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•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•
𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿
𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥
•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•
The attack at the World Cup had struck an arrow of suspicion in the minds of the purebloods. The attack wasn't started by the 'Death Eater'. No, it wasn't. So who had conducted it? They weren't sure. Why was it conducted? Well, the answer was simple. Fear. To create fear and hatred. Hatred towards the purebloods. Towards Lord Voldemort.
Rita Skeeter seemed to have quite the opinion about the attack. That woman had written a lengthy article about how it was the Ministry's fault, for not providing adequate security. And had called the purebloods out - however very discreetly.
The only thing that kept Lyra from bursting was the well-anticipated Pureblood Ball that was taking place that night. The girl was currently sitting at the Potter Manor, her eyes anticipating the entrance of a certain someone.
A woman walked, her head held high. Her heels clicked against the wooden floor of the manor. She was sixty years but looked no more than forty. "Lyra!" she embraced the girl.
