I couldn't sleep.
For the first half-hour, I tried to ignore the uncomfortable mattress. Then I started on the pillow. I turned it over, propped it higher, then lowered it again. Each time, I had a few seconds of thinking I'd finally found the right position.
Footsteps came from the corridor. Someone opened the next room, exchanged a few quiet words with someone inside, and shut the door. A moment later, a floorboard creaked.
I checked the time. Past midnight.
I put the pillow down and lay on my back.
The book I'd forgotten to bring was waiting in the library. Our unfinished chess game was still on the table. Richard had probably left his portrait by now, but tomorrow he would be back, pretending he took no particular pleasure in the position of my pieces.
I smiled to myself. Then a mattress spring dug into my shoulder blade.
I shifted.
At the estate, I had my own bedroom. A large bed, a proper desk, a wardrobe, and a bathroom I didn't have to queue for. Beyond the door was an entire house full of books, portraits, and relatives who had apparently decided to take an interest in my life whether I asked them to or not.
Anunu made breakfast for me there every day. Hedwig was spending more and more nights there. Most of the things I used had already found their way into the house as well.
I was coming back here just to sleep.
And I wasn't even managing that particularly well.
For a while, I stared at the ceiling.
Why did I keep coming back?
I knew the answer. It was in a folder in my desk drawer, and it ran to seventeen pages.
As long as I remained in the orphanage's care, I couldn't change my permanent residence on my own. Daytime visits to the family estate were permitted. Moving in meant sorting out the question of guardianship.
The witch at the Ministry had explained it very thoroughly. Apparently, she'd thought I might fail to appreciate the word "no" the first time.
I could find an adult wizard willing to become my guardian, submit an application, and go through the necessary procedure. But I had no desire to hand someone the right to make decisions about my life just so I could be allowed to live in my own home.
And I was too young for the alternative arrangement under institutional supervision.
I rolled onto my side.
I wasn't going to pretend moving out would cause no trouble. The orphanage would notice I was missing. The Ministry might hear about it too.
I just didn't know what they could actually do to me.
I had a safe home, money, food, and a family determined to make sure I didn't die of starvation, overwork, or the lack of a warm jumper.
I didn't consider all those threats equally likely.
I checked the time again.
Nearly one.
There were still several hours until morning. I could just as easily spend them in my own bed.
I sat up.
"Anunu?"
There was a quiet crack. The elf appeared beside the bed, as neatly dressed as ever. He looked at me, then at the clock.
"Does Master Oliver need something?"
"Yes. We're moving."
Anunu blinked.
"Home, sir?"
"Yes."
"Now?"
"Now."
The elf studied me.
"Will Master Oliver be staying the night?"
"For good."
For several seconds, he said nothing. His ears slowly rose.
"Master Oliver will be living at home?"
"I've changed my mind about coming back here every evening."
Anunu straightened abruptly.
"Anunu will get everything ready!"
"You don't need to prepare the whole house. I just want to take my things."
"Of course, Master Oliver!"
The wardrobe doors swung open without a sound. Before I could get up, clothes were piling themselves on the bed.
"Easy. We don't have to rush."
"Anunu knows, sir!"
Judging by how quickly he was emptying the shelves, that knowledge had little effect on his behaviour.
I took the folder from my desk drawer, checked its contents, and added a few loose sheets. Then I gathered the textbooks, notebooks, and supplies I hadn't yet moved to the estate.
Anunu packed my clothes with the sort of concentration Frederick expected from me during practice.
"The pillow too, sir?"
"No."
The elf gave it a suspicious look.
"Anunu can take it."
"I know. But we have better ones."
He accepted that with visible relief and peered under the bed.
"There is a sock."
"Mine?"
"Yes, sir."
"Are you sure?"
Anunu picked it up and examined both sides.
"Almost sure."
"Leave it, then."
Packing took less time than I'd expected. Once Anunu closed the last bag, I went around the room, checking the drawers.
