In the banquet hall of Fawley Manor, the crystal chandeliers refracted dazzling light, casting a gilded sheen over everyone’s faces.
The air was filled with the bubbling scent of champagne, the rich aroma of roasted goose, and the faint, almost imperceptible air of restrained superiority that seemed to cling to pure-blood nobles whenever they spoke.
Nora was curled up in an armchair in the corner.
On the small table in front of her sat half a plate of pumpkin pasties and a small glass of pumpkin juice.
She wore a simple black wizard’s robe, her ice-blue hair falling casually over her shoulders.
Compared to the surrounding guests in their splendid formalwear and family crests, she looked entirely out of place.
And yet, precisely because of that careless sense of distance, she attracted quite a few discreet glances.
She had already been sitting there for almost an hour.
From the moment she stepped into the manor, her eyes had been scanning the crowd.
She wanted to see Luna, the girl who had traded for the wand from her, and find out whether her life had changed after regaining her magic.
But up until now, all she had seen was Jonah in a pink princess dress, surrounded like the moon among stars, and house-elves weaving through the guests like invisible servants, carrying tea and refreshments.
There was only no sign of Luna.
“Don’t tell me her family sent her off to do some other chore,” Nora muttered, taking a bite of pumpkin pasty.
The cloying sweetness melted on her tongue, yet somehow felt unreal.
She had long heard about the “rules” of pure-blood families.
For a “Squib,” being treated like a servant was probably nothing out of the ordinary.
If she had known it would be this boring, she should have dragged Evelyn along.
Nora sighed.
Although Evelyn was a wealthy Muggle-born young lady, she was quite good at handling occasions like this.
At the very least, she could have chatted with her, so Nora would not be reduced to passing the time by eating pasties.
In the center of the banquet hall, Abrak was holding up a wineglass and enthusiastically recounting Jonah’s “glorious achievements,” such as “making toys fly at the age of three” and “mastering the Cleaning Charm at seven.”
The guests around him laughed cooperatively, occasionally offering a few flattering remarks.
“As expected of the Fawley family’s heir!”
“With talent like that, she is sure to become a great witch in the future!”
Jonah stood beside her father, her little face tilted proudly upward.
Her pale golden curls gleamed beneath the lights, and she tightly clutched her Hogwarts acceptance letter in her hand.
The smugness in her eyes was nearly overflowing.
Her gaze swept across the banquet hall, as if she were searching for something.
When she saw Nora sitting in the corner, her brows furrowed almost imperceptibly before she haughtily looked away.
She probably thought that this “Muggle-born” witch was unworthy of appearing at her birthday banquet.
Nora noticed her gaze but could not be bothered to care.
She was just a spoiled little girl.
Not worth paying attention to.
Nora picked up the last pumpkin pasty and was just about to put it into her mouth when a shadow suddenly fell over the small table in front of her.
“Miss Nora.”
A slightly stiff voice sounded, carrying a hint of deliberately suppressed nervousness.
Nora raised her head and saw a familiar face.
Blond hair, gray eyes, a neatly pressed black formal suit, and a silver serpent badge of the Rosier family pinned to his chest.
It was Felix Rosier.
The former Slytherin student council president, heir to a pure-blood family, and also an “old acquaintance” whom she had beaten up at least three times back at Hogwarts.
The first time was because he had mocked a half-blood wizard from Hufflepuff, and Nora had sent him sprawling across the corridor with an Impediment Jinx.
The second time was when he had tried to snatch Nora’s Illustrated Guide to Ancient Magical Artifacts, only to be forced into jumping out a window by her Incendio.
The third time was even simpler.
He had deliberately thrown a duel against a girl in the Dueling Club, and Nora, unable to stand the sight of it, had knocked his wand flying with a Disarming Charm and added, “Spineless coward,” for good measure.
Nora raised an eyebrow and swallowed the pasty in her mouth.
“What do you want?”
Felix’s cheeks flushed slightly, as if her blunt tone had made him somewhat uneasy.
He cleared his throat, took a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray, and carefully placed it on the table in front of Nora.
His movements were so stiff that he looked like a primary school student attending a banquet for the first time.
“I… I would like to offer you a toast,” he said, his eyes darting away as he avoided looking directly into Nora’s.
Nora looked at the bubbling glass of champagne, then at Felix’s tense profile, feeling somewhat puzzled.
What was this guy trying to pull?
Had he not been beaten enough before graduation, and now wanted to use the banquet as an excuse to ask for another round?
The guests around them seemed to notice the commotion.
Quite a few people stopped their conversations and glanced over discreetly, their eyes filled with curiosity and scrutiny.
The Rosier family and the Fawley family were connected by marriage, and as the eldest son of the Rosier family, Felix attracted quite a bit of attention within pure-blood circles.
For him to take the initiative to approach a “Muggle-born” wizard was, in itself, enough to draw attention.
Felix seemed to sense the gazes around him as well.
He took a deep breath, as though he had made some kind of firm decision.
He straightened his back, put on an expression he believed to be very “affectionate,” and raised his voice slightly, making sure everyone nearby could hear him.
“Miss Nora, I’ve noticed you ever since our first year at Hogwarts.”
Nora: “?”
She remembered very clearly that, back in first year, this guy had led the others in calling her a “Mudblood.”
“Your intelligence, your courage, your magical talent… all of it has deeply fascinated me.”
Felix continued, his tone growing increasingly emotional.
“Although you were born into a Muggle family, your strength is enough to match any pure-blood family.
I believe you are the only woman worthy of me.”
The pumpkin juice in Nora’s hand almost spilled.
Worthy of him?
Had this guy’s head been slammed in a door?
“So,” Felix took a step forward, staring at Nora with burning eyes, “I, Felix Rosier, formally propose to you!
Please marry me, become the mistress of the Rosier family, and join me in protecting the glory of pure blood!”
“…”
Nora was completely dumbfounded.
The entire banquet hall also fell into a brief silence.
A few seconds later, someone began to clap.
The applause quickly grew louder and louder.
Many pure-blood nobles revealed expressions that seemed to say “as expected,” whispering among themselves.
“I always thought they were well matched!”
“Although Nora is Muggle-born, she truly is powerful.
Marrying into the Rosier family wouldn’t be an insult to them.”
“This is a good thing!
If the two families form an alliance, their influence will certainly rise to another level!”
Isabella stood not far away, wearing a reserved smile, though a trace of satisfaction flashed through her eyes.
If Felix could marry Nora, not only would they be able to win over this powerful witch, but the Rosier family would also owe the Fawley family a favor.
It was simply killing two birds with one stone.
As for Nora’s Muggle-born background?
In the face of absolute strength, what did that little “flaw” even count for?
Felix looked at the applause around him, a smug smile appearing on his face, as though victory was already in his grasp.
He looked at Nora, waiting for her to shyly nod and accept.
In his eyes, no witch could possibly refuse a proposal from the heir of the Rosier family.
However, Nora merely blinked.
Her ice-blue eyes were filled with confusion, as if asking, “Are you seriously ill or something?”
She was silent for three seconds.
Then, under everyone’s stunned gazes, she slowly raised her wand.
“Impedimenta!”
“Bang!”
An invisible barrier slammed into Felix’s chest.
Like a rag doll, he screamed as he was sent flying backward, crashing straight into the champagne tower behind him.
“Crash!”
The sharp sound of crystal glasses shattering rang out.
Golden champagne mixed with shards of glass splashed all over him, ruining his expensive formal robes completely.
Felix lay sprawled on the floor, his hair in disarray and champagne foam still clinging to the corner of his mouth.
He looked as wretched as a drenched chicken.
/Dvrac Like it ?