Dinner that night felt quiet, the atmosphere in the dining room thick with a soft, muted energy. It wasn't the heavy, suffocating silence that follows bad news, but rather the weary stillness of people who had spent too many hours talking and simply needed a moment to breathe. The house itself seemed to exhale, the shadows in the corners softening as the evening deepened.
The table was set for six, the fine porcelain gleaming under the low light. Jane sat beside Jack, her posture relaxed for the first time all day, while Elara and Viviane sat across from them. Aldric occupied the head of the table, his presence steady and grounding, with Seraphina at the far end.
The food was warm and comforting—the scent of steamed rice, savory grilled fish, and sharp, pickled vegetables rising in a fragrant cloud. A ceramic pot of tea sat in the center, tendrils of steam curling into the air. Tilly had added a plate of steamed buns, their tops dusted with a fine layer of flour and the dough still warm and soft to the touch.
The candles burned low, their golden flames flickering and casting dancing shadows over the remains of the meal.
Aