The next morning, I spread both maps out side by side.
On the newer one, I found the road leading from the village to Ashcombe. On the copy from the bank, I checked the bridge, the bend in the stream and the spot where I'd marked the West Stone myself.
Peverell Lane should get me close.
Beyond that, I had only a short stretch of road and a few words.
First mark of recognition.
I traced the slightly crooked line with a finger.
It had looked better yesterday.
I folded the maps and slipped them into the folder. A notebook, a pencil and a handkerchief went into my pocket. I packed food and a bottle of water in my bag. My wand was already on me.
Hedwig hopped down from the windowsill.
"You can't come with me."
She stopped at the edge of the desk.
"I don't know what's on the other side."
She hooted.
We looked at each other for a moment.
"Yes, I know I'm going anyway."
That did nothing to improve her mood.
I checked my signet ring once more and picked up the bag.
"I'll be back when I'm done."
Hedwig turned her head away.
I took that as agreement. Mostly because the other interpretations were less convenient.
Thimgrin appeared shortly after I gave my name at one of the Gringotts counters.
He glanced at the folder under my arm.
"You have found something."
"How do you know?"
"You came here on a Sunday morning carrying maps."
I looked at the corner of parchment sticking out.
Fair point.
"I've found an approach from the ruins of Fawley Bridge. One of the old maps shows a road called Peverell Lane."
"Which map?"
"The Malfoys'."
Thimgrin nodded.
He didn't look surprised. Apparently, neighbouring families could own maps of the same area without an ancient conspiracy being involved.
"I want to go there today."
"Gringotts can arrange transport."
"How much?"
"Fifty Galleons."
I waited.
So did Thimgrin.
"For the journey?"
"Private transport both ways. The driver remains at your disposal, even if your visit takes longer than expected."
"I want to go to Wiltshire. Not buy Wiltshire."
The goblin didn't even blink.
"That is the price of the entire service, not merely the distance travelled."
I had fifty Galleons.
I had considerably more than fifty Galleons.
That didn't mean I had to hand them over to someone just because they owned a means of transport.
"What about just Side-Along Apparition?"
"If you can specify a suitable arrival point, we can check the availability of someone who provides that service. Arranging a safe destination and collection also takes organisation."
I had the name of a village.
I didn't have the address of a wizard who lived nearby and wouldn't mind two people appearing in their sitting room.
"Floo?"
"Do you know of an accessible fireplace in the area?"
I didn't.
I stared at the map for a moment.
Then I remembered a purple bus.
"The Knight Bus."
"That is an option."
"A much cheaper one."
"Yes."
That answer should have made me suspicious.
It didn't.
"I'll take it."
Thimgrin folded his hands.
"Then you will not require private transport."
"No."
"Can I help you with anything else?"
I hesitated.
"If I find the passage and come across markings I don't understand, is there anyone at the bank who might be able to read them?"
"That depends on the markings. Please make an accurate copy. If we cannot help, we may be able to refer you to someone who can."
I nodded.
At least that sounded reasonable.
"And if I see an elf?"
Thimgrin looked at me more closely.
"Ask whom he serves."
I bought a small compass on the way.
The shopkeeper assured me it was reliable.
I didn't ask whether the guarantee covered old Peverell wards. I thought that might needlessly prolong the conversation.
I summoned the Knight Bus on a quieter street, away from the heavier traffic. I took out my wand and raised my arm.
For a few seconds, nothing happened.
Then there was a bang.
A purple, triple-decker bus stopped in front of me so abruptly that I instinctively pulled my foot back.
The doors opened.
A young conductor stuck his head out.
"The Knight Bus! Emergency transport for stranded witches and wizards! Where to?"
I gave him the name of the village on Lucius's map.
"Wiltshire?"
"Yes."
"Hop on."
It had sounded funny in the book.
I should have remembered that reading about it didn't involve sitting inside.
I paid and took one of the armchairs. The backrest showed years of wear, and someone had repaired the wooden armrest in two separate places.
I put my bag on my lap.
The bus moved before I'd settled into the seat.
The first turn threw me sideways.
At the second, a hat flew across the aisle.
By the third, the hat's owner had apparently decided retrieving it wasn't worth the risk.
I grabbed the armrest.
Two Muggle cars appeared ahead of us.
We didn't slow down.
The bus narrowed.
The wall moved towards my shoulder, the aisle became too narrow for a person, and the cars flashed past on either side.
A moment later, everything returned to its proper place.
Almost everything.
My stomach needed a little longer.
Fifty Galleons.
I could have paid fifty Galleons.
I had fifty Galleons.
The bus jolted.
I clamped my bag between my knees.
Next time, I'd pay.
Another turn sent the armchair across the aisle sliding.
No.
Next time, I'd learn to Apparate.
At least yesterday's journey with Lucius had been brief.
I was eleven, so learning Apparition remained a problem for later.
It had just become a very important problem for later.
After getting off the bus, I stood still for several seconds.
The conductor leaned out through the doorway.
"All right?"
"No."
He accepted that with the indifference of someone who heard similar answers regularly.
The doors closed. There was a bang, and the Knight Bus vanished.
Silence fell.
I drew a breath.
The road beneath my feet wasn't going anywhere. Neither were the houses. Even the fence across the street was maintaining the correct width.
Wonderful place.
I took out the map.
A small village, a shop, a crossroads and a road leading between fields.
According to the scale, I had nearly an hour's walk ahead of me.
After the bus journey, walking seemed a perfectly sensible invention.
Lucius's map was accurate.
I had to give him that.
I found the side road, then a narrower path, and finally a low stone wall at the edge of the wood.
Ashcombe Wood.
I stopped, drank some water and put the bottle away.
After nearly an hour of walking, fifty Galleons no longer sounded quite so absurd.
I had no intention of telling Thimgrin.
I climbed over the wall.
Nothing happened.
Birds sang among the trees. Somewhere in the undergrowth, a small animal stirred. Beside the path lay a wrapper its owner apparently hadn't wanted to carry home.
People came here.
That shouldn't have surprised me. Lucius had mentioned that the outer part was in Muggle ownership.
Still, after so many documents and warnings, I'd expected something more unusual.
So far, I had a fly that had been taking an interest in my ear for several minutes.
It was the sound of water that finally made me slow down.
The ruins of Fawley Bridge were smaller than I'd imagined.
Two old abutments. The remains of an arch. Stone blocks lying in the shallow stream.
I laid the map on a dry section of masonry and held down a corner.
The bridge was in the right place. So was the bend in the stream.
The old lane should begin on the other side.
I crossed on stones protruding from the water, taking care not to get my boots wet.
An uneven strip of ground was visible between the trees. Here and there, flat stones showed through the earth. Farther on, everything was overgrown.
"Peverell Lane."
It looked better maintained on parchment.
I set off along it.
The first few hundred metres weren't particularly difficult.
I had to go around a fallen trunk, and once I doubled back a dozen paces after choosing an easier gap instead of the right direction.
Then the path began behaving strangely.
I spotted an opening between two trees. When I approached, a third stood behind it, blocking the way.
I went around it.
A little later, I saw the same forked trunk I should have left behind.
I stopped and took out the compass.
The needle trembled.
I tilted the casing, moved my wand away and tried again.
The needle swung halfway round.
"Reliable."
I put it away.
According to the map, I was close to where I'd marked the West Stone. I checked the position of the stream, still visible between the trees, and tried to judge my direction from the terrain.
That was when the signet grew warm.
I looked at my hand.
The black stone appeared perfectly ordinary.
I took a few steps to the right.
The warmth faded.
I went back.
It grew stronger.
I smiled.
"You could have started doing that at the bridge."
Apparently, it had a limited range. Or it simply felt I ought to do some of the work myself.
For the next few minutes, I moved slowly, checking the ring's response.
It didn't point in an exact direction. Several times, I had to retrace my steps.
Eventually, I saw the stone.
It stood roughly waist-high. Dark, moss-covered and leaning slightly towards the path.
I would have walked past it without a second thought.
Now my heart beat faster.
The West Stone.
I walked around it.
A square crossed by a line was carved into one face. The same symbol that had appeared on the map.
Beneath it, I spotted a recess.
I brushed the moss away with a finger.
The shape matched the black stone in my signet.
I crouched to examine the sides and the base. I found nothing resembling instructions.
At least the place for the ring was fairly obvious this time.
I pressed it into the recess.
Nothing, for a moment.
Then the metal tightened around my finger.
I hissed and instinctively tried to pull my hand back. The signet held it against the stone.
Something pricked me.
"You could have warned me."
A thin trickle of blood emerged from beneath the ring. It vanished into the recess before it could run any farther.
Something changed around me.
I could still hear the birds and the movement of leaves, but the sounds seemed more distant. Warmth travelled from my finger through my hand, then up my arm.
I went still.
It felt as though something was examining me with an attention utterly indifferent to whether I was nervous.
There was no voice.
For a moment, though, the idea of family entered my mind so distinctly that it felt as if someone had placed the meaning there.
Lineage.
The signet grew hotter.
Peverell.
Light flickered across the carved symbol.
The pressure eased.
I pulled my hand away and turned the ring around my finger for a moment. A tiny cut remained beneath the band.
I wiped the blood away with my handkerchief.
"First mark of recognition."
I regarded the stone with greater respect.
And a little resentment.
When I looked up, I saw a path between the bushes.
Narrow, but clear.
I was certain it hadn't been there before.
Or perhaps I simply hadn't been able to notice it.
I took out the map. The stretch I'd copied turned in the same direction.
This was it.
After all those hours going through documents, I was finally standing at the beginning of a road my father had walked.
Elias had brought Thimgrin this way.
Perhaps they'd even stopped at this same stone.
I put the parchment away and stepped between the trees.
I took the first few steps cautiously.
The signet remained warm. Nothing tried to stop me or take another blood sample.
After a dozen metres, I looked back.
