The warm amber sunlight spilled generously through the ornate windows of the Weasley estate, gilding the carved banister and marbled floors in gold. In the upper quarters, laughter, high-pitched and effervescent, burst out from behind the dressing room door.
Norma Weasley, swathed in a lustrous, pale gold racing ensemble embroidered with fine metallic threads, regarded her reflection with pride. Her boots gleamed like burnished armor, and her gloves had been stitched from imported leather. Every detail screamed privilege. She twirled once before the mirror, her joy barely containable.
Descending the staircase, she bounced on her toes like a girl much younger than herself, her excitement rendering her weightless. She nearly collided with her mother, catching her wrist mid-fall with a delighted squeal.
"Are you excited for today, Mama? I am very much," she gushed, eyes wide and glowing like candlelight reflected on crystal.
