A knock at the door woke me.
It wasn't particularly loud, but whoever stood outside clearly had no intention of leaving.
"Oliver?"
I opened my eyes. Sunlight slipped through the gap in the curtains, falling across the desk and the notebook I'd left on my bag the night before.
"Oliver, are you awake?"
"I am now."
"Then come down for breakfast soon."
I recognised one of the carers' voices. I told her I'd be down in a moment and waited for her footsteps to recede along the corridor.
Then I stayed in bed for a few more minutes.
Yesterday had been long. Another session with Frederick sounded interesting, but my back hadn't forgotten the hours spent standing at that table. The conversation with Nathaniel about the Trace in the Forest, though—that couldn't come soon enough.
I reached for my notebook and checked the bookmark.
Still there.
I dressed, washed, and went down to breakfast. The dining room was filled with the usual morning noise. A few younger children were arguing over a chair, someone had spilt their tea, and a carer at the next table was explaining to a boy that bread was not for throwing.
I ate my porridge, listened to part of the argument, and returned to my room.
Anunu appeared a few minutes later.
"Good morning, Master Oliver!"
He was wearing a dark waistcoat and a small bow tie.
"Morning. You look smart."
"Anunu thanks you!"
"Has Frederick planned something special?"
The elf blinked.
"Special, sir?"
"For practice. He wanted to try a few more things yesterday."
"Master Frederick will be busy today."
That surprised me.
Was he really going to pass up an opportunity to correct the way I levitated wooden blocks?
"So you haven't prepared the room?"
"Anunu has prepared everything that is needed."
He looked exceptionally pleased with himself.
I waited for an explanation, but the elf merely held out his hand. I picked up my bag and let him take us to the estate.
The flowers were the first thing I noticed.
They stood on the little table by the stairs, in a tall vase that hadn't been there yesterday. It took me a moment to notice the silence. No conversation or bickering drifted from the gallery. Even Frederick wasn't saying anything loudly enough to be heard from the hall.
"Anunu, has something happened?"
"No, sir!"
"Where is everyone, then?"
His ears twitched.
"Master Oliver could look in the dining room."
I gave him a suspicious look, then went where he'd suggested. The door stood ajar.
I pushed it open.
"Happy birthday!"
I stopped in the doorway.
Portraits from all over the house hung on the walls. Evelyn and Richard were on either side of the fireplace, with Frederick, Edmund, and Joseph nearby. Even Nathaniel had put aside his work; he sat at his desk with a closed book on his lap.
They were all looking at me.
The table was laden with food and decorated with fresh flowers. A banner above the fireplace read:
Happy Birthday, Oliver!
For a moment, I had no idea what to say.
Then I remembered the date.
The thirty-first of July.
Twelve years old.
"You forgot, didn't you?" Frederick asked.
"I've been busy."
"All month?"
"Most of it."
He laughed, and Evelyn beckoned me closer.
"Come in, dear. You can't spend the whole day in the doorway."
Anunu darted past me, straightened a napkin, and inspected the table as though he suspected a fork of trying to spoil the occasion while his back was turned.
"Did you do all this?"
"Anunu prepared the dining room, Master Oliver. Mistress Evelyn helped!"
"Of course I helped," my grandmother said. "It's your first birthday with us."
Richard shook his head, smiling.
"I tried to tell her we didn't need to start preparing yesterday evening."
"All you said was that Anunu knew perfectly well what he was doing."
"Because he does."
"Then you see I was right."
My grandfather looked at me.
"You'd better get used to this."
I hadn't known them long, but certain conversations were already starting to sound familiar.
Evelyn came closer to the frame.
"Happy twelfth birthday, darling."
"Thank you, Grandma."
Her smile softened.
"How lovely to hear you say that."
Richard wished me a happy birthday too, adding that he hoped the coming year would be a little quieter.
"From what I've heard about Hogwarts, I wouldn't count on it," Frederick put in.
"Frederick."
"I'm wishing him an interesting year. There's nothing wrong with that."
"Not everything interesting is good."
"The good sort of interesting, then."
"Surprisingly sensible," Edmund remarked.
"I do like to keep the family guessing."
Nathaniel waited until they'd finished.
"Happy birthday, Oliver. And don't worry. I won't be asking you about the box today."
"Really?"
"I can wait a day."
I thanked him, though I'd been hoping to discuss something far more interesting with him.
Joseph added his own good wishes, and Anunu pulled out my chair. As soon as I sat down, he began bringing more platters.
"Anunu, I can't eat all this."
"Master Oliver does not have to!"
"Why did you make so much, then?"
"It is a birthday, sir!"
I decided further questions would get me nowhere.
Fortunately, the orphanage hadn't been generous with the porridge.
For the first quarter of an hour or so, no one mentioned the curse, the eyes, or the secrets of the estate.
Richard told us about one of Elias's birthdays, when the cake hadn't survived long enough to be cut.
"Don't make it sound as though he did it on purpose," Evelyn said.
"He wanted to see whether he could levitate the whole thing."
"He was a child."
"He was fourteen."
"That's what I said."
Frederick settled more comfortably into his chair.
"Did it work?"
"For about three seconds."
"A promising start."
"Then the cake hit the ceiling."
"Even better."
