Nearly two weeks had passed since my birthday.
In that time, no one had tried to kill me, I hadn't lost my sight, and I hadn't ended up in the hospital wing once.
I considered that a reasonably successful start to August.
Frederick didn't share my satisfaction. In his opinion, I was progressing too slowly. Nathaniel thought I ought to spend more time observing, while Evelyn thought they both ought to let me rest more often.
They all had a point.
I didn't tell them that. The last thing I needed was another family discussion about my daily routine.
I usually began with breakfast at the orphanage, then tried to find something to occupy myself until Anunu arrived. After that, we went to the estate. There were books, exercises, and far more conversations waiting for me than I could have imagined a month earlier.
In the evening, I returned.
The next day, it all began again.
A simple arrangement. Except I was increasingly prone to forgetting the last part.
Hedwig returned two days after my birthday.
She landed on the windowsill so forcefully that she nearly knocked over the inkwell beside it, then looked at me as though she'd just completed a particularly gruelling expedition.
"Did you find Potter?"
She hooted.
I checked her over. There was no parcel and no letter, so I assumed the present had reached its destination.
Harry had enough trouble with the Dursleys without worrying about replying. Besides, I hadn't sent him the kit because I expected anything in return.
"Well done."
I stroked her head. She nipped my finger.
Apparently, praise wasn't adequate payment.
Food helped.
The other letters took more work. The day after my birthday, I'd written back to Draco, Blaise, and Hermione.
Draco's pen really was excellent. It didn't scratch the paper or smear the ink, and it looked as though it had cost more than all my previous writing supplies combined.
I told him it worked well, added a few lines about the holidays, and asked whether he intended to do anything besides complain about Gryffindor.
It came to considerably more than four words.
He ought to be pleased.
I thanked Blaise for the book. I mentioned that I'd already read two chapters and that one of the descriptions of a protective spell seemed incomplete.
Three days later, his reply arrived.
I knew you'd start finding fault before you'd finished reading.
Blaise
Beneath that, he'd added:
Apparently, the author wasn't fond of people correcting his work. You should get along.
I smiled.
My reply to Hermione was longer. I wasn't going to describe everything I was doing at the estate, but we could at least discuss Transfiguration. I asked about one of the examples in the book she'd given me.
A few days later, I received three pages, two additional examples, and an explanation of why my question required a clearer distinction between changing an object's shape and changing its properties.
That didn't surprise me.
What did surprise me was that I read the whole thing twice, then took the letter to the family library the following day to check something.
Eventually, Anunu stopped asking where I wanted to begin the day.
If Frederick had prepared exercises, he took me to the practice room. Otherwise, I usually sought out Nathaniel or settled in the library.
Sometimes I stayed in the dining room first, until I'd finished what Anunu considered a proper breakfast. There was no point reminding him that I'd already eaten at the orphanage. He always found a reason to bring something else.
One morning, I walked into the library, set my bag beside the armchair by the window, and took a book from the shelf. A pot of tea stood nearby. I poured myself a cup and sat down.
It was a good fifteen minutes before Richard spoke.
"I see you've found your favourite spot."
His portrait hung near the fireplace.
"The light's good here."
"Your father said the same."
I looked at the chair.
"He sat here too?"
"Often. Especially when he was trying to avoid something he ought to be doing."
"I'm not avoiding anything."
Richard folded his newspaper.
"Frederick doesn't start for another hour today," I added.
"I didn't say you were avoiding Frederick."
I gave my grandfather a suspicious look.
"There's a long tradition in this family of finding excellent reasons to stay in the library a little longer."
"Sounds sensible."
"So I thought."
I returned to my book. Richard opened his newspaper again.
For the next half hour, neither of us spoke.
I didn't mind.
The practice was beginning to pay off.
Unfortunately, Frederick noticed before I did. That gave him more reasons to raise his expectations.
For the first few days, we kept returning to levitation, simple transformations, and sustaining spells. None of it sounded particularly exciting until I began to realise how much of it I'd been doing imprecisely.
Objects floated. Spells worked.
Frederick, however, wasn't satisfied with results alone.