Bed, wardrobe, desk. The room looked much as it had before.
For years, I'd had very few things here I could call my own. Now that I finally had more of them, I preferred keeping most of them somewhere else anyway.
I didn't leave a letter.
I couldn't think of anything to write that would explain the situation without prompting questions about things I couldn't tell them. "I'm safe" was unlikely to satisfy people responsible for a twelve-year-old who had vanished in the middle of the night.
I knew they would look for me. I picked up my bag anyway.
"Ready?"
"Yes, Master Oliver."
"Let's go."
I took the elf's outstretched hand.
The bedroom was pleasantly cool.
Anunu lit a small lamp. I put my bag beside the desk, and the rest of my things appeared by the wardrobe.
"We'll unpack in the morning."
"Of course, Master Oliver."
The elf glanced at the bags.
"Anunu."
"Yes, sir?"
"In the morning. I mean it."
His ears drooped a little.
"Anunu understands."
I changed and got into bed. The mattress gave comfortably beneath my back. The sheets smelled fresh, and I could hear the trees rustling through the partly open window.
Anunu adjusted the lamp on the bedside table.
"Will Master Oliver be needing anything else?"
"No. Thank you."
The elf hesitated by the door.
"Anunu is very glad Master Oliver has come home."
I looked at him.
"So am I."
He smiled, bowed, and vanished.
I put out the light. I meant to spend a little while thinking about what I would do in the morning.
I never got that far.
I woke later than usual.
For a moment, I couldn't work out why the light was coming through the window at the wrong angle. Then I recognised the canopy above the bed and remembered the move.
I smiled.
Nine thirty-seven.
I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept that long.
After washing, I looked in the wardrobe. My clothes were already put away, the bags had disappeared, and my notebooks sat in a neat stack on the desk.
I'd told Anunu to wait until morning. Apparently, he hadn't thought that meant waiting for me as well.
The only thing I couldn't find was my folder.
I checked the desk and the spot where I'd left my bag. The elf had probably put it somewhere else while unpacking. I would ask him at breakfast.
I got my answer when I reached the stairs.
"…isn't a question of whether the estate belongs to him!" Edmund was saying. "Of course it does! That doesn't change his legal position!"
"At least he hasn't bought a swamp this time," Frederick remarked.
I stopped.
"Are you capable of taking anything seriously?"
"Certainly. I believe the boy should live in his own home."
"He's twelve!"
"I know. I was at his birthday."
Edmund's sigh carried all the way into the corridor.
So they knew already.
The conversation stopped almost as soon as I entered the drawing room. Richard and Evelyn occupied the portraits beside the fireplace. Further along, I spotted Frederick, Nathaniel, Edmund, and Joseph.
My papers were spread across the table. Anunu stood in front of one of the frames with a sheet in his hands.
"Ah," I said.
Edmund looked at me as though he had just found the person responsible for an expensive bookkeeping error.
"Oliver."
"Good morning."
"Good morning, darling," Evelyn replied.
"Congratulations on the move," Frederick added.
"Thank you."
"Frederick!"
"What? Someone ought to welcome him."
Anunu put the sheet down and bowed to me.
"Did Master Oliver sleep well?"
"Very."
The elf's ears rose in satisfaction.
Edmund indicated a chair.
"Sit down, please."
I took a seat at the table. Anunu immediately set a cup of tea before me and disappeared to fetch breakfast.
"Are you aware that you cannot change your permanent residence on your own?" Edmund asked.
"Yes."
"And yet you've moved here for good? Without obtaining permission?"
"Yes."
He waited, as though expecting me to add something.
"You spoke to the Ministry official. You were given the regulations. You have it all in writing."
"That's right."
"And you decided you could simply pack your things and leave?"
"I didn't decide I could."
Edmund frowned.
"What?"
"I knew I couldn't. I decided it was worth it anyway."
