Professor Snape said nothing for most of the walk.
I didn't mind. I had enough to think about.
A few hours earlier, Draco had shown me a newspaper declaring me missing. Now the Headmaster of Hogwarts wanted a word.
It was difficult to see that as a coincidence.
I adjusted the strap of my bag. At least I had the documents.
Edmund would probably approve. Once he'd reminded me that it would have been more sensible not to get into this situation in the first place.
"Mr Peverell."
I looked up.
Snape had stopped in front of the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office.
"I assume you can guess the reason for this meeting."
"I suspect it's about the move."
"How gratifying that you've reached that conclusion."
I said nothing.
He looked tired. I didn't know how much Potter and Weasley had to do with that, but I thought it best not to ask.
He gave the password. The gargoyle stepped aside, revealing the spiral staircase.
I followed him.
The office looked much as it had on my last visit. Silver instruments turned on the shelves; one released small puffs of smoke. Fawkes watched us from his perch.
Several portraits of former headmasters opened their eyes.
Dumbledore sat behind the desk. Opposite him was a man in dark robes, with a folder on his lap and a sheet of parchment in his hand.
He put it down as we entered.
"Oliver. Come in, please."
"Good evening, Professor."
"Sit down. I'm afraid your return to the dormitory will have to wait a little longer."
I took the indicated armchair and placed my bag beside it. Snape sat to my left.
"Our guest represents the Office for the Supervision of Underage Wizards," Dumbledore said. "After the feast, we were able to confirm to the Ministry that you had arrived at school."
So they weren't putting this off.
The official nodded.
"First of all, I'm glad to see you safe and well, Mr Peverell."
"Thank you."
"I need to ask a few questions about your absence. Are you aware that a search has been under way?"
"Since today. Draco showed me the article in the Prophet."
He studied me for a moment, then opened his folder.
"I see. Let's begin by establishing whether you left the institution of your own accord."
"Yes."
"Did anyone encourage or force you to leave?"
"No."
"Where have you been staying?"
"At the Peverell estate."
He noted the answer.
"The entire time?"
"Mostly. I also went to Diagon Alley and the Ministry."
His quill paused.
"When did you visit the Ministry?"
"The morning after I moved. I went to the archives."
"Can you give me the exact date?"
I couldn't remember it straight away.
"I have the documents from that visit. The date should be on them."
"Very well. We'll check in a moment. Apart from those outings, you were living at the family estate?"
"Yes."
He made another note. He didn't seem pleased to hear that I'd walked into the Ministry myself, but he made no comment.
"Why didn't you inform the orphanage that you were leaving?"
"They wouldn't have let me."
"I asked about informing them, not obtaining permission."
I ran a hand along the armrest.
"I would have had to tell them where I was going. I didn't know how to explain it without telling them about magic."
"Did you seek help in making the appropriate arrangements?"
"I'd already asked the Ministry whether I could live at home."
"And what were you told?"
"That I couldn't change my permanent residence on my own."
The official looked up.
"Yet you left anyway."
"Yes."
For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of one of the silver instruments.
"Why?"
"I was spending whole days there. Studying, reading, talking to my family. I was only going back to the orphanage to sleep." I looked at him. "I wanted to live in my own home."
"Owning a property does not give a minor complete freedom to decide where they live."
"I know."
"That leaves the unresolved question of your care. If we cannot find a suitable arrangement, the Ministry may take steps to return you to the supervision of your previous institution."
"You mean order me to go back?"
"If there are grounds to do so."
I reached for my bag.
"I'd like to show you something we checked after I moved."
Snape glanced at my hands. I took out the folder and searched through the papers for a moment before finding the right one.
"The Founders' Act. Articles Three and Four."
I handed the parchment to the official.
He looked at the heading.
"Are you familiar with its provisions?"
"The ones about the house. Not all of it."
He began to read. I added the register extract and confirmation of my rights as heir.
"These establish that the protection applies to me as well."
He spent some time examining the papers. Dumbledore didn't interrupt, and Snape watched me with an expression I couldn't make much of.
Eventually, the official put down the first document.
