Morwenna didn't sleep a wink.
She lay in the dark with Vert pressed against her chest, her arms wrapped around the velvet snake and her eyes shut tight. The minutes crawled past in the silence of the manor. She counted them until she lost it, then simply started again.
Cinder shifted at her feet, his tail twitching and his ears turning toward every small sound in the hallway. He knew something was different today, and he clearly didn't like the tension radiating from his mistress.
At some point, the light of dawn began to seep through the curtains. Morwenna opened her eyes, the weight of a sleepless night settling deep into her bones. Her eyelids felt heavy, her body burdened by a fatigue that only true sleep could have fixed. No amount of lying still could replace the rest she had missed.
She sat up, letting Vert slide onto the bed. She picked the snake up and set her carefully on the pillow before heading to the mirror. Her reflection was startling. Her skin was even paler than usual, and dark circles smudged the skin beneath her eyes, making the red and silver of her irises look even more piercing and strange. Her hair was a chaotic mess of black and white tangles, with the silver streak at her temple catching the weak, colourless morning light.
She looked like she had been awake all night. Well... she had.
The morning room was warm, the fire already crackling in the hearth. The table was crowded with the usual breakfast dishes: rice, grilled fish, pickled vegetables, and a steaming bowl of miso soup. There was even a plate of dumplings near the window. Morwenna sat in her chair with Cinder resting his nose on her knee beneath the table.
Everyone was gathered.
Jane wore a soft cream blouse with delicate embroidery at the collar and a light beige skirt. Her red hair hung loose, catching the warm glow of the fire. She looked like someone who was about to meet family and wanted to appear welcoming rather than formal.
Jack sat beside her in a dark charcoal shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and polished shoes. His black hair was neat, and the white streak at his temple stood out starkly in the morning light.
Elara had chosen a dove-grey dress with a simple belt, her silver hair pinned in its usual precise updo. She looked calm and composed. Viviane wore a navy blue blouse and tailored trousers, her fingers unconsciously brushing the small silver pendant at her throat.
At the end of the table, Aldric and Seraphina sat in their usual robe.
Jane looked at Morwenna, and her expression immediately shifted as her mouth twitched. "You look terrible, ma chérie."
Morwenna glared at her. "I'm fine."
"You have panda eyes."
"I don't have..."
Jane laughed. It was a real laugh, surprised out of her, and it broke the tension in the room. Jack smiled, and even Elara's mouth curved slightly. Morwenna pouted, reaching for a dumpling to hide her face.
They ate in a silence that was light but expectant. It was the kind of quiet that precedes a long journey, when everyone is thinking about what comes next but no one wants to say it out loud.
"Did you bring the parchment?" Elara asked Viviane.
Viviane raised an eyebrow. "Parchment?"
"The drafting materials for contracts."
"We are not signing a contract today, non?"
"We do not know what we are walking into," Elara countered. "Bring them."
Viviane's fingers brushed her pendant. "Elara. You prepare for war at a tea party."
"I prepare for tea parties," Elara said, "that become war."
Aldric set his chopsticks down, and the table turned toward him. "One piece of advice," he said. "Do not let your emotions run high before you understand the situation. You do not know how they have treated the boy, or what their circumstances are. There may be more to the story."
Seraphina nodded in agreement. "Reacting before you understand helps no one. Least of all the child."
"I will try." Jane looked at Morwenna, then back to the elders. "I will try," she repeated quietly. "I cannot promise more than that."
After breakfast, Jane helped Morwenna wash her face in the bathroom. The water was cold, and Morwenna splashed it on her cheeks until the lingering sleepiness began to fade.
Jane pressed a damp cloth under her eyes, holding it there until the dark circles were less obvious. It wasn't enough to make them disappear, but it was enough that she didn't look like she had been punched.
Morwenna dressed in the clothes Jane had prepare: a dark green long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of dark trousers. The shirt was slightly oversized, loose enough for movement, and her dark shoes were practical enough for walking long distances.
