Anunu returned from the kitchen a few minutes later.
A plate of sandwiches, a bowl of fruit, something still warm beneath a cover and a slice of cake appeared on the table.
I looked at the food, then at the elf.
"All this to go with the tea?"
"Master Oliver walked a long way."
Hard to argue with that. But before I reached for my cup, I remembered something considerably more important.
"Anunu, one more thing."
The elf set down the teapot.
"My father's order. The one that stopped you from looking for me."
His hands went still.
I should have said this back in the hall.
"I revoke it. The part forbidding you from looking for me, coming to me or leaving the house to do either. You don't have to wait for me to turn up here on my own anymore."
Anunu stared at me without speaking.
"If you need to talk to me, or something happens, you can find me. Do you understand?"
"Anunu may come to Master Oliver?"
"Yes."
I glanced at the open dining-room door.
"The house stays protected. You still mustn't reveal the route or bring strangers here without my permission. But I don't want the rest of that order holding you back."
The elf lowered his gaze to his hands. Slowly, he straightened his fingers.
There was no crack. The signet didn't flare. Even so, Anunu released a breath as though he had only just realised he was holding it.
"Yes, sir."
"Good."
For a moment, he remained perfectly still.
Then he nudged the plate of sandwiches a little closer.
I took one.
I wasn't about to take that victory away from him too.
The tea was good. So was the sandwich.
Anunu busied himself at the sideboard, though I suspected he was simply giving me time to eat. Every so often, he glanced my way.
Beyond the window, the garden stretched further than I had seen from outside. Hedges bordered the lawn, with old trees and a stretch of stone wall beyond them. To the left, I could make out the greenhouse roof.
I wanted to see everything.
The library, Elias's study, the family archives. The portraits. The rooms that had existed without me for eleven years.
I finished the sandwich, pushed my plate aside and lifted the cover.
Warm buns.
Anunu noticed.
"They can wait until later too," he said.
"Good to know."
I took one.
We began with the kitchen.
It was considerably larger than the small dining room. An old stone oven occupied almost an entire wall, with a newer magical cooker beside it. Copper pots hung above a long table. Shelves of dishes, jars and potted herbs lined the windows.
When Anunu approached a cupboard, its doors opened by themselves.
I peered inside.
Mugs.
Ordinary ones, although one had a handle shaped like either a dragon or a particularly disgruntled lizard.
"Are these your spells?"
"Some. Master Benedict enchanted the cupboards."
I made a note of the name.
"Do they all know what you need?"
Anunu took out a mug, and the doors immediately closed.
"Not all. The one beside the pantry sometimes opens for no reason."
"Has it done that for long?"
"Since Master Benedict."
I looked at it with greater interest.
A chalkboard hung on the wall beside it. Flour, tea and apples had been written in a fresh hand. Lower down, near the edge, a fainter message remained.
Elias — leave the cake alone.
I smiled.
"Aria?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did it help?"
"No."
I laughed.
"What did she do?"
"Started hiding it."
"And him?"
Anunu pointed to the cupboard above the door.
It was high up. Very high.
"Did he find it?"
The elf nodded.
I studied the message a little longer.
"Why didn't you wipe it off?"
"It was not in the way."
The rest of the board was clean and regularly used. For eleven years, Anunu had worked around that small patch with his cloth.
I said nothing more.
Four metal hooks hung beside the pantry. Only one was occupied.
"Were there more of you before?"
"Yes. When your parents lived here, Anunu had two others to help."
I looked at him.
"What happened to them?"
"They died, sir. Anunu stayed."
He said it calmly, but reached up to straighten the apron on its hook.
I didn't ask for more dates. I already had enough absences to remember.
The main dining room could have seated thirty people without anyone fetching extra chairs.
I walked along the table. Its surface was smooth apart from an old scratch near one end.
I touched it with a finger.
"Master Frederick," Anunu said.
I turned.
"I haven't asked yet."
"People usually do."
"What did he do?"
"Struck it with a sabre."
I looked at the table.
"During dinner?"
"After dinner. Mistress Edith would not let anyone repair the mark."
"Why?"
"So he would remember."
I examined the scratch again.
It wasn't particularly large. But imagining someone swinging a sabre in here was enough to raise several more questions.
"You'll have to tell me that story."
"Anunu remembers."
That was pleasant.
I didn't have to reach for my notebook immediately or make sure the subject didn't disappear along with the person telling me about it. I could come back to it over dinner.
Preferably without a sabre.