"Again."
The metal disc dropped onto the table.
"I held it for three minutes. It didn't even move."
"You started adjusting the spell towards the end. Why?"
"I thought it was sinking, so I put more magic into it."
"It wasn't sinking."
I looked at the disc.
"I was almost certain."
"Which is why you'll do it again."
I raised my wand. This time, I tried not to correct something simply because I hadn't needed to correct anything for a while.
That proved harder than it should have.
After several attempts, Frederick finally let me put the disc down.
"Better."
"I was hoping for applause, at least."
"Keep five objects in the air at once, and I'll consider it."
"I'll remember that."
"I'm sure you will."
Working with Nathaniel was different. He was less likely to make me repeat the same action, but he could spend half an hour on a detail I would previously have dismissed as unimportant.
It wasn't necessarily more enjoyable.
One day, we spent nearly two hours examining the box. The remnant of an old spell ran almost exactly along the same path as an enchantment that was still active. I knew they were two different things, but it took a long time before I could follow each one separately and point out where they diverged.
Nathaniel asked me to draw both patterns.
"I said they overlapped from the start."
"You did. Now you can show where one ends and the other begins."
It was an irritating argument.
Mostly because he was right.
A few days later, they decided to combine their methods.
Neither thought it necessary to warn me.
When I entered the practice room, their portraits were already hanging side by side, and the familiar metal ring waited on the table.
I stopped in the doorway.
"Should I be worried?"
Frederick raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
"You both look pleased."
"We've prepared an exercise," Nathaniel explained.
"Together?"
He nodded.
"Did someone lose a bet?"
Frederick laughed and pointed to the chair.
I sat down in front of the device. On my first attempt, I'd managed to destabilise it without understanding exactly what I'd affected. I'd examined it several times since.
"This time, you won't change anything until Nathaniel is satisfied that you've identified the relevant parts," Frederick said. "Then you'll try making a small adjustment."
"If you know what you're doing," Nathaniel added.
"As we agreed."
I looked from one to the other.
"You actually discussed this beforehand?"
"Yes," they said together.
Progress.
I focused my right eye on the ring. Faint strands of old spells appeared along the metal, with the structure holding it in position running among them.
Something near the base was new.
"You've changed something."
Frederick smiled.
"Anunu made a few alterations under my direction. Show me which ones."
I pointed to a connection.
"This used to run straight to the ring. There's an extra element here now."
Nathaniel asked me to examine what lay beside it as well.
At first, I could only make out a similar, slightly fainter strand. After a moment, I realised it played no part in the current spell.
"There's a Trace of the earlier version."
"How did you distinguish it?"
I explained, following both structures with my finger. Twice, I had to stop and examine a section again. Frederick remained silent throughout, which was unusual in itself.
At last, Nathaniel leaned back.
"You can go ahead."
Frederick pointed to the altered connection.
"Don't remove it. Loosen it just enough to destabilise the ring for a moment."
I examined the spot again. It looked simple, but I remembered how little that judgement had been worth on my first attempt.
I found where it joined the ring and checked how the magic spread from there.
Then I reached for Will.
I needed neither an incantation nor a wand. I had to impose the change precisely where I wanted it, rather than push against everything I could see.
Loosen.
There was a little resistance. Nothing like Snape's fire.
I pressed harder.
The ring trembled.
A thin strand of light flickered inside it. I held the change for a moment, watching the rest of the structure respond.
A little more, and I could do more.
I could see where the spell was beginning to lose its balance. If I increased the pressure, I could probably force the ring to shift position.
A faint tension developed behind my left eye.
I hesitated, then let go.
The ring returned to its previous state.
Frederick studied the device.
"Why did you stop?"
"I'd done the exercise."
"You could have gone further."
"You told me to change one connection. If I'd pushed harder, I'd have started affecting the others."
He nodded.
"And your eye?"
"A little tired. Really only a little," I added before he could ask.
Nathaniel had me examine the structure again with my right eye. The spell was working as before, but a very faint, fresh Trace remained where I'd interfered.
Mine.
I leaned closer, intrigued.
