Elite Slytherin family dinners were nothing unusual. They served as a way to strengthen the bonds between the most powerful pure-blood houses in the wizarding world.

What was unusual was being invited to dinner by the Blackwoods. The Blackwood family rarely involved themselves in politics, withdrawn from nearly everything, showing only a face or two at the grandest events of the century.

Even rarer was an invitation to the Blackwood estate itself. Very few had ever set eyes on the raven-perched manor. Speculation about the castle spread among wizarding families like a Golden Snitch darting through the air: spired roofs rising above the dark Highland forest, walls older than the Ministry of Magic itself, stitched together with chambers from forgotten centuries.

Among the great Slytherin houses, to be invited there was considered the highest of honours.

The envelope from the Blackwoods had been a surprise to Lucius. The formal invitation sealed within it was an even greater one. Of course, Draco was already well acquainted with the only child of Lord and Lady Blackwood. In that light, the summons made perfect sense.

The Malfoys Apparated into the Scottish Highlands at dusk—dressed in the nicest clothes one could acquire—, the air sharp with pine and the faint tang of wet earth. Before them stood the ruins of an ancient watchtower, moss-eaten and leaning as though it had kept its lonely vigil for centuries. In the crumbling stone, a single raven perched, tilting its head as if it had been waiting.

Then came the sound—a low, creaking rumble from the forest’s edge. Emerging from the dark treeline was a carriage, lacquered black and glinting faintly silver in the fading light. It was drawn by a pair of Thestrals, their leathery wings folding against skeletal flanks. Their eyes glowed faintly white, casting a ghostly sheen across the cobbled path.

The carriage halted before them without a word. The Malfoys exchanged glances—Narcissa tightening her cloak, Lucius’s expression unreadable, Draco hesitant but composed. The door swung open of its own accord.

The Thestrals carried them along an endless cobblestone path, the forest pressing close on either side, its trees heavy with ancient magic.

At last, the carriage stopped. Its doors opened, and before the Malfoys rose the grand silhouette of Blackwood Hall. But before Lucius or Narcissa could take in its full, gothic grandeur, the manor’s great doors swung inward.

Lord Blackwood stepped out into the dusk, tall and severe, Lady Blackwood beside him, her pale beauty as striking as the castle itself. And there—standing just behind them—was a face Draco recognised instantly.

He had been quietly anticipating this evening. Over the past year, you had become one of his closest friends, and though he would never admit it aloud, he was glad—almost excited—to see you outside the walls of Hogwarts.