Heat and light met them in the Leaky Cauldron after the biting cold of Diagon Alley. A crackling fire burned in the hearth. A few witches sat at small tables, heads bent over steaming cups of tea. The innkeeper gave them a respectful nod as they passed through the common room.
Morwenna held Jane's hand tightly as they stepped onto the London street. The air was sharp. Rain had fallen while they were inside, and the pavement gleamed under the streetlights. Cars splashed through puddles. A red bus rumbled by with fogged windows. A woman hurried along, walking a small dog.
Jane raised her hand, and a black cab pulled quickly to the kerb.
"Where to?" the driver asked as they approached.
Jane gave the address, and Morwenna climbed into the back seat. The leather was cold against her legs. Jane sat beside her, and Jack took the front seat. The cab pulled away and merged into traffic.
. . .
The doctor's office was exactly as Morwenna remembered. The familiar brass sign, the small front garden, the waiting room with its piano music and bubbling fish tank. Morwenna sat between her parents on the couch. The toys in the wicker basket hadn't changed, but she had no urge to touch them.
Eventually, the nurse called their names. "The Keiths? The doctor is ready for you."
.
Dr. Meadows stood to greet them. Her hair was greyer, and her glasses hung from a delicate silver chain around her neck. "Well," she remarked, "you certainly look different."
She glanced at Jane and Jack. "Your clothes are much more formal than usual."
Jane smoothed the front of her dress. "We have just come from a formal meeting."
Dr. Meadows nodded, but her attention returned to Morwenna. She stopped mid-sentence and leaned closer. "Your hair and your eyes. They have changed significantly."
Morwenna tilted her head and offered a small, cheeky smile. "Is it pretty? Is it good?"
Dr. Meadows laughed and reached out to pinch Morwenna's cheek. "It's very good, and very pretty."
Morwenna's face went pink, and she smiled back.
Morwenna climbed onto the examination table. The protective paper crinkled beneath her. Dr. Meadows picked up her stethoscope. The cold metal touched her skin.
"Deep breath now," the doctor instructed.
Morwenna obeyed.
"And again."
The doctor listened carefully to her heart and lungs before pressing her fingers along Morwenna's ribs to check her structure. "Good. You are quite strong."
She stepped back and adjusted her glasses. "Your second treatment seems to have been a success. You are much more active than you were last time, and far more expressive."
Jane and Jack exchanged a brief glance. "Something happened in the middle of it," Jane explained. "Nimue almost died."
Dr. Meadows' face went still with concern.
"But the treatment worked," Jack added. "She recovered, though she was bedridden for three months and required several months of physical therapy."
Morwenna swung her legs back and forth, making the paper crinkle again.
"The side effects," Jane continued, "included the changes to her hair and eyes that you see now."
Dr. Meadows studied Morwenna's dark hair with its stark white sections and silver streak, and her mismatched red and silver eyes. "I see," she said quietly.
She picked up a small light and held it near the girl's face. "Look here."
Morwenna's pupils contracted in the light.
"Now, follow my finger."
Morwenna tracked the movement—left, right, up, and down—until the doctor set the light aside.
"Her eyes are healthy, her heart is strong, and her lungs are clear," Dr. Meadows said, writing on her clipboard. "Physically, she is the same as before." She looked at Jane. "Your private doctor must be exceptionally skilled."
Jane smiled. "My family has a deep background in medicine. My grandmother is the best doctor I know, though she is a general practitioner. We still feel the need for a children's specialist."
Dr. Meadows offered a warm smile in return. "I'm glad that I can be of service."
She then gestured toward the measuring scale by the wall. "Height first. Stand here, please."
Morwenna stepped into place, her back straight against the metal rod, her chin level. The cold surface pressed against her shoulders as Dr. Meadows adjusted the sliding arm.
"One hundred and twenty centimetres," the doctor announced.
Jane's eyebrows rose in surprise. "She was only one hundred and seven when she was four."
"Thirteen centimetres is a significant amount of growth," Dr. Meadows answer.
Morwenna glanced at the markings on the scale. She was noticeably taller, and the difference felt good.
Dr. Meadows made a quick note before turning toward a drawer to retrieve a small syringe and a glass vial of clear liquid. Morwenna's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the needle.
"It's a vaccine," Dr. Meadows explained. "Just a small prick to help keep you healthy."
Morwenna looked at Jane. Her mother gave an encouraging nod. "It's fine, Nimue."
