Anunu had prepared three parcels of food for the journey.
I looked at them, then at the elf.
"We agreed on one."
"Yes, Master Oliver."
"Then why are there three?"
Anunu straightened.
"One for breakfast, one for the journey, and one in case Master Oliver gets hungry."
For a moment, I wondered whether to start by pointing out that I was eating breakfast right now or by reminding him that they sold food on the train.
The elf didn't give me time to decide.
"Anunu has packed something sweet as well!"
I opened the nearest parcel. Sandwiches, fruit, and a small box of biscuits.
"All of this is in one?"
"Yes, sir!"
I merely glanced at the others.
Apparently, Anunu had decided that if he wouldn't be able to supervise my meals for several months, he ought to make the most of his last opportunity.
After breakfast, I checked my trunk. Textbooks, supplies, clothes. The documents were in a separate folder in my shoulder bag.
Hedwig sat in her cage, looking like a bird deeply disappointed by the way humans arranged their journeys.
"You could fly, you know."
She hooted and turned her head.
I considered the discussion closed.
Anunu appeared beside the trunk.
"Is Master Oliver ready?"
"I think so."
He held out his hand, but before taking it, I looked around the room once more.
There were notes on the desk and books on the shelves. The bed was neatly made, the window slightly open.
In a few months, all of it would still be waiting here. I had no reason to think otherwise.
Even so, I lingered a little longer than I'd meant to.
"Master Oliver?"
"Coming."
I took his hand.
We appeared on a quiet street near King's Cross.
Around the corner, morning London was already noisy and crowded. Cars crawled along the road, people hurried to work, and one man was assuring his companion that the train would be late because it was always late.
I checked my watch. We had plenty of time.
Anunu concealed himself from Muggle eyes before we stepped out onto the busier street. I could hear him beside me, though to everyone else I was alone, pushing a trolley with my trunk and Hedwig's cage.
The food parcels took up almost my entire shoulder bag. Fortunately, the documents fitted into a separate compartment.
I didn't want the Founders' Act ending up with jam on it.
Before we entered the station, I felt a gentle tug on my robe.
"Will Master Oliver write?"
"Yes."
"Home?"
"Home."
"And come back for Christmas?"
"Yes, Anunu."
For a moment, there was silence beside me.
"I'm not leaving for ever," I added.
"Anunu knows."
Once we reached platform nine and three-quarters, the elf became visible again.
He was holding another parcel.
I stopped the trolley.
"Where did the fourth one come from?"
"Just in case, Master Oliver."
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
The platform was its usual chaos. The scarlet Hogwarts Express sent clouds of steam into the air, pupils squeezed between trunks, and parents issued last-minute instructions.
Nearby, a boy was trying to convince his mother that he really didn't need another scarf. She didn't look persuaded.
At least I wasn't the only one.
Anunu stopped beside one of the carriages.
"Must Anunu go now?"
"You should get back. I can manage from here."
He nodded, but didn't disappear.
"Will Master Oliver be careful?"
"I will."
"And not overwork himself?"
"I'll try."
"Master Oliver—"
"Anunu."
He fell silent. I smiled at him.
"I really will be all right."
He studied me for a moment, then bowed deeply.
"Anunu will be waiting at home."
"I know. Thank you."
He vanished with a quiet crack.
I was left with a trunk, a cage, and enough food to feed an entire compartment.
I set off along the train.
"Peverell!"
I turned.
Draco was standing near one of the carriages. Lucius wore an elegant dark robe, while Narcissa was adjusting her son's collar.
Draco moved away from her hand and stared at me as though he wasn't sure he was seeing properly.
I stopped a few steps away.
"Draco."
"You…"
"Me."
For a moment, he said nothing.
Narcissa turned. Her face brightened when she saw me.
"Oliver. How lovely to see you."
"Good morning, Mrs Malfoy."
Lucius inclined his head. His gaze lingered on me longer than usual.
Draco stepped towards me.
"Where have you been?"
"At home."
"At home?"
"Yes."
"All this time?"
I frowned.
"What time?"
He opened his mouth, but his father spoke first.
"Draco. You can talk in your compartment."
"Father—"
Lucius glanced at the people passing us.
