Hedwig sat on the windowsill, watching me adjust my cuff for the third time.
"I'll be back this evening."
She hooted.
"I'm going for lunch. It shouldn't be difficult."
She looked at the folder on the desk.
The maps were staying here.
I slipped only a small notebook into my pocket. I didn't need to lay all my findings out in front of Lucius to ask about a wood and an old bridge.
Hedwig stretched her neck.
"Yes, I remember who I'm visiting."
Draco's father was a Death Eater.
I'd known that before the invitation. A decent lunch and access to a library weren't going to change it.
What I didn't know was how much Lucius knew about the events beneath Hogwarts. Or whether Voldemort could currently send his former followers anything other than reasons to worry.
I'd rather not find out over lunch.
I straightened my collar and stepped back from the mirror.
I didn't have suitable robes. My school ones were out of the question, and my shirt, though clean and presentable, probably hadn't been made with visits to ancestral homes in mind.
For a moment, I wished I'd bought something beforehand.
Then I remembered they'd invited their son's friend to lunch.
If they expected ceremonial dress, they should have included instructions.
I put on my signet ring.
At least that suited the occasion.
Lucius was waiting by the wall of the Leaky Cauldron, away from the families heading to Diagon Alley.
Dark robes, a cane and the expression of a man who'd spotted at least three things in need of improvement but had no intention of offering his advice for free.
"Mr Malfoy."
"Mr Peverell."
He glanced at his pocket watch.
"Punctual."
"You sound surprised."
"Draco is currently my primary source of information on the behaviour of boys your age."
"That explains the low expectations."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
"Please do not repeat that to him."
"I can't promise anything."
He put his watch away.
"Have you travelled by Side-Along Apparition before?"
"No."
"Then please hold my forearm firmly and do not let go until we are standing on solid ground."
I looked at his outstretched arm.
The invitation had come from Draco. Narcissa was expecting me for lunch. Lucius had come in person, to the agreed meeting place, to collect his son's guest.
That was enough to accept a lift.
It wasn't enough for much else.
I took hold of his forearm.
"Does it—"
The world squeezed me from every direction.
For a brief, exceptionally unpleasant moment, my body tried to fit into a space that clearly hadn't been designed with bodies in mind.
Then the ground returned.
I let go of Lucius and drew a breath.
I was standing.
I counted that as a success.
"Is this a legal form of transport?"
"One of the most popular."
"That wasn't what I asked."
Lucius adjusted his sleeve.
"Give yourself a moment."
I did.
Only then did I look up.
Malfoy Manor stood beyond a broad lawn, surrounded by hedges and old trees. Pale stone, tall windows, an immaculate path.
It didn't look like a castle.
Apparently, it didn't need to.
We headed towards the entrance. One of the upstairs windows was open. Someone had left a broom by a side door, and a brief rustle and a muffled voice came from behind the hedge.
Someone lived here.
That struck me more than the size of the building.
I had gold, properties, funds and documents confirming things I hadn't even known existed until recently.
The Malfoys simply came home.
"Is the estate old?" I asked.
"The oldest part of the present building predates the International Statute of Secrecy. The foundations are older."
"Has your family lived here all that time?"
"With a few brief interruptions."
I looked at the open window.
"That must be convenient."
Lucius slowed a little.
"What, precisely?"
"Not having to look for your own home."
He was silent for a moment.
"Draco mentioned Ashcombe."
"I gathered."
"I hope the maps prove useful."
"So do I."
Fortunately, he didn't immediately ask what I'd already found.
Narcissa Malfoy was waiting in the entrance hall.
She wore light-coloured robes, with her hair partly pinned back. She studied me briefly, her gaze pausing on my signet before returning to my face.
"Mr Peverell. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
"Mrs Malfoy. Thank you for inviting me."
"Draco has spent the last few days making sure we remember."
Quick footsteps sounded overhead.
Draco appeared on the stairs and immediately slowed down.
For the first three steps, he looked like a boy hurrying to greet his friend. On the fourth, he remembered his surname.
He descended the rest with dignity.
"Peverell."
"Malfoy."
He glanced at my shirt.
"You're not wearing robes."
"And yet you recognised me."
Narcissa turned towards her son.
Draco sighed.
