The train began to slow as the first buildings of London appeared outside the window.
I put my book down and stretched. I'd managed to read almost half of it over the past few hours, despite Draco regularly interrupting to share another opinion about broomsticks.
Blaise eventually announced that next time, he was bringing a carpet catalogue.
"Carpets?" Draco repeated.
"Flying ones, obviously."
"You can't compare a carpet to a racing broom."
"Why not? They both fly."
"That's completely different!"
"At least you can sit comfortably on a carpet."
Draco looked at me for support. I raised my book.
"Leave me out of it."
Blaise settled back in his seat, apparently taking that as a victory.
Voices drifted in from the corridor as students hauled their luggage down from the racks. I slipped my book into my bag and reached for Hedwig's cage. She shifted on her perch, then looked at me with renewed interest.
"We're nearly there."
Draco adjusted the collar of his coat.
"Finally."
"Miss home that much?" Blaise asked.
"My own bed."
"You have a bed at Hogwarts."
"Not like mine."
Blaise opened his mouth, but Draco cut him off with a look.
"Don't."
The train pulled to a halt with a long hiss. Outside, parents searched the windows for their children while the first students crowded towards the exits.
Draco grabbed his trunk.
"Come on."
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was so crowded that, for the first minute, I concentrated on not running my trunk into anyone's ankles. Students called to one another over the heads of travellers, parents tried to find their children, and the owls had apparently decided to join in the greetings.
One hooted right beside my ear. I pulled away, and Hedwig immediately answered.
"Don't you start," I muttered.
Draco was a few steps ahead of me. He spotted Narcissa beside one of the pillars and quickened his pace.
Her face lit up.
"Draco!"
She pulled him into a hug. He made a visible effort to preserve his dignity, and Blaise had the decency not to comment. Not out loud, anyway.
A moment later, Narcissa looked our way.
"Oliver, Blaise. It's lovely to see you."
We greeted her, and she asked how our term had gone. Draco launched straight into an account of it. She listened closely, asking questions now and then.
He didn't mention the underground duels.
I wondered whether he was saving those for later, but decided probably not.
After a few minutes, Blaise spotted someone on the other side of the platform.
"My ride's here. See you after Christmas."
"See you."
"And bring your Transfiguration notes!" Draco reminded him.
Blaise stopped with one hand on his bag strap.
"I've got them."
"Yesterday you didn't know where they were."
"Well, today I do."
He left before Draco could pursue the subject. I watched him go, then adjusted my grip on the cage.
"I'd better get going too."
"We're practising after the holidays," Draco said. "I want to work on defending against several spells in a row."
"Sure."
Narcissa glanced at her son.
"Extra lessons?"
"Just a bit of practice."
"Then I hope you'll find time to rest over Christmas."
"Of course, Mother."
I said goodbye and headed towards the barrier into the Muggle station. I hadn't gone far when someone called out.
"Mr Oliver Peverell?"
A man in a dark coat stood beside one of the pillars, a leather briefcase tucked under his arm. He looked about forty and didn't particularly stand out from the other travellers.
"Yes?"
"Edmund Whitcombe, Ministry of Magic."
He produced some identification and held it out for me to read. I checked the name and the Ministry seal.
"What can I do for you?"
"I've been instructed to see you safely back to the institution responsible for your care."
Ah.
The Ministry still had the orphanage listed as my official address. I really should have anticipated someone waiting for me.
"The orphanage?"
"That's right."
I looked at him for a moment, wondering how long the journey would take. Then I shifted the bag on my shoulder.
"All right. Let's go."
Whitcombe hesitated, as though he'd prepared several more sentences that were no longer needed.
"Of course. This way, please."
I fell into step beside him.
I could have started an argument about the estate, the law, and where I intended to spend Christmas. We would probably have been standing on that platform for quite a while.
A visit to the orphanage sounded less exhausting.
Once we were through to the Muggle side of the station, Whitcombe led me to the taxi rank. I didn't suggest another way of travelling. Since he was making the arrangements, I might as well sit by the window and leave him to it.
He gave the driver the address while I placed Hedwig's cage beside me.