Frederick laughed, and Richard rubbed his forehead.
"Oliver," Evelyn said. "Why did you do it in the middle of the night?"
"I couldn't sleep."
"So you moved house?" Joseph asked.
"That wasn't the only reason."
I drew my cup closer.
"I spend practically the whole day here. I practise, read, talk to all of you. Most of my things were already here. Last night, I went back to the orphanage, lay down, and spent an hour wondering why I was sleeping on an uncomfortable mattress when I had my own bed waiting here."
"Because you are still in their care," Edmund reminded me.
"I know. But remembering the regulations didn't make the mattress any more comfortable."
Richard lowered his gaze. Frederick made no such effort.
Evelyn waited for him to stop laughing.
"I understand that you want to live here. We want that too. But you should have spoken to us first."
"I had a fair idea what you'd say."
"That is not an argument."
Perhaps not. It was a reason, though.
I kept that to myself.
"The orphanage will notice you're gone," Richard said. "They may report you missing."
"I expect so."
"And if it reaches the Ministry?"
"That's why I'd like to know what the consequences might be."
Edmund glanced at the folder.
"It would have been wiser to find out before you left."
"It'll still be useful now."
Nathaniel settled back in his painted armchair.
"You have neither a magical guardian nor a representative who could deal with this on your behalf."
"And I don't want to choose some stranger just so they can give me permission to live here."
"Anunu cannot fill that role," Joseph pointed out.
The elf, who had just returned with a tray, stopped in his tracks.
"Anunu can look after Master Oliver!"
"In practice, certainly," Joseph replied gently. "But the regulations specify an adult wizard."
"Anunu is an adult."
"I don't doubt it."
"And Anunu is magical."
Joseph hesitated.
"However, you are not a wizard within the meaning of the Act."
The elf regarded him with clear disappointment.
"It is a very foolish Act, Master Joseph."
"At last, someone sensible," Frederick declared.
Anunu set a plate before me. Eggs, bread, and various accompaniments covered almost the entire surface.
"That's quite a lot."
"Master Oliver has not had breakfast yet."
"True."
"Anunu remembered what Master Oliver likes."
I smiled at him.
"Thank you."
Evelyn watched for a moment as the elf moved my cup within easier reach.
"Did you really sleep that well?" she asked.
I looked up from my plate.
"Brilliantly. I haven't slept that well in ages."
She studied me more closely.
"And at the orphanage?"
"There's always some noise at night. Someone walking about, talking, shutting doors. And then there's the mattress… I got used to it, but here I fell asleep straight away and didn't wake up until morning. I can't even remember the last time that happened."
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she turned to the others.
"Oliver is staying."
Richard slowly turned his head.
"Evelyn."
"Yes, darling?"
"A moment ago, you were saying he should have spoken to us first."
"And I still think so."
"Then…"
"A moment ago, I didn't know my grandson wasn't getting a decent night's sleep at the orphanage."
Richard regarded her for a moment.
"That doesn't change the regulations."
"Of course not. Which is why we need to find a solution."
"And until then?"
"Until then, he will sleep in his own bed."
Frederick covered his mouth. Edmund noticed and abandoned whatever he had been about to say.
"We cannot simply decide the problem has gone away," he said instead.
"I'm not suggesting that," Evelyn replied. "I'm suggesting we deal with it here."
I looked at Richard. He raised his eyebrows slightly and reached for his painted teacup.
Apparently, he had no intention of arguing with his wife about where her grandson ought to sleep.
After breakfast, Anunu arranged the pages in order. I moved my chair so I could show the documents to Edmund and Joseph without constantly getting up.
"These regulations cover care arrangements," Joseph said after examining the first few sheets. "There is no full account here of what happens when a minor leaves an institution of his own accord."
"Because I asked whether I could live at home. Not what would happen if I did it after being told no."
"At least you didn't give the office advance warning," Frederick muttered.