"I didn't say he looked bad."
"At least let him come inside before you start judging."
I took off my coat. For a moment, I held on to it, even though the coat stand was right beside me.
At the orphanage, leaving your better things in a shared room meant accepting the possibility that someone else might take an interest in them.
I could probably risk it here.
I hung it up.
"Lunch will be in half an hour," Narcissa said. "Draco, show Oliver the house."
"All of it?"
Lucius looked at him.
"In half an hour?"
Draco considered that.
"The library."
"I thought so," his mother said.
The way to the library took us through a portrait gallery.
Apparently, generations of Malfoys had made sure they could keep looking down on people after death.
Most of the portraits were minding their own business. An elderly woman slept in an armchair. Two men were playing something resembling chess, though one kept accusing the other of changing the rules.
"Peverell?"
I stopped.
The man in the portrait to my right lowered his book. He had a long nose and a stare uncomfortably similar to Lucius's.
He was looking at my hand.
"The signet," he explained.
"Yes."
He studied me more closely.
"I haven't seen it in years."
"That's my grandfather," Draco said. "Abraxas."
"Mr Malfoy."
The portrait inclined his head.
"Which Peverell was your father?"
"Elias."
Abraxas kept a finger between the pages of his book.
"I knew his father better."
I turned fully towards the painting.
"My grandfather?"
"If Elias was your father, then yes."
Draco leaned a shoulder against the wall.
I ignored him.
"What was he like?"
Abraxas regarded me for a moment, as though deciding how long an answer would be necessary.
"Insufferable at cards."
That wasn't what I'd expected.
"Did he cheat?"
"If I'd been able to prove it, I wouldn't still be asking myself that question."
Draco snorted.
Abraxas gave him a brief look.
"One evening, he won a silver cigarette case from me. A week later, he sent it back."
"Why?"
"He claimed it was too ugly to keep."
I smiled.
"He gave back his winnings?"
"No. The box also contained a bill for a more tasteful one he'd chosen instead."
Draco laughed outright.
"Did you pay?"
"Of course not."
Abraxas answered a little too quickly.
I didn't ask again.
For a moment, I looked at the painting, trying to fit the story to a man I knew almost nothing about.
My grandfather had played cards.
He'd had a sense of humour that probably annoyed people.
Someone still remembered the bill he'd sent.
"Did you know him well?"
"Well enough not to sit down to a game with him without checking the deck."
"That wasn't what I meant."
"I know."
This time, a faint smile crossed his face.
"We visited the same houses. We talked. Less often as time went on."
I wanted to ask why, but Abraxas glanced at the signet.
"I didn't know Elias had left a son."
"For most of my life, I didn't know much about Elias either."
The portrait didn't answer straight away.
Draco pushed himself away from the wall.
"We can come back later," he said.
I looked at him.
"Yes."
Abraxas opened his book again, but looked up before we left.
"Your grandfather had a habit of pretending to be bored whenever something particularly interested him."
"Did it work?"
"Terribly. That was when he stopped complaining."
We moved on.
It wasn't until we reached the library door that Draco nudged me with his elbow.
"A bill for a cigarette case."
"A fine family tradition."
"Don't try it."
"I haven't won anything from you yet."
"That's why I'm telling you now."
The library was smaller than the one at Hogwarts.
I still stopped in the doorway.
Draco noticed.
Of course.
"I knew you'd like it."
"Don't look so proud. You didn't build it."
"It's still ours."
It was hard to argue with that while wearing a family signet and owning several vaults without having earned a single Knut of what was in them.
I walked between the shelves.
Law. History. Genealogy. Transfiguration. Books on spells whose names I didn't recognise.
Some volumes stood behind glass. A small silver warning plaque hung beside one of the locks.
"Are you allowed to read everything?"
"No."
"Shame."
"Depends on the book. I opened the wrong cabinet once."
I looked at him.
"And?"
"Mother knew before I managed to take a book out."
"That sounds useful."
"For her."
Lunch was less formal than I'd expected.
Four people at a table. Good food. Draco describing a school match in a way that suggested his personal remarks from the stands had significantly influenced the result.
Lucius listened for a while, then asked about something entirely different.
Draco looked offended.
Narcissa passed him a serving dish before he could pursue the subject.
