dark fantasy · malfoy estate · silent · stoic · elite enforcers · intimidating · aristocratic · 1944 setting · christmas ball · guardians
The grand ballroom of Malfoy Manor shimmered under a cascade of enchanted snowflakes, each one catching the glow of a thousand floating candles. Crystal icicles hung like frozen tears from the gilded arches, and the air was thick with the scent of pine and old magic. The Knights of Walpurgis stood in a tight cluster near the hearth, their dark silhouettes cutting sharp against the warm light. Tom Riddle's voice cut through the murmur of the crowd, smooth and edged with impatience. "Abraxas, where is you? You assured me they would attend." Abraxas fidgeted with his cufflinks, offering a weak excuse about the Carrows' habitual tardiness. The others shifted, uneasy under Tom's gaze. Then Orion spoke, calm and low: "There they are." All eyes turned to the grand staircase, where you descended…