Hedwig was offended.
I wasn't sure when it had started, but I suspected it had something to do with my recent mornings. For two days, I had left at nine, returned late in the evening, and never thought to explain what I was doing. Today, she had decided to express her opinion by sitting on my notebook.
"Hedwig."
She ignored me.
"I need that."
She tilted her head. I tried to slide the notebook out from under her talons. She tightened her grip. Fifteen minutes until nine.
"I don't have all day to negotiate."
Hedwig hooted softly.
Of course.
I leaned against the desk. For the past two days, I had spent most of my time at the Peverell estate. I had my own room there, a library, a family, and an elf who treated feeding me as the most important duty of his four-hundred-and-fifty-year life. And Hedwig was still sitting in the orphanage.
There wasn't really a good reason for that.
"Would you like to see my house?"
Her head turned at once.
"I'll take that as interest."
She hooted.
"There's just one problem. You can't fly there."
She spread her wings.
"Not because you can't fly. You don't know where it is."
Hedwig looked so offended that I might as well have challenged the fundamental principles of owl dignity.
"I didn't know for a long time either. It's very well hidden."
I reached for the notebook again. This time, she let me take it. A good start.
"Anunu can take us there. You just have to come with us."
She immediately stepped back and ruffled her feathers.
"Ah. So you don't like Apparition."
Hedwig hooted louder.
"You haven't tried it."
The argument failed to impress her.
For several minutes, I explained that the estate was a long way from London, that I wasn't going to abandon her somewhere unfamiliar, and that once she knew the way, she could fly as much as she liked. It was one of the more one-sided conversations of my life. Hedwig listened. Or so I hoped.
As the clock struck nine, a familiar crack sounded in the room.
"Good morning, Master Oliver."
"Morning, Anunu."
The elf's gaze shifted from Hedwig to the open cage.
"Is Master Oliver taking his owl today?"
"That's the plan."
Hedwig spread her wings. Anunu watched her carefully.
"The owl doesn't want to go?"
"She has certain objections to the means of transport."
"Anunu can take the cage."
Hedwig's expression told me exactly what she thought of that suggestion.
"I'm afraid the cage would make things worse."
Anunu found another solution.
"Master Oliver can hold the owl. Anunu will take both."
"That's what I've been trying to explain to her."
I held out my arm to Hedwig.
"Come on. I promise nothing will happen to you."
She watched me for a few more seconds, then hopped onto my forearm. I felt her talons through my sleeve.
"Thank you."
Hedwig turned her head away. I had no doubt she still considered the whole idea absurd. With my free hand, I took Anunu's outstretched one.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
The elf nodded. The world squeezed me from every side. Hedwig made a noise I had never heard from her before.
And then we were there.
Only we weren't in the hall.
I stood on a narrow path among tall trees. The familiar stretch of ground leading towards the estate lay ahead, but the house itself remained concealed behind further layers of protection. I frowned.
"Anunu?"
The elf looked just as surprised.
"Anunu meant to take Master Oliver to the hall."
"You usually manage it."
"Yes, Master Oliver."
Hedwig shook out her feathers and turned her head towards me.
"Don't look at me like that. I didn't choose the spot."
I approached the boundary I had learned to recognise through my signet ring. The familiar tingling in my right hand meant the house's protections had recognised their heir. I took another step, and Hedwig nearly fell off my forearm. She hadn't hit any visible barrier. She simply jerked backwards, spread her wings, and leapt onto a nearby stone.
I stopped.
"Hedwig?"
She hooted angrily. I stepped closer and held out my arm. She returned to it, but the moment I tried to cross the boundary again, she began struggling to get away.
I gave up on the third attempt.
"Something's stopping her."
Anunu came over.
"Anunu sees, sir."
"Do you know why?"
The elf shook his head.
"No, Master Oliver."
That was new.
Until now, Anunu had known the answer to most questions about how the house worked. He couldn't necessarily explain all the magic, but he knew which doors to open, how to get around the estate, and what not to touch. This time, he looked genuinely at a loss.
"Has anything like this happened before?"
"Anunu doesn't remember, sir. Animals lived in the gardens. Birds came and went."
"Then why can't she get in?"
"Anunu doesn't know."
Hedwig sat on my arm, watching the boundary with obvious dislike. At least she didn't look hurt.
"I need someone who knows more about the protections than we do."
Anunu nodded.
"The portraits, sir?"
"Exactly."
I carefully set Hedwig down on a broad, mossy stone.
"Will you wait here?"
She didn't answer.
"Anunu will stay with you. I'll be right back."
The elf straightened.
"Anunu will look after the owl."
I addressed Hedwig again.
"Don't try to cross the boundary on your own."