"In your compartment," he repeated calmly.
Draco pressed his lips together and nodded.
I looked from one to the other. Apparently, they all knew something no one had thought to tell me.
I didn't like the feeling.
"Do you need help with your luggage?" Lucius asked.
"No, thank you."
"Have a good year, Oliver," Narcissa said.
I thanked her, and she placed a hand on her son's shoulder.
"And try not to quarrel before the train has left London."
"We're not going to quarrel," I assured her.
Draco looked at me.
"Let's talk first."
We found an empty compartment near the middle of the train.
I helped Draco with his trunk, then dealt with my own luggage. I put Hedwig by the window. She surveyed the platform with the same disapproval she'd previously reserved for me.
I sat down opposite Draco.
He took a folded sheet from his bag, but before he could open it, the door slid back.
"Room in here?" Blaise asked.
"Yes."
He looked at me and paused.
Then he glanced at Draco.
"Ah."
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing. I see you've found each other."
He came in, stowed his luggage, and sat beside Draco.
"Good summer?"
"Quite good."
"I imagine."
I looked from one to the other.
"Is anyone going to tell me what's going on?"
Draco unfolded the paper.
The Daily Prophet. An issue from nearly a fortnight ago.
He put it in front of me.
"This."
My photograph was on the front page.
For a moment, I wondered where they'd got it. Then I read the headline.
PEVERELL HEIR MISSING
Beneath it was a question:
Can the Ministry of Magic keep magical children safe in Muggle care?
I stared at it for several seconds.
"Missing?"
"Yes, missing!"
Blaise glanced at the door.
"Draco, half the carriage can hear you."
"Then tell him to stop looking as though he's just read the weather forecast."
I looked at the photograph again. It showed me in my school robes. My image shifted slightly, as though someone was trying to get my attention.
"Where did they get my picture?"
Draco stared at me.
"Is that really what you're worried about?"
"I wasn't expecting to see myself on the front page."
"And I wasn't expecting to read that you'd disappeared."
I looked up.
He wasn't shouting any more. He still looked irritated, but there was something else beneath it.
"I found it yesterday. We'd got back from our trip, and I was looking through the old papers. I didn't even know if you'd turn up today."
For a moment, I said nothing.
It hadn't occurred to me that someone might be waiting on the platform, wondering whether they would see me at all.
"I'm fine," I said. "I moved to the estate."
Draco let out a breath.
"I can see you're fine."
"I could have written."
"You could."
Blaise settled back in his seat.
"Now that we've established Oliver is still alive, perhaps we should let him read what they've actually said."
I returned to the article.
The first paragraph stated that twelve-year-old Oliver Peverell, a Hogwarts pupil and the last known heir of an old wizarding family, had left the Muggle children's home where he had been living.
His current whereabouts remained unknown.
I didn't like that wording. I'd known exactly where I was for the past few weeks.
Apparently, it hadn't been as obvious to everyone else.
I read on.
According to information obtained by this newspaper, the case is being handled by the Office for the Supervision of Underage Wizards. Ministry representatives confirmed that enquiries were under way to establish the boy's whereabouts and the circumstances of his departure from the institution.
Below that was a statement from an official.
"The information gathered so far does not suggest that Oliver Peverell was abducted. We do, however, have strong grounds to believe that he left his previous residence deliberately and of his own accord. Efforts to confirm his whereabouts and safety are continuing."
"At least they got that right."
Draco folded his arms.
"Keep reading."
The rest of the article wasn't just about me.
The writer asked how the Ministry monitored the welfare of magical children raised in Muggle institutions. Did the relevant offices check on their circumstances? Who was responsible for communication between the two worlds? Did the existing regulations actually protect children with no magical guardians?
She didn't claim that I had been mistreated at the orphanage. She did point out that a twelve-year-old had left without assistance and that the authorities had failed to locate him promptly.
That was enough for several very awkward questions.
I put down the paper.
"So my move has become ammunition in an argument about the supervision of orphanages."
"The Ministry, mostly," Blaise observed. "I imagine they'd have written less about orphanages if you'd had a different surname."
I glanced at the headline.
Not "missing pupil".
Peverell heir.
"Probably."