The sitting room across the hall looked more frequently used.
Armchairs stood at different angles to the fireplace. A navy blanket lay on the sofa, and several books rested on a small table. One armrest bore a circular mark left by something hot.
I approached a low cabinet and opened a drawer.
A pack of cards, a box of candles, two spare curtain fittings. Beneath them, I found a rolled-up napkin and a lone chess pawn.
The pawn shuffled away from my fingers.
"Missing your board?"
It turned its back on me.
I closed the drawer.
The second held old magazines. I glanced through a few covers, but nothing suggested Peverell secrets. Unless the family had hidden them among tips on pruning magical shrubs.
Anunu watched me from the doorway.
"I'm searching a bit blindly," I admitted.
"Master Oliver may ask."
I pointed to the blanket.
"My mother's?"
"She used it in the evenings. She liked that armchair, but Master Elias said the other one had a better view of the fire."
I looked at the arrangement of the furniture.
"So they moved them?"
"Often."
Photographs stood on the mantelpiece.
In the first, Elias and Aria weren't looking at the camera. My mother was saying something. My father rolled his eyes, received a light jab from her elbow, and they both began to laugh.
A moment later, the photograph repeated the brief scene.
I picked up the frame.
"When?"
"Before the wedding."
"Who took it?"
"Anunu. Mistress Aria said to keep trying until Master Elias stopped pulling faces."
"I see that worked."
The elf studied the photograph.
"This was the best one."
I carefully put it back.
In another picture, Elias stood beside a dark-haired woman. He was a teenager, thin and half a head taller than her. She was straightening his collar while he waited patiently, looking somewhere beyond the frame.
"Your grandmother, Mistress Evelyn," Anunu said before I could ask.
I moved closer.
I hadn't known her face.
Now I did.
The music room held a grand piano, several closed instrument cases and a cabinet full of sheet music.
I lifted the keyboard lid and pressed a single key.
The note rang clear.
"You still have it tuned?"
"Yes."
"Who played?"
"Mistress Aria. Mistress Evelyn before her. Master William tried as well."
"Tried?"
Anunu regarded the piano for a moment.
"Not everything came easily to Master William."
I smiled and closed the lid.
Beyond that were two smaller drawing rooms, a study for receiving visitors and a morning room. I didn't ask why anyone needed a separate room for that part of the day. After two dining rooms and a third sitting room, I was beginning to understand that, in a large house, names were also a way of telling doors apart.
In the conservatory, a plant tried to catch my sleeve.
I pulled my hand back.
"Does it bite?"
"No. It likes being touched."
Anunu ran his fingers over a leaf. A thin tendril curled around his wrist, then loosened.
I offered my hand more cautiously.
The plant hooked itself around my finger. It was cool and surprisingly light.
"Mistress Aria liked it," the elf said.
The tendril released me after a moment.
"At least one thing in this house doesn't need an introduction from the signet."
Anunu glanced at the pot.
"It needs watering."
The library occupied two levels.
I stopped in the doorway.
A gallery ran along the walls, with shelves beneath it. Ladders were mounted on rails. Tables stood beside the windows, and I could see another door further in.
I approached the nearest shelf.
History of magic. Transfiguration. Old law. Several titles in languages I didn't recognise.
I pulled out a book on household spells.
In the margin of one page, someone had written:
Doesn't work.
Beneath it, in a different hand:
It works if you aren't an idiot.
And further down:
The author does not list that as a requirement.
I laughed.
"Do you know who wrote this?"
Anunu came over and examined the page.
"No. Those notes were here before Anunu joined the family."
I looked at the ink again.
More than four hundred and fifty years ago, someone had been annoyed by a spell for removing stains from fabric.
I read the instructions. A later note explained that the author hadn't accounted for the difference between a stain and discolouration.
Apparently, the problem had eventually been resolved.
I put the volume back and reached for another.
For the next fifteen minutes or so, I looked through contents pages, examined signatures inside covers and tried to make sense of how the shelves were organised. I found a dried plant between the pages of a herbology book and a bill used as a bookmark. In a book on Transfiguration, someone had marked an entire chapter and written a large "NO" at the beginning.
I found nothing about my eyes, the family curse or where I ought to start.
I opened a small drawer beneath a table.
Quills. A dried-up inkwell. Blank sheets.
I closed it.
I could do this until evening and finish the day knowing how to clean curtains.
"Is there a catalogue?"
"By the reading-room entrance. Not all the books have been entered."