London was getting ready for Christmas. Lights hung above shopfronts, decorated trees filled the windows, and crowds streamed along the pavements with bags full of shopping. I watched them in silence for a few minutes.
"How was your term?" Whitcombe asked.
"Good."
"Glad to hear it. I'm told Hogwarts is beautiful in the run-up to Christmas."
"Especially the Great Hall."
"I never saw it on Christmas Day. I always went home to my family."
I nodded. I wasn't sure whether he expected a longer answer, but a moment later he reached into his coat and took out a folded document.
"There's one other matter I should mention. We've explained the circumstances of your earlier absence to the staff."
I turned away from the window.
"What exactly were they told?"
"They were given an explanation for your absence towards the end of the summer holidays, and your subsequent return to school. The details of your education remain confidential, of course."
"And that was enough?"
Whitcombe glanced at the document.
"Limited magical measures were also taken to resolve any doubts about the information provided."
I frowned.
"You modified their memories?"
"There was no need to remove any memories. We simply ensured that they accepted the explanation for that period."
A Confundus Charm?
Maybe. He hadn't named the spell, and I wasn't going to guess out loud.
"So they won't ask where I was in August?"
"You shouldn't have to go through the same explanations again. The staff are still responsible for you while you're there, however. Your arrival today will be recorded as usual."
"I see."
He folded the document and returned it to his pocket.
"We wanted to avoid any misunderstandings."
"Thank you."
I looked out of the window again. I'd expected questions about the summer, though so far I'd been putting off thinking about them. Apparently, the Ministry had dealt with those already.
Good to know they could be useful sometimes.
It was getting dark by the time we reached the orphanage. A small Christmas wreath hung beside the entrance, lights glowed in several windows, and children's voices carried through the door.
Whitcombe paid the driver. I retrieved my luggage and followed him inside.
The hall was warm and smelled of cooking. Somewhere further in, someone was loudly protesting the confiscation of a toy.
The woman on duty looked up from her desk.
"Oliver! How was the journey?"
"Good, thank you."
She glanced at my companion. Whitcombe introduced himself, showed her his paperwork, and explained that he was accompanying me back from school. She listened, then signed a form confirming my arrival.
The whole thing took a few minutes.
"Your room's ready," she said, handing back his pen. "You can leave your things upstairs. Dinner won't be long."
"Thank you."
She didn't ask about August or why I hadn't come back then. Apparently, Whitcombe had been telling the truth.
He put the form into his briefcase and turned to me.
"That's everything, then. Have a peaceful Christmas, Mr Peverell."
I shook his offered hand.
"You too."
He said goodbye to the woman and left. I picked up my trunk.
"Can I go up?"
"Of course. Just remember dinner."
I nodded and headed for the stairs.
The room was just as I remembered it: a plain bed, a wardrobe, and a desk by the window. A few of my books were still on the shelf. The bedding was fresh, and someone had dusted the desktop.
I set my trunk against the wall and put the cage on the desk. Hedwig surveyed the room, then tapped the bars with her beak.
"Don't get attached."
I went to the window. From here, I could see part of the street and the small garden. The taxi had gone, and there was no sign of Whitcombe either.
Even so, I didn't call Anunu straight away. I didn't want the man remembering a missing signature before he'd even reached the gate.
I sat on the bed with my book. After a few pages, I checked my watch, waited a little longer, then looked outside again. An elderly woman was carrying her shopping home. Across the road, a man was struggling with his car lock.
I couldn't be certain no one was watching, but standing at the window any longer wouldn't change that. I drew the curtain and put my book away.
"Time to go home."
Hedwig hooted.
"Anunu."
There was a familiar crack. The elf appeared beside the bed and straightened at once when he saw me.
"Master Oliver!"
"Hello, Anunu."
He glanced around the room, his gaze settling on the unopened trunk.
"Does Master want to go home now?"
"Very much."
His ears lifted in delight.
"Anunu has lit the fires. Everything is ready! Dinner too!"
"Then let's not wait."
The elf took hold of my trunk while I picked up Hedwig's cage. As he reached for my hand, I adjusted the bag on my shoulder.
The room vanished with a soft crack.
The first thing I felt was warmth. Then I opened my eyes and saw the stairs leading to the upper floor.
We were standing in the entrance hall.
