The space was immense—larger than Y/n had imagined, even after months of Draco's descriptions. Portraits lined the walls, their subjects staring down with aristocratic disdain. The air smelled of expensive perfume and old parchment, of wealth and history that seemed to press in from every direction.

There were more people than Y/n had expected. Far more. They moved in clusters, elegant gowns and tailored robes brushing against each other as conversations swirled through the room like silk. Somewhere a string quartet played, but the sound felt distant, muffled.