Edmund ignored him.
"We need the current enforcement regulations. We must establish who has the authority to make a decision and what means they have of enforcing it."
"And perhaps something else," said a voice from the doorway.
Anunu was carrying a small portrait in a dark wooden frame. It depicted a man in an elegant, high-collared robe, his dark hair touched with grey.
The elf set the portrait on a stand.
"Master Arthur asked to be brought here."
The man inclined his head to me.
"Arthur Peverell."
"Oliver."
"I gathered."
He smiled slightly.
"I hear you've decided to revive the family tradition of making trouble for the authorities."
"I didn't know we had that tradition."
"We have many traditions. Not all of them made it into the family chronicles."
Frederick snorted.
"Joseph mentioned that you were looking through the guardianship regulations," Arthur continued. "Have you also consulted the Founders' Act?"
Edmund frowned, and I turned towards the new portrait.
"The what?"
"The Act on the Rights and Guarantees of the Founders of the Ministry of Magic. Seventeen hundred and seven."
The name sounded familiar. I had already come across references to founders' privileges in the family records, but until now I'd been more interested in the provisions concerning the estate and our assets.
"What does that have to do with moving house?"
"Potentially, quite a lot."
"It is an old Act protecting the rights of the founders," Edmund said. "Not a set of guardianship regulations."
"Indeed. I sat on the Wizengamot for well over a decade, and I don't recall ever having to choose just one Act relevant to the matter before us."
Edmund pressed his lips together.
Arthur looked back at me.
"Do you know who Benedict Peverell was?"
"One of our ancestors. He lived around the turn of the eighteenth century."
"And he was one of the Ministry's founders. He paid one ninth of the approved cost of constructing, furnishing, and securing its headquarters."
I stared at him for a moment.
"One ninth?"
"Yes."
I tried to imagine the sum involved, then decided that without a second figure—which I probably didn't want to know either—it was a pointless exercise.
Joseph seemed pleased with my reaction.
"Benedict had a considerable fortune. He thought the new institution was worth the expense."
"But he made sure there were terms," Arthur added. "The founders were helping to create an authority that would later govern them. They wanted their families' property and rights protected."
"Including the right to live in their own homes?"
"If I remember correctly, the Act granted even an underage heir the right to reside in the protected family seat. It also restricted the Ministry administration's power to order their forcible removal."
I sat up straighter.
Edmund no longer looked irritated either.
"That required an order from the Wizengamot," he said slowly.
"Precisely."
"So they can't just order me to go back?"
"First, we need to check whether the provision still stands in that form," Arthur replied. "I remember the Act as it was in my day. We need the current text and confirmation of the family's rights."
Joseph looked at me.
"Fancy another visit to the Ministry?"
A few minutes earlier, I hadn't.
Now I reached for a clean sheet of parchment.
"Tell me exactly what to ask for."
I entered the Ministry through the telephone box on Whitehall.
This time, I bypassed the office responsible for underage wizards and went to the archives. I wasn't going to ask permission for something I'd already done.
I wanted documents.
The witch behind the desk listened as I read out the list we'd prepared.
"Regulations governing the enforcement of care orders?" she repeated, peering at me over her glasses.
"Yes. And those concerning offences committed by minors."
"What do you need them for?"
"To establish my legal position."
It wasn't a lie. She didn't seem especially interested in the details either.
"Anything else?"
"The Act on the Rights and Guarantees of the Founders of the Ministry of Magic, seventeen hundred and seven. The current text, a list of amendments, and an extract from the founders' register concerning the Peverells."
This time, she put down her quill.
"The Founders' Act?"
"Yes."
"We don't get many requests for that."
"That's probably a good thing. Less wear on the original."
For a moment, she looked at me blankly. Then she reached for another form.
To obtain the extract from the register, I needed to prove my entitlement. I handed her the certified copy from Gringotts. She checked the name and seal, then looked at me again without comment.