Candles lit themselves one after another along the walls. A dark green garland wound around the banister, sprigs of holly framed the drawing-room entrance, and a wreath tied with silver ribbons hung above the door. A fire crackled in the next room.
I paused to look at the decorations. There were far fewer than at Hogwarts, but they suited the place.
As though someone had reminded the old house that Christmas was coming.
"Did you do all this yourself?"
Anunu drew himself up proudly.
"Yes, Master Oliver."
"It looks lovely."
He beamed and tightened his grip on the trunk handle.
"Anunu will take Master's things upstairs."
"Thank you."
He vanished with the luggage before I could take the bag off my shoulder. I set Hedwig on a small table. She turned towards the stairs, clearly recognising the place.
I started towards the drawing room.
"Oliver?"
Richard looked up from his book in a portrait on the left side of the hall.
"Hello, Grandfather."
He studied me, then closed the book.
"There you are at last. Frederick!"
"You don't have to shout."
"Yes, I do. Otherwise, he'll spend another hour pretending he hasn't been waiting."
A pointed cough came from the neighbouring frame.
"I can hear you perfectly well, Richard."
Frederick appeared a moment later. His gaze settled on me, and for a moment he said nothing.
"It's good to see you, Oliver."
"You too."
"How was the journey?"
"Quiet. I just had to make an extra stop."
Richard raised his eyebrows, but before he could ask, Evelyn's voice came from further down the hall.
"Was anyone going to tell me he'd arrived?"
She appeared in a small portrait, looked at me, and smiled warmly.
"Welcome home, darling."
"Hello, Grandmother."
"Take your coat off. Anunu lit the drawing-room fire ages ago."
Richard drew breath.
"Later," she said, without even turning towards him.
He closed his mouth.
Frederick nodded towards the door.
"Go on. We'll join you."
The familiar armchairs stood in front of the fire. A few books lay on the small table, and on one of the shelves I noticed a snow globe I didn't remember from the summer.
Inside, snow was falling over a miniature version of the house. The flakes settled on the roof until a gust lifted them into the air again.
"Is that new?" I asked.
Frederick appeared in the portrait above the fireplace.
"Old. Anunu found it in storage. My mother liked little things like that."
I peered at the tiny windows. A light came on in one of them.
"I'm glad he brought it out."
I unbuttoned my coat and sat down, holding my hands towards the fire. Richard took his place in the next painting, and a moment later Anunu arrived with tea and a plate of biscuits.
"Dinner will be ready soon!"
"No rush. I'd like to sit for a bit first."
The elf glanced at the cup, adjusted its position, and nodded.
"Anunu will call Master when everything is ready."
Once he had gone, Frederick put his book on the table inside his portrait.
"How was your term?"
"Good."
He raised an eyebrow.
"A thorough account."
"I'm still warming up."
Evelyn appeared in the frame beside the bookcase.
"We have all evening."
I reached for my tea.
For the first time since stepping off the train, I wasn't in a hurry to get anywhere.
I started with lessons and a few books I'd found in the library. Frederick asked about the spells I'd been working on, but this time he let me finish each answer before asking the next question.
Richard was more interested in chess.
"Have you been playing?"
"Not much."
"That won't do."
"I didn't blunder my queen away last time, though."
"Who were you playing?"
I hesitated a fraction too long.
My grandfather leaned back.
"We'll play tomorrow."
"Just don't use the same opening again."
"Why not?"
"Because I always lose against it."
"All the more reason."
Frederick smiled over the top of his book.
"Hard to argue with that."
"I was hoping for a little support."
"You're getting it."
Evelyn shook her head, but let the conversation continue.
Later, I told them about the underground duelling club. Frederick immediately put his book aside.
"Who did you fight?"
"Elliot Marsh. Third year, Hufflepuff."
He wanted to know how the duel had gone, so I described the slippery floor, my initial difficulties, and how I'd tried to turn my opponent's spell against him.
He listened closely.
"Good. You made him move across his own spell."
"After nearly falling over myself."
"But you recovered in time. Remember that fight. Your surroundings can do more for you than another spell aimed straight at your opponent."
Richard glanced at me from the neighbouring frame.