I remembered the witch in the apothecary. The man in the street and the elderly wizard between the bookshelves.
So it hadn't been my eyes.
Not just my eyes, anyway.
Then I remembered the brief tug I'd felt while working with Nathaniel.
Someone on the family road.
Nathaniel had thought they were walkers from the nearby village. Now I wasn't so sure.
The Ministry knew I'd inherited an estate. Checking whether I was there would have been a sensible step.
But no one had reached the house, and the wards hadn't warned of any attempt to breach them.
It seemed our possible visitors had settled for a walk.
"What are you thinking about?" Blaise asked.
"Diagon Alley. A few people were looking at me strangely."
"And you didn't suspect anything?" Draco asked.
"People often stare at my eyes."
Draco glanced from the photograph to me.
"At least you're difficult to mistake for someone else."
The train jolted. Outside, the platform began sliding slowly backwards. There were final calls of goodbye, and someone waved through the window.
Blaise waited until we had left the covered platform.
"Who knew you'd moved?"
"Anunu. My family."
"The portraits?"
"Yes."
He nodded.
"So no one an official could simply knock on the door and ask."
"They could have checked the estate."
"Can they get there?"
"Not easily. I had to find the way myself."
Draco looked at me more closely.
"The wards are that strong?"
"They're old. They don't let people in without an invitation."
"How do they work?" Blaise asked.
"I'd rather not discuss the details."
He accepted that with a nod.
Draco shifted in his seat.
"Tell me you at least checked whether you were allowed to move there."
"I spoke to the Ministry about it."
"And?"
"They said I couldn't."
Draco went silent.
Blaise looked out of the window. The corner of his mouth twitched.
"But you found something else?" he asked.
I reached into my bag and took out the thin folder.
"My family helped me look into the regulations."
Draco glanced at the documents.
"You brought them to school?"
"Edmund insisted. I'm beginning to think he was right."
I handed Blaise copies of the relevant articles.
"The Founders' Act. The Peverells helped fund the establishment of the Ministry. In return, they received certain guarantees."
"I've heard of it," Blaise said, bending over the text.
Draco leaned closer to read as well.
"A right of residence regardless of age," he murmured. "So you are allowed to live there?"
"It doesn't change my care arrangements. But an official can't simply order me removed from the house. They'd need a ruling from the Wizengamot."
Blaise read the next passage.
"He's right."
Draco looked up.
"You're planning to take them to court?"
"I'd rather not. But if someone decides to send me back to the orphanage, at least I know they'll need more than their own signature."
"How did your family know where to look?"
"Arthur sat on the Wizengamot. He remembered the Act."
"Which Arthur?"
"One of my ancestors."
Draco opened his mouth, then glanced at Blaise.
"A portrait," Blaise said calmly.
"I worked that out."
I took back the parchments and put them in the folder.
Draco watched me for a moment.
"So you have your own house, an elf, and ancestors who help you argue with the Ministry."
"They weren't all delighted about the move."
"But no one sent you back."
"No."
He leaned back in his seat. This time, he looked more thoughtful than annoyed.
Blaise smiled faintly.
"I'm beginning to see why you like it there."
I thought of the library and Evelyn making sure I didn't spend too long over a book.
"I do."
Draco sighed.
"Just write next time. I'd rather not learn these things from the newspaper."
"I can give you the address for letters."
He looked at me.
"You have an address?"
"Yes."
For a moment, he looked as though he had a great deal to say. In the end, he held out his hand.
"Give it here."
Blaise chuckled, and I reached for my notebook.
The newspaper stayed on the seat beside me.
I intended to take it home at the first opportunity, or at least give the family a detailed account of the article in a letter. Edmund was bound to have comments on its description of Ministry procedures.
Joseph probably would too.
Frederick would find it funny.
Evelyn might be less pleased that half of wizarding Britain had learned I was missing before I had.
I made a note to write to them before anything else happened.
After that, the conversation moved on to less troublesome subjects.
Draco told us about the trip and the people he'd visited with his parents. I recognised some of the names. Others I'd never heard.
He had been particularly amused by a wizard who prided himself on his collection of rare magical objects.
"He showed Father an old mirror. Claimed it had belonged to a famous alchemist."