I looked towards the door he indicated.
Beyond it was another room and, as Anunu explained, a staircase to the lower archive.
I would set aside a whole day for this.
Start with Elias's study, then work through the catalogues and documents. Room by room, with a notebook, instead of opening random drawers because they happened to be within reach.
One day might not be enough, but at least it would give me a start.
"I want to search the house properly later," I said. "Today, just show me where everything is."
Anunu nodded.
At the back of the library, metal grilles enclosed several shelves.
"Those too?"
"Anunu will show you. Opening them is another matter."
"The signet won't be enough?"
"Not for everything. Some collections have separate protections. Anunu does not know all of them."
I approached one of the grilles. Tiny symbols had been engraved beside the lock. I didn't touch them, but sketched their arrangement in my notebook.
That made more sense.
I knew what I wanted to investigate, rather than hoping the right book would fall into my hands.
Though I wouldn't have objected.
We passed more portraits on the stairs.
A woman in a green dress followed me with her eyes. An older man lowered a book to his lap. Two frames further along, someone leaned out of a painted room and immediately disappeared.
They weren't discreet.
Still, I was grateful they weren't asking questions yet.
Upstairs, Anunu showed me the guest rooms, a small sitting room and a bedroom that had once belonged to Florence.
"Who was she?"
"Master Richard's mother. Your great-grandmother."
I looked inside.
A broad armchair stood by the window, with a table and sewing box beside it. The room was different from the others: less heavy furniture, a light bedspread, paintings of plants.
"Did she know my father?"
"He used to leave this room with his pockets full of sweets."
I glanced at the table.
"So he'd had practice before he met my mother."
"Yes, sir."
A few doors further along, we found a children's room.
It held low furniture, a chest and shelves of toys. I lifted the lid. Inside were wooden animals, building blocks and a small broom with a worn handle.
I took out a horse on wheels. One axle was newer than the other.
"Whose was this?"
"Different children's. Over many years."
Beside the door, I noticed marks on the frame.
Dates and names stood next to them. Some were almost faded away, while others remained clear beneath a layer of protective varnish.
I found Elias.
The gap between two of his marks was much larger than the next.
I placed a finger beside the highest one.
Someone had told him to stand straight. Someone had checked that he wasn't lifting his heels. Then they had written down the date.
I looked at the other side of the doorframe. More marks belonged to other children.
Not all of them reached as high.
I returned the horse to the chest.
"You kept a lot."
Anunu looked at the toys.
"They were good. The next children could play with them."
I lowered the lid carefully.
Outside my parents' room, the elf slowed.
He didn't have to tell me why.
The door was ordinary. Dark wood, a brass handle.
I pressed it and went in.
The bed stood between two bedside tables. An armchair sat by the window, a shawl draped over its back. On the chest of drawers lay a hairbrush, a small bottle and a little box.
On the other side of the room, I spotted a book stuffed with bookmarks.
I picked it up.
The subject was less promising than the book's condition suggested: protecting old buildings against damp. On one loose sheet, Elias had sketched a section of wall and underlined something twice.
I turned it over.
A list of materials.
Apparently, even he hadn't spent all his time on magical mysteries.
I put the book back exactly as it had been.
"Did he leave this here before going out?"
"Anunu does not know when Master Elias last read it."
I nodded.
I opened the wardrobe. Clothes still hung from the rail. I ran my fingers over the sleeve of a robe. The fabric was soft and cool.
I didn't look for magic on it.
Beside the bed, I opened a drawer. Handkerchiefs, a spectacle case, a few small coins and a box of buttons.
I closed it slowly.
In the other rooms, I had looked inside furniture without a second thought. Here, after a moment, I felt like someone going through other people's belongings while they were away.
Except they weren't coming back.
I looked at Anunu.
"How did you know they were dead?"
The elf stood by the door.
"The house recorded their deaths."
"How?"
"There is a family register in the gallery. When one of the household members entered there dies, a date appears beside their name."
I watched him for a moment.
"Both of them?"
"Yes, sir."
There was no caution or hesitation in his voice.
He knew.
"Could it have meant something else? That they'd left the house or broken some sort of connection?"
Anunu shook his head.
"Going away does not add a date of death. Anunu has seen it many times."
I rested a hand on the closed drawer.
"And beside my name?"
"You had not been entered yet. There was no time."
That was why he hadn't known for ten years.
The house could confirm the deaths of two people who had lived here, but it had told him nothing about a child taken away after a few hours.
Not until the signet.
