Little Mischiefs [Inglorious Bastards/Black Anthology | HP Fanfic]

Regency in Diagon Alley: AN OFFER FROM A GENTLEMAN [PART I]

The promised short story of Theo's time in the social season for the Inglorious Bastards's Regency in Diagon Alley. I apologize for the lack of activity for the past few months, and I know, it's been a long time since I published new content, and I promise that I have been trying to look for time for myself and with writing. Work's been hectic and the holiday season is filled with agendas in both work and at home, and there has been a lot of parties.

So, for this early Holiday gift, I present to you Theo and Imogen's story in Regency in Diagon Alley.

~*~

1839

A debutant’s presentation should be the least of Imogen’s concerns considering the state of her mother’s homeland, and her relatives that were reported to arrive in Father’s estate within the week, yet she can’t help but let out another long sigh as she saw herself in the reflection through the glass window of the carriage; the white the golden crown atop her perfectly placed hair which two maids had to pull and brush just to tame my curls, the light blush placed on her tan and full cheeks that made her look more like a child than a debuting witch who just turned one and twenty a few weeks ago, and she does not want to look at her nose – it would always look too big when she breathed, which is always. Imogen despised her nose that was often picked on by her classmates in Hogwarts. Then the gown, she does not exactly hate it, but she much prefer something else than white, which symbolizes purity. How foolish. 

Mother said she should be grateful for the privilege she had, for the rank and blood Father blessed her. Not all witches were born into nobility, while others had to work until their hands have grown calluses, all she had to do was smile, stand tall and straight, dress beautifully, and be the perfect wife. Whatever that suppose to be. She did try to look for an exact meaning of how to be a perfect wife but can’t find it in any book, and Mother’s explanation has not been very helpful at all. No matter how many times she has drilled it into Imogen’s mind.

“Sit up straight, Imogen, you’ll ruin your dress,” Mother chastised softly. Her accent was prominent as she spoke. Mother, after all, was not born and raised in England, she came from an island colonized by Spain in the Southeast Asia, The Philippine Islands. 

Mother started pressing on the dress, trying to flatten it out. “And don’t lean back too much or you’ll ruin your hair.” 

“How about I just float, that way nothing would be ruined,” Imogen remarked with a supposed innocent smile which Mother saw through and sent her a narrowed gaze. That made her shrink back into her seat and mutter an apology. Short as she may, standing only 5’3” but one look from her would have any witch or wizard – young or old – feeling small. On the other note, Father chuckled heartily.

“Darling, Mo is perfect in any way.” Father reassured her. “You are more nervous than she is.”

“Maybe it’s because she is not.” Mother sighed. “Honestly, Imogen, are you at least excited?”

Imogen could not help it, and gave her an incredulous look. “Mama, what person is excited to be sold off to the marriage market.”

Mother sighed once again, this time, she opened her fan to give herself some air. The fan was old, older than Imogen. Made from buri palms, it was a gift from her grandfather who made the elegant looking fan, Grandfather was an artist she said – one of his many professions – and made the fan for her to remember her home before she went with her aunt and uncle to England where she could live and have a chance for a good magical education, as in the Philippines only those with Spanish blood and the rich and those with power could acquire magical education. While her mother’s family were rich, they gained an unfavorable reputation to the Aurors and Friars who run Magical Manila.