Hedwig turned her head away. I took that as sufficient acknowledgement, passed through the protections, and headed for the house.
I was beginning to suspect that even taking an owl on an outing would require consulting several generations of ancestors here.
The gallery was busy, though not in the way I was used to at Hogwarts. No one was running down the corridor, trying to reach a lesson before the bell. Here, everyone moved within the frames.
Two men were discussing a document one of them held. A woman in a green dress stepped out of her portrait into her neighbour's so she wouldn't miss the conversation. Edmund sat at a desk, while Frederick looked as though he was about to prove something to someone. I stopped in front of them.
"Good morning."
Edmund looked up. "Oliver. You're early today."
"I brought Hedwig, but the house won't let her in."
"Your owl?" Frederick raised an eyebrow. "Now that sounds interesting."
"Not to Hedwig."
Edmund put down his book. "What exactly happened?"
I explained how Anunu had tried to take us to the hall, only for the Apparition to leave us outside the protections. I also told him about our attempts to cross the boundary.
"I suspect I know the problem," Edmund said when I finished.
Frederick sat up in his armchair.
"Don't tell me the boy bought a cursed owl."
"I said nothing of the sort," Edmund replied.
"But you thought it."
"No."
"Pity."
Edmund ignored him.
"The estate's protections don't respond to every creature in the same way. Ordinary animals can move through the gardens unless they're considered a threat. Magical creatures are subject to different rules."
I frowned.
"But Hedwig is an ordinary snowy owl."
"Are you certain?"
"I bought her in a pet shop."
"That doesn't quite answer my question."
I had never really looked into Hedwig's origins. She was intelligent, exceptionally stubborn, and had a nasty habit of reminding me of things I would rather forget. But most postal owls in the wizarding world behaved somewhat differently from ordinary birds.
I hadn't seen any reason to suspect anything unusual.
"So the house thinks she's a magical creature?"
"It would seem so."
"That's strange."
"Not particularly," someone said further along the gallery.
I turned towards a portrait I hadn't paid much attention to before. It showed a middle-aged man with light brown hair and a short beard. He wore a travelling coat with pockets that looked large enough to hold a small library. Behind him was what appeared to be a mountain valley. Two birds circled above the distant peaks.
The man was watching me with keen interest.
"A snowy owl, you said? Entirely white?"
"With a few dark markings."
"And her eyes?"
"Amber."
The man smiled.
"Interesting."
Frederick sighed.
"Oh, no. Here we go," he muttered, seeing my expression.
The man in the travelling coat didn't even glance at him.
"Does your owl exhibit any unusual behaviour?"
"What would you consider unusual?"
"An excellent question!"
His smile widened at once.
"Most people start listing things they can't explain without stopping to consider whether they understand the species' normal behaviour."
Frederick covered his face with a hand.
"Oliver, run while you still can."
"Frederick," Edmund said.
"I'm warning the boy."
The man in the coat finally turned his head.
"May I remind you that my research..."
"Was extremely important," Frederick finished. "We all know."
"And produced tangible results."
"No one disputes that either," Edmund said.
The stranger was growing more intriguing by the moment.
"I'm sorry, but we haven't been introduced."
The man immediately straightened his coat.
"Of course. Roland Peverell. Researcher of magical creatures, traveller, and author of several works which remain far less appreciated than they deserve."
The plaque beneath his painting read:
Roland Peverell, 1719–1760.
Forty-one years. Another member of the family who hadn't lived to a particularly ripe old age.
"Oliver Peverell."
"I know, my boy. It would be difficult not to. The whole house has talked about little else for two days."
Frederick smiled.
"Some of us have good reason."
Roland waved a hand.
"Yes, yes. The eyes, Will, grand ambitions. Very interesting. But back to the owl."
I hadn't expected any Peverell to find the family eyes less interesting than a bird. Roland noticed my reaction.
"What?"
"Nothing. Most of my ancestors start by asking about my eyes, that's all."
"Have you had them since birth?"
"Yes."
"Then I see no reason to spend the whole morning on them."
Frederick burst out laughing. Edmund shook his head. Roland turned his attention back to me.
"Your owl, on the other hand, may be quite an interesting case."
"But you haven't seen her."
"Which is why I said may."
I liked that.
"So what do you suggest?"
"Let her into the house first."
I frowned.
"That's the problem."
"No. Your problem is getting her through the protections without the proper permission."
Edmund nodded.
"Roland is right."
Roland looked thoroughly pleased.
"It happens more often than Edmund likes to admit."
"Don't exaggerate."
"I'm not. Do you remember the matter of..."
"Roland."
The man closed his mouth. Briefly.
"Whatever her nature, Oliver, the house needn't consider her a threat. She simply hasn't been given permission to enter."
