"I grabbed a mountain of stuff from Honeydukes before we left for the holidays," Allen said, his voice casual as he began unpacking a heavy velvet bag onto the kitchen counter. "Figured I'd set out a sampler platter. Daisy and Emily usually turn into gremlins if their blood sugar drops too low during the holidays."
His mother, Morgan le Fay, let out a soft, musical laugh. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned an exquisitely crafted ceramic fruit platter from a high shelf, the ivory surface gleaming under the kitchen's enchanted lanterns. It drifted through the air and settled gracefully in front of Allen.
Allen began to arrange the sweets—Fizzing Whizbees, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, and chocolate frogs that tried to hop off the ceramic rim. But hidden among the standard treats, he pulled out a handful of deep crimson lollipops. These weren't your average cherry suckers; they were the "Blood-Flavored" variety, designed for the more... eccentric tastes of the wizarding world. While they were entirely synthetic and wouldn't send a true Vampire into a feral frenzy, they carried a hyper-realistic metallic scent that was unmistakable to those with a refined palate.
He watched Aunt Josephine out of the corner of his eye.
The reaction was instantaneous. Her nose didn't just twitch; her entire posture went rigid for a heartbeat. The pupils of her eyes, usually hidden in the shadow of her wide-brimmed hat, seemed to dilate as she caught the iron-rich scent wafting through the air.
"Oh? What an... unusual aroma," Josephine said, walking over with a stride that was a bit too fluid, a bit too silent. She reached out with pale, slender fingers and hovered over the blood-red lollipops. "I don't believe I've seen these in the local shops."
"It's a specialty line from Hogsmeade," Allen replied, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He kept his expression neutral, the picture of a thoughtful nephew. "I thought the color was festive for Christmas. Rather bold, don't you think?"
Josephine picked one up, turning it over in her hand. The way she looked at the candy wasn't the way someone looks at a treat—it was the way a starving person looks at a feast. "Yes... very bold indeed."
"Alright, that's enough sugar for the morning," Morgan interrupted, appearing with a stack of enchanted pancakes that were currently drizzling themselves in syrup. "Allen, don't let Daisy get a whiff of those yet, or she'll skip breakfast entirely. Put the platter in the pantry for now."
Allen nodded and moved toward the tall, dark wood storage cabinet.
"Let me help you with that, dear," Josephine offered, her voice sounding a bit strained. She reached ahead of him to pull open the heavy cabinet door, her proximity bringing with it a scent of old roses and something else—something cold and ancient. Allen carefully slid the platter onto a middle shelf, feeling the weight of her gaze on the back of his neck the entire time.
By the time the rest of the family shuffled into the dining room, the tension had settled into a low hum. Daisy arrived last, looking absolutely miserable. She hadn't bothered with her usual elaborate braids; her blonde hair was draped over her shoulders in a messy, golden curtain.
"Don't look at me," Daisy groaned, shielding her face as she sat down. "I have a blemish. Right on my chin. It's the size of a Quaffle. And since there isn't a single mirror in this cursed house, I had to guess where to put the concealer. I probably look like a clown."
Allen poked at his eggs, hiding a smirk. "Actually, I think the 'natural' look suits you. It makes you look less like a terrifying prefect and more like a human being."
Daisy gave him a half-hearted glare, but she seemed mollified enough to start eating.
As the meal wound down, Morgan clapped her hands together. "Right! We need supplies for the Christmas feast. Who's coming into town? I need hands for the heavy lifting."
"Me! Me!" Emily chirped, her hand shooting up.
Morgan looked at her youngest with a weary smile. "Oh, Emily, it's going to be hours of walking through the slush. You'll be exhausted. Why don't you stay here with Allen and Daisy?"
Emily's face fell instantly. Her lower lip didn't tremble—she wasn't a crier—but her eyes went wide and glassy, the picture of silent heartbreak. "I... I just wanted to be with you, Mum. I'll stay quiet. I'll walk the whole way, I promise."
Morgan's resolve crumbled like dry parchment. "Oh, you little sweet bear. Fine, fine. But you have to hold my hand in the crowds, understood?"
Albert claimed he had a "confidential mission" for the Ministry—likely just an excuse to go to a pub—and Owen had various materials to file at the local branch. One by one, the family Apparated or took the Floo, leaving the manor suddenly, jarringly silent.
Only Allen and Daisy remained.
Daisy was leaning against a bay window on the second floor, watching the snowflakes drift down into the courtyard. "This is tragic," she sighed. "I'm a prisoner of my own bad hair day."
"Or," Allen suggested, walking up behind her, "we could stop moping and actually see what's inside this place. Don't tell me you aren't curious about the layout. It doesn't make sense, Daisy. The outside of the house looks three times bigger than the inside."
Daisy turned around, a spark of her usual fire returning to her eyes. "Explore? Like... snooping?"
"I prefer the term 'Architectural Audit,'" Allen said. He reached over and picked up Daisy's wand from the window seat.
"Hey! Give that back," she protested, but she didn't move to take it. She wanted to see what he was up to.
"I found a specific tracking pulse in the Ravenclaw archives," Allen whispered. He held the wand out, focusing his intent. He didn't have to worry about the Trace here; with his parents being powerful mages and the manor being an ancient magical dwelling, a few detection spells wouldn't register on the Ministry's radar.
"Revelatio Ostium!"
A soft, pulsing green light erupted from the tip of the wand. It didn't flash; it rippled outward in a cone-shaped wave, vibrating slightly in the air. To Daisy, it looked like Allen was holding a supernatural flashlight that revealed nothing but empty air.
"Very impressive, Allen. You've turned my wand into a glow-stick," she teased.
"Just watch," he murmured.
He began walking north along the main corridor. The further they went, the more the green light began to react. It started to thrum, a low-frequency vibration that Allen could feel in his bones. As they approached a massive bay window flanked by two enormous, ornate stone columns, the light suddenly intensified. The green ripples hit the wall and stuck, outlining the jagged edges of a door that was perfectly flush with the masonry.
"No way," Daisy whispered, her eyes widening. "A secret door? In the middle of the hallway?"
Allen stepped closer, the green light illuminating the linear patterns on the columns. "Look at the geometry, Daisy. These lines... they're designed to trick the eye. They draw your gaze upward to the ceiling, making you think the room is taller than it is. But look at the depth behind the window. There's a gap. A massive one."
"You mean the walls are hollow?"
"Not just hollow. There's a vertical interlayer. A hidden 'floor' sandwiched between the first and second levels. And this door leads right into the heart of it."
Daisy looked at the wall, then at Allen. The fear she'd felt the night before was still there, lurking in the back of her mind, but her Harris pride was stronger. She wasn't going to let her younger brother be the only brave one.
She stepped in front of him, her hand reaching into the green light. Her fingers brushed against cold, invisible stone until she felt a slight indentation—a handle, hidden by a clever illusion charm.
"I've got it," she said, her voice steadying. She looked back at him, her blonde hair now tied back into a practical ponytail. "If anything jumps out, you make sure to hex it first and ask questions later, okay?"
Allen felt a surge of genuine affection for his sister. She was terrified of a blemish on her chin, but she was willing to walk first into a dark, unknown tunnel to protect him.
Daisy gripped the invisible lever and pulled.
The sound was gut-wrenching—the screech of rusted metal hinges that hadn't moved in decades, echoing through the empty house like a scream. The heavy stone slab swung inward, revealing a yawning chasm of absolute darkness.