"I take it you won?"
"Yes."
"Then congratulations."
"Thanks."
Describing Lockhart and Snape's demonstration was even more enjoyable. Richard burst out laughing when I told him how quickly our Defence teacher had disappeared behind the platform.
Frederick looked amused too.
"And then you fought Potter?"
"Yes."
"How did he do?"
"He gave me too much time."
I explained what had happened. This time, Frederick didn't interrupt once.
"You took your chance," he said when I finished. "Good. Just don't expect your next opponent to wait for you as well."
"I don't."
"In duels like that, it's particularly important to—"
Evelyn cleared her throat.
He looked at her.
"We're discussing a fight."
"I know. You were just starting your third lesson."
For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to check whether it really was his third. Then he leaned back in his chair.
"Very well. No lectures today."
"I'll remember that," I said.
"Don't use it against me."
I reached for the last biscuit.
Christmas was off to a promising start.
Anunu served dinner in the small dining room. After the journey, I was more than happy to tuck into the roast meat, potatoes, and vegetables. He brought out a warm pudding for dessert, though I assured him one helping would be plenty.
Evelyn kept me company from the portrait beside the door. She told me about Christmases long ago, guests arriving from other parts of the country, and dinners with a dozen or more people around the table.
She also mentioned an ancestor who had enchanted the decorations to sing carols.
"All of them?" I asked.
"In the drawing room. He thought it would be pleasant."
"Wasn't it?"
"For the first hour."
I lowered my fork.
"He couldn't make them stop?"
"For three days, he claimed he couldn't. Then his mother threatened to burn the decorations along with the tree."
"And?"
"He managed to find the right counter-charm after all."
I laughed. Evelyn smiled too, her gaze drifting past me for a moment, as though she were seeing a very different version of the room.
I didn't hurry her.
I finished my pudding and listened to another story.
Upstairs, my trunk was beside the bed, my books were on the desk, and Hedwig had settled into her usual spot by the window. She stirred her wings when I came in.
"Better than the train?"
She gave a soft hoot.
I checked my notes, then sat down at the desk, where fresh parchment had been laid out. There was one thing left to do before I could consider the journey over.
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
I arrived home safely. Everything is fine.
Oliver Peverell
I read it through. There wasn't much to add. After a moment, though, I wished him a peaceful Christmas and set down the quill.
"Hedwig."
She looked at me, then at the parchment.
"I know. We've only just got back. But I promised."
She let me tie the letter to her leg. I opened the window, letting cold air sweep into the room, and she spread her wings and disappeared into the darkness.
I closed it behind her.
First message sent. Now I just had to remember the others.
A small price for a quiet Christmas.
I went back to the drawing room for the book I'd left beside the armchair. Frederick was still in the portrait above the fireplace. This time, he really was reading.
"I forgot to tell you something."
He looked up.
"What is it?"
"I spoke to Dumbledore before I left. About coming back here."
He slipped a finger between the pages.
"Sit down."
I took the armchair.
"He knows I want to spend Christmas here. But he thinks he ought to be sure I'm all right."
"A reasonable concern."
I looked at him.
"You too?"
"You're twelve, Oliver."
"Everyone seems to enjoy reminding me of that lately."
"Have you turned thirteen in the meantime?"
"No."
"Then I'm still right."
I wasn't going to argue with him about my own age.
"We came to an arrangement. I write when I get here, then every other day. I've already sent the first one."
Frederick considered that.
"Hardly much of an inconvenience."
"That's what I thought."
"And if a letter doesn't arrive?"
"If he can't confirm that I'm all right, he'll come and check in person."
Frederick withdrew his finger from the pages and closed the book.
"Richard?"
My grandfather's head appeared in the next portrait.
"What?"
"Oliver has agreed to write to Albus Dumbledore regularly. Otherwise, the headmaster may pay us a visit."
Richard turned to me.
"How regularly?"
"Every other day."
He gave it some thought.
"Then I suggest writing every other day."
I snorted. Frederick gave him a resigned look, then returned to the matter at hand.
"And the Ministry?"
"Dumbledore made it clear that our arrangement doesn't settle the question of my official place of residence."
"Of course."
"Someone was waiting for me at the station, actually."