"So I can invite her in?"
"You're the heir."
"Does that mean yes?"
"It means you should at least try."
I considered it. It did make sense.
"How?"
Roland looked to Edmund, leaving him to explain.
"You don't need a special formula. The house recognises your blood and your intent. Give your permission consciously. Don't try to break through the protections."
I nodded.
"Understood."
I was about to leave when Roland spoke again.
"And bring her to my study afterwards."
I stopped.
"You have a study?"
"A library, a workroom, several rooms for my collections. Though I suspect Anunu has turned them into storage rooms over the past few decades."
Frederick snorted.
"At least they're safer than they were when you were alive."
Roland gave an offended snort.
"I don't understand why you all exaggerate so much."
"Roland, you tried to keep a dragon in the garden," Edmund said.
I froze.
"What?"
Roland sighed.
"Not this again."
Frederick grinned.
"Oh, Oliver. Be sure to ask him about the Minister."
"Not now!" Roland protested. "The owl is waiting!"
I was definitely going to come back to that story.
Hedwig was still on the stone. Anunu stood beside her with his hands clasped behind his back, looking like an exceptionally conscientious guard.
She hooted when she saw me.
"I'm back."
She spread her wings, hopped onto my arm, and immediately began preening.
"Sorry that took so long. I had to speak to the family."
Anunu looked up.
"The portraits know, sir?"
"I think so. The house probably recognises something magical in Hedwig."
The elf glanced at her.
"Magical?"
"Roland thinks there might be something unusual in her ancestry."
Anunu twitched his ears.
"Anunu remembers Master Roland and his animals very well."
"And what do you remember about them?"
Anunu was silent for a moment.
"A lot of work."
I smiled. That explained a surprising amount.
"Edmund says I just need to invite her in. The ring should convey my permission to the protections."
Anunu's gaze settled on the signet ring.
"Anunu didn't know that was how it was done. The masters dealt with letting new creatures in themselves. Anunu looked after them afterwards."
It must have seemed so obvious to each generation of Peverells that no one had thought to explain it to the elf.
It wasn't obvious to me yet.
I faced the invisible boundary. The ring warmed slightly on my finger. All right. Let's try.
"Hedwig," I said, "as the Peverell heir, I invite you into my home."
The owl tilted her head.
"You can live here, fly out, and come back. You don't have to wait for someone to let you in every time."
At first, I felt no response. Then, after a few seconds, a faint tension gathered around my hand. It was different from using Will; more like the protections' response when they recognised the ring. I briefly focused my right eye. Several faint strands of magic appeared where I had felt resistance before. They shifted, joined together, then dissolved into their surroundings.
I didn't understand exactly how it worked, but it looked promising. I took a step. Hedwig remained calm. She didn't move at the second step either. I smiled at her.
"There we are."
She hooted.
"Yes, I know. I could have thought of it sooner."
Anunu followed us through without the slightest difficulty and breathed a sigh of relief.
"The house has accepted the owl."
"Looks like it."
Hedwig suddenly spread her wings and took flight. I watched her sweep in a wide arc over the trees before turning towards the estate. She didn't hesitate at the boundary once.
"I think she likes it."
Anunu nodded.
"Anunu will prepare a place."
"Let her look around the house first."
The elf seemed a little surprised.
"Master Oliver will let the owl fly around the estate?"
"She's an owl. You can hardly expect her to walk."
Anunu apparently took that very seriously.
"Anunu will prepare a place on the floor as well."
I didn't have time to object. The elf was already heading towards the house. I sighed.
Hedwig was going to have better living arrangements than plenty of wizards.
Roland's old study was on the north-western side of the ground floor, beyond a corridor I hadn't yet had time to explore properly. A metal plaque hung above the heavy, dark wooden door. Instead of a name, it bore an engraving of a bird with its wings outstretched.
"Here, sir," Anunu said.
I opened the door and was met by the smell of old paper. Pleasant, though it reminded me of a bookshop whose owner hadn't let anyone open the windows in a very long time.
The room was larger than I had expected. Shelves lined three walls. Maps, prints, and framed drawings of animals covered the fourth. A broad table stood by the window, with several closed chests beneath it.
Among the books were jars of dried plants, the skeletons of small creatures, and glass tubes holding feathers. There were also several metal instruments whose purpose I couldn't guess. In the corner stood a globe depicting something that certainly wasn't an ordinary map of the world. Above the fireplace hung a second portrait of Roland.
This time, he sat at a desk with an open book in front of him. He looked up as we entered.
"Excellent!"
Hedwig landed on the back of a chair. Roland almost jumped inside his frame.
"Beautiful! Excellent plumage, very good condition. Clearly strong wing muscles."