"Please take a seat."
I sat against the wall.
For the next fifteen minutes or so, I watched documents travelling between desks. Some were carried by officials; others flew over their heads unaided. One bundle returned to the same person three times.
I wondered whether a single spell might simplify the process.
Someone would probably have to authorise its use first.
In writing.
The witch returned with several bundles of parchment. She listed their contents, then placed a copy of the Founders' Act in front of me.
Beneath the Ministry seal was the year 1707.
"Is this the full text currently in force?" I asked.
"Yes. It incorporates all approved amendments. You'll find a list of them at the back."
I checked that the register extract was included. Benedict Peverell's name appeared on its first page.
I paid, put the documents away, and thanked her.
No one stopped me. As far as the archive staff were concerned, I was a boy who had requested copies, provided the necessary proof, and paid the fee.
I emerged onto Whitehall in a much better mood.
When I returned, Arthur, Edmund, and Joseph were waiting in a small study. Anunu had prepared a large table. Once I emptied my bag, it no longer seemed excessive.
"Is that everything?" Joseph asked.
"One more."
I took out the last bundle. Edmund looked it over approvingly.
"At least you've obtained the right material."
"I'm beginning to think that's the closest I'll get to a compliment today."
"Don't exaggerate. Let's read."
We began with the register. Benedict's name was there, along with his contribution to the cost and recognition of his lawful successors as beneficiaries of the founders' guarantees.
Then I unfolded the Act itself. Anunu moved Arthur's stand closer to the table, and I slid each page into position so he could read it.
"Article Three," he said after a while.
I found the passage.
The lawful heir of a founder shall have the right to enter, reside in, and make use of the family seat protected under this Act.
Below it, the text stated that the right extended to underage heirs and could not be restricted solely on grounds of age.
I read that second sentence again.
"I like it so far."
"The next paragraph," Arthur reminded me.
The exercise of this right of residence shall not, of itself, confer full legal capacity or alter any existing guardianship or care arrangement.
I leaned back.
"So I'm still in the orphanage's care."
"Formally, yes," Joseph replied. "This provision doesn't change that."
"But it does give you the right to be here," Arthur added. "Now read Article Four."
I bent over the parchment.
No administrative body of the Ministry may, by its own order, deprive a lawful heir of access to a protected family seat, direct the heir's forcible removal, or assume control of its wards.
The next paragraph required an order from the Wizengamot, issued after consideration of the legal grounds and circumstances of the case.
This time, I smiled without reservation.
"So an official can't simply order me to be moved back."
"Correct," Arthur said. "That is exactly what the Act protects you against."
Edmund asked me to show him the rest.
"There is an exception for an immediate threat to life or health."
I read it. It permitted necessary rescue action, subject to prompt review by the Wizengamot.
"A fire, part of the house collapsing, something like that?" I asked.
"For example," Arthur replied. "Protecting the family seat is not meant to prevent anyone from rescuing its occupants."
"And my age?"
"Age alone is not enough. Otherwise, the guarantee for underage heirs in the previous article would be meaningless."
Edmund nodded, but asked for the intervention regulations.
The next hour was considerably less enjoyable.
The Founders' Act had the advantage that I could at least understand most of its sentences on the first reading. The other documents frequently referred to clauses that referred to yet more clauses. Several times, I had to go back to the beginning to remind myself what I was looking for.
Edmund managed far better.
It never ceased to amaze me. Someone could genuinely take pleasure in finding the right subparagraph.
At one point, I found a provision on unlawfully assuming the care of a minor and handed it to Anunu to show the others.
"This concerns someone who removes a child from their existing carer and takes charge of them," Edmund said.
"And no one took me away."
"Anunu brought Master Oliver," the elf offered.
"Because I told you to. You didn't appoint yourself my guardian."
Anunu looked as though he would have done so on the spot if it would help.
Joseph examined the text again.
"This provision doesn't cover his situation. Let's try the next."