"Had it?"
"I don't know. Father said he'd seen one like it at auction."
"How much for?"
"Less than the man claimed he'd paid."
Blaise snorted.
"Sounds familiar."
He had spent most of the summer with his mother, reading and visiting acquaintances. I was more interested in whether he'd found out anything new about the author of my birthday book.
"No," he replied. "But I see you're still looking for mistakes."
"I found another unclear passage."
"Of course."
"Want to know which one?"
"No."
I looked at him.
"No?"
"If you tell me, we'll spend the rest of the journey discussing one page."
"That doesn't sound bad."
"I knew you'd say that."
Draco shook his head.
"I don't understand how you can talk about textbooks for so long."
"You've got a whole trunk full of them yourself."
"That doesn't mean I read them for pleasure."
"That explains a lot."
He threw his rolled-up scarf at me.
I ducked. Hedwig hooted indignantly.
At least she believed journeys ought to be peaceful.
Around midday, someone knocked on the door.
Hermione stood in the corridor with a book pressed to her chest.
"Oliver!"
"Hello."
She looked inside.
"Draco. Blaise."
"Granger," Draco replied.
Blaise nodded to her.
"I was looking for you," she said, turning back to me. "Do you still think the second version from your last letter would work?"
"Yes."
"But with that sort of transformation—"
"I found something in another book that supports it."
She frowned.
"Which book?"
I moved the newspaper to make room for her.
A moment later, she was sitting beside me, and we were discussing the author's account of the stages of transfiguration. Hermione had several objections.
I conceded one of her points.
She looked very pleased.
Draco didn't share her enthusiasm.
"Zabini, you said we weren't going to talk about this all the way there."
"I wasn't planning to."
Hermione looked at them. Blaise pointed to the newspaper.
"Have you heard about Oliver's other summer activities?"
"What activities?"
He handed her the Prophet.
She read the headline and turned to me.
"You were missing?"
"I moved house."
Draco closed his eyes.
"Please don't make us start again."
This time, the explanation took considerably less time.
Hermione read part of the article, listened, and asked whether I really was living at the family estate now.
I confirmed it.
"Who's looking after you?"
"Anunu. My family."
"Your ancestors?"
"Yes."
For a moment, she turned the newspaper over in her hands.
"I understand why you wanted to stay. But you could have mentioned the move in a letter."
"I could have. I didn't think."
Draco gestured towards her.
"That's exactly what I was trying to tell him."
"He didn't write to you either?"
"As you can see."
Hermione sighed and returned the paper.
I put it in my bag before another visitor could notice the headline.
"Have you seen Harry or Ron?" she asked.
I looked up.
"No."
"I can't find them anywhere. I didn't see them on the platform either."
Draco snorted.
"Perhaps Potter decided the school had nothing left to teach him."
She ignored him.
"I thought they might have got into another carriage."
Harry and Ron. The first of September.
I remembered Dobby, the blocked barrier, and a certain flying car.
I didn't know what had happened at King's Cross. But if events had followed the familiar course, Potter and Weasley had a particularly interesting journey ahead of them.
"Perhaps they missed the train and someone's bringing them to school," I said.
Hermione bit her lip.
"Perhaps. I'll check the other carriages."
She stood, but turned back at the door.
"And I'm glad you found a home."
For a moment, I didn't answer.
"Thank you."
She smiled.
"See you at Hogwarts."
Draco watched until she disappeared down the corridor.
"I don't understand why she asks so many questions."
Blaise glanced at him.
"Really?"
I decided not to help.
The rest of the journey was quieter.
We ate some of Anunu's food.
Only some.
Draco refused at first, then changed his mind after seeing what was in the second parcel. Blaise helped himself too.
In the end, I decided the elf had been right.
I wasn't going to tell him. He might prepare five parcels next time.
We talked about the teachers and the coming lessons. When I mentioned Lockhart, Draco pulled a face.
"My mother thinks his books are excellent."
"And you?"
"I've read one."
"And?"
"He has a very high opinion of himself."
Blaise raised an eyebrow.
"You ought to understand that."
"Very funny."
"I try."
I smiled to myself.