Hedwig adjusted a wing as though to help him with his examination. Roland turned to me.
"What do you feed her?"
"At Hogwarts, mostly whatever she catches herself. She gets owl food too."
"Good. One shouldn't overfeed birds that are perfectly capable of finding their own food."
Hedwig hooted approvingly. Roland smiled.
"Intelligent."
"That much I know."
After a longer examination, Roland's smile faded a little.
"I can't tell you anything for certain from her appearance alone."
"You had something in mind?"
"I did."
He pointed at one of the shelves.
"Look at the third bookcase. Top shelf. You should find several volumes on northern bird species."
I walked over. The shelf was full of books, most of them bound in leather. Some were considerably older than Roland himself. The titles on their spines were in languages I didn't know.
"Which one am I looking for?"
"Green binding. Gilt spine. The author is called Halvorsen."
I ran my finger along the books. Three of them were green.
"Which one?"
"The one with the faded lettering."
"That doesn't narrow it down much."
Roland sighed. "Second from the left."
I pulled out the heavy book. The cover bore a drawing of a mountain bird and a title in English.
On the Magical Birds of the North and Their Relationship to Known Species.
I opened the contents page. Roland directed me to the chapter on owls.
"Page two hundred and seventeen."
The page showed an illustration of a large, pale owl. It resembled Hedwig, but had longer feathers around its head and darker markings on its wings. Its eyes were depicted as very pale, almost silver. Beneath the drawing was a caption:
Ice Owl.
"Ice owl?" I read aloud.
"Yes."
Roland moved closer to the edge of the painted desk.
"A rare species. Once found in northern Europe, particularly in places where conditions were too harsh for most ordinary birds to survive."
I began to read. According to the author, ice owls possessed modest but distinct magical abilities. They could navigate in severe weather, find their way over great distances, and showed particular resistance to certain forms of magical disorientation.
There was no mention of aggressive behaviour or extraordinary combat abilities. They were, above all, birds superbly adapted to harsh conditions, whose sense of direction didn't rely solely on ordinary senses.
I turned the page. The next part of the chapter was less encouraging.
The species had already begun to decline before the book was written. Changes to their habitats, small populations, and difficulties breeding meant that pure specimens were seen less and less often. The author also mentioned ice owls interbreeding with ordinary snowy owls. I paused at that passage.
"They could interbreed?" I asked Roland.
"Of course. They were closely related."
"And the offspring?"
"Usually looked far more ordinary."
I read the next paragraph. The author claimed that later generations of hybrids often showed no obvious magical traits, though some retained exceptional intelligence and navigational ability. I glanced instinctively at Hedwig.
She sat quietly on the chair, watching us both.
"So you think..."
"Possibly," Roland interrupted.
"You're not sure."
"No. And you shouldn't be either." He pointed to the book. "This is an old study, Oliver. Not all its conclusions are necessarily correct. Besides, we have no idea how many of your owl's ancestors belonged to either species."
I had to admit he was right.
"But the protections detected magic."
"Apparently."
"So she might have some ice owl blood."
"She might. It's worth finding out more."
I returned to the illustration. Hedwig was larger than some of the owls I had seen at Hogwarts, but not enough to make her seem extraordinary. Her intelligence could certainly be surprising.
And now I knew there might be another reason for it.
"How could we check?"
"Tracing her ancestry would be best, but I suspect the seller didn't give you your owl's family tree."
"No."
"I thought not."
Roland fell silent, considering the possibilities.
"You could also observe how she responds to certain kinds of magic. But I wouldn't recommend starting with experiments."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
"Because she's a living creature, Oliver. Not a research instrument."
Roland was entirely serious.
"If she's healthy, flies well, and behaves naturally, there's no reason to start testing the limits of her abilities at once."
I nodded.
"I understand."
"Good."
Hedwig hooted. Roland brightened immediately.
"You see? Clever bird."
"I'm beginning to think you two will get along."
"We already do."
I put the book on the table.
"Do you have anything else on these owls?"
"Of course." Roland indicated the other shelves. "Second volume on the next shelf. Then a short study in a blue binding. And a Norwegian researcher's travel journal, though some of his descriptions are rather exaggerated."
My gaze travelled along the shelves.
"How many books did you actually buy?"
Roland spread his hands.
"I didn't count."
"Anunu, do you know how many books there are in this part of the house?"
The elf looked up from a closed trunk.
"Anunu doesn't know exactly. Several thousand, sir."
Roland looked pleased.
"You see? Quite a respectable collection."
"Quite."
I scanned the bookcases. There were books on dragons, unicorns, magical fish, birds, and creatures that lived underground. Others concerned species whose names I had never heard.