"Before, I'd probably have tried again. And harder."
"I know," Frederick said.
Nathaniel declared the exercise finished.
I looked up.
"Already? We've only just started."
"You identified the structure, made the change you intended, and stopped at the right moment. That was the task."
"Not every exercise has to end with a broken object," Frederick added.
"None of mine were supposed to."
"Exactly."
They both looked pleased.
I was beginning to feel that way myself.
It was a small change, but this time I'd known what I wanted and achieved it without bleeding or pain. I didn't have to wonder whether my vision was about to deteriorate either.
Frederick noticed my smile.
"Beginning to understand?"
"That I can do very little and everyone will be pleased?"
Nathaniel sighed.
Frederick laughed.
"That precision lets you achieve more with less effort."
"That too."
"Tomorrow, we'll try something harder."
I should have kept quiet.
Evelyn was waiting in the library. When I came in, she put down her knitting.
"How did it go?"
"Well. And before you ask, I stopped before my eye started hurting."
She smiled.
"There you are."
"I suspect Frederick and Nathaniel have come to some sort of arrangement."
"They have. They spent nearly an hour discussing it last night."
I stopped beside the armchair.
"They didn't tell me."
"Frederick thought you'd start asking questions before they'd finished preparing."
"A reasonable assumption."
"Nathaniel said the same."
I shook my head.
A family conspiracy to educate me. I couldn't even complain to anyone, since Evelyn was apparently one of the organisers.
Anunu appeared with a tray.
"Will Master Oliver have lunch?"
"In a moment."
He looked at my grandmother.
"Now, dear."
I was beginning to understand how Elias could have lived here for so many years and still never had the last word.
After lunch, I meant to return to my book, but as I passed a side room, I heard my name.
"It isn't a question of whether the boy has money," Edmund was saying. "He ought to know where it comes from and what obligations come with it."
"I don't disagree," Joseph replied.
"And yet, the other day—"
"The other day, I pointed out that a thousand Galleons wouldn't bankrupt the Peverells."
I cleared my throat.
They both looked towards the door. A table stood in front of their portraits, with several old account books laid out by Anunu.
"Am I interrupting?"
"No, Oliver. We were just discussing you," Joseph said.
"I noticed."
Edmund indicated a chair. For a moment, I considered making for the library after all, but I sat down.
"I'd like you to learn more about managing the family's assets."
"I've already been going through documents at Gringotts."
"A good start. But a record of ownership isn't the same thing as day-to-day management. Open the book with the red bookmark."
I pulled it closer and found the page. It listed expenses for maintaining the estate. Further on were records of investments, some more than a century old.
"Is this still up to date?"
"No. Which is why you shouldn't rely solely on old documents."
Joseph smiled.
"Edmund wants to show you how much work went into preserving the fortune. Not every decision we made was a good one."
Edmund gave him a suspicious look.
"Joseph."
"It's perfectly normal. The question is whether we learned anything."
"I wasn't going to list your mistakes."
"Good."
I turned the page. Repairs, materials, the renewal of wards. Someone had added brief notes beside certain amounts, describing the work.
"Anunu takes care of most things in the house now?"
"Yes," Edmund replied. "But you need to know which wards require attention, and when. Some need regular maintenance. Others have lasted for centuries, but their condition still needs checking."
Joseph pointed to the open book.
"The records help establish what was done and why, even if the expense itself is long out of date."
That made sense.
I wanted to learn more about the other properties too, but on the next page I spotted an entry for a land purchase.
I looked at Edmund.
"No," he said at once.
"I haven't said anything."
"You don't need to."
"I only wanted to ask whether we still own that swamp."
Joseph burst out laughing.
Edmund pointed to the cover.
"You can close the book. That's enough for today."
"We are discussing investments."
"Oliver."
Still amused, I closed it.
"Come back tomorrow," Joseph said. "We'll show you some more recent accounts."
"I'd like that."
"And no questions about the swamp," Edmund added.
"I can't promise that."
I left before he could answer.
Nathaniel hadn't forgotten the Trace in the Forbidden Forest.