I wondered how long Lockhart would keep his reputation once he started teaching. Given his career so far, I shouldn't underestimate his ability to convince people that everything was going according to plan.
The hours passed. Fields and hills rolled past the window, then the increasingly dark outlines of trees.
Draco dozed for a while. Blaise read.
I looked outside.
A year ago, everything had been new. Now I knew the school and the people waiting there.
I also knew about the Chamber and the diary. And now there was the newspaper in my bag.
I sighed.
At least I couldn't complain about having nothing to do.
Hogsmeade station was its usual bustle.
Pupils poured out of the carriages, looking for friends and the right way to go. Hagrid's voice rose above the crowd.
"FIRS' YEARS! FIRS' YEARS OVER HERE!"
He stood at the end of the platform with a lantern in his hand. Children were gathering in front of him, apparently unable to decide whether to be more afraid of the dark or of Hagrid himself.
I smiled.
A year ago, I'd been standing there too.
"Shall we?" Draco asked.
We headed towards the carriages.
Beside one of them, Blaise stopped and looked at me.
"You're not planning to go missing on the way to the castle?"
Draco snorted.
"Very funny."
"Just checking."
We climbed in. The carriage set off, swaying over the uneven road.
Through the window, I caught the dark outline of the lake. Then Hogwarts appeared between the trees.
Its lit windows shone on the water. Towers rose above the slopes, and lights marked the way towards the gates.
For a moment, I watched without speaking.
I was back.
The Great Hall was already full.
Candles floated above the tables. The enchanted ceiling showed a dark sky with clouds gathering overhead.
I sat between Draco and Blaise. A few familiar pupils greeted us. Someone asked about the holidays; someone else complained about the number of textbooks.
I expected more questions about the newspaper, but none came.
Perhaps not everyone read the Prophet. Or perhaps they'd decided that if I was sitting at the table, the matter had been settled.
I wasn't going to correct them.
I looked towards the staff.
Dumbledore was talking to McGonagall. Flitwick sat a few places away, and Hagrid was pouring himself a drink from a large jug.
A man in particularly elegant robes caught my attention.
Gilderoy Lockhart.
He was smiling at the witch beside him and gesturing, apparently relating something of exceptional interest.
I wasn't sure she agreed.
"Is that him?" Blaise asked.
"Yes."
Draco examined him more closely.
"He looks exactly like the covers."
"Amazing."
Blaise smiled.
"Perhaps he'll teach entirely from his own books."
"Quite possible."
"You don't like him?" Draco asked.
"I haven't met him yet."
"That wasn't an answer."
"Grandma told me not to judge people before meeting them."
"And you're going to listen?"
"I'm considering it."
McGonagall finished speaking to the Headmaster and left the hall. Some time later, she returned with the first-years.
The children looked around with a mixture of delight and apprehension. One boy nearly tripped when he tilted his head back to examine the ceiling.
I remembered my own Sorting.
It wasn't a bad memory, but I was glad I didn't have to go through it again.
McGonagall set out the stool and placed the Hat on it. The conversations gradually died away.
After the song, she began calling names.
The first-years approached in turn. Some decisions came almost at once; others required longer consideration.
Loud applause broke out at the Gryffindor table when a small boy named Creevey was sent there. He looked delighted.
I watched the next few Sortings without much interest, until I heard:
"Lovegood, Luna!"
I looked up.
A girl stepped out of the group, with long, straight, very pale blonde hair and wide eyes. Unlike most of the other children, she didn't seem particularly nervous.
She approached the stool calmly, as though she were more interested in what the Hat would say than in the hundreds of pupils watching her.
She sat down. McGonagall placed the Hat on her head.
A moment later, it shouted:
"RAVENCLAW!"
Luna handed back the Hat and headed towards the applauding Ravenclaws.
I watched her for a moment.
I'd completely forgotten she was starting this year.
"Do you know her?" Draco asked.
"Not personally."
"But you've heard of her?" Blaise added.
"Something like that."
"Lovegood…" Draco frowned. "The name sounds familiar."
Luna took her seat. I looked away as McGonagall called the next person.
It wasn't until she reached Weasley that my attention returned.
Ginny approached the stool with tense shoulders. The Hat spent only a moment on her head.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
There was applause. She quickly took off the Hat and went to her table.