"Yes. Article Four limits the administration's authority to order an heir's removal from a protected family seat."
"It would require an order from the Wizengamot."
"Except where immediate danger to life or health makes intervention necessary."
I nodded.
"I read that part too."
"Article Three, however, expressly states that the right of residence does not alter any existing care arrangements."
"I know. I'm not saying you can't do anything. I just don't want to be ordered back by someone who has no authority to order it."
He regarded me over the parchment.
"That is a reasonable concern. It does not, however, resolve the issue we are here to discuss."
"I understand."
"The Ministry may refer the matter to the Wizengamot. We will also need information about your living conditions and the help available to you."
I looked in the folder.
"I have confirmation of my rights to the family assets. I don't have any sort of report on the condition of the house."
"You can start by describing it."
"All right."
The official placed the papers on the desk.
"Who helped you find the relevant regulations?"
"Arthur Peverell. One of my ancestors. His portrait is at the estate."
Dumbledore looked at me with greater interest.
"Arthur sat on the Wizengamot," I added. "He remembered the Act, but didn't know whether it had been amended since. That's why I went to get the current text."
"Hence your visit to the archives," the official said.
"Yes. Edmund helped us go through it. Joseph dealt with the estate records."
"Also portraits?"
I nodded.
He glanced once more at the neatly arranged papers.
"It seems you've been quite thoroughly prepared."
"Edmund told me to bring copies to school."
"Sensible. Though it would have been more sensible to discuss the matter before leaving the institution."
"He said that too."
Snape cleared his throat.
I couldn't tell whether he was concealing amusement. I decided it was safer not to find out.
The official returned to his notes.
"Who currently lives at the estate?"
"Me and Anunu, my house-elf. Apart from us, there are the portraits."
"No living adult witch or wizard?"
"No."
"Who prepares meals and handles the day-to-day work?"
"Anunu. He's looked after the house for a very long time."
"Is the building in good condition?"
"Yes. We recently repaired a wall in an unused part of the west wing. It was letting in damp. There's nothing like that in the rooms I use."
He wrote down the answer.
"Do you have access to funds of your own?"
"Yes. Joseph helps me keep track of expenses, and Anunu does the shopping."
"Does Joseph make the decisions?"
"He explains what's needed. Then he asks what I want to do."
"You manage the house?"
"I'm learning. Until recently, I didn't even know how much we needed to buy before winter."
Dumbledore smiled faintly.
"That can surprise adults too."
"Joseph seems to enjoy discussing it."
"Accounts can be fascinating," Snape murmured in a tone that suggested the exact opposite.
The official moved his quill to the next point.
"What did a typical day look like?"
"Breakfast, then studying or going through family records. Sometimes things to do with the house. In the afternoon, practice or books. It depended on who I was with."
"Who supervised your practice?" Snape asked.
"Frederick."
The professor looked up.
"Frederick Peverell?"
"Yes."
He studied me for a moment.
"I've read one of his works."
I hadn't expected that.
"Really?"
"I am not in the habit of inventing my reading material, Mr Peverell. What is he teaching you?"
"Mostly magical control. Lately, he's been paying attention to how much effort I put into spells and whether I'm wasting power."
"And your conclusions?"
"That I was wasting quite a lot."
"Quite possible."
Dumbledore glanced at Snape.
"It seems Oliver has had a busy summer."
"Frederick made sure I didn't get bored," I said. "Evelyn thought he went a little too far sometimes."
"Your grandmother?" the Headmaster asked.
"Yes. She made sure I took breaks and got enough sleep."
"And whose side did you take?"
"That depended on how long we'd been practising."
Dumbledore chuckled. Even the official smiled over his notes.
Snape did not share their amusement.
"Remember that understanding the principles of complex magic is not the same as being able to use it safely."
"Frederick reminded me of that too."
"Then you would do well to listen."
I nodded.
I wondered how Frederick would react to hearing that Snape knew his work. He would probably only be surprised that I was surprised.
"And apart from studying?" Dumbledore asked.
"I play chess with my grandfather. Walk in the garden. Read."
"How is the chess going?"
"I'm still losing."
"To Richard?"
"Yes. Last time, at least I kept my queen until the end."
"Definite progress."
"That's what I thought. Grandfather didn't look worried."
The Headmaster smiled.
The official put down his quill for a moment.
"Your ancestors appear capable of passing on very detailed knowledge. Were all their portraits prepared equally carefully?"
"No. Some took years. People talked to their portraits, taught them, told them about themselves. Others never had the chance to finish."
I glanced at the portraits behind the Headmaster's desk.
"It mattered to the family that some of that knowledge survived."
"I understand," Dumbledore said. "Preparation of that kind takes time and patience."
I nodded.
"My parents' portraits weren't finished."
The Headmaster's smile faded.
"Elias and Aria?"
"Yes. They're in the gallery, but you can't talk to them."
I remembered my father's unfinished hand and the background behind my mother's shoulder.
Dumbledore watched me for a moment.
"I see," he said quietly.
He asked nothing more.
I was grateful for that.
The official waited before resuming.
"From what you've described, you have adequate means and day-to-day assistance. It does not change the fact that none of those you have named can serve as a living legal guardian."
"I know. We checked."
"Have you considered appointing one?"
"I don't want to give a stranger the right to make decisions about my life just so I can stay at home."
"Even if a suitable person could be found?"
So far, every suitable candidate existed only as someone else's suggestion.
"I don't know anyone like that."
He noted my answer without immediately trying to change my mind.
"Oliver," Dumbledore said. "What would Anunu do if you became seriously ill?"
"Fetch help. He can take me to St Mungo's as well."
"And if, after providing urgent treatment, the Healers needed consent for further care?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it.
Anunu could get me to hospital. But he couldn't sign everything on my behalf. Neither could the portraits.
"I don't know," I admitted. "We didn't look into that in detail."
The Headmaster nodded.
"Those are precisely the matters that still need resolving. A safe house alone does not answer every question."
"I understand."
I didn't like the argument, but at least it concerned a real problem. It wasn't simply another reminder that I was twelve.
The official reviewed his notes.
"We will need to consider situations like that as the case proceeds. For today, I can confirm your whereabouts and take your account of why you left."
"So I'm no longer missing?"
"We will call off the search and inform the relevant parties that you've been found."
"And the article in the Prophet?"
He hesitated slightly.
"We can notify the editors that you're safe. How they publish that information is up to the newspaper."
Of course. A disappearance got the front page. Being found would probably fit somewhere beside an advert for wart remover.
I kept that to myself.
"The question of your care remains," the official added.
"Oliver is now at Hogwarts," Dumbledore reminded him. "I see no need for a hasty decision. His next planned departure from school is at Christmas."
The man nodded.
"We should establish our next steps before then. I cannot rule out referring the matter to the Wizengamot."
"That is within the Ministry's authority."
I looked at the Headmaster. He hadn't said it as a threat or with displeasure. He had simply acknowledged the possibility we'd been discussing all along.
"I would, however," he added, "like any proposed solution to take account of what we've heard tonight. Oliver has described more than the condition of an inherited building."
The official glanced at me.
"I understand."
"Returning him to the orphanage should not be the only option considered."
"I'll include that in my report."
I didn't know how much weight the remark would carry, but I was glad to hear it.
The man took out a fresh sheet.
"I also need a correspondence address for the estate. Can letters be delivered without crossing the wards?"
"Yes. There's a postbox at the beginning of the road. Just address the letter to the Peverell estate."
"An ordinary post owl can find it?"
"Yes. The enchantments transfer the post from the box to the house."
He wrote down the instructions and showed them to me for confirmation.
I nodded.
It was the first conversation about the postbox in which no one had reproached Richard for forgetting to tell me about it.
The official gathered the parchments.
"May I keep these copies?"
"Yes."
"I'll add them to the file. Further correspondence concerning your case will also be sent to the school. We may need to ask you more questions."
"All right."
He closed the folder.
"This is not approval of your move, Mr Peverell."
"I know. We still have to resolve the care arrangements."
He seemed satisfied with that answer.
"In future, please do not leave the people responsible for you without any information about your whereabouts."
I nodded.
I wasn't going to promise that every decision I made from now on would please the authorities. I could admit, however, that appearing in a newspaper beneath the word "missing" was a complication I would rather not repeat.
Dumbledore rose.
"Thank you for coming at such a late hour."
"It's part of my duties, Headmaster."
The official stood, said his goodbyes, and approached the fireplace Dumbledore indicated.
A moment later, he vanished in green flames.
Snape looked at me.
"You find peculiar ways to occupy your holidays."
"I didn't plan the newspaper article."
"I was not referring to the article."
"Oh."
He regarded me in silence for a moment.
"I trust you also found time to prepare for your lessons."
"Yes, Professor."
"Excellent. I shall expect essays prepared as carefully as your documents for the Ministry."
I decided it was best simply to nod.
Snape stood and adjusted his robes.
"Albus, if I'm no longer needed…"
"Of course, Severus. Thank you."
The professor went to the door, but paused before leaving.
"Peverell."
"Yes?"
"Do not waste what you learned this summer."
"I don't intend to, Professor."
He inclined his head and left.
I looked at the closed door for a moment.
I still wasn't sure whether I'd just received encouragement or a warning about the first lesson.
Probably both.
"Oliver."
I turned back to Dumbledore.
The Headmaster sat down again, but did not reach for any papers.
"How do you like living at home?"
I smiled before I could answer.
"I like it."
"As much as you expected?"
"More."
He waited, so after a moment I added:
"At first, I mostly wanted to find it. See what my parents had left, look through the books. I didn't know what it would be like with the portraits."
"And what is it like?"
I thought about it.
"Sometimes everyone has an opinion about what I ought to be doing."
"That can be tiresome."
"A little. But usually I can go to another room."
The corners of his mouth lifted.
"Until they follow you."
"Evelyn does."
We were silent for a while. Fawkes shifted on his perch, and one of the instruments released a thin wisp of smoke.
"Then I take it you intend to return to the estate for Christmas."
I looked at him.
"Of course. It's where I live."
Dumbledore regarded me for a moment, then nodded.
"Indeed."
He didn't ask again why it mattered so much to me.
I was glad. I could list the benefits of my own room, the library, and my ancestors' help, but after an entire evening, I was tired of explaining something that seemed simple.
I wanted to go back to where Anunu, Evelyn, and the others were waiting for me.
"If you receive a letter from the Ministry, you can bring it to me or Professor Snape," the Headmaster said. "You don't have to work out what it means on your own."
"Arthur and Edmund will want to read it too."
"I'm sure they will. Even so, it would be wise to let someone at the school know about it."
I nodded.
"All right, Professor."
Dumbledore glanced at the clock.
"And now you should get some rest. Lessons begin tomorrow."
I stood and put the remaining documents in my bag.
"Thank you."
"Goodnight, Oliver."
"Goodnight."
The corridors were almost empty.
I headed towards the dungeons, adjusting the strap of my bag.
I'd been preparing for an argument. Instead, the official had read the documents, listened to my explanation, and made no attempt to pretend that the Act ceased to apply when it became inconvenient.
He hadn't closed the case either.
I'd expected that much.
There was still the question of guardianship and the situations we hadn't considered. I remembered Dumbledore's point about medical treatment. I would have to ask Arthur exactly how that worked.
Apparently, there were more documents ahead of us.
I sighed.
At least no one intended to send me back to the orphanage tonight. The school knew where I'd spent the summer, and the Ministry could stop looking for me.
Now I needed to write home.
Edmund ought to know that bringing the copies had been a good idea. Joseph would probably ask which ones the official had kept. Evelyn would want to know whether the meeting had run too late and whether I'd had time for dinner.
And Frederick…
I smiled to myself.
Snape really had read his work.
I could leave that out. It would save me having to listen to Frederick explain what a great opportunity I had in studying with him.
On the other hand, I wanted to see his reaction.
I checked my watch.
I would write tomorrow. This time, Evelyn would probably agree.
Edmund could wait until morning to hear that he'd been right.