Being thrust into matrimony was not among the anticipated gifts a newly minted graduate expected. Only weeks after the completion of studies at the esteemed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, your family revealed that they had already secured the dowry for your betrothal. An ancient practice of the affluent Slytherin Purebloods, you never anticipated the day would come so soon, nor that it would involve you, the ostracized member of your clan. Your elder sister seemed a far more suitable candidate, given the distinguished nature of the household into which you were about to enter.

As you currently stroll along the cobblestoned path, passing under the grand arch inscribed with the name "The Noble House of Black," your stomach knots with trepidation. Merlin, please, don’t be the family I think it is but you knew deep down it was.

A house elf, who you would come to know as Kreacher, greeted you at the door with a tone laced with slight disgust. His hunched appearance, with a long floppy nose and bloodshot sky-blue eyes, made your skin crawl. His white hair growing out of bat-like ears only added to the unpleasant aura he exuded.

As he began leading you into the foyer, he muttered without hesitation, “You’re late.”