She looked like a nervous first-year who had just learned where she would spend the next seven years.
I wondered whether the diary was already in her trunk.
I didn't know.
For a moment, I wanted to keep watching her, as though that might somehow provide an answer. Instead, I turned back to the table.
Draco was commenting on another Weasley in Gryffindor. I wasn't listening closely.
The first attack had happened at Halloween, if I remembered correctly.
Two months.
Long enough to work out what was happening.
That was what I told myself, anyway.
After the last few Sortings, McGonagall took away the stool and Dumbledore rose. He welcomed the pupils and introduced the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Lockhart stood with a smile worthy of receiving the Order of Merlin. He waited for the applause to begin fading, then bowed his head once more.
Draco clapped without much enthusiasm.
Blaise looked amused.
I wondered how long it would be before we regretted applauding.
When the food appeared, Draco immediately reached for the roast potatoes. Blaise poured himself some juice, and I helped myself to meat and vegetables.
For once, the size of my portion was up to me.
I remembered Anunu's parcels and sighed.
"What?" Blaise asked.
"I've got enough food in my bag for another journey to Hogwarts."
"You can give it away," Draco said.
I looked at his plate.
"Are you still hungry?"
"Do you still have too much?"
Blaise raised his glass.
"Difficult to fault his logic."
I couldn't disagree.
Around us, people talked about the holidays, exchanged gossip, and complained about teachers who hadn't yet had a chance to give them a single lesson.
Draco returned to Lockhart.
"He'll probably make us write about his adventures."
"His, or ours?" Blaise asked.
"His. Ours might distract from him."
I smiled.
"Perhaps we'll get extra marks for naming the colour of his robes correctly."
Draco glanced at the staff table.
"Then I ought to start taking notes."
A moment later, Blaise looked towards the Gryffindors.
"Potter and Weasley still haven't turned up."
He was right. Hermione sat with her friends, but there was no sign of Harry or Ron.
Draco grinned.
"Perhaps they really haven't come."
"I doubt it."
"How do you know?"
"Potter wouldn't willingly give up Hogwarts."
Draco snorted, but didn't argue.
I glanced at the staff. Snape's seat was empty.
If that had anything to do with Harry and Ron's absence, their journey might be coming to a particularly unpleasant end.
I didn't envy them that conversation.
The feast continued. Desserts followed the main course. Draco considered another slice of cake for a moment, then apparently found sufficient justification.
I made no comment.
Once the plates were empty, Dumbledore reminded us of the most important rules, including the ban on entering the Forest.
I listened more closely than I'd intended.
I still wanted to find out what I'd discovered there the previous year. For now, though, I had Nathaniel's list and a library to search. I didn't have to begin by going back into the trees.
When the speech ended, pupils rose from their seats.
Blaise adjusted his robes.
"Shall we?"
I stood with them.
I knew the way to the dungeons, the common room, and the dormitory. I meant to put my bag beside the bed, unpack a few things, and check that all my textbooks had arrived in one piece.
"Peverell."
I stopped.
I would have recognised that voice anywhere.
Snape stood a few steps behind us. He looked as pleased with life as ever.
"Yes, Professor?"
"A moment, please."
Draco and Blaise stopped as well.
The professor turned his gaze on them.
"Mr Malfoy and Mr Zabini may proceed to the dormitory."
Draco opened his mouth. One look was enough to close it again.
"Of course."
"See you later, Oliver," Blaise said.
Draco leaned slightly towards me.
"Perhaps it's about the paper."
"Very helpful."
He smiled and followed Blaise.
I was left facing Snape.
"The Headmaster wishes to speak with you."
"Now?"
"I don't recall mentioning another time."
Of course.
I glanced towards the staff table. Dumbledore had already left.
"I understand, Professor."
"Excellent. Follow me."
I went after him, adjusting the strap of my bag.
It was most likely about the move. I just hoped the Headmaster wouldn't take the opportunity to revisit every unanswered question from the previous year.
There were a few.
The folder in my bag bumped lightly against my hip.
Edmund really had been right.
Apparently, not everyone was satisfied with the explanation that I'd simply moved home.