I told them about Whitcombe, the taxi, and the brief visit to the orphanage. Richard stopped leaning against the edge of the frame and stepped fully into the painting.
"You let him take you back?"
"Yes."
"And then called Anunu?"
"I waited a bit first."
My grandfather laughed, while Frederick studied me.
"You could have told the man where you intended to go."
"And spent the rest of the evening arguing?"
"Possibly."
"I didn't see the point. He wanted to take me there, so I went."
"Just don't assume that's the end of it."
"I don't."
I rested my elbows on the arms of the chair. I knew someone would get in touch again sooner or later. I just wasn't going to spend Christmas constantly wondering when.
Frederick glanced towards the other paintings.
"We should tell Arthur and Edmund. They ought to know what happened."
"I was going to ask them about it tomorrow."
"Arthur's probably still reading."
Richard smiled.
"So we can interrupt him."
Arthur arrived first. He greeted me, then asked me to start from the beginning when he heard about the visit to the orphanage. Edmund joined us partway through.
Neither interrupted. Once I'd finished, Arthur asked a few short questions.
"Were you given any new documents?"
"No."
"Did you sign anything?"
"Only the woman at the desk did. To confirm I'd arrived."
"Did the official mention a new decision concerning your care?"
I shook my head.
Edmund glanced at Arthur.
"So, for now, they've taken him to the address in their records."
"So it would seem." Arthur turned back to me. "That journey alone doesn't change your legal position. The Ministry may still take further action, however."
"Another letter?"
"Perhaps. If one arrives, show it to us before replying."
"I was going to."
Edmund rested his hands on the arms of his chair.
"We have no new ruling to examine today. There's no point inventing one on the Ministry's behalf."
That sounded much better than going through the entire Founders' Act again.
"So I can get on with Christmas?"
"You can," Arthur said. "Just remember that the absence of a new letter doesn't mean the matter is closed."
"I understand."
Frederick told them about my arrangement with Dumbledore. Edmund asked whether the headmaster required any particular information, but I explained that he simply wanted regular confirmation that I was all right.
"He's already sent the first letter," Richard added.
"Good."
For a while, the conversation turned to the earlier documents. Arthur brought up one of the provisions, Edmund clarified its scope, and Frederick asked about something he wasn't certain of himself.
I listened, warming my hands by the fire. I didn't have to lead the discussion or pretend to know the answer to every question. When the next letter came, I would have someone to show it to.
Edmund was the first to leave the subject of the Ministry behind.
"Does Joseph know you're back?"
"Anunu was going to tell him," Frederick replied.
"Then go and see him tomorrow. He's been asking about you."
"I will."
"And me," Richard reminded me. "Chess."
"I remember."
I yawned before I could add anything else. Arthur immediately nodded towards the door.
"That's enough for tonight. Off to bed."
This time, I didn't argue. I picked up my book and said goodnight.
As I left, Richard was explaining to Frederick that a single game of chess was hardly too much to ask after a journey.
Apparently, he hadn't given up on tonight.
I quickened my pace.
The bedroom was warm. I changed and put my book on the bedside table. I no longer felt like reading or looking through my notes. Unpacking could wait too, though Anunu had already done most of it for me.
I turned off the lamp and sat on the edge of the bed.
Wind whispered outside. Instead of dark lake water and passing fish, I could see the faint outline of the garden. For a while, I watched branches moving against the sky.
I knew that view. Just as I knew the library, the stairs, and the creaking floorboard outside one of the side rooms that I'd spent the summer promising myself I would remember to step over.
Over the past few months, I'd grown used to Hogwarts. To Draco and Blaise, the noise in the common room, lessons and duels. I liked being there.
But it was good to be back.
I stretched out on the bed. A soft crack came from the corridor—Anunu was apparently finishing up. A moment later, I heard Richard and Frederick's distant voices.
I couldn't make out the words, but from their tone, they were still arguing.
I smiled and rolled onto my side.
Tomorrow, I could visit the library, talk to Roland, or try out a few spells I'd been working on at school. Or I could lose a game of chess to my grandfather and spend the rest of the afternoon by the fire.
I didn't have to decide yet.
I was home.
And for now, that was enough.