A few herbals stood among the books on animals. I took one out and opened it to a drawing of a plant with small, bell-shaped flowers. Beside it were the place and date the specimen had been collected. I found Miriam's name on the first page.
"Did your wife study zoology too?"
Roland glanced at the herbal.
"Plants. On our expeditions, we often stopped for entirely different reasons."
I turned a few more pages. A dried leaf, almost as thin as paper, lay between two of them. I carefully closed the book and put it back.
I heard the dragon story over second breakfast.
Anunu brought me food in a small room next to Roland's study. Hedwig received a bowl of her own. Roland spent several minutes commenting on the quality of the meat until Anunu assured him that everything had been prepared properly.
Then I asked:
"So what happened with the dragon?"
Roland went still.
"Frederick told you?"
"Edmund mentioned it. Frederick thought I should ask about the Minister."
"Ah."
Roland leaned against the painted desk.
"That's a very old story."
"You have time."
"No need to remind me."
He narrowed his eyes as though he suspected a trap.
"Everyone tells it as if I had been trying to do something terribly foolish."
"You tried to keep a dragon in the garden."
"Not in the garden. On specially prepared grounds."
"I see."
"Well away from the living quarters."
"Of course."
"With appropriate protections."
"Naturally."
Roland narrowed his eyes. "You sound like Frederick."
I said nothing. Better not to confirm it.
"I wanted to observe the behaviour of a young Welsh dragon," Roland explained. "The conditions would have been excellent. I had plans for the enclosure, a system of protections, even a suitable feeding programme."
"And the Ministry refused."
"Immediately."
"Because of the regulations?"
"Among other things."
"What did you do?"
"I went to see the Minister."
I nodded. That sounded reasonable.
"I explained the value of the research. Presented the protections. I also offered to fund several Ministry initiatives for the protection of magical creatures."
"How much funding?"
Roland hesitated. "A considerable amount."
"Roland."
"Five thousand Galleons."
I put down my cup.
"Five thousand?"
"For a worthy cause!"
"And in return, you wanted permission to keep a dragon."
"Not in return. While I was there."
I needed a moment to digest that answer.
"I see why Frederick finds this funny."
Roland sighed heavily. "The Minister didn't appreciate the offer either."
"What did he say?"
"That money didn't change the law."
"Reasonable enough."
"And that if I suggested anything of the sort again, our next conversation would take place in less pleasant circumstances."
I couldn't help snorting with laughter. Roland gave me a wounded look.
"You too?"
"Sorry."
He didn't look convinced.
"I wasn't planning anything dangerous."
"Roland, it was a dragon."
"I know what species it was."
"So do I."
"Then you should understand why I wanted to study it."
In a way, I did. Perhaps not the need to keep a dragon on the family estate, but the fascination with something extraordinary.
If I discovered a chance to study an unknown form of magic, it would be difficult to draw me away from it too. That didn't mean I would consider every idea connected with it sensible.
"What did you do after he refused?"
"I bought books."
I laughed again.
"Naturally."
"And I went to Wales. At least there I could observe dragons in their natural habitat."
That sounded considerably better. Roland smiled faintly.
"The most interesting expedition of that year."
After all, there were whole rows of books on the shelves in his study.
"Did you keep your notes from that trip? I'd like to read them sometime."
Roland straightened.
"Of course I kept them." He grinned. "Perhaps you're not entirely beyond hope after all."
I spent the rest of the morning exploring the house properly. I didn't want another day of going back and forth between the library, the portrait gallery, and Elias's study. I took out my notebook, asked Anunu for a floor plan, and started with the ground floor. Asking for a plan quickly proved more complicated than I had expected.
The elf brought me three. The oldest dated from the eighteenth century, the second had been drawn up over a hundred years later, and the third included alterations made during my grandfather Richard Peverell's lifetime. All three looked different.
"They remodelled the house?" I asked.
"Yes, Master Oliver."
"Often?"
Anunu didn't have to think long about his answer.
"When it was needed."
The three different plans spoke for themselves: over several hundred years, quite a lot had been needed. I spread them out on a table in the old breakfast room.
Some rooms had changed purpose. Others had been joined together. A few corridors had disappeared, or at least no longer appeared on the newer plans. I was most interested in the northern part of the building. It contained several old workrooms, storage rooms, and rooms Anunu described as unused.
"What exactly does unused mean?"
"Nobody lives there, sir."
"And before?"
"It varied."
I sighed. I was beginning to understand why studying the family history had taken up so much of Edmund's time. I decided to start with the oldest part of the ground floor, then move upstairs.
Hedwig followed us. At first, she perched on Anunu's shoulder, much to the elf's undisguised delight. After a few minutes, she moved to the top of a tall wardrobe. She watched us from there until I opened the next door.
