🌻The Phantom Peddlers | M.YG

XIII

| The Phantom Blueprint |

November 4th, 2023. 

Like every Ministry position, Unspeakables did not officially work on weekends.

Her father, however, seemed to treat such guidelines as mere suggestions most of the time.

She would admit, her letter had been vague in case it was intercepted, but his reply had arrived swiftly, sealed with the Peverell crest and containing only one word:

November 4th.

Today's date.

The Lady waited outside the Headmistress's office right after breakfast, her posture poised but her mind buzzing. Alone—or as alone as she could be with Nyx coiled snugly under her sleeve. Her snake companion, as curious as she was sharp-tongued, shifted occasionally, making it clear she had opinions about their impending encounter.

Another issue entirely. Noctua wasn't sure how her father would react to Nyx's presence. Their last meeting had been, well, chaotic. It wasn't every day one discovered their daughter had inherited Parselmouth abilities alongside an ancient title.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the office door flung open with a creak.

"Thank you so much, Professor McGonagall. It's wonderful to see Hogwarts again," her father's voice rang out, rich with enthusiasm. His polite tone was impeccably measured, but Noctua caught the familiar undercurrent of mischief.

The Headmistress's response was less enthused. "Indeed, Lord Peverell. I trust your visit will be productive."

Noctua watched as her father descended the spiral staircase with an elegance born of nobility. Then, as soon as the door shut behind him, that elegance evaporated. He dashed down the remaining stairs with the boundless energy of a man decades younger, a wide grin lighting his face.

"Father," Noctua said, raising an eyebrow, though her lips twitched with amusement.

"I used to be a frequent visitor of the Headmaster's office when I was your age," he admitted, utterly unashamed. "Caught your mother's eye with my dashing roguish charm, of course."

Noctua gave him a look that could have rivaled McGonagall's. "And the detentions?"

"Oh, a minor consequence," he said, waving a hand as if swatting away the idea. "Though, your mother was very persuasive in her insistence that I behave better. We are both so proud you didn't inherit my less-than-reputable habits."

The Lady didn't bother responding. If only her father knew what she and the Phantom Peddlers were up to...

As they began their descent through the castle, her father leaned closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. "I take it we'll be seeing something extraordinary today?"

"Extraordinary," she echoed with a faint smile, "might be an understatement."

Nyx stirred under her sleeve, her tongue flicking curiously. "Your egg layer's mate smells of steel and intent. A good combination," the snake hissed softly.

"And who is that I see," Lord Peverell asked lightly, his eyes flicking to her arm from where Nyx had escaped her sweater's sleeve.

"Her name is Nyx," Noctua replied evenly. "I found her after accepting the Slytherin heirship. She's been... helpful."

"Helpful? You've inherited a Parselmouth companion and your mother's sharp tongue, it seems. I approve." His smile softened, a rare moment of sincerity breaking through the playful demeanor.