I laughed.
"What did you do, Grandad?"
"Tried to save the crockery."
"Did you manage?"
"The plates survived."
"Some of them," Evelyn added.
Richard acknowledged the correction with a nod.
I took another bite, picturing a fourteen-year-old Elias with a wand in his hand and a cake on the ceiling.
Until now, I'd been getting to know my father through documents, warnings, and other people's memories of the war. I liked discovering that he'd apparently also been capable of doing something thoroughly stupid in his own dining room.
After breakfast, Anunu brought several neatly wrapped parcels. Evelyn immediately pointed out which I should open first. Richard said the order didn't matter, but I reached for the box she'd chosen before they could get into that.
Inside lay a silver bookmark engraved with the Peverell crest and my initials. Beneath it was a short letter.
"Anunu helped me prepare it," my grandmother explained.
I ran a finger over the engraved letters.
"It's beautiful. Thank you."
"Will you use it?"
"At least I'll stop folding the corners over."
Nathaniel looked up.
"You do that to books?"
"Not very often."
He watched me for a moment.
"I'll stop."
"An excellent present," he said.
Richard gave me a wizard chess set in an old wooden box. The pieces had been well cared for, though I noticed a hairline crack in one of the rooks.
"Did you play with these?"
"For years. Elias did too, though he wasn't always a gracious loser."
"I can sympathise."
"How are you at chess?"
"I know the rules."
Frederick immediately offered me a game. Edmund suggested we first establish whether Frederick still knew the rules himself.
From the brief argument that followed, I learned that Frederick had accused him of cheating more than a hundred years ago and had yet to receive a satisfactory explanation.
Edmund maintained that his explanation had been perfectly satisfactory. The loser simply hadn't wanted to accept it.
I opened the next parcel before they could reconstruct the entire game.
It contained a bound collection of notes on the fundamentals of spell construction. Frederick broke off the argument to explain how he and Anunu had selected and organised material from the family's writings.
"Don't try to master it in a week."
"That's surprising advice, coming from you."
"Give yourself at least two."
Evelyn cleared her throat.
There was also a notebook, some good ink, and a box for writing supplies that Anunu had prepared for my room.
I didn't need half of it.
That hardly mattered.
As I thanked everyone and put the presents aside, I remembered something else.
Or rather, someone.
"Damn."
Evelyn looked up.
"Oliver?"
"Potter."
"Harry Potter?" Richard asked.
"It's his birthday too. We were born on exactly the same day."
Frederick laughed.
"And you've only just remembered him?"
"An hour ago, I hadn't remembered my own."
"Fair point."
It wasn't too late. I asked Anunu to do some shopping for me, then took out my money pouch, counted out ten Galleons, and handed them over.
"Get Potter a broomstick servicing kit. The best one you can find. He likes Quidditch. It should come in handy."
"Anunu will be back soon!"
He vanished with a crack.
I was putting the pouch away when Edmund spoke.
"Incidentally, Oliver, how much money did you take from the vault on your first visit to Gringotts?"
"I don't remember exactly."
"Didn't you count it?"
"Not all of it."
Edmund sat straighter.
"Roughly, then?"
"About eight hundred Galleons. Perhaps a thousand."
Frederick raised his eyebrows.
"A thousand?" Edmund repeated. "For one school year?"
"I haven't even spent two hundred."
"Why take so much?"
"So I wouldn't have to keep going back to Gringotts."
For a moment, he looked as though I'd explained that I'd bought a second house because the first was too far from the shops.
"You ought to take more care over these things."
"Edmund," Evelyn said. "Are you begrudging my grandson his spending money?"
"I'm not begrudging him anything. I merely want him to keep track of his expenses."
"How interesting. Cecily once told me about some land you bought for four thousand Galleons."
Frederick immediately stopped looking at the presents.
"It was an investment," Edmund said.
"Of course. Cecily only mentioned that for six months you couldn't set foot on it without Wellington boots."
Richard snorted.
"It wasn't a swamp."
I looked at Edmund.
"What was it, then?"
"Land."
"Wet land?"
Frederick was already laughing.
"There were valuable mineral deposits."
"Underwater?"
"The whole property wasn't flooded!"
"How much of it was?"
Edmund pressed his lips together.
"I don't remember exactly."
Frederick wiped the corner of his eye.
"An unfortunate answer in a discussion about keeping accurate accounts."
Evelyn looked very pleased.
"I'm only repeating what Cecily told me."
"Your memory is selective."
"Excellent when it needs to be."
"I don't see why we're still discussing this after all these years."
"It was a remarkably expensive puddle," Richard observed.
This time, I laughed too.
Edmund looked around at all of us.
"At least I knew how much I'd paid for it."
He had a point.
I wasn't going to help him, though.
Joseph, who had been listening with amusement, put down his book.
"I spent my whole life looking after the family fortune so that the generations after me could enjoy it," he said quietly. "I see nothing wrong with Oliver spending money."
"Thank you."
"Especially since, by his own account, he hasn't spent even two hundred Galleons all year."
"Exactly."
"Although Edmund is right about one thing."
I sighed.
"You ought to know how much you're carrying. That doesn't mean you have to scrimp on everything."
Edmund gestured towards him.
"That's precisely what I'm saying."