It was all ordinary.
That didn't mean I'd suddenly misremembered who Lucius was.
Apparently, you could serve Voldemort and still worry about your son knocking over a glass with his sleeve at your own dinner table.
Both things could be true of the same person.
The second didn't erase the first.
An elf appeared beside the table, collected an empty dish and vanished before I could get a proper look at him.
I remembered what Thimgrin had said.
Someone like that had once worked in the Peverell house too.
Perhaps he was still there.
"Draco said you had found some old documents concerning Wiltshire," Lucius said.
"Deeds. A few maps."
"Hence Ashcombe."
"Yes."
"Are you interested in the old boundaries or the area as it is today?"
"Mostly the area as it is today. It's easy to find a bridge on an old map that hasn't existed for fifty years."
"Fawley Bridge?"
I looked up.
Lucius set down his cutlery.
"The most obvious point of reference in that part of the wood."
"You know the area."
"My family has lived here for quite some time, Mr Peverell."
That was a fair point.
Not every name on a map had to be a secret that required a signet, blood and three warnings to uncover.
"So you know where the Peverell lands used to be."
"Roughly. Their boundaries changed over the years. As did ours."
"And the house itself?"
Lucius studied me more closely.
"I do not know the way to the house, if that is what you are asking."
He might have been telling the truth.
He might also have known part of the way and had no intention of sharing it over lunch.
For now, his answer matched what the documents suggested: the land was known, the entrance wasn't.
"I'm mainly interested in how to reach the ruins," I said.
"That will be easier."
Narcissa turned the conversation towards school.
I let her.
After lunch, Lucius took us to his study.
He removed two maps from a wide drawer and held their corners down with small weights.
The first was up to date.
I found Malfoy Manor, then Ashcombe Wood.
Draco had been right. Not far.
"The bridge is still marked," I said.
"The ruins," Lucius corrected. "Some of the supports and part of an abutment. The crossing itself is long gone."
"Have you been there?"
"I have passed nearby. Not in recent years."
I took out my notebook.
The map showed a road missing from my copy. It ran along the outer edge of the wood to a small junction.
From there, it was possible to reach the stream.
I wrote down the name of the nearest village.
"Does this part belong to wizards?"
"It is currently in Muggle ownership."
"Is the road public?"
Lucius pointed to the marking.
"This one is. As for the paths within the wood itself, that would need to be checked on site."
That was an answer I could work with.
The second map dated from 1912.
Near the ruins, I found a thin line heading towards the old boundary.
Peverell Lane.
I leaned closer.
Its course matched what I remembered from the bank's map. The road reached roughly the spot where I'd marked the West Stone.
I didn't point it out.
"Does this path still exist?"
"I do not know," Lucius said. "The name has fallen out of use."
"But it used to lead to the Peverell lands."
"To the boundary. This map does not show what lay beyond it."
Narcissa, who had been looking over the documents from the side, glanced at the label.
"I remember that name."
I turned to her.
"From stories?"
"Among other things. Children were warned not to leave the main path in Ashcombe."
"What was supposed to happen?"
"It depended on who was telling the story. In one version, you ended up back where you started. In another, you wandered until evening."
Draco glanced at the map.
"You never told me."
"You haven't been planning a visit to Ashcombe until now."
I didn't ask whether she knew a version where you never came back at all.
I'd heard enough of other people's guesses already.
Lucius slid the current map towards me.
"I can have a copy made of this section."
"I'd appreciate that. Thank you."
"If you would like to see the ruins, I am free tomorrow morning."
I raised my head.
"I could take you. It is not far."
Draco immediately looked at his father.
"Me too?"
I hadn't even answered, and the outing was already taking shape.
Lucius knew the area. He could Apparate. He was an adult wizard who could probably handle most problems you might encounter near an old bridge.
He was also the last person I wanted to show what the road would do when it came into contact with my signet.
"Not necessarily tomorrow," I said.
"You need not attempt to enter. We can simply look at the approach."
I appreciated the distinction.
It didn't solve the problem.
"Thank you, but I'll have to decline."
Draco looked at me.
"Why?"
"I want to compare the map with the documents first."
"You can do that today."
"I can."
He waited.
I sighed.
"Draco, I'm not arranging a trip together right now."