I looked at the ring.
"Show me that register."
"Yes, sir."
"Do you know how they died?"
Anunu's ears drooped.
"No."
That answer left enough unknowns.
I didn't need him to cast doubt on what he could confirm as well.
Elias's study was further along.
As I approached, the signet warmed. I pressed the handle, and the door opened without resistance.
Inside stood a broad desk, two bookcases and a table beneath the window. Parchments had been pinned to a board on the wall. Some were covered in tiny handwriting, others in sketches.
I went in.
It was the first room where I truly didn't know what to look at first.
An open ledger lay on the desk. I glanced inside.
Dates, amounts, notes about materials that had been ordered.
Beside it, I found empty envelopes, a paper knife and a letter concerning a delivery of glass.
I looked up at the shelves.
I wasn't going to pretend that examining three objects meant I now knew what was in here.
"I'll start with this room," I said.
Anunu waited at the threshold.
"Whenever you wish."
I put the study at the top of a fresh page in my notebook.
Then I left, keeping everything where it was.
My room was in the newer part of the house.
The door was dark blue. Low down, roughly at knee height, someone had painted a small star.
One point was noticeably longer than the others.
"My father?"
"He wanted to help."
I smiled.
"Did my mother appreciate it?"
"She would not let anyone correct it."
I opened the door.
The bed stood against the wall, the desk by the window. There was a wardrobe and a bookcase with empty shelves. The room no longer looked like a nursery, although a band of tiny stars remained along the tops of the walls.
"You changed it after the signet recognised me?"
"Yes."
"How did you know what size bed to get?"
"Anunu knew how old you were. Anunu did not know how tall you had grown."
I examined the bed.
"You left plenty of room."
The elf seemed pleased.
Parchment, quills and an inkwell waited on the desk. I opened the drawers. They were empty apart from a few writing supplies.
In the chest of drawers, I found a folded baby blanket, tiny clothes and a box containing a rattle.
I took it out and gave it a gentle shake.
The soft sound felt somehow out of place in my hand.
"They prepared all of this?"
"Yes, sir."
I put it back.
A wooden Pegasus stood on the highest shelf. I reached for it and examined its repaired wing.
"And this?"
"For Master Oliver as well."
"Who broke it?"
"Master Elias stepped on it."
I laughed.
"Before I even had a chance?"
"He said the wood was faulty."
"Of course he did."
I ran my thumb over the repair. The wing was firmly attached.
I set the Pegasus on the desk instead of returning it to the high shelf.
It was easier to see there.
From the window, I could look out over the garden, the greenhouse and part of the wood. I pulled out the chair, sat briefly and checked the height of the desk.
It fitted.
This was where I was supposed to have lived.
I didn't know what that life would have looked like. But I could put my own books on those shelves and open the window when the room grew stuffy.
I stood.
"You did a good job with it."
Anunu looked at the Pegasus on the desk.
"Anunu is glad."
We went through the remaining upstairs rooms more quickly.
There was an old schoolroom with a blackboard, a small study and a storeroom where chests were labelled with names or single words. I opened one marked "winter" and found blankets and heavy curtains.
At least that label wasn't trying to hide anything from me.
The attic held covered furniture, trunks and a model of the house with one wing missing. I walked around it, comparing it with what I had seen so far.
Anunu pointed out the later additions.
"Who added the most?"
"Master Charles. Mistress Agnes said that if he added one more room, he could wash its windows himself."
"Did that stop him?"
The elf looked at the model.
"No."
I added their names beside Benedict and Frederick.
The list was growing.
At first, the cellars looked exactly as they should.
Wine, provisions, firewood and storage rooms. Further in, the stone grew older and the doors heavier.
There were three entrances at the end of the corridor.
Family Archive.
Workrooms.
And a third marked with a symbol I didn't recognise.
"What's in there?"
Anunu studied the door.
"Anunu does not know."
"You're not allowed in?"
"Anunu never worked there. The door stayed closed."
I moved closer. The signet didn't react.
I examined the symbol and copied it beneath my sketch of the library lock.
"Who might know?"
"One of the portraits. This is an old part of the house."
At least that was a definite answer.
I didn't have to find out immediately what would happen if I touched the door with my wand.
I looked inside the archive as well. Shelves, document boxes, thick volumes. A catalogue rested on a stand near the entrance.
I opened it and turned through a few pages.
The list alone would take me the rest of the morning.
I closed the book.
A whole day to search the house was beginning to look very optimistic.