"But a thousand Galleons is hardly going to empty the family vault," Joseph added. "Especially when most of it is still in the pouch."
Evelyn nodded.
"You see, Edmund?"
"Joseph just agreed with me."
"On one point."
Before the argument could continue, Anunu returned.
He brought the box and my change. This time, I counted the money straight away.
Nearly eight Galleons.
"This was the best kit they had?"
"Yes, sir. The shopkeeper said so!"
I examined the packaging. It contained wood treatments, tools for trimming twigs, and several things that would probably have interested me more if I played Quidditch.
"I thought it would cost more."
Edmund closed his eyes.
"Oliver, please don't say things like that in front of shopkeepers."
"I didn't."
"Thank goodness."
I put the purchase aside and reached for a clean sheet of parchment. There was no need for a long letter. After a moment's thought, I wrote:
Happy birthday, Potter. I've just remembered we were born on the same day.
Oliver
That would do.
Richard studied the parcel.
"Does your friend really like broomsticks that much?"
"Potter probably likes his more than he likes most people."
I took the present to my room. Hedwig sat by the open window, preening a wing.
"I have a job for you."
She hooted and examined the box I'd put on the desk.
"A present for Potter. It isn't that heavy."
Anunu helped secure the parcel. We checked that the ties wouldn't get in the way of Hedwig's wings and tucked the note beneath the wrapping.
She shifted from foot to foot.
"You can find him, can't you?"
Her hoot was emphatic enough that I decided not to ask anything else.
I stroked her feathers.
"You can come back here afterwards."
She hopped onto the windowsill, spread her wings, and took off over the garden. I watched until she disappeared among the trees.
I hoped Harry would like it.
At least he ought to know what everything in the box was for.
When I returned to the dining room, Anunu was clearing the dishes. An entire stack of plates floated past before I'd even considered offering to help.
Evelyn noticed me first.
"Oliver, perhaps now you could tell us a little more about Hogwarts?"
I sat down.
"What would you like to know?"
"How you liked living there, for a start."
"It was quite good. Good food, a large library…"
She waited.
"Fairly comfortable beds."
Richard chuckled.
"He's answering exactly what you asked."
"So I see. Tell us about your friends, dear."
That was easier.
I began with Draco and Blaise. I explained that we'd all ended up in Slytherin, though in some respects it would have been hard to find three more different boys.
"Draco is Lucius's son?" Richard asked.
"Yes. I met his parents during the holidays. They helped me look for documents about the estate."
Evelyn wanted to know how they'd received me. I gave a brief account of the visit, mentioning that Narcissa had been very kind.
"And Draco himself?" my grandfather asked.
"He'd probably be happier if Gryffindor ceased to exist."
Frederick laughed.
"Slytherin hasn't changed much."
"There were friendships between houses in our day too," Edmund pointed out.
"There were. Usually when the other pupils weren't looking."
I told them about Blaise, who could watch an argument for half an hour, then make a single remark that left both sides annoyed with him instead.
Then Hermione.
Nathaniel took an interest when I mentioned that she sometimes prepared so thoroughly for lessons that she corrected people before the teacher had finished asking the question.
"A conscientious girl."
"Very. Try telling her she doesn't have to read all the extra textbooks."
"Why shouldn't she?"
I should have expected that.
I also mentioned Harry and Ron, their approach to problems, and the amount of effort Hermione put into keeping them alive.
"It sounds as though she has her work cut out," Richard said.
"You have no idea."
Evelyn listened with a smile.
"I'm glad you have people to spend time with."
"I don't see all of them equally often."
"You don't have to."
Then came the questions about the teachers.
Frederick wanted to know how McGonagall taught Transfiguration. Edmund asked about History of Magic, and Richard reacted to Snape's name.
"I remember Elias mentioning him."
"Their years at school overlapped," Evelyn added.
"I don't recall your father being particularly fond of him."
"That sounds about right."
Richard raised an eyebrow.
"Is he that unpleasant?"
"It depends who you ask. Neville Longbottom might tell you Snape personally invented misery."
Frederick snorted.
"And what do you think?"
"He's good at what he does. He just seems to think everyone else ought to apologise for it."
My grandfather nodded, amused.
"I knew a few teachers like that."
Evelyn waited for us to finish.
"Did anything especially interesting happen?"
I thought about it.
"We had a troll at Halloween."
Richard slowly put down his book. Frederick sat up.
"A mountain troll?"
"Yes."
"Big?"
"Fairly."
Evelyn looked at him before he could ask anything else.
"I'm sorry, dear. What troll?"
"A mountain troll."
"I wasn't asking about the species."
Technically, she had been, but I wasn't going to correct her.
"It got into the castle. The teachers told everyone to go back to their dormitories, but Hermione was in a bathroom and didn't know what was happening. Harry and Ron went to warn her."
"And you?"
"I got there too."
"Oliver."
"It's a long story."
"We have all day."
Frederick looked as though he'd just received a birthday present of his own.
So I told them about the bathroom. About the troll smashing the fixtures and the three first-years who'd ended up far too close to it. I didn't describe every movement, but a few details were enough to wipe the smile from Richard's face.
"Was anyone seriously hurt?"
"No."
"Thanks to you?" Frederick asked.
"I tried to stop it."
"With a spell?"
"With Will."
He leaned forward.
"On a troll?"
"I slowed it down. The teachers immobilised it afterwards."
Frederick considered that.
"With that degree of resistance to magic… Interesting."
"At the moment, I'm less concerned with how difficult it was than with why Oliver had to do it," Evelyn said.
"I didn't have to."
Only when she looked at me did I realise that hadn't been the best answer.
"I wanted to help."
"And you did," Richard said. "But next time, I'd prefer a teacher to arrive before you attempt to stop a troll."
I didn't have a particularly convincing response.
Fortunately, Anunu brought soup.
I'd never been so pleased to see it.
Lunch distracted everyone from the bathroom for a while.
Anunu arranged platters within reach while Richard spoke about his own schooldays. Apparently, he'd once tried to charm a staircase so it would lead straight to his dormitory.
"That sounds useful."
"So I thought."
"What went wrong?"
"It started leading to the kitchens."
Frederick spread his hands.
"I don't see the problem."
"Neither did the teachers at first. Then pupils began disappearing on their way to lessons."
"How long did the spell last?" I asked.
"Three days."
Not bad.
Evelyn sighed.
"Don't encourage him, Richard."
"I'm telling him about my childhood."
"Exactly."
For a while, I listened to stories about old rules, teachers, and duels. Edmund thought banning fights in the corridors was sensible. Frederick disagreed.
Joseph explained that in his day, duelling had only been permitted in designated areas.
"The trouble started when pupils decided the courtyard was designated quite clearly enough."
I'd finished most of my lunch before Evelyn returned to my adventures.
"What else, apart from the troll?"
I put down my fork.
"I found something strange in one of the bathrooms."
Frederick raised his eyebrows.
"Should I ask why all your interesting stories involve bathrooms?"
"Nothing got smashed in this one."
"Progress."
Nathaniel moved his book aside.
"What did you find?"
"A Trace. Something like the echo of an event."
I told them about the shadow in the corridor and how it had led me to a disused girls' bathroom. Nathaniel listened closely. When I mentioned the strands disappearing beneath a sink, he asked me to describe them in more detail.
I couldn't tell whether they were remnants of a spell. It had felt more as though the place itself had held on to something that had happened there.
The echo by the sink had begun to change. An enormous shadow had passed through the room, and for a moment I'd felt the presence of something much larger than a person.
I suspected a connection to the Chamber of Secrets and the basilisk. I didn't say that aloud. I described only what I'd actually seen.
"I didn't see the creature itself. Its shadow, or something it had left behind."
"Did you experience anything else?" Nathaniel asked.
"Fear. But I'm not sure it was mine. For a moment, it felt as though I was experiencing something that had happened to someone else."
He considered that.
"Powerful events can leave complex Traces, particularly those involving death. Did you see a person?"
"No. But I heard water, even though the taps were off."
Nathaniel returned to a few details. I answered as well as I could remember.
"I'd like to examine the place again when I have a better idea of what I'm looking at," I said.
"Let's go over your notes first. We may be able to establish which parts belonged to the same event."
Frederick had a different question.
"Did you try using Will?"
"No. I didn't even know that was what you called it then."
"Just as well," Nathaniel muttered.
Evelyn watched me for a moment.
"How did it end?"
"I left."
She waited.
"My eye bled a little."
Richard closed his eyes.
Nathaniel immediately asked how long it had lasted and whether my vision had been affected. I explained that the bleeding had stopped quickly, but I'd felt tired for a while afterwards, and everything had looked different.
He asked me to bring the notes from that incident next time as well.
Evelyn let out a slow breath.
"Is there a single story from your first year in which you weren't risking your life?"
"I won quite an interesting game of chess once."
Richard immediately looked more hopeful.
"Really?"
"Though Ron Weasley played a much more important one later. On a huge board under the school."
My grandmother was silent for a moment.
"I'm beginning to wish I hadn't asked."
Frederick laughed.
Over dessert, I told them about Quidditch.
I began with Harry making the team in his first year, which interested Richard. Then I moved on to the match and the spell that had nearly thrown him off his broom.
"He stayed on through all of it?" Edmund asked.
"Barely. At one point, he was hanging underneath."
"What were the teachers doing?"
"Snape was trying to help. I could see two spells acting on the broom. One was making it harder for Harry to fly. The other was countering it."
Frederick asked how I'd told them apart. I described the magic I'd noticed around the teachers and how I'd gradually realised they were doing opposite things.
"And Granger set fire to Snape's robes."
Richard raised his eyebrows.
"I beg your pardon?"
"She thought he was the one casting the curse."
Frederick laughed so loudly that Edmund gave him a reproachful look.
"She set a teacher on fire?"
"A bit of his robes."
"A practical approach!"
"Frederick," Evelyn said.
"I'm not endorsing it. I'm saying she acted decisively."
"And mistakenly," Nathaniel added.
"That too."
I remembered Snape putting out the flames.
"He looked particularly unhappy."
"And Harry?" my grandfather asked.
"He caught the Snitch."
"After all that?"
"Yes."
"Impressive."
"Draco didn't think so."
We discussed the match for a little longer before Richard returned to the other spell.