Lucius watched me in silence for a moment.
I put down my quill. I didn't want it to sound like an accusation. But I didn't have to sacrifice my common sense just to be more polite.
"The maps have been a great help. For now, I'd rather take care of the rest myself."
"I understand," Lucius said.
I didn't know exactly how much he'd understood.
He didn't ask.
Draco rested his hands on the edge of the desk.
"You'd really rather push through the undergrowth without someone who knows the area?"
"Your father knows the area. You only just heard about this road."
"That doesn't matter."
"It matters a little."
Narcissa placed a hand on the back of his chair.
"Oliver is allowed to decline an invitation."
Draco shut his mouth, though he clearly didn't consider the matter settled.
Lucius rolled up the older map.
"Just do not mistake ownership for safety. Family wards need not be gentle with someone who does not understand them."
"I'm not assuming they will be."
That much I could say honestly.
The copy arrived before we'd finished our tea.
An ordinary map of the area. Roads, the stream, the wood and the bridge ruins.
I copied Peverell Lane into my notebook separately, along with the date of the older map.
Lucius didn't ask what I intended to do with it.
I didn't take that as proof he had nothing to gain. He'd helped me, spent the afternoon with me and learned that I was looking for an approach from the bridge.
That was already more than he'd known that morning.
But I was leaving with something useful too.
At the door, Draco drew me a little to one side.
"Will you write when you find it?"
I looked at him.
"The house?"
"No, the bushes. Of course the house."
I smiled.
"I'll write."
"More than three words."
"I'll try to use four."
"Peverell."
"Draco."
He rolled his eyes.
He wasn't happy I'd turned down the offer. But he still wanted to know whether I succeeded.
That was much easier to accept than his father's proposal.
Narcissa handed me a small box.
"For this evening."
There was cake inside.
For a moment, I didn't know what to say.
"Thank you."
"Draco mentioned that you usually have a second helping at Hogwarts."
I looked at him.
"Wonderful. The reports cover food too."
"You found out my grandfather lost a cigarette case. We're even."
"We're not."
Narcissa smiled faintly.
"You're welcome to visit again, Oliver."
"I'd like that."
This time, I didn't have to think about my answer.
Apparating back to London was just as unpleasant.
Lucius waited until I was certain my stomach was still in the right place.
"Thank you for lunch. And the map."
"I shall pass your thanks on to my wife."
He inclined his head but didn't leave straight away.
"If you need to check another local name, please write."
"All right."
That wasn't a promise to ask him about everything.
Apparently, it was enough.
He vanished with a soft crack.
I stood by the wall of the Leaky Cauldron for a moment, holding the box of cake and the rolled-up map.
I liked Draco.
Narcissa had been kind to me.
Abraxas remembered my grandfather as a man who'd won a cigarette case and then tried to send him a bill as well.
All of that could be true.
So could what I knew about Lucius.
I headed towards the street.
Hedwig immediately took an interest in the box.
"Not for you."
She stepped closer across the desk.
"You have your own food."
She regarded me with obvious disappointment, then stayed exactly where she was.
I sat down and spread out the maps.
The copy from the Malfoys beside the one from the bank.
The stream matched.
So did the bridge ruins.
The new road made it easier to approach from the nearest village. On the older sheet, I found the edge of the wood and my own marking for the West Stone.
Now I knew how to get close to it.
I didn't have to show anyone what happened after that.
I took out my notebook. Beneath Peverell Lane, I wrote down the route there, followed by the things I wanted to bring.
A map.
Water.
Something to eat.
I had my wand with me. I had no intention of taking off the signet.
I glanced at the box.
The cake probably wasn't suitable for carrying through a wood.
I investigated further by cutting myself a slice.
Hedwig edged a little closer.
"Still no."
Tomorrow, I'd go alone.
Not because I suddenly knew everything, or because having an adult wizard there wouldn't be useful.
I simply didn't want to give Lucius access to something I didn't yet understand myself.
He could be helpful.
That didn't mean I had to take him to my own front door.
For a moment, I studied the empty area in the middle of the map.
Then I remembered the portrait and the silver cigarette case.
I smiled to myself.
If any of my grandfather's things were still in the house, I wanted to see them.
Even the ugly ones.