We went into the garden through a small side door.
Paths branched between old trees and hedges. I found a pond, an empty gazebo and a herb garden. Some of the greenhouse beds were planted; the rest waited beneath covers.
Anunu showed me the plants I shouldn't touch.
I made a particular effort to remember the innocent-looking ones.
A bench stood behind the greenhouse. I sat, and the elf stopped a few steps away.
"You can sit down."
"Anunu prefers to stand."
I didn't insist.
From this side, the house was even more uneven. Its wings projected at different angles, as though every extension had begun with someone declaring that this time there would definitely be enough room.
I liked it.
For a while, we listened to the leaves rustling.
"Anunu."
"Yes, sir?"
"What exactly do you remember about the day I was born?"
The elf looked at the house.
"Mistress Aria was upstairs. Later, Master Elias came to Anunu and gave instructions."
"The ones about me?"
"Yes."
"Did he say where they were going?"
"No."
"And my mother?"
"Anunu saw her carrying you wrapped in a blanket. Then Anunu was to stay and look after the house."
I turned on the bench.
"Did you see them leave?"
"No. Anunu was in another part of the house."
"So you don't know who took me to the orphanage."
"No, sir."
I rested my elbows on my knees.
There was no story here from which I only needed to extract the right sentence. Anunu remembered an order and my mother holding a baby. Afterwards, they were gone, and the house recorded my parents' deaths.
He didn't know what had happened in between.
"Could the portraits have seen something?"
"Some were here. Master Oliver should ask."
I looked towards the windows.
"Do they have paintings of their own?"
Anunu didn't answer at once.
I turned my head.
"My parents."
"Yes, sir. But they were never finished."
I waited for a moment.
"They can't speak?"
"No."
"Not even a little? Answer a question?"
The elf shook his head.
"They did not have time to give them enough of themselves."
I remembered Abraxas in his frame. The way he answered, remembered people and chose what he wanted to say.
"Do they look like them?"
"Yes."
It was strange. Only a short while ago, I had been looking at a photograph in which they were both laughing. I knew I couldn't ask it what they had been talking about.
For a moment, I had let myself think the portraits might be different.
"I want to see them."
Anunu nodded.
By the time we returned to the hall, the light falling through the tall windows had changed.
I had spent several hours in the house. I had opened drawers, looked through books and examined things that had nothing to do with old magic.
I hadn't learned how my eyes worked.
But I knew Elias stole cake, argued about the arrangement of armchairs and tried to blame the wood for a toy he had stepped on himself.
That wasn't insignificant.
My notebook now held a list of rooms to search, several names and two symbols. Enough for the following day.
I collected my bag from the dining room and returned to Anunu.
The portraits watched me from the walls.
The man had folded his newspaper. The elderly woman held her knitting in her lap. When I looked towards her, she didn't look away.
They had given me time.
Now I wanted to spend it differently.
"Show me the gallery."
Anunu led me down the oldest corridor.
Behind us, a painted dress rustled. The man put down his newspaper and left his frame. A face I hadn't seen before appeared in the next painting.
Word overtook us without much effort.
At the heavy doors bearing the crest, Anunu paused briefly, then pressed the handle.
I followed him in.
The gallery was long and bright. Frames of different sizes and ages hung in several rows. I saw women and men, older faces and some that looked scarcely older than mine.
An open book lay on a stand beside the wall.
Anunu approached it first.
I didn't have to ask.
He pointed to two entries.
Elias Peverell.
Aria Vauclair-Peverell.
Beside both was the year 1980.
I touched the edge of the stand. I didn't try testing the ink with the signet or looking for lines of magic beneath it.
Anunu knew what this record meant.
I had no reason to question it either.
Two portraits hung further along.
I recognised my parents immediately.
My father's face had been carefully painted, but part of his hand was still only sketched in. My mother sat with her head turned slightly to one side. Some of the background behind her shoulder had yet to be coloured.
I moved closer.
People stirred around me. Someone adjusted a sleeve; someone tilted their head for a better look.
Elias and Aria remained still.
I watched them longer than I had intended.
"Were they supposed to come here?" I asked quietly.
"Yes, sir."
To talk. To tell stories. To leave behind more than a face.
They hadn't had time.
I stood there a little longer, then turned towards the other paintings.
The elderly woman from the hall was now sitting in a larger frame a few steps away. She had left her knitting elsewhere.
She waited until I looked at her.
"Welcome home, Oliver," she said.
This time, someone could answer.