The stone was still visible.
I continued.
The path turned. The trees stood closer together, and the undergrowth on either side was so thick that it would have been difficult to squeeze between the trunks without leaving part of my shirt behind.
After the next bend, I glanced over my shoulder.
I could no longer see the West Stone.
I'd expected that, but an unpleasant tightness settled beneath my ribs all the same.
I walked back a few paces.
The way through should have been just beyond the bend.
All I could see were trees.
Only when I drew closer did I make out a section of the path between two trunks.
It hadn't disappeared.
It simply didn't want to be noticed again.
I stopped, committing the view to memory.
"All right. I understand."
I didn't understand how it worked.
But at least I knew what to expect.
I returned to the path leading farther in.
It ended at a second stone.
This one was lower and smoother.
There was no recess for the signet.
An open triangle was carved into its front face.
I took out the map.
Compared the bend, the short stretch of road and the blank space beyond.
Nothing.
That symbol hadn't appeared on any of the maps I'd examined. The line I'd copied could no longer tell me what to do.
Even so, I smiled.
I'd found something that wasn't even in the bank's catalogue.
I touched the signet to the triangle.
No response.
I tried lower down, then pressed my entire palm against the stone.
It was cool.
Walking around it, I found incisions on one side. Much shallower than the symbol at the front. Some were filled with moss.
I carefully cleaned them with my handkerchief.
Several repeated shapes. Short strokes, curves and something that might have been a letter.
I couldn't read it.
I sat back on my heels and took out my notebook.
First, I drew the triangle. Then the markings on the side, paying attention to the spacing. One was badly worn, so I marked the part I wasn't sure about instead of inventing the missing line.
Only then did I examine the stone again.
I'd seen strands of magic on the map.
There might be more to see here too.
I focused.
For a moment, nothing changed. Then I noticed thin lines running along the shallow incisions. They sank beneath the surface, joined, separated and vanished into the ground.
I leaned closer, intrigued.
The pattern was denser around the triangle.
It wasn't like a lock where all you had to do was find the right opening. I could see the connections, but I didn't know which ones to move or what they actually did.
I brought my ring closer to the symbol.
One of the fine lines quivered.
The stone still gave no visible response.
I tried to look deeper and felt a familiar prick beneath my left eyelid.
I looked away.
The ordinary wood returned at once.
For several seconds, I blinked, waiting for the discomfort to pass.
There was magic here. It reacted when the signet approached.
That didn't mean the ring was the answer.
I added the observation beneath my sketch.
I could try Will.
Open.
The thought came easily. Too easily, considering I was sitting in front of something I couldn't even read.
I looked deeper into the wood.
The house should be somewhere in there.
I wanted to see it today.
Walk up to the door. Find out whether anyone answered. Learn whether the elf was still there, and whether anything remained of the people I knew mostly from their signatures.
I rested my hand on the stone.
The first boundary had recognised me without trouble. Something was missing here.
I could try to force my way through.
I could also damage the only route I'd managed to find.
"What did you lot come up with here?"
The stone didn't answer.
I examined its base once more, then compared my drawing with the incisions. I corrected one curve. I noted which side bore the inscription and sketched the course of the path from the first stone.
Elias had taken the register that might explain everything out of the bank.
But now I had something I hadn't possessed while going through the catalogue: a specific symbol and an inscription I could try to learn how to read.
Thimgrin had told me to make an accurate copy.
I made a second, larger one.
Then I closed the notebook.
"I'll be back."
It didn't sound quite as impressive as I'd intended.
I adjusted the bag on my shoulder and started back before I could think of another good reason to stay.
I only noticed the West Stone when I was a few metres away.
It didn't materialise out of thin air.
It was simply there, in a place where a moment earlier I'd seen nothing but trees.
I stopped beside it and looked towards the second threshold.
From here, the path was still visible.
I crossed back over the boundary.
The signet warmed briefly, then cooled.
I turned.
I could no longer see the path.
It took me a moment to find the stone itself, even though I knew where it stood. My gaze kept slipping away to the roots and moss.
I touched the ring.
Now I understood better why knowing the wood and the boundaries wasn't enough to find the house.
I could imagine someone searching for this place without a map, a signet or any certainty that it existed at all.
I would probably have turned back after the third encounter with the same tree.
I found the stream again. Then the bridge ruins.
I sat on a dry stone and took out my food.
Only then did I realise how hungry I was.
I opened the notebook on my knee.
An open triangle.
A row of incisions.
Magic that responded to the signet without opening the passage.
The first mark had checked my blood and confirmed my lineage. The second apparently expected something more.
I didn't know what.
But I now had a more precise question than "Where is my house?"
I ate, drank some water and packed everything away.
There was still the walk to the village.
Then the bus.
I closed my eyes for a brief moment.
Fifty Galleons.
Still a lot.
Less and less, though.
I set off along the stream, checking as I walked that the notebook was safely in my pocket.
I hadn't seen the house today.
But for the first time, I knew that when I returned, I wouldn't be starting the search all over again.