They joined the party a short while later, bombarded by Atlanteans as soon as they stepped foot into the garden. The people celebrated wildly, crowding into the gardens of the villa to meet the people who’d delivered them from the King’s brutal reign. One woman broke down into tears in Hermione’s arms, over her son who’d just turned eleven, and was showing no signs of any magical qualities. It was a whirlwind, greetings from the young and old, vying for a handshake or a look at the strangers. Hermione had barely the time to nibble on a few snacks from the buffet table while Draco followed her like a tall blonde shadow, holding a crystal glass with amber liquid that he topped off at every opportunity. He'd been informed from a tall, blonde woman that Leander's coronation occurred that afternoon, a quickly-timed affair, given the city and its recent history of murdering prospective rulers before they had the chance to legally take the throne. It appeared, by all accounts, that Leander was taking his job seriously, though the woman mentioned an offhand rumor he was planning a grand parade in his own honor.  