Gilderoy was careful this time, stepping out of the Floo with far more control than before, landing cleanly on the carpet in front of him instead of stumbling out like an amateur. A faint layer of soot still clung to his robes, and he brushed it off with quick, practiced motions, straightening the fabric as if nothing had happened.
The room he arrived in was already lively, voices overlapping in a constant murmur, the kind of controlled that came with large pureblood gatherings. The air carried a mix of perfume, polished wood, and something faintly magical beneath it all.
There was someone already standing near the fireplace, clearly positioned there to receive incoming guests.
Gilderoy's attention shifted to her.
At first glance, she reminded him of Bellatrix. The resemblance was there in the sharpness of her features, the shape of her face, even the way she held herself. But where Bellatrix carried a darker, almost dangerous edge to her beauty, this girl felt… different. Softer, but not weaker. Refined. Composed.
If Bellatrix looked like she belonged in a goth club, this one looked like she had some elf ancestry.
Her silvery-blonde hair only added to that impression, catching the light in a way that made her stand out even in a room filled with well-dressed witches and wizards.
Gilderoy stepped forward, pulling out his invitation and holding it out.
She didn't take it. Instead, she gently pushed his invitation back, her eyes studying his face with quiet focus, like she was trying to place him.
"Gilderoy Lockhart."
"I recognized you from the dueling tournament. You were good… even if you did lose to Bella in the semifinals."
Gilderoy blinked once.
Wait. Bella…
That name narrowed it down quickly for him.
He stepped closer, taking her gloved hand with practiced ease. He lifted it just enough to place a light kiss over the fabric, his gaze steady.
"You must be Miss Narcissa Black, then."
Narcissa's composure didn't break entirely, but there was a visible shift—a faint blush rising as she gave a small nod. It wasn't dramatic, but it was there, and for someone like her, that alone said enough.
"Oh no, miss," Gilderoy replied smoothly, a small smile forming, "I did lose in the championship."
Narcissa tilted her head slightly, unconvinced.
"You're being too modest," she said. "Standing toe to toe with my sister is already a big deal."
There was no exaggeration in her voice, just a simple statement—one that somehow carried more weight because of it.
Gilderoy wanted to chat more, but he didn't get the chance.
There was a sudden pull at his arm, firm enough to make it clear he wasn't being given a choice.
"Excuse me," he said quickly to Narcissa before allowing himself to be dragged away, his attention already shifting to whoever had decided to claim him so abruptly.
They stopped near a quieter corner of the hall.
Gilderoy turned.
Bellatrix.
She looked exactly like he remembered, and yet somehow even more striking in this setting. The black gown she wore fit her perfectly, the dark fabric layered with subtle rose designs that only showed when the light caught them right. Her black lipstick added to that dark beauty. It wasn't overly flashy, but it didn't need to be. She stood out anyway.
There was something sharper in her expression now, though.
"Are you really flirting with Cissy the moment you arrive, Lockhart?" she asked, her voice edged with irritation.
"My apologies, Miss Black," he said, shifting just enough to face her properly. "I should have greeted you first. You are familiar to me, after all."
Before she could respond, he reached for her hand, repeating the same gesture he had used moments ago with Narcissa.
Only this time, he held it just a fraction longer. And instead of keeping it casual, he looked straight into her eyes as he pressed the kiss.
Bellatrix stiffened slightly, not expecting that shift, and when he let go, she pulled her hand back a bit too quickly, like she'd been burned.
For a moment, she just stared at him.
Then she stared some more.
Finally, she huffed and turned sharply.
"Idiot," she muttered under her breath, though whether it was annoyed or something else wasn't entirely clear.
And just like that, she was gone, disappearing back into the crowd before he could say anything else.
Gilderoy watched her go for a second. That had gone… interestingly. He didn't dwell on it for long though.
Instead, he turned his attention back to the room, scanning the crowd more carefully this time. There were a lot of unfamiliar faces, but a few stood out immediately.
An older man wearing robes marked with the Potter crest was deep in conversation with a younger man bearing the Bones family insignia. Their posture and tone suggested something more formal than casual conversation, likely politics or something close to it.
Gilderoy's gaze shifted slightly.
Standing not too far from them were two others who didn't seem nearly as serious.
Both were around his age, maybe a year or two older, and unlike the rest of the room, they looked… relaxed.
One had messy hair that refused to stay in place, his posture careless. The other stood beside him with a more deliberate kind of confidence, a grin already on his face as he said something that clearly amused both of them.
Even without introductions, it was obvious who they were.
"Sirius Black and his best friend James."
The contrast between them and the rest of the gathering was almost amusing. While others kept their voices measured and their expressions controlled, these two looked like they had walked into the event with no intention of adjusting themselves to fit it.
"This might actually be interesting."
He adjusted his sleeves slightly, brushing off the last traces of soot that had somehow survived his earlier efforts, and took a step forward, ready to see how the rest of the evening would play out.
The Black family celebrations, it seemed, were not going to be dull.
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Thank you for your power stones last time.❤️❤️
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