Inheritance

II. Champagne

II. Champagne
(Viewer Discretion is Advised)

Roman Sinclair Berkshire

~

Adjusting my cufflinks, I glance over the Masquerade mask sitting atop my bed. The edges of the mask boasted delicate silver swirls and patterns, intertwining with shimmering sapphire strands. But what truly set it apart were the genuine diamond studs, meticulously placed to catch the light and radiate celestial brilliance. Unlike ordinary glitter or rhinestones, these diamonds added an exquisite touch of opulence. I guess Mum and Dad have really good taste.

I look into my mirror one last time before I head out. My father appears behind me as he swiped my shoulders with his hands, giving me one last dust-off.

"All black?" asks Dad as he's examining my outfit from behind. "You don't think it's a bit much?"

I turned around to face him and laughed. "All of this is a bit much. There's nothing ordinary about any of this."

"I suppose you're right. Forcing my son to attend an open house for an estate purchase is a bit much."

"I do look good though, don't I?" I smirked as I extended my arms out and did a slow spin. "This season's Balmain with last season's dress shoes." I unbuttoned my suit jacket and revealed a customized stitch that held my wand. "I even have a little pocket for my hefty wand."

"You kids these days always try to customize your apparel where your wand can fit. I'll have you know that back in my day, it was tucked either in my waistband or my sock beneath my pants."

Dreading this conversation, I buttoned my suit jacket back up, grabbed the mask, wore it, then headed toward the fireplace in my room.

"Using the Floo to the Parkinson Estate?" Dad asked.

Nodding, I reach for the pouch that sat on the mantel and scooped a good amount of Floo Powder. "Confirm that the files are in the office, right?"

"Yes," replied Dad. "If there is alcohol, drink responsibly."

"Can't promise you that," I softly chuckled. "Parkinson Estate."

From there, I threw the powder onto the ground as green flames were cast beneath my feet, which crept up to my head. When the green blaze waned, a crowd of individuals, exquisitely dressed and masked, gathered in front of me, their hands gracefully holding glasses of champagne. The enchanting backdrop was embellished by the mellifluous notes of a piano, creating an atmosphere of refined charm. Amidst the estate, a tapestry of voices, laughter, and the footsteps of kindred explorers resounded, echoing the allure of the surroundings, which beckoned me to join their shared exploration.

I stepped out of the fireplace as my eyes wandered before me. The Parkinson Estate was just as I imagined it to be: gothic, with tall ceilings, extreme chandeliers, and thick drapes to cover the tallest of windows. A large staircase accompanied the foyer of the estate.

Before I could explore the estate any further, a house elf wearing a cross-body pouch tugged on my pant leg.

"Sir, please remember to wear your brooch. Have you been given your brooch?" The house elf said with a raspy voice.

I shook my head, "No, I have not been given my brooch. Where can one acquire these... brooches?"

"Certainly not just any random shop," the house elf replied. "All I need is your finger. Sir, could you stick your finger out?"

Obeying, I stuck my index finger out at his level. He reached for my finger with a scrawny hand accompanied by dangerously sharp fingernails. His index fingernail pricked my index finger as I winced.