The sound from downstairs was impossible to ignore.
Morwenna heard it the moment she woke: a bright weave of laughter, voices, and the sharp clatter of silver against ceramic. Above it all rose Saoirse's unmistakable, boisterous call of amusement. It's the kind of noise that filled every corner of the house, bouncing off the high stone walls and seeping under the heavy oak doors of the nursery. Even the portraits in the corridor seemed affected, leaning slightly out of their gilded frames to catch the commotion's source.
She climbed out of bed, the floorboards feeling cold against her bare feet, though she barely noticed the chill. Today's clothes were already laid out on the chair: a soft grey t-shirt featuring a small cartoon fox on the front. It's Cinder's likeness, she realised with a small smile, paired with blue denim shorts that ended just above her knees. The fabric felt light and comfortable, possessing none of the heavy silk or slick velvet she usually wore.
She dressed herself, managing to pull the shirt over her head the right way around on her first attempt. The shorts proved more difficult; she stepped into them backwards first, only realising her mistake when her hands searched for pockets that weren't there. She stepped out, turned them around, and tried again. On the second attempt, she succeeded.
Cinder watched from the bed, his russet ears swivelling forward with interest. His tail gave one slow, heavy thump against the wool blankets before he jumped down to join her.
She found her trainers by the door and spent five minutes wrestling with the laces. They were still too big, and the strings felt awkward in her small fingers, but she persisted until she managed a bow. It's lopsided and loose, but it held. She stood, tested her weight on the rubber soles, and gave a firm nod. The fox followed her out, his claws clicking rhythmically on the stone hallway.
The morning room was a scene of the best kind of chaos.
The table was covered in dishes Morwenna had never seen before. Small bowls held fragrantly steaming soup, the broth dark and rich. Plates of fried rice were piled high with bits of egg and bright vegetables, each grain separate and glistening under the morning light. Delicate dumplings were arranged with an artist's precision, their pleated edges perfect and their surfaces dusted with savoury spices.
There were dishes with noodles in a rich brown sauce, looking tangled and glossy. Vegetables she couldn't name occupied smaller plates—some green and curled, others pale and crisp. In the centre, a large platter held sliced pancakes with a dark sauce drizzled over the top.
Saoirse was already seated, waving a pair of wooden sticks in the air. "Look, Morwenna. Chopsticks."
Morwenna climbed onto her high stool. She looked at the sticks in her aunt's hand, and then at the identical pair resting beside her own plate. She picked them up carefully.
They felt strange. They were light but awkward, the wood smooth and almost slippery against her skin. She tried to hold them the way she had seen Saoirse do, pinning one between her thumb and forefinger and the other between her middle finger and thumb. The sticks crossed immediately. They slipped and refused to cooperate.
She tried again, but they clattered against her porcelain bowl. One fell onto the table. She picked it up, repositioned them both, and attempted to snag a piece of dumpling.
The dumpling slipped, the sticks crossed, and the food fell back into the bowl with a soft splash.
Her jaw set with determination.
She tried again.
The same.
Again.
The same.
The dumpling was now slightly mangled, its savoury filling peeking through the torn wrapper.
Jane watched her daughter's attempts, her own teacup sitting untouched. After the fifth failure, she reached into her pocket for a paper napkin and a small elastic band. She had started carrying them two days ago, anticipating exactly this struggle.
"Let me show you something," Jane said.
She took Morwenna's chopsticks and folded the napkin around the top end, securing it tightly with the elastic band. The makeshift contraption held the sticks together at the top while leaving the tips free to move.
"A trainer. Try now."
Morwenna took the modified chopsticks. She slipped her fingers through and found that the sticks stayed where they were supposed to be. The band held them in position, allowing her to focus on the clamping motion without fighting the alignment. She reached for a piece of dumpling. The sticks closed around it firmly. She lifted it, and the dumpling stayed in place. She stared at it, her green eyes wide.
"I did it."
Saoirse whooped, the sound ringing through the room.
"She did it! Three years old and already mastering chopsticks. I was at least seven before I could manage."
Morwenna ate the dumpling with immense satisfaction. The filling was warm, savoury, and perfect. Then she reached for another.