"You said Quirrell was trying to throw him off. Why?"
"He was working for Voldemort."
The silence fell so abruptly that I put down my spoon.
Evelyn glanced at Richard. His eyes stayed on me.
"How do you know that, Oliver?"
"I found out later. During the year, I noticed there was something wrong with him, but I didn't see more until we were in the Forbidden Forest."
"What were you doing there?"
"Detention."
"What for?" Evelyn asked.
"That's a longer story."
"We'll come back to it."
Richard leaned forward slightly.
"What did you see in the Forest?"
"Quirrell drinking unicorn blood."
This time, even Frederick seemed disinclined to comment.
I told them about the dead animal, the figure bent over it, and Harry clutching his scar. I told them about trying to stop Quirrell with Will too.
I didn't hide the fact that it had ended badly.
"How long did you hold him?" Frederick asked.
"Perhaps a second at first. A little longer afterwards. His body was easier to affect than whatever was inside."
"What do you mean?"
"Voldemort. He didn't have a body of his own. He was bound to Quirrell."
It took more explaining before they understood that I wasn't speaking figuratively or describing an ordinary influence over the teacher.
"At the end of the year, we saw that he'd been hiding under Quirrell's turban."
"He was in the school all year?" Evelyn asked.
"Yes."
"And no one realised?"
"Apparently not."
Richard leaned back.
"Elias and Aria told us about that man."
His voice had changed since the story about the cake. For a moment, he gazed at the fireplace.
"Your father would come home with news of more attacks. Aria tried to work out whom they could still trust. Sometimes, they didn't want to talk even here."
"Elias said people were becoming afraid of their own friends," Evelyn added.
I'd read documents and some of the accounts. I knew what the first war had been like.
But for years, Voldemort had been, first and foremost, a character from a book.
They'd heard about him from my father. They'd waited in this house for news from people who might never come back.
Richard looked at me again.
"And you faced him?"
"Harry was with me. Draco ran for help."
"That's not what I'm asking."
"I know."
"You tried to stop him."
"Yes. Firenze arrived afterwards."
Frederick spoke more quietly than usual.
"That resistance you felt. Describe it."
"I could immobilise Quirrell. I couldn't do the same to Voldemort. He didn't push back. He simply wouldn't give."
Frederick fell silent, thinking.
Nathaniel looked interested too, but Evelyn wanted to know how we'd escaped.
"Firenze drew him away from Harry. We went back to school."
"And you?"
"I ended up in the hospital wing."
My grandmother sighed.
"I'm beginning to notice a pattern."
It didn't seem the right moment for a joke.
By the time I reached the Philosopher's Stone, Frederick was no longer content just to listen.
Snape's fire particularly interested him.
"Black flames? And a single dose of potion to get through?"
"Harry drank it."
"So you stayed behind?"
"At first."
Evelyn, who had begun to relax a little, focused on me again.
"I tried to move the fire aside with Will. The whole barrier was too strong, so I concentrated on a small section. I only needed enough room to squeeze through."
Frederick came closer to the frame.
"You weren't dispelling it."
"No. I made the flames occupy a different space for a moment."
I explained how I'd changed my approach after the first attempt. This time, he listened without interrupting.
"A good choice," he said at last.
Evelyn turned towards him.
"I'm not saying going through the fire was sensible," he added quickly. "I mean the method."
"I'm more interested in why he needed to go through at all."
"Harry was on the other side."
"With Quirrell?"
"Yes. I heard a noise. Then I could see that someone had died."
Frederick stepped back from the frame.
"When I reached the chamber, Harry was unconscious. Quirrell was already dead. Voldemort was no longer in his body."
Richard asked a few brief questions. I answered, then told them about Dumbledore's arrival.
"How did he get past the fire?" Frederick asked.
"With one flick of his wand."
He watched me in silence for a moment.
Then he started laughing.
"Very funny," I muttered.
"I can't wait for you to see the funny side of that story yourself. You struggle for every inch of the way, and the Headmaster simply removes the obstacle."
"I haven't reached the part where I find it amusing yet."
"You will."
Evelyn wasn't going to let the conversation end there.
"Did any of the teachers know what you were planning?"
"Harry spoke to McGonagall beforehand. She didn't believe him."
"And after that?"
I looked at her.
"We went on our own."
Richard rubbed a hand over his face.
Frederick shook his head.
"I'm beginning to understand why your Headmaster has so much grey hair."
"I wouldn't give us all the credit."
"Oliver."
"Sorry."
I wasn't sure whether that was for the joke or the rest of the story.
Anunu's cake was far too large for one person.
Twelve candles stood in the centre, surrounded by little sugar owls. One looked so displeased that I immediately thought of Hedwig.
"Anunu made it himself, Master Oliver."
"It looks wonderful."
The elf's ears rose.
Evelyn began singing birthday wishes. Richard joined in a moment later, Frederick at an entirely different speed, and Edmund tried to correct him.
That made things worse.
Nathaniel sang quietly. Joseph smiled as he watched the others.
I sat in front of the cake, listening to several voices that couldn't quite keep together.
It was a dreadful performance.
I didn't mind in the slightest.
At Anunu's signal, I blew out the candles. Frederick began to clap. Edmund opened his mouth, then caught Evelyn's eye and apparently thought better of whatever he'd been about to say.