We read on.
Moving house without permission did not appear in the list of more serious offences committed by minors. The regulations governing wands and education provided no grounds for expelling me from Hogwarts or confiscating my wand over it either.
I hadn't expected Azkaban for a change of address, but it was reassuring to discover that the law shared my view.
Proceedings concerning my care were still possible. The Ministry could investigate my situation, gather information, and seek to regularise it. But I found nothing allowing an ordinary official to disregard the founders' guarantees and order my forcible return on their own authority.
I showed Arthur the last passage.
He read it, then looked at Edmund.
"Do you agree?"
Edmund was silent for a moment.
"Yes. They cannot use an ordinary administrative order to remove him from a protected family seat."
I felt my shoulders relax.
I hadn't even noticed how tense I'd been for the past hour.
"So if someone came here and told me I had to go back…"
"They could try to persuade you," Arthur replied. "They could call you in to explain yourself. But if they wanted to have you forcibly relocated, they would need a ruling from the Wizengamot."
"And I could put my case to them?"
"You have that right. Article Six expressly includes underage heirs."
I ran a finger along the edge of the page.
Until now, regulations had been something a witch at the Ministry put in front of me to explain why I couldn't do what I wanted. For the first time, I had a document that placed limits on her as well.
Or on whoever took over my case.
"Do not mistake this for a guarantee of a favourable ruling," Edmund said, watching me closely. "The Wizengamot may still find grounds to intervene."
"I understand."
"Do you really, this time?"
I looked at him.
"They can't settle it with one official's signature. If they take it further, we'll have a dispute I need to prepare for."
Edmund nodded.
"Exactly."
"What arguments do I have besides the Act?"
Joseph began counting them off on his fingers.
"A home of your own, adequate means, suitable living conditions. You're continuing your education. You have Anunu's help."
"Who is still not a legal guardian," Edmund added.
"But his presence matters when considering whether Oliver is entirely on his own," Arthur pointed out.
The elf straightened beside the table.
"Master Oliver is not alone."
For a moment, no one spoke.
"No," Joseph agreed. "He isn't."
I looked at the three portraits and Anunu standing beside me. Ministry forms probably didn't have a box for a family like this.
Their problem.
I returned to the copy.
Benedict had spent a fortune helping to establish an institution, but he'd made sure his successors wouldn't have to rely entirely on the goodwill of the people it employed.
The more I thought about it, the more I approved.
"What are you so pleased about?" Arthur asked.
"Benedict spent his money well."
Joseph chuckled.
"It was an enormous sum," Edmund reminded me.
"And nearly three hundred years later, it's still proving useful."
"I would prefer it not to be necessary under these circumstances."
"Personally, I think it was an excellent investment," Frederick said from the portrait beside the door.
I hadn't noticed him arrive.
Edmund didn't even turn his head.
"Of course you do."
By the time we finished, it was late afternoon.
I put the documents into a separate folder. The Founders' Act and confirmation of the family's rights went at the top.
I meant to get another copy made. This document deserved better than being lost among my Transfiguration notes.
"What now?" Joseph asked.
"I'd like something to eat."
"I meant your plans."
"That's the most urgent one."
Arthur smiled, but Edmund stopped me before I could leave.
"Oliver. This does not settle the matter of the orphanage."
"I know."
"We don't know when someone in the magical world will hear about it."
I looked at the closed folder.
I had no desire to spend the rest of the holidays explaining to officials why I preferred my own home to a bed at the orphanage. But I wasn't going back just to avoid that conversation.
"If they get in touch, at least I'll know what questions to ask."
Edmund studied me for a moment, then nodded.
"Keep every letter you receive."
"I will."
For now, it was enough to know that no official could settle the matter with a single order. We would deal with whatever came next when it arrived.
Preferably not before lunch.
Later, Anunu helped me sort out the remaining odds and ends, though it soon became clear that he'd left me very little to do.