Then she flew ahead.
"I'm beginning to suspect she's more interested in the house than I am," I said.
Anunu nodded.
"A very curious owl, sir."
"I noticed."
The first room turned out to be an old music room. A grand piano stood against the wall. Beside it were two chairs, a small table, and shelves of sheet music. A portrait of a young woman I didn't recognise hung on one wall.
She looked up when I entered.
"Good morning."
"Good morning."
She noticed Hedwig.
"A new guest?"
"My owl."
"Lovely."
Hedwig landed on the piano. The woman leaned towards her.
"Is she going to sing?"
"I'm afraid not."
"What a shame."
I walked along the shelves of music, arranged by composer. Some was handwritten; other volumes had printed covers. I chose one dated over two hundred years ago and opened it. There were small pencil marks beside several bars, and the bottom corner of the page was worn from turning. Someone had often returned to this piece. I didn't recognise it; I didn't know enough about music. I closed the volume.
"Did my parents use this room?"
Anunu shook his head.
"Master Elias rarely came here. Mistress Aria did sometimes."
"She played?"
"A little, sir."
The piano caught my attention. I could look through the other music, but most of it seemed considerably older than Aria. I had no reason to assume any of it had belonged to her.
I marked the room on the plan and we moved on. The rooms that followed were even more varied.
We found an old Herbology workroom, where rows of empty pots remained alongside stone-topped tables and cupboards full of old tools. One drawer held dozens of neatly handwritten labels. Most dated from the nineteenth century.
In another room, I found alchemical instruments I had never even seen in textbook illustrations. There were metal rings, several oddly shaped glass vessels, and a device that looked like a cross between a set of scales and a clock. That last one caught my attention.
"Anunu, do you know what this is for?"
The elf shook his head.
"Anunu remembers Master Walter sometimes worked here."
"Walter?"
"Yes, sir. Master Walter liked mending things."
I noticed small symbols on the device's casing and focused my right eye. The remnants of magic were old but distinct. Some curled around the moving parts; others stayed still, as though holding a particular arrangement in place. I still couldn't work out its purpose. Rather than activate the device blindly, I sketched it in my notebook.
"I'll ask one of the portraits."
Anunu nodded. We moved on.
Cupboards filled the next room. I opened one to find rows of neatly arranged boxes containing the personal possessions of former residents: watches, cufflinks, quills, and small caskets. There were several old wands too, their wood clearly worn from use.
Most of the boxes bore names and dates. In one of the oldest, I found a silver compass. Instead of pointing north, its needle turned slowly, stopped, then changed direction again. I picked it up carefully.
"What's this?"
Anunu examined the compass.
"Anunu doesn't remember, sir."
Inside the lid, I read: George Peverell, 1817. I wrote the name and date in my notebook. Something to check later.
In the next box, I found a small metal sphere. When I put it on the table, it unfolded into six linked rings, each turning on its own axis until they came to a stop. I touched one. On the second touch, the device gave a soft sound and folded back into a sphere. I smiled. I had no idea what I had just done, but the device still worked.
The initials on the box belonged to someone who had lived more than a century before my parents. I put the object back. I would rather know what it did before taking it to my room.
After an hour, I had several pages of notes and no new leads on Elias or Aria. I wasn't particularly surprised. The house had stood for centuries; most of its contents had to be older than my parents. Even so, I had hoped to come across something they had left behind by chance. A book, a letter, or an object whose significance I would only see on closer examination. So far, I had found nothing of the sort.
In the afternoon, we moved upstairs.
Anunu opened door after door while I checked the rooms and marked them on the plan. Many of the guest rooms looked almost identical: a bed, a wardrobe, a desk, and a window overlooking the garden. They differed in decoration, the colour of the walls, and smaller furnishings. Some hadn't been used for decades; others for far longer.
In one, I found an old toy trunk. Inside were a wooden boat, several animal figures, and a box of moving pieces. When I opened it, they began arranging themselves into a little maze. I picked up a horse carved from dark wood. When I pressed a small indentation in its back, it moved its head. I turned it over. Two words had been carved underneath.
For William.
William Peverell. Joseph's son.
I put the horse back and closed the trunk. I wondered how long those toys had lain unused. I wasn't going to get rid of them.
In the next room, I found a collection of carefully labelled stones and minerals. A note lay beside one:
Do not touch without gloves.
Naturally, I didn't touch it. Anunu looked pleased.
"Master Oliver is careful."
"Usually."
The elf settled for a pointed silence. That was a little worrying.
We moved into the next wing. Several rooms there looked like old studies. One had belonged to someone interested in magical history. Maps hung on the walls, and the shelves held chronicles and family documents.
