When Hermione Fights

The Dark Lord I

A belated happy birthday to Queenie ♥

For those who are interested in the progress of the re-translation of the early chapters: number five has just been updated.

Chapter beta: Dani

Chapter translator: Aivy

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I had visited the great Hall of Barons. The hall was centrally located on the first floor, Lucius' and Narcissa's wings were situated to the left and right.

The hall was enormous; if I had found the ballroom large before it shrank to a relatively normal size in comparison. It was impressive, built in the medieval, Gothic style from smooth, light beige sandstone, which were left plain and unadorned. At each end of the long wall to the right were two huge stone fireplaces into both of which a full-grown ox would easily fit.

Between them were some large, allegorical tapestries. The floor was covered with dark, brushed wooden planks and the ceiling was also made of dark wooden beams and struts, and despite the insane height, the dark ceiling felt very oppressive.

The high, pointed, narrow windows seemed to fit more into a cathedral than into a manor house and let in very little light, giving the hall a distinctly dramatic, somber touch. The flair of past times wafted through the hall, which must have stood on the ground floor of the house once upon a time and then been magically moved to the first floor when it had to make room for the ballroom - I couldn't explain it any other way - but this made it all the more impressive.

I had discussed with the house elves how I wanted it to happen: there were to be man-high, green-veined black marble columns everywhere with large bronze bowls on top in which a crackling fire burned that would spread a diffuse, greenish light.

The canapés and drinks would be served by no less than ten elves, and I integrated a spell that never let the glasses get empty, so the elves would have to hand out a glass to each guest only once and otherwise just have to provide the food.

As Severus had confided to me, the Dark Lord would not appreciate sitting at a table, so this had occurred to me. It would be funny to see the elves scurrying among the probably frighteningly lost looking seventeen people, not counting the lord, as the room could easily hold one hundred and fifty people without any feeling of confinement.

We would look very out of place. During the whole planning process, I experienced a feeling of ridiculousness.

In the centre of the room, opposite the two fireplaces at the window front, I would build the throne for the Dark Lord on a slightly elevated platform. It did not look particularly comfortable.

It was made of dark, almost black wood with a pointed, triangular-shaped backrest and enclosing armrests, very plain, with only minimal decoration on the outside. It reminded me of King Edward's Chair. Only the legs on which the clunky throne chair ended were elaborately designed and showed intricately carved, detailed silvery snakes. I would place a dark green velvet cushion with silver embroidery on the smooth seat.

All in all, I wouldn't want to sit on that thing, though who was I to form an opinion about it?

I was slightly despairing about the infinite depths of the hall and in order to make it seem not as spacious as it appeared now, I had fallen for the absurd idea of putting up small, young silver willows and distributing them generously.

The expanding, low-hanging, silvery-white narrow lance-shaped leaves of this hybrid type of weeping willow shimmered and glistened and were thus noticeable even from afar. Since I assumed that flowers would not have pleased the Dark Lord, they would lighten the mood, the bright little trees in their green pots, in the very gloomy atmosphere that would prevail here, since at the time when the celebration began it would be about 10 p.m., thus ruling out any light shining through the already narrow windows.