My clothes were in the wardrobe. My school supplies occupied a desk drawer. The quill from Draco lay beside a notebook, and the books from Blaise and Hermione had found a place on the shelf.
I moved a few things so they would be easier to reach. Anunu watched every adjustment closely.
"Will Master Oliver need more shelves?"
"Not yet."
"A larger desk?"
I looked at the surface, which could easily have held another three folders.
"This one will do."
"Anunu could also…"
"If I need anything, I'll tell you."
"Of course, Master Oliver."
I looked around the room. The walls were a little bare. Some of the books would probably move again, along with my Hogwarts things.
I had time to work out where I wanted everything.
What I liked most was the empty bag Anunu had put at the bottom of the wardrobe. I didn't have to fill it with things I'd need that evening or wonder what I was going to forget this time.
"Good work," I said.
The elf's ears rose.
"Thank you, Master Oliver!"
That evening, I returned to the library.
Richard was waiting in the portrait beside the chessboard. The pieces stood exactly where we had left them the previous day.
I examined the position.
"I see you kept your word."
"Of course."
"I had to check."
"If you suspect me of cheating every time you lose, our games will become rather tiresome."
"I haven't lost this one yet."
Richard looked at the board.
"That's true."
Something in the way he said it made me sit down and take another look at my pieces.
The position didn't look bad. I was even a pawn up.
Then I remembered how willingly he'd let me take it.
I gave my bishop its move. It made its way to the square, muttering under its breath.
Richard didn't take long.
"Knight to f6."
The black knight obeyed.
I frowned.
"Was that supposed to frighten me?"
"No."
I looked at the other side of the board.
"Oh."
My grandfather smiled.
"You've spotted it."
"A little late."
"It happens."
I tried to salvage the position, but a few moves later I had to concede.
My third loss in a row.
I leaned back in the armchair.
"I should have worked out why you were giving me that pawn."
"You should."
He didn't even try to console me.
Evelyn's voice came from the neighbouring frame.
"You could let your grandson win once in a while."
"I have no intention of insulting him."
"That's a very convenient explanation."
"It's true."
"I don't need him to go easy on me," I put in.
"Of course not, darling."
Her tone left me unsure whether she believed me.
Richard told the pieces to return to their starting positions.
"Another?"
I glanced at the clock and automatically began calculating how long it would take to gather my things and find Anunu.
Then I remembered I didn't have to go anywhere.
The books could stay on the table. My bag was in the wardrobe upstairs. My bed was only a few corridors away.
"Tomorrow," I said.
Richard nodded.
"As you wish."
I went over to the armchair by the window and picked up the book I'd been looking for at the orphanage the previous evening. The bookmark was still between the same pages.
"Off to bed?" Evelyn asked.
"I'll read for a bit first."
"Not too long."
"Grandma, you were just saying I could sleep in tomorrow."
"You can do both."
Richard gave her an amused look.
"Are you going to keep track of how many hours he sleeps every night?"
"If necessary."
"It won't be," I assured her.
She didn't look as though she intended to take my word for it.
I said goodnight and went out into the corridor. Anunu met me by the stairs.
"Is Master Oliver going back to his room?"
"Yes."
"The bed is ready."
"I thought it might be."
The elf smiled broadly.
"Anything else, sir?"
I looked at the book in my hand.
"No. I think I have everything."
He bowed and vanished.
Upstairs, I paused by the banister. The clock was ticking in the hall, and muffled voices drifted from a distant corridor. Apparently, some of the portraits still had things to discuss.
I smiled to myself and went to my bedroom.
The folder lay on the desk. I left it closed. I changed, slipped beneath the covers, and opened the book on my lap.
I managed a dozen or so pages before the words began to blur. I put the book on the bedside table and turned out the lamp.
For the first time since the holidays began, I didn't have to wonder what time I would be back tomorrow.
I wasn't going anywhere.