The second contained a small laboratory. The third resembled a library, though much smaller than the main one. That was where I lingered.
A metal ring sat on a small stand beside the desk. I recognised a stabilising spell on it, much simpler than the protections around the house. When I focused my right eye, I saw the magic arranged in several connected layers.
I thought of the book I had read yesterday, On the Influence of Intent on the Stability of Magical Structures. One of the notes concerned the difference between changing how a spell worked and weakening its stability. I wasn't sure I had understood it properly. Now I could test my reasoning.
I rested a hand on the edge of the desk. I didn't want to destroy the ring, only briefly alter the way a small part of its structure worked. I focused my left eye and reached for my Will.
This time, I wasn't imposing movement or stillness. I wanted the chosen part to stop maintaining its existing arrangement. I felt the familiar tension. At first, nothing happened. Then the ring trembled slightly. One strand of magic weakened, but almost immediately returned to its place.
I tried again, with a similar result. It didn't hurt much, but a tired ache began behind my left eye, so I stopped. The ring still worked.
Had I changed part of its structure, or merely disrupted the flow of magic? They weren't the same thing. I sketched the arrangement in my notebook and wrote down my observations and theories. At the end, I added:
Check with Frederick. Don't assume a momentary disruption means control.
I closed the notebook, pleased with the attempt. No breakthrough, but at least I now had a specific question for Frederick.
We found Hedwig on a branch of an old tree in the garden, beside the path leading to the fountain. Three feathers lay below her. She watched me approach.
"Well?"
She hooted.
"Do you like it?"
She spread her wings and flew to the next tree. I took that as a yes. Anunu pointed to a small turret rising above the roof of the north wing.
"Anunu has prepared a place there."
I stopped.
"In the tower?"
"Yes, sir."
"The whole tower?"
"No, Master Oliver. Only the top room."
That didn't really make much difference.
"Anunu, Hedwig is one owl."
"Yes, sir."
"She doesn't need her own wing of the estate."
Anunu took the remark with the utmost seriousness.
"Anunu has also prepared a place in Master Oliver's room."
Of course.
I turned to Hedwig.
"Looks like you've just moved up in the world."
Hedwig hooted.
"I know. I'm not used to it yet either."
We walked through the garden. There were still parts of it I didn't know. Beyond the main lawn were older paths, several small gazebos, and an area of denser trees. Among the ordinary plants grew others that looked far too interesting to be merely decorative. Anunu assured me the garden was safe. Then he added that I shouldn't touch the red flowers by the western wall.
I stopped.
"Why?"
"They don't like being touched, sir."
"What does that mean?"
"They can bite."
The flowers looked perfectly innocent.
Of course.
I noted their location. I'd come back to them later. For now, I had enough trouble with one owl.
It was late afternoon by the time we returned to the main building. I sat down in the library and spread out my notes. There were far more than I had expected that morning.
Some concerned my conversation with Roland and ice owls. Others contained sketches of old devices, room layouts, and a list of books I wanted to read. The floor plan lay beside them. I marked the rooms I had managed to explore.
Then I compared them with the rest of the building and sighed.
"This is ridiculous."
Anunu looked up from his tray.
"What is, sir?"
"I've spent almost the whole day exploring, and I still haven't seen even half the rooms."
Anunu took my surprise calmly.
"The house is large."
"I noticed."
Anunu set a cup of tea in front of me.
"Master Oliver can explore tomorrow."
"That's a very sensible suggestion."
The elf smiled. After a moment, he added:
"Anunu will prepare breakfast."
"I'm not sure there's anything that could stop you preparing breakfast."
The elf looked pleased.
I put down my quill and returned to the notes about my parents. Little had changed there. I had Elias's study, his books, and his notes. Thanks to Evelyn and a few little things they had left behind, I knew a little more about him and Aria, but the most important questions remained unanswered.
What exactly had they been doing before they died? Why had they both died? I wasn't even sure all the information I needed was in the house.
I had searched over a dozen rooms and found all sorts of things belonging to earlier Peverells, yet none had brought me closer to solving the mystery. I wasn't going to call the day a failure because of that. The house held several hundred years of history. I could hardly expect everything I needed to be waiting in the first drawer I opened.
Besides, I had learned something new about Hedwig.
I closed the notebook. There was one more thing I wanted to do.
I found Joseph in the gallery. He stood by the window painted into the background of his portrait, leafing through a small book.
Neither Frederick nor Edith was nearby. Good. I didn't want to start another family discussion.
"Joseph?"
He looked up.
"Oliver."
"Do you have a moment?"
"Of course."
I moved closer. Yesterday, Joseph had offered to talk about family life after Frederick's death. I had a few questions, but after exploring the house today, I wanted to start with something else.