Morwenna extended her arm. The cold cotton swab touched her skin, and the needle slid in. There was a brief sting and a faint burn, but it was over in seconds. Dr. Meadows withdrew the needle and pressed a cotton ball to the spot.
"All done."
Morwenna glanced at the tiny red mark on her skin. "That was nothing."
"You are very brave," Dr. Meadows replied with a faint smile. She set the syringe aside and handed Jane a small paper bag. "These are vitamins and supplements. They are standard for her age, especially considering her recovery. Ensure she takes them daily with food."
Jane accepted the bag. "Thank you, Dr. Meadows."
"Of course. Come back in a year, or sooner if anything changes."
Jack shook the doctor's hand, Jane offered a polite smile, and Morwenna gave a small wave as they walk out.
They left the office and stepped onto the street where a cab was already waiting for them. The ride back to the Leaky Cauldron passed in near silence as Morwenna leaned against Jane's side. Her arm felt slightly sore, but she watched the city blur into streaks of grey and light through the window.
When the cab stopped, Jack paid the driver and they headed inside. The Leaky Cauldron was thick with heat and the quiet murmur of voices. They moved to the Floo, and Jane spoke the destination.
"Keith Manor."
Green flames surged up and swallowed them.
. . .
The weeks between January and April passed in a steady rhythm of lessons and letters. Morwenna's days settled into a familiar shape, with mornings dedicated to theory. Aldric sat with her in the library and walked her through the foundations of traditionalist magic.
He taught her that the old families focused on history as much as spells, covering bloodlines, alliances, and the wars that had shaped their world. She learned which families had stood together and which had been destroyed.
She studied the old protocols: how to address a lord of an ancient house, how to receive guests, how to refuse an invitation without causing offence. She learned to recognise the subtle signals in formal letters, the meanings behind the words.
Seraphina took over in the afternoons to teach her about the old festivals and the Wheel of the Year. They covered Samhain, Yule, Imbolc, and Ostara, focusing on the meanings and rituals behind the dates.
"These aren't just decorations," Seraphina warned. "They are obligations. The land remembers, and if you don't take care of these traditions, the land and our magic will fall into ruin."
Jane handled the practical side: household charms, warding, and food preservation. "You may be a pureblood, but you will live in a house. You should know how to keep it."
Morwenna also worked hard on her French. Her reading and writing were sharp, and while her speaking lagged, Jane made her practice every evening until the words grew natural on her tongue.
The invitations were sent out in February on cream parchment sealed with green wax and the Keith crest. Jane wrote each name in her careful hand while Morwenna watched. The list included names like Greengrass, Malfoy, Parkinson, Rosier, Bones, Macmillan, Longbottom, Brown, and Bulstrode.
The French families, the Delacours and Flamels, would receive theirs separately. Morwenna's ears turned red at the mention of the Delacours. Jane noticed but said nothing.
The manor began to change as the event drew near. The house elves moved through the halls like a small army under Tilly's direction. The silver was polished, the chandeliers were cleaned, and the long table in the Great Hall was extended to its full length.
Cousins from the magical and mundane branches of the Keith family arrived to help, rolling up their sleeves to air out guest suites and prepare fresh linens. Every room was filled with fresh flowers, and the ballroom floor was enchanted to hold the light.
Morwenna stayed out of the way, often sitting on the stairs with Cinder to watch the chaos.
Raphaël and Luelle were the first of the French family to arrive. Luelle was talking even before the Floo flames had settled, while Raphaël quietly carried their bags. When Luelle saw Morwenna, she crossed the room and pulled her into a hug. "You are taller!"
"Everyone says that," Morwenna replied, not pulling away.
Raphaël set the bags down and ruffled her hair. She pouted but let him
Celestine and Lucien arrived the following day. Celestine took in the decorations and polished floors with an approving eye. "You have been busy," she said to Jane.
Jane kissed her mother's cheek. "The ball is in two weeks."
Lucien followed his wife. His presence warmed the air. He looked at Morwenna and touched his ear. She touched hers in return. He smiled.
Elara arrived alone in the late afternoon, her dark hair in a precise updo. She crouched when she reached Morwenna at the bottom of the stairs. "You're wearing the bracelet."
Morwenna held out her left wrist. The silver band caught the light. "It hasn't come off."
Elara touched the metal with cool fingers. "Good."
She stood and walked toward the guest wing without looking back.
Viviane arrived three days before the ball, looking elegant in her dark blue travelling robes. She hugged Jane and told her she had outdone herself with the preparations. When she turned to Morwenna, her eyes softened. "Mon trésor," she said, taking the girl's face in her hands.