The elf served me the first slice.
The chocolate layer tasted as good as it looked.
"Have some yourself, Anunu."
He paused with the knife above the cake.
"Anunu, sir?"
"You made it. You should know how it turned out."
He cut himself a small slice and sat on a chair near the table. He ate with obvious satisfaction, apparently finally convinced that the celebration was going according to plan.
Evelyn mentioned that Elias had liked chocolate cake too. Richard asked whether I wanted more tea, though Anunu was the one who immediately jumped up to pour it.
Frederick began a story about a duel that had ended with several broken windows.
Edmund remembered it quite differently.
For the next half hour, no one mentioned Voldemort, trolls, or bleeding eyes.
Good.
By late afternoon, the family began drifting back to their usual occupations. Evelyn asked Anunu to move her portrait to the library. Richard went with her, and Joseph returned to the book he'd already put aside several times that day.
Frederick waited until I'd finished my slice of cake.
"Do you have a little more time?"
"I assume you want to talk about Snape's fire."
"Among other things."
Anunu hung his portrait and Nathaniel's in a small sitting room beside the gallery. I fetched my notebook and sat at a little table.
This time, Frederick wanted the details of the attempt itself. He asked how I'd identified the magic keeping the flames in place and what I'd changed after the first failure.
I answered as well as I could.
Much of what I'd done had been instinctive. It was easier to describe the effect I'd wanted than to explain exactly what I'd altered.
"I didn't understand the whole structure," I admitted. "I just realised I could try affecting a smaller area."
"And that was a useful insight," Frederick said. "We can work on choosing how much of a spell you need to affect."
"First, he should know what he's actually changing," Nathaniel said.
"That too."
"Not merely 'that too'."
Frederick leaned back in his chair.
"Nathaniel, I'm not suggesting we put a wall of fire in front of him tomorrow."
"I know. But you're concentrating on making his intervention more effective. I'm more concerned about how many parts he couldn't identify."
"He won't learn to use Will just by looking."
"And he won't know when to use it unless he understands what he's looking at."
I watched them for a moment.
Frederick wanted me to practise both at once. Nathaniel would rather have kept me working on structures I could examine and describe at leisure first.
They both had a point, and neither intended to surrender the whole afternoon to the other.
"Actually, I wanted to show you something, Nathaniel."
They turned to me.
I opened my notebook at the bookmark.
"The oldest Trace I mentioned yesterday."
Nathaniel moved his book aside.
I held the drawing of the stone closer to his portrait.
"I found it in the Forbidden Forest."
Frederick sighed.
"During that detention?"
"Another time."
"That doesn't make it better."
I explained that I'd gone to examine old Traces near the edge of the Forest. One had been different from the rest. I couldn't date it, but it had seemed far older than anything I'd seen before.
It had led me between the trees, to a shallow hollow surrounded by roots.
Nathaniel went still.
"Was there anything else?"
"A stone. Grey, with a few cracks."
He studied the drawing for a long time.
Frederick glanced at him, but this time said nothing about the silence.
"The Traces formed strange patterns around it," I added. "Some disappeared between the roots. Others curved."
Nathaniel asked about the trees and how far I'd had to climb down. Then he asked me to turn the page.
At last, he leaned back in his chair.
"I know a place very much like this."
I looked up.
"You've been there?"
"More than two hundred years ago. During my research in the Forest, I found a pattern of Traces I couldn't explain. Your description and drawing fit it."
My interest sharpened.
"So we might have seen the same thing?"
"Possibly. Go on."
I consulted my notes.
"I got within a few paces. I was trying to understand the pattern, but at some point the oldest strands began to move."
Nathaniel's gaze stayed on me.
"How?"
"They turned towards me."
Frederick sat up.
"What do you mean?"
"As though they'd noticed me."
Neither spoke for a moment.
Nathaniel asked whether I'd moved or changed my viewing angle.
"No. I was standing still."
"Did you try to influence them with Will?"
"Yes. And then I felt something push back."
"Resistance?" Frederick asked.
"That's what I thought at first. But the harder I pushed, the harder it pushed back. It wasn't like Voldemort. It was as though it was sending whatever I did straight back at me."
Frederick looked at Nathaniel.
"Did you stop?"
"I tried again. I wanted to check whether it was really reacting."
Nathaniel rested a hand on his desk.
"And?"
"My nose and eye bled. Afterwards, I couldn't see out of my left eye for a while."
Frederick stood.
"How long?"
"I don't know exactly. My sight came back gradually."
"Completely?"
"Yes."
He watched me for a moment, as if he wanted to check for himself.
I turned the page.
"There was a dream too."
Nathaniel asked me to tell it from the beginning.
"I dreamt about the same place. The stone, the roots, the hollow. Only there weren't any Traces."
He looked up.
"None?"
"Not one. I couldn't hear anything either. No wind, no animals. Even the leaves were still."
Frederick rested a hand on the arm of his chair.
"And the sky?"
"Black."
For a moment, I could see it as clearly as if I were still there. Darkness above the motionless branches, the stone in front of me, and a silence in which I should have been able to hear at least my own breathing.
"Someone was standing on the other side."