The next day, I found him poring over an index of family documents. On the table before his portrait lay the folders Anunu had found at his request.
"Any luck?"
"Not much yet. I have several references to research around Hogwarts, but I haven't found an account that would let us compare the two places."
I pulled up a chair.
"But you remember the stone."
"I remember a place that resembles your drawing. I'd like to check the details before we decide it's the same one."
"Did you go back?"
"To the Forest, many times."
"To the stone."
He considered it.
"I couldn't tell you how often I visited that area. That's why we need the records."
It wasn't the answer I'd hoped for, but at least he wasn't dismissing the question.
"And the dream?"
"Nothing I've found so far explains it."
I looked at the folders.
So we still didn't know.
Nathaniel watched me for a moment.
"I'm not going back to the Forest," I said before he could ask. "You can stop looking at me like that."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
"In that case, you can help here. We need to sort out the dates. Some entries refer to my observations, others to older works I cited."
I opened the first folder. The page held a long list of names, titles, and references.
"This will take a while."
"Probably."
I sighed and reached for my pen.
Nathaniel waited until I had a clean sheet ready, then pointed to the first entry.
For the next hour, I copied dates, compared titles, and discovered several times that two differently worded references led to the same work.
It wasn't particularly fascinating.
On the other hand, nothing tried to look at me from the other side of my own eye.
A definite advantage.
That afternoon, I returned to the library, though not for a book.
A few days earlier, I'd brought Richard's chess set over from the orphanage. Carrying it back and forth every day made no sense, so Anunu had found it a place on the little table by the fireplace. My grandfather had already asked several times whether I intended to use it.
"Grandad?"
He looked up from his newspaper.
"Fancy a game?"
He put the paper aside at once.
"Of course."
I unfolded the board and opened the box. The pieces moved into position, though one rook stopped on the wrong square.
I tapped the board.
"There."
It moved reluctantly.
Richard laughed.
"That one's always been stubborn."
"That particular rook?"
"Yes."
"How long have you had it?"
"Longer than I'd care to admit."
I positioned the board where he could see it clearly and sat down. He couldn't touch the pieces, but giving instructions was enough. Occasionally, he had to repeat himself; not all of them were equally willing to take orders from a portrait.
"You're first."
I looked at the white pawns.
"E4."
A pawn advanced two squares.
"C5," Richard replied almost at once.
I looked up.
"Really?"
"Something wrong?"
"No."
Apparently, he wasn't going to make this easy.
Good.
A dozen or so moves later, I was less pleased about that.
He hadn't done anything spectacular. He simply kept taking away my options. Whenever I tried to seize the initiative, it turned out he'd been waiting for it.
"Staring won't change the position," he observed.
"I'm thinking."
"Good."
"Could you stop smiling?"
"I could."
He didn't.
I told my knight to move to the square I'd chosen. Richard studied the board.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
A few moves later, I lost my queen.
I watched the opposing piece drag her off the board.
"That was underhanded."
"It was."
"You shouldn't look so pleased."
"Why not?"
"I'm your grandson."
"Exactly."
I kept trying for a few more minutes. Eventually, I was left with a king, a rook, and a handful of pawns.
Richard announced mate in three.
I checked the position.
He was right.
"I hate you."
"You're not the first to tell me that."
I resigned before the pieces could give him any more reasons to be pleased.
"You played well," he said.
"I lost."
"The two aren't mutually exclusive."
"That sounds like something the person who just won would say."
"Probably."
I began setting the pieces up again.
"Did you play like this with Elias?"
"Yes."
"Did he lose too?"
"Often, at first. Then he learned patience."
"And started winning?"
"Occasionally."
I gave him a look.
"Not very convincing."
Richard smiled.
"Your father had many talents, but at chess he enjoyed risky ideas more than flawless play."
"I understand."
"It didn't always pay off."
"I understand that too."
He watched me with amusement for a moment.
"That's where you remind me of him most."
I didn't answer straight away.
I suspected he wasn't only talking about chess. On the other hand, I wasn't going to invite another lecture on risk.