She looked at her closely. "You look like you have been through a war."
Morwenna didn't know how to answer. Viviane simply pulled her into a tight hug before letting her go.
Roxane and Nicholas arrived two days before the ball. Roxane was dressed in deep indigo, while Nicholas wore dark blue with his indigo brooch gleaming. The hall went quiet upon their arrival. Tilly appeared at Roxane's elbow with tea, and the woman took it while looking at Morwenna.
"You are standing straight," Roxane observed.
Morwenna straightened her posture even more, and Roxane gave a satisfied nod.
Nicholas looked at her next, his gaze lingering on her red and silver eyes. "Your soul has settled," he said quietly. Morwenna nodded, and he simply replied, "Good."
The house elves resumed their work as the guests moved toward the guest wing. Morwenna stood by the fountain and watched the bustling activity of the manor. "Two more days," she whispered to Cinder, who thumped his tail against her leg in response.
The day before the ball, the manor seemed to hold its breath. Morwenna woke to a hush of anticipation rather than the heavy silence she had known after her coma. The light through her window was pale and gold. She dressed quickly and headed downstairs with Cinder.
The entrance hall stopped her in her tracks. The fountain's water had been enchanted to run silver, catching the morning light and throwing shifting patterns against the walls.
Flowers cascaded from every surface, with white roses and purple lilacs mixed with deep green ivy. Tiny silver bells were threaded through the garlands on the banisters, shimmering silently in the light.
The great staircase had been transformed with a runner of deep green velvet held by silver rods. Morwenna walked toward the Great Hall, where the doors stood open. The long table stretched nearly the width of the room, covered in white cloth embroidered with silver serpents and red phoenix.
Crystal goblets and silver candelabras waited for the evening. A new, larger chair carved with the Keith crest sat at the head of the table. It was Morwenna's chair, though she had never sat in it before. She reached out to touch the smooth wood of the armrest.
The ballroom on the first floor was equally magnificent. Morwenna climbed the stairs, passing portraits that watched her with varying degrees of interest. Inside the ballroom, Tilly was directing the final placement of the crystal chandeliers.
The floor had been polished to a mirror shine, reflecting Morwenna's image as she stood in the centre of the empty room. Tapestries depicting Keith victories and alliances lined the walls, and at the far end of the room, a dais had been raised with a silver and green velvet chair. It was where she would stand tomorrow.
In the morning room, which had been turned into a receiving area, Jane was busy directing her cousins. The furniture had been replaced with elegant chairs upholstered in silver silk, and fresh flowers were everywhere.
"What do you think?" Jane asked when she saw Morwenna.
"It looks like a different house," Morwenna replied.
Jane smiled. "That's the point."
The library had been left mostly untouched, though even there, the house elves had chased away every mote of dust. Aldric sat in his usual chair with a book on his knee. "Nervous?" he asked.
Morwenna shook her head, then nodded, and finally shrugged.
"That's three different answers," Aldric said with a smile.
"I don't know which one is true."
He closed his book. "That's the most honest answer you could give."
The conservatory was bright with the afternoon sun. Saoirse stood by the piano with her hands in her pockets. "Tomorrow is the big day."
Morwenna sat on the bench and let her fingers find the keys, though she didn't play. "Are you going to dance?"
Saoirse snorted. "I'm going to eat and drink and watch the purebloods pretend they like each other." She looked at Morwenna. "Fleur will be there."
"I know," Morwenna said, pressing a single key. "I don't remember her."
She pressed another note. "But I want to. I want to remember."
Saoirse sat on the bench beside her, her expression softer than usual. "Then meet her tomorrow. Talk to her and look at her. Your memory might not come back, but you can always make new ones."
Morwenna looked at her aunt. "That isn't helpful."
Saoirse grinned. "It's the truth."
As the sun set, the candles were lit and the manor began to glow. Morwenna stood in her nursery with Cinder curled on the bed and her green snake in her arms. The moon was high and silver in the dark sky. She pressed her face to the glass, thinking of Fleur and the other things she couldn't recall.
"La même lune,"
Tomorrow, she would stand in the ballroom in a green dress and meet people who had only been names on a screen in her previous life. Malfoy, Greengrass, Longbottom. They would be real people with faces and voices she had never heard. She hugged the snake tighter.
"Tomorrow," she whispered.
Cinder's tail thumped against the bed, and Morwenna watched the moon, waiting for the day to come.