"Who?" Nathaniel asked.
"Me."
Frederick frowned.
"Like a reflection?"
"I checked. I raised my hand. He didn't."
I turned a page, though I didn't need to read it. I remembered this part all too well.
"He just watched me. I tried using Will."
"Even there?" Frederick asked.
"It was a reflex."
"What happened?"
"I was on the other side."
Nathaniel leaned forward slightly.
"You moved?"
"Not exactly. I was looking at myself standing by the stone. Just as I'd been looking at the other Oliver a moment before. Except I couldn't move."
"Were you paralysed?"
"I didn't have a body."
Frederick's fingers stopped moving against the arm of the chair.
"No hands or legs. Not even eyelids. I wanted to look away, and I couldn't."
I paused, searching for the words.
"It didn't feel as though I was choosing where to look. More as though something was looking through me."
The sitting room fell quiet.
Nathaniel didn't ask another question. He waited.
"And then there were words."
"You heard them?"
"There wasn't a voice. I just knew."
I looked at him.
"I see you."
For a few seconds, all I could hear were the distant sounds of the house.
Frederick slowly sat down.
"Did you wake up then?"
"Yes. I checked my eyes. They weren't bleeding. The left one was still sore. When I tried using Will the next day, it started hurting almost at once."
"And your ordinary vision?"
"That was fine."
Nathaniel asked to see the page about the dream. I held the notebook closer and waited for him to read it.
"It could have been an ordinary nightmare," I said. "I'd nearly lost my sight and hadn't been sleeping well. I assumed my mind had used what I remembered."
"It could have been," Nathaniel agreed. "We can't be certain."
I didn't like how little that seemed to reassure him.
"Did you see anything like it?"
"No. The Traces in the place I studied formed unusual patterns, but they didn't react the way you describe. Nor did I have a dream like that."
"So perhaps my eyes—"
"Oliver." He waited until I looked at him. "Don't go back there."
He hadn't raised his voice.
"We don't even know whether it's exactly the same place."
"That's no reason for you to go and investigate it alone."
I glanced at Frederick. This time, he wasn't going to argue with Nathaniel.
"You don't know whether you touched the remnants of old magic or something that's still active," he said. "And you've already experienced the consequences."
"What if it was only reflecting my Will?"
"That's one possibility. We have no reason to choose it simply because it would make going back seem safe."
I looked at the sketch again.
Nathaniel had been there more than two hundred years before me. That alone raised dozens of questions.
Had the stone been in the same place? Had the pattern changed over time? Could something he'd seen as a remnant still—
"Oliver."
Frederick was watching me closely.
"I haven't said anything."
"You didn't have to."
He rested his elbows on his knees.
"A spell may resist you. If something starts responding to what you're doing, and you don't understand how, you stop. Especially when you most want to try again."
It didn't sound like the man who'd watched every one of my experiments with such interest the day before.
"Did you always stop?"
"No. But I encountered things I had no wish to test a second time."
I wanted to ask what.
Apparently, it showed, because he shook his head.
"I'll tell you about them another time. The Forest is enough for today."
Nathaniel pointed to the notebook.
"I can look through my old records. We'll compare descriptions and see what matches. That much we can do without going near the place."
I liked that answer better than a warning alone.
"I'd like to know how long you studied it. And whether you went back."
"We'll discuss it. But I want to be certain you won't treat that information as instructions for another expedition."
I was quiet for a moment.
Then I closed the notebook.
"I won't go back. And I won't test whether it responds to Will again."
Frederick let out a breath.
I hadn't stopped being curious. Not in the slightest.
But if even they didn't know what I'd encountered, there was no reason to assume another attempt would end the same way as the first.
Then I heard Evelyn's voice behind me.
"Oliver?"
I turned.
She stood in the neighbouring portrait, with Richard just behind her.
I didn't know how long they'd been listening.
Judging by her expression, long enough.
"Did you say you lost your sight?"
This time, I didn't try to begin by saying everything had turned out well.
I explained when I'd gone to the Forest, what I'd wanted to investigate, and how long the trouble with my eye had lasted. Evelyn listened without interrupting.
Richard only asked whether any of the teachers had known about the trip.
"No."
He accepted the answer without comment.
My grandmother came closer to the frame.
"I'm glad you told us."
That wasn't what I'd expected.
"I didn't want to worry you."
"I understand. But I don't want you deciding it would be better to keep the next thing like this to yourself."
I looked at her.
For most of the year, I'd had no one in the family I could talk to about my eyes. Now, in a single afternoon, several people had started worrying over every detail.
It was a little awkward.
And probably nicer than I wanted to admit.
"I've already said I won't go back."
"I heard."
Richard nodded.
"And if anything like this happens again, tell us. Even if you're certain it'll pass on its own."
"All right."
Evelyn watched me for another moment, then turned to Frederick.
"And that's enough for today."
"I wasn't going to—"
"Discuss another experiment?"
Frederick closed his mouth.
Nathaniel put his notes aside.
"We have plenty to look into."
"Tomorrow," Evelyn said firmly. "It's still his birthday."
Frederick waited a moment.
"Then tomorrow, we'll start with levitation."
I looked at him.
"Is that a punishment?"
"A promise."