"At least I didn't try imposing my Will on your pieces today."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Did it cross your mind?"
"No."
He looked at me.
"Almost."
He laughed.
Evelyn's voice came from the neighbouring painting.
"Richard, I hope you aren't going to keep him here all afternoon."
My grandmother came closer to the frame.
"We're playing chess."
"I can see that. How did he do?"
"Quite well."
She examined the board, where I hadn't yet finished replacing all the pieces.
"Did you just play one of those games against your twelve-year-old grandson where the whole thing is a trap from the first move?"
"Chess is about anticipating your opponent's moves."
"When you play, it's usually about annoying them for an hour."
I gestured towards my grandmother.
"Exactly."
Richard sighed.
"Betrayal."
"Elias used to complain about it too," Evelyn added.
"Your father generally complained when he lost."
"He must have inherited that from someone."
Richard turned to her.
"Evelyn."
"Yes, dear?"
I went back to arranging the pawns.
I wasn't taking sides until I'd found out which of them won more often.
I played better in the second game.
I still lost, but at least this time I saw the approaching checkmate before my grandfather felt the need to point it out.
We began a third. A few moves in, Evelyn called for a break, and Anunu brought tea and biscuits.
I ate two.
Then a third.
"You don't have to finish them all," my grandmother remarked.
"Tell Anunu."
The elf straightened by the door.
"Master Oliver does not have to!"
Richard laughed.
I was beginning to suspect that was Anunu's favourite answer. It allowed him to agree with me while continuing to bring exactly as much food as he thought necessary.
We talked for a while. Evelyn asked whether I'd replied to my friends, so I told her about Hermione's and Blaise's letters.
Richard took an interest in the book on old protective enchantments.
"Bring it next time. I might recognise the author."
"I can't promise you liked him."
"I didn't have to like everyone I knew."
"Frederick seems to find that harder."
"Frederick mostly liked people who agreed with him about magic."
"That must have severely limited his company."
"More than he'd care to admit."
I didn't notice how late it had grown.
Only when the clock above the door chimed did I realise it was the time I usually began getting ready to leave. I looked at the clock, then at the unfinished game.
"I suppose I ought to go."
Evelyn glanced at the time too.
"Will you be here at the usual time tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"Anunu will make you something nice for breakfast."
"Grandma, I have breakfast at the orphanage."
"I know."
She didn't seem to think that mattered.
Richard looked at the board.
"We'll finish in the morning."
"You're not going to move the pieces while I'm gone?"
"Oliver."
He looked genuinely offended.
"Just asking."
"They'll stay where they are."
"I'm holding you to that."
I said goodbye and headed for the hall.
Anunu waited by the stairs.
"Is Master Oliver ready?"
"I think so."
"Has Master Oliver forgotten something?"
I checked my bag. Notebook, wand, a few books for the evening. Everything else was in the library.
"No."
"Anunu will have everything ready tomorrow."
"You don't have to. I know where everything is now."
The elf's ears twitched.
"Anunu knows, Master Oliver."
I looked at him, but he merely held out his hand.
I took it.
It was already dark outside the orphanage window.
I put down my bag and switched on the lamp. The room looked as it always did: bed, wardrobe, desk, a few books. Hedwig wasn't on the windowsill. She'd probably stayed at the estate.
I unpacked my bag and looked for the book I'd intended to read.
It wasn't there.
After a moment, I remembered leaving it on the little table in the library.
Beside the chessboard.
I sighed.
I had two textbooks, though. No reason to make a fuss.
I sat on the bed, opened one, and read a few pages. Then my eyes drifted to the spot where the box of chess pieces had stood.
I could have brought it back.
But what for?
We played in the library. There was a suitable table, Richard had a good view of the board, and Anunu knew not to disturb the unfinished game.
I turned the page.
We were going to finish it in the morning. Then there was Frederick's exercise, the dates in Nathaniel's documents, and the newer accounts Joseph had promised to show me. I also wanted to ask Edmund about the Peverells' land.
Not just the swamp.
There was plenty to do.
I put down the textbook and switched off the lamp.
Tomorrow, I'd go back.
Like every day.