She looked in the mirror and saw a boyish silhouette that reminded her of Jack's style. She liked it.
Jane brushed her hair, working through the tangles with slow, deliberate strokes. The silver streak at her temple caught the bathroom light.
"You look like your father," Jane said.
"I dressed like him."
"You did." Jane set the brush down and looked at Morwenna's reflection. Her green eyes were bright—too bright. "Ready?"
Morwenna nodded.
. . .
The Floo took them to the Leaky Cauldron. The pub was quiet at that hour, with only a few old men at the bar and the innkeeper wiping glasses. They walked through to the street and hired a cab.
The ride was silent as Morwenna watched London slide past the window. The buildings blurred together under a sky that was pale and almost white, the sun struggling to break through the overcast. The cab stopped at the edge of the neighbourhood, and they stepped out onto the pavement.
They didn't drink the invisibility potion this time.
Morwenna's stomach tightened, and she pushed the feeling down. It wasn't fear, but something closer to anticipation. It was the same feeling she got before a ritual, before the cold settled into her chest and the fire burned through her veins.
Elara handed her a small glass vial filled with a pale gold liquid. "For your eyes," she said. "They will return to green for a single day."
Morwenna drank it. The potion was warm and sweet. She blinked, and looked into the mirror Elara held up for her. The red and silver were gone. Evans green looked back at her, familiar and yet strange. She hadn't seen this colour in her own eyes for two years.
They began to walk.
The street was quiet, lined with identical, neat, and ordinary houses. A car passed them, and a woman walked a small dog, but no one looked their way. Elara paused at the corner, glancing toward the house at the end of the row.
Usually, she felt a constant gaze from there, but today it was gone.
They walked to number four. The house was tidy, the front garden was neat, and the car in the driveway was spotless. Nothing about it suggested anything unusual.
Morwenna had seen it in her past life so many times, but the real thing was different. It was just a house made of bricks and glass, with a door painted a colour she couldn't quite name.
Jane stopped at the gate and looked at Elara. "The modifications are still holding?"
Elara nodded. "The alarm is disabled. The recording wards are paused. They will not know we were here."
Jane let out a breath and walked up the path with the others following close behind. She stopped in front of the door, raised her hand, and knocked. The sound was loud in the quiet street, three knocks that felt solid and final. There were footsteps inside and a shadow appeared behind the frosted glass. The door opened.
Petunia Evans stood in the doorway. She was tall and thin, with pale skin and light brown hair pulled back. Her features were familiar, she had the same bone structure as Jane. The shape of her eyes was the same too, though the colour was a pale, washed-out blue. It was an Evans face without the Evans marker.
Petunia looked at Jane first before her eyes moved to Jack, then to Elara, and then to Viviane. Finally, they landed on Morwenna. Her expression shifted from confusion to recognition, and then to something that looked like fear. She tried to close the door, but Jane's hand caught it. She didn't push hard; she simply kept her palm flat against the wood to hold it open.
"We need to talk, cousin." Jane said, her voice steady. "I will not leave until we do."
Petunia stared at her, her mouth opening and closing without a sound. Then she stepped back, and the door swung wider.
They walked inside. The hallway was narrow and the beige carpet was worn thin in the centre. A coat rack held a man's jacket and a child's backpack, and a small table held a vase of fake flowers alongside a stack of unopened mail. The air smelled of furniture polish and a sweet air freshener that was trying far too hard.
Morwenna looked at the photographs on the wall. They were family portraits of a large man with a red face and a thick moustache, and a blond, heavy-set boy grinning at the camera. There was no sign of Harry, and not a single photograph featured a child with dark hair and green eyes. She looked for a second photo or a third, but there were none.
They moved into the living room where the cream-coloured sofa was protected by plastic covers that crinkled when they sat down.
