a pair for and read the message. 

'Don't talk to me!'  It read. It wasn't meant to be rude, and Lysandra knew that. She couldn't hear their voices over the music, but the conversation was probably important.

Instead, she brought out her wand and flicked it at her brother's pocket. She saw how Alaric carefully grabbed the conjured paper from his pocket and read it, only for his eyes to bulge in surprise. 

He turned sideways to her without the Ministers noticing and mouthed. "10 minutes," 

If their mother was really looking for him, Alaric had to be quick. He believed there was only one person who could see through his disguise without the aid of any magical tool. Isadora. She knew his mannerisms and way of speaking, so a single slip-up would mean trouble. 

"So, what do you say, Cornelius?" He turned around. "Do we have a deal? Because if not, I can see François here is very interested," 

********** 

A/N: The next chapter should be the last one about the Summer Ball. 

Fun fact! The names of some of the main characters were changed from Rowling's original names. Before she changed them, they were: Hermione Puckle, Draco Spinks, Neville Puff and Lily Moon (who ended up as Luna Lovegood).

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!