Near a surrounding forest is a large red brick home with open grounds, it is the Potter family home. But not the Potter family's ancestral home as that was rarely used except for formal events since it is was rather old and drafty. Not that Fleamont Potter had ever truly used it except on a few rare occasions such as his marriage and a few other important events such as presenting his son's godparents.
Sitting in the parlor room is an aged wizard with wispy unruly hair, hazel eyes, and knobby knees. Glancing up from reading the Daily Prophet, Fleamont studies his wife is finishing arranging the flowers that will be placed in the middle of the tea table. "Really love is all of that necessary?"
The warm looking grandmotherly witch with toffee-colored eyes narrows her eyes at her husband. "Yes, it is!" Euphemia snapped at her husband. "It is your cousin's widow, and more importantly she is a Black. You know how they tend to be, and more importantly, she finally accepted my invitation to tea after all of these years. I would very much like to have tea with her again, and so everything must be perfect!"
"Yes, dear," Fleamont automatically replied, before burying himself behind the tabloid. It would be best if he said nothing for the rest of the afternoon except to greet their guest.
"It's perfect," Euphemia finally declared as she stepped back in satisfaction to observe the flower arrangement. Satisfied that all was well, she carefully set down the vase precisely in the middle of the table, before taking a seat and nervously smoothing the exquisite linen covering the table.
A soft pop causes her to let out a small startled shriek as she sees their house elf appear before them, Nimmy. The female house elf has salt-pepper hair, medium-sized bat-like ears, a long, thin nose, and large blue eyes. "Mistress, the guests have arrived, Nimmy will lead them in."
"Why thank you, Nimmy," Euphemia said in delight, before pausing to murmur, "Wait, guests?" However, before she can protest the house elf had already apparated away.
Feeling rather bemused by the house elves words, Euphemia in a panic counts how many chairs she had set up. Exactly four in a wild fit of preparedness. She was perfectly safe! Letting out a pent-up sigh, she pats her hair one last time, before sitting up properly.
The doors open to reveal the figure of Dorea Potter, and one other. A rather tall, slender witch with hair like raven like wing dusted faintly with silver, Georgine Prince. Euphemia blinks in a wide daze as she recalls the young Slytherin girl, who had been six years younger than her while at Hogwarts.
Hurriedly rising to her feet, Euphemia greets her guests. "Welcome Dorea Potter, and welcome Georgine Prince. I am honored that you have both decided to join my humble abode this afternoon." Dorea Potter flashes Euphemia a polite smile, while Georgine Prince merely stares down her nose at her but does give Euphemia a tiny nod acknowledging her as the host.
"Please have a seat!" Euphemia gestured to them as she took a seat and the other two women did as well.
From the corner of the parlor room, Fleamont slowly lowers the tabloid to stare at his wife's guest. Why by Helga's rear was Georgine Prince here?! Rather wary at this juncture, he intently listens to the ongoing conversation between the three women.
Glancing around the Potter home, Georgine notices that the manor is rather cozy, and lacks a certain elegant finesse that Dorea's home managed to portray at the same time. Then again, Euphemia Potter although a pureblood did not come from a wealthy household, but instead from a rather moderate one. It would make sense that in some aspects the witch's taste would be somewhat diverse from their own.
Trying to be polite, Georgine compliments the Potter home. "It is a rather cozy home, quite warm really."
"Thank you, Prince," Euphemia happily said. "And what brings you along this afternoon?"
"Dorea here," Georgine truthfully answered. "I was having tea earlier with her this morning when she said that she had a prior engagement. As such, I decided to accompany her this afternoon to her engagement."
"I see," Euphemia said, before brightly adding, "Well, we best have lunch then. Nimmay!"
The house elf who had been waiting just outside of the door opens the parlor doors as trays of food float in behind her. With care, Nimmy places the platters of food onto the table and not spilling even a single crumb nor drop. Proud of her herself, Nimmy says, "Lunch is served. Would guests like Nimmy to serve?"
"I am fine, I will serve myself," Georgine replied as Dorea chorused the reply.
"Mistress need Nimmy?" Nimmy asked her ears slightly wiggling as if in excitement.
"No, that will be all, Nimmy," Euphemia murmured dismissing her house elf. With a soft pop, Nimmy disappears leaving the three women to serve themselves. The sound of food being served is heard for a bit before the two guests wait for the hostess of the luncheon to take the first bite.
Euphemia carefully takes the first bite of food, before the other two women follow. After a few spoonful's, Dorea says, "The food is simply sublime, Euphemia," as Georgine muttered in agreement.
"Thank you," Euphemia beamed in relief and feeling so very proud of Nimmy's work.
The three women eat and politely chat until they finish their plates. Being the hostess, Euphemia summons Nimmy to gather the plates, before serving tea and presenting a light dessert to wash away the taste of the meal. The three of them sip at their hot tea until Georgine stares at Dorea to being.
In a roundabout manner, Dorea begins to broach the subject. "I believe that your son, James is a dear friend of Georgine's great-nephew and niece, Severus and Rowan Prince."
"Ah, yes," Euphemia said recalling the two slender children from the summer before. "They are friends with my Jamie."
"Why?!" Fleamont loudly and rather rudely interrupted causing all three women to stare at him especially his wife.
"It is merely a point of topic," Dorea smoothly retorted. "There is no need to make a fuss, Fleamont."
"You are friends with a Prince," Fleamont hostilely countered causing his wife to narrow her eyes at him in a glare. There would be strong words to be had after their guests left.
"Potter," Georgine coldly said, "I can assure you that the Prince household has not come here this day to collect the life debt that is owed to us nor are we seeking to tie our two houses via the union of your son, James, and my great-niece, Rowan. And you would do well to remember your manners considering, who your father was Fleamont Potter. You shame the Potter family name."
Fleamont bitterly bites down his next words as a rush of shame and guilt courses through his veins. He knew he was being rude, and his father, Henry Potter for all his being a Wizengamot member and pro-muggle had even been courteous to his enemies. The Prince's for all their cold natures had always been civil to him including Reginald Prince.
"My apologies," Fleamont stiffly said as he bowed his head deeply towards them. "I misspoke and I judged incorrectly."
"Well, not entirely," Georgine replied causing Fleamont to stare at her including his wife. "Do not confuse my words, what I mean is that indeed I came here for a purpose, and if you will allow me, I shall explain."
"Please go head, Georgine," Euphemia said. "And please excuse my husband's rudeness."
"It is understandable, and no harm was done, Euphemia," Georgine said, before sitting up straight and removing a letter from her pocket. Pulling out her wand she points it at the letter and murmurs, "Wingardium Leviosa," and floats the letter to where Fleamont Potter is sitting at.
Fleamont's face furrows upon seeing the official seal of the Prince family head, Reginald Prince. Why in Merlin's name would Reginald have written a letter to and much more importantly have his younger sister deliver it in person to him? Whatever the contents of the letter, they were already filling him with dread.