"I found a toy trunk upstairs. Wooden figures, a boat, a box with a maze. One of the figures had For William written on it."
Joseph smiled.
"They belonged to my son."
"I thought so."
He put down his book.
"I didn't know they were still there."
"Anunu apparently never throws anything away."
"Just as well."
Joseph smiled at the memory, then asked:
"Did you like them?"
"They were quite interesting. Especially the maze."
Joseph laughed softly. "William could spend entire afternoons with it."
"Did you make it yourself?"
"No. I commissioned it from a wizard who made that sort of thing."
He smiled faintly.
"I wanted my son to have something to play with even when I wasn't there."
That interested me.
"Were you away a lot?"
"Sometimes. I had duties, work, travelling to do."
He hesitated.
"But I tried to come home as often as I could."
I let him continue.
"I wasn't always a perfect father, Oliver."
"I didn't ask."
"I know." He smiled. "I suppose I just wanted you to know."
"Did William like this house?" I asked after a moment.
Joseph brightened.
"Very much. The gardens especially. When he was little, he would come back so filthy that Catherine refused to let him into the sitting room."
His smile widened.
"Usually with his pockets full of stones."
"What did he want them for?"
"I've no idea. When I asked him, he said they were interesting."
I snorted. That sounded familiar. Joseph laughed too.
Then he looked at me more closely.
"And you? How do you like living here?"
I thought about it.
"I don't really live here yet."
"Ah, yes. The orphanage."
"But I come every day. It's good."
Joseph nodded.
"That's what matters."
After a moment's thought, he added:
"I'm glad the house is being used again."
I frowned.
"Anunu has been looking after it all this time."
"Of course. But that isn't quite the same thing."
He was probably right. For years, the house had stood empty, even though Anunu kept every room in perfect condition. Now I opened doors, asked questions, pulled out old books, and interrupted my ancestors every day. No one seemed to mind.
"I'll come back tomorrow," I said.
Joseph smiled.
"Good."
I was about to leave when he spoke again.
"Oliver?"
I turned.
"Yes?"
"You can keep those toys if you'd like."
The offer surprised me.
"They're not mine."
"They're part of the family's collection. And you're the heir."
Still, I saw no need to take them with me.
"I'll leave them where they are for now."
Joseph smiled.
"Sensible."
I nodded goodbye.
"See you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow, Oliver."
Hedwig had no intention of returning to the orphanage.
I discovered this when I went to fetch her from my room. She was sitting on the broad sill by the open window. Anunu had already provided a small perch, a bowl of water, and somewhere to rest.
She looked content.
"Hedwig."
She tilted her head.
"We're going back."
She didn't move. Anunu waited beside me.
"I think she likes it here."
Anunu looked satisfied.
"The owl has a good place, sir."
There wasn't really any reason to take her back. The house had accepted her. She could fly out and return freely. Anunu would see to everything she needed. And if she did have ice owl blood, perhaps her sense of direction was far better than I had realised.
"Would you like to stay?"
Hedwig hooted.
"I see."
I went to the window and stroked her head. This time, she didn't object.
"Then stay."
She watched me closely for a moment.
"I'll be back tomorrow."
She hooted softly. I smiled.
"Yes, tomorrow."
Anunu came closer.
"Is Master Oliver ready?"
It was late. Time to go back.
"Yes."
I looked around the room once more. Tomorrow's books lay on the desk, I had left my bag and a few notes on the chair, and Hedwig sat by the window.
It looked surprisingly ordinary. Like a room someone meant to return to.
I took Anunu's hand.
A moment later, we were at the orphanage.
My room looked exactly as it had that morning.
Bed.
Desk.
Wardrobe.
Damp patch on the ceiling.
Only the windowsill was empty.
I glanced automatically at the spot where Hedwig usually sat, even though I knew perfectly well she had stayed at the estate.
I put my notebook on the desk, opened it at the last page, and added a few points.
Roland Peverell — 1719–1760.
Hedwig — possible ice owl ancestry. Check other sources.
Walter's workroom — identify the device.
Frederick — discuss stabilising structures.
Remaining rooms in the north wing.
I paused with my quill, then added one more sentence at the bottom of the page.
Elias and Aria — still no new information.
I read the words once more, then closed the notebook.
I hadn't discovered anything today that would help me understand my parents' deaths.
But I had met another ancestor, learned something interesting about Hedwig, and found enough books to keep me occupied for months.
And my owl had just moved into the family home.
The empty windowsill caught my attention again.
Funny.
Hedwig had only been there a few hours, and I was already beginning to envy her.
I turned out the lamp.
Tomorrow, I'd go home again.