A television stood silent in the corner, and a display cabinet held small china animals with glinting eyes. The curtains were drawn, leaving the room dim. Petunia stood near the fireplace with her arms crossed over her chest and her jaw tight. She didn't offer anyone a seat.
Jane sat on the sofa with Jack beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched. Elara and Viviane took the armchairs, while Morwenna sat on the floor near Jane's feet.
The silence stretched until Jane finally broke it.
"My name is Jane," she said softly. "Jane Evans." She gestured to the others as she introduced them, "This is my husband, Jack. Our friends, Elara and Viviane." Her gaze turning gentler when she reached Morwenna. "And zis… is my daughter, Nimue."
Petunia's mouth twisted. "You are the freaks, then. Lily's kind. The abnormal ones."
Jack's eyes darkened and his hand curled into a fist on his knee, but Morwenna stayed perfectly still. She had expected this. Nothing about the words or the tone surprised her. Jane looked at Petunia's face, seeing her own family in the shape of that jaw and the set of that mouth.
She drew in a slow breath. "Cousin," she said quietly. "What is your name?"
"Who is your cousin?" Petunia snapped back.
Jane didn't answer; she simply held the woman's gaze.
Petunia wanted to shout and throw them out, but they weren't doing anything to provoke her. They were just sitting there, waiting, and it made her anger feel like a deflating balloon. She rubbed her temple. "Petunia," she said at last. "Petunia Evans."
Jane nodded and looked briefly toward the mantel. "Your family?"
Petunia hesitated before following her gaze. "My husband, Vernon. My son, Dudley."
Jane didn't mention Lily, nor did she ask about the boy who was missing from the photographs. Instead, she asked about the neighbourhood and the weather. They were safe, ordinary things. Petunia answered stiffly at first, but the questions didn't turn sharp or judgmental, so she kept talking.
"Your husband is at work? Your son at school?"
The questions were neutral, and Petunia eventually walked to the armchair across from the sofa and sat down. "Vernon sells drills. He is expecting a promotion." She paused. "Dudley has swimming lessons."
"He is handsome," Jane said, looking at the photograph.
Petunia's mouth softened just a little. "He is."
They talked for a while about the new car, the neighbours, and the price of petrol. Jane listened and asked questions without pushing. Jack spoke up when the conversation turned to property values, and he was careful not to mention magic. Morwenna said nothing; she just watched and listened as Petunia's shoulders finally eased.
Then Petunia stopped. She looked at the group and the quiet child sitting by Jane's feet. Her throat moved as she spoke. "I have been talking for an hour. You must think me very rude."
Jane shook her head. "Not at all."
Petunia stood abruptly. "I will put the kettle on." She walked toward the kitchen.
Jane stood to follow her. "I will help you."
Petunia looked like she wanted to refuse, but Jane was already following her into the hall, and she didn't seem to have the energy to argue. The kitchen was small, with yellow curtains and a calendar on the wall.
Petunia filled the kettle. "I didn't expect it to turn out like this," she admitted.
"I know."
"I thought, when I saw you at the door..." Petunia stopped. "You look like her. Not the eyes, since yours are darker, but the hair and the shape of your face."
Jane didn't answer.
Petunia turned the gas on; the flame flared. "Lily never mentioned you. I didn't know there were other Evans."
"The main branch stayed in France," Jane said. "Your branch lost contact generations ago. We did not know you existed until after she..." She stopped. Her hand tightened on the counter. "Until after she died."
Petunia's hand tightened on the counter. "I see."
The kettle began to whistle, and she lifted it off the stove to pour the water. The steam rose, warm and white. Jane took cups from the cupboard and set them on a tray while Petunia added the milk and sugar. They didn't speak again until the tray was ready.
In the other room, Morwenna heard the clink of cups and the sound of low voices. She leaned back against Jane's chair and drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. She watched Petunia through the doorway and noticed how the woman moved with such careful stiffness.
"She doesn't seem that bad," Morwenna thought.