Richard chuckled, and Evelyn declared that even planning the exercises could wait until morning.
Towards evening, Anunu helped me pack the presents.
The chess set took up more room than I'd expected. The elf assured me he'd secured it properly, though a single indignant voice still sounded from the box when he put it in the bag.
Evelyn asked me to come over once more.
"I'm so glad we could celebrate together today."
"Me too, Grandma. Thank you."
"We'll do it again next year."
"I'll try to remember the date this time."
Richard smiled.
"A good start."
I said goodbye to the others. Edmund reminded me to count my money, Nathaniel wished me a peaceful night, and Joseph told me not to worry too much about the family fortune.
"Several generations of us failed to spend it all. I suspect you'll find it no easier."
Edmund gave Frederick a warning look.
Frederick raised both hands.
"I haven't said anything."
Evelyn smiled to herself.
Anunu held out his hand. Before taking it, I looked around the dining room once more.
The flowers, decorations, and the rest of the cake were still on the table. The portraits had already begun talking among themselves. Richard was answering Joseph, Edmund was searching through his book, and Frederick was trying to interest Nathaniel in a remark he had apparently heard before.
One chair stood pulled back from the table.
"Goodnight."
Several voices answered at once.
Three parcels lay on my desk at the orphanage.
They certainly hadn't been there that morning.
"Anunu, did you leave something here?"
"No, Master Oliver."
I stepped closer.
I recognised Draco's handwriting on the first. The second bore Blaise's name. The third, wrapped in plain paper and tied with string, had an exceptionally neat address.
Hermione.
I smiled.
"Someone remembered."
"Will Master Oliver open them?"
"In a moment."
I set my bag on the bed and sat at the desk.
Draco had sent an elegant dark wooden pen with metal ornamentation, along with ink in a small box. The whole thing looked considerably more expensive than letter-writing required.
The enclosed note was brief.
Happy birthday, Peverell.
Since you intend to write to me, I thought you could use the proper equipment. And do try to make your next letter longer than four words.
Draco
I snorted.
"I should have seen that coming."
Anunu examined the pen.
"Very nice, sir."
"Very."
I put it down carefully and reached for Blaise's parcel.
It contained a book on old protective enchantments. The dark binding was worn, and a previous owner had left handwritten notes on some of the pages.
Happy birthday.
I found this in a second-hand bookshop. I thought it might interest you more than another school textbook.
Blaise
I checked the contents page.
He was right.
I opened the book at one of the marked pages and read the first paragraph. It took me a moment to remember there was still a third parcel.
Hermione had chosen Transfiguration theory.
The book was neither particularly old nor rare, but it contained a chapter on precision in transformations that I didn't remember from our school textbook.
Inside was a letter longer than the other two combined.
Hermione wished me a happy birthday, asked about my holidays, listed the books she'd read, and mentioned several things she wanted to discuss in September.
She finished by expressing the hope that I hadn't forgotten my studies altogether.
I shook my head.
If only she knew.
Anunu surveyed the growing pile of presents.
"Is Master Oliver pleased?"
"Very."
The elf smiled broadly and helped me put everything away. Richard's chess set went on the shelf, the pen beside the inkwell, and the books on the desk.
I slipped Evelyn's bookmark into my notebook.
I kept the letters together so I could answer them the next day. Draco's pen ought to do the job, provided I could think of at least five words.
That morning, I'd been eating porridge and listening to an argument over a chair, with no idea it was my birthday.
Now there was hardly any room left on my desk.
I glanced at the empty windowsill. Hedwig hadn't returned yet. I wondered whether Harry had received the parcel and whether he'd know what all the tools were for.
Probably better than I did.
"Anunu?"
The elf turned from the shelf.
"Thank you for today."
He went still, then his ears rose.
"Anunu is very glad Master Oliver had a good birthday."
"A really good one."
He bowed his head.
"Shall Anunu come at the usual time tomorrow?"
"Yes. Frederick's probably preparing the exercises already."
"Master Frederick said everything would be ready."
"I don't doubt it."
A moment later, the elf vanished, leaving me alone with the books.
I spent some time looking through Blaise's present. Then I reread Hermione's letter and Evelyn's short birthday message.
Only afterwards did I open my notebook to the drawing of the stone.
I still wanted to know.
Nathaniel had seen a similar place more than two hundred years ago. That might mean something had survived far longer than I'd suspected. Or perhaps I'd misunderstood what a Trace actually was.
I wrote questions in the space below.
Did Nathaniel return to the stone?
Did the pattern change between visits?
What was in his earliest notes?
For a moment, I stared at the last line.
I remembered the motionless figure in the dream, and not being able to close my eyes.
I put down the pen.
I wasn't going back to the Forest. But I could look for answers at the house, with someone who knew more than I did. Nathaniel had promised to examine his records.
For now, that would have to be enough.
I closed the notebook, slipped the silver bookmark between the pages, and switched off the lamp.
In the dark, the room looked much as it always had. But there were letters on the desk, and my grandfather's chess set stood on the shelf. I thought of Elias trying to levitate a cake, Anunu straightening a napkin, and the family singing at several different speeds.
I smiled.
Next year, I ought to remember my own birthday.
Though I suspected Evelyn would plan it all without me anyway.
I didn't mind.