Tilly, watching from the sideboard, let out a breath of profound relief. His large ears relaxed from where they had been pressed flat against his head.
Breakfast continued in a hum of discovery. Morwenna worked her way through dumplings, rice, and a small bowl of noodle soup that required a spoon, as the chopsticks weren't ready for that particular challenge yet. She asked about everything she ate.
"What is this?" Morwenna asked.
"Kimchi," Seraphina said. "Fermented vegetables."
Morwenna tried it. Her eyes widened at the sudden, stinging heat, and she reached quickly for her water.
"What is this?"
"Spring rolls," Jane answered. "From Vietnam. Dip them in the sauce, petite."
Morwenna dipped them carefully. She bit into the crisp shell, chewed, and immediately reached for another.
"What is this?"
"Okonomiyaki," Saoirse said. "Japanese. It's basically a pancake with everything in it. Very practical."
Morwenna tried the okonomiyaki and decided she liked it, taking two more pieces.
By the time breakfast wound down, she was full, happy, and covered in a fine dusting of rice. Cinder had positioned himself under her chair and was doing excellent work cleaning up the debris that made it to the floor. His ears swivelled constantly, tracking the movement of food.
Saoirse pushed back from the table, her expression shifting. "Right. Time."
The table went quiet. Morwenna looked at her aunt. "Time for what?"
Saoirse's grin softened into something gentler. "Time for me to go, little bird. I told you yesterday, remember? I'm going travelling."
The child stilled. She remembered, but knowing and experiencing were different things. She set down her modified chopsticks.
"Come on," Saoirse said. "Walk with me to the meadow. You can see me off properly."
They went outside together into the cool, clear morning. The sky was a pale, washed-out blue that seemed to stretch forever. The garden paths were damp with dew, and Morwenna's trainers left small, dark prints in the grass as they walked. Cinder bounded ahead, his russet fur bright against the green, and then circled back to nudge Morwenna's hand.
Saoirse walked beside her niece, her pace slow to match the child's shorter legs. She didn't speak; there was nothing left to say that hadn't been said.
The creature meadow opened before them, a wide expanse of grass bordered by ancient, dark trees. At its edge, three Abraxan horses waited. They were enormous, larger than any horse Morwenna had ever seen in her books, with golden coats that shimmered in the morning light. Their wings were folded against their sides—vast, powerful structures with feathers that caught the sun with a burnished, metallic glow.
Morwenna stopped at the meadow's edge, her green eyes wide.
"Horses."
"Abraxans," Saoirse said. "Magical creatures. Very fast, very smart, and very loyal to the people they choose."
One of the Abraxans, the largest with a white blaze on its forehead, lifted its head and looked directly at Saoirse. It made a soft, deep, rumbling sound. Saoirse crossed the grass and pressed her forehead against the horse's muzzle. The creature's wings rustled, opening slightly and catching the light. Its breath misted in the cool air.
"I will miss you too," Saoirse whispered.
She stroked the horse's cheek. Morwenna watched from the edge but didn't follow. The horses were beautiful, but they were also enormous. Saoirse turned back to her. She crossed the grass and knelt, bringing herself to the child's level. The dew soaked into her trousers.
"A year," Saoirse said. "I will be back before you turn four. I promised."
Morwenna looked at her aunt's face, at the dark hair with its silver streak and the eyes that were always laughing. The smile was softer now than Morwenna had ever seen it.
"Promise."
"I promise."
She pulled the girl into a hug, quick and fierce. Morwenna's arms came up around Saoirse's neck. For a moment, they held each other. The child could feel her aunt's heartbeat, fast and strong. Then Saoirse stood up. She walked to the Abraxan without looking back and mounted in a single fluid movement, settling onto the horse's back.
The wings spread. They were enormous. Each wing was longer than the carriage, longer than any garden path. They caught the light and seemed to glow, golden and white.
"Buh-bye little monster. Be good, see you later!"
The Abraxan took three running steps and lifted into the air. Morwenna watched them rise. Saoirse raised one hand in farewell. The horse climbed higher, wings beating in powerful strokes, and then they were away. They shrank against the blue until they were just a speck, then nothing at all.
Morwenna stood at the meadow's edge, watching the empty sky. Jack's hand found her shoulder, a steady presence. She hadn't heard him approach. She leaned back against his leg for a moment.
"She will come back," Jack said.
"I know."
But her eyes stayed on the sky. The spot where Saoirse had disappeared was just empty blue now. Jack saw something flicker in her expression—a sharp, quick wanting. It was there and gone, but he caught it. She wanted to be up there. He said nothing but filed the observation away.
They stood together for another minute. The remaining Abraxans had returned to grazing, their golden wings folded and their massive bodies calm. One of them lifted its head and looked at Morwenna for a long moment before lowering it again. She looked back at the horse and then she turned and took Jack's hand.
"Inside now."
They walked back through the garden. The dew had dried from the grass, and the morning light was warming toward noon. Morwenna's trainers left small prints in the soft earth. At the door, she stopped and looked back at the sky one more time. Then she went inside.
The afternoon settled into its own quiet rhythm.
Jane sat in the morning room with Morwenna, a stack of books spread across the low table. Cinder was curled on the rug, his amber eyes half-closed. Morwenna picked up a book about a bear who went to the city. She had chosen it herself, pulling it from the stack with serious concentration.
"Read."
Jane opened the book. She read slowly, giving each word its weight and letting the child see the pictures as they went. The bear took a bus. The bear saw tall buildings. The bear got lost and found his way back with the help of a friendly pigeon. Morwenna asked questions throughout the story.
"Why bear lost?"
"He didn't pay attention to where he was going."
"Why pigeon help?"
"Because pigeons are kind. And they know the city well."
"What is city?"
"Many buildings. Many people. Many cars and buses and shops."
"Like London?"
Jane paused. "Yes. Like London."
"Will I go to London?"
"When you are four."
Morwenna nodded and turned the page. They read another book after that, and then another. Jane's voice stayed steady. Morwenna absorbed everything. She asked about traffic lights and crosswalks, about supermarkets and playgrounds.
In the middle of the fourth book, Morwenna looked up.
"Mama."
"Yes?"
"Mama, yesterday Dada said I go to Hogwarts."
Jane set the book down. "Yes. When you are eleven, you will go to Hogwarts. It's a school for magic."
Morwenna nodded. "Dada also said I will go with Harry."
Jane's heart did something complicated in her chest. She kept her voice steady.
"Yes. Harry is your cousin. He is family. His mother was Lily. She was my cousin. So Harry is my cousin's son. That makes him your cousin."
Morwenna's brow furrowed. "Cousin?"
"Family. Like Raphael and Luelle are your uncle and aunt. Harry is family."
Morwenna processed this. Her small fingers traced the edge of the book. She had uncles and aunts. They came and went, hugged her, brought her gifts, and read her stories. They were family. They belonged to her.
"Where is Harry?"
Jane was quiet for a moment. "Harry lives with other family. They are mundane. They don't know about magic."
"Why?"
"Because that is where the people who were supposed to take care of him put him. We tried to bring him here, to be with us, with family who could teach him about magic and who he is. But we couldn't. The people who put him there made it so we couldn't reach him."
The child's eyes went very still. She understood separation. She understood waiting. She had watched the Floo every morning for weeks after her grandparents left, checking to see if they had come back. She had counted the days on her fingers until Gran-ma and Gran-da returned.
"He is alone?"
"No. He is not alone. He has family there, even if they don't understand him. And he will come to Hogwarts when he's eleven. We will see him then."
Morwenna counted on her fingers: four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven. Eight fingers. That's a lot.
"Yes. Eight years from now."
Morwenna looked at her mother's face. She saw something there—something heavy that lived behind those green eyes. It's the same look Morwenna had worn when she watched the Floo and it stayed cold.
"Mama sad?"
Jane blinked, the question catching her off guard. She considered lying, then decided against it. Morwenna always knew anyway.
"A little. I wish I could see him now. I wish he could be here with us, growing up with you."
Morwenna thought about this. She thought about the boy with her mother's eyes, alone in a house that didn't know what he was. She thought about him waiting.
Then she reached out and patted the hand of Jane, the same way she had patted Tilly when he was worried about the cake.
"He will come," Morwenna said. "When he is eleven."
Jane smiled. "Yes. He will."
"Good." Morwenna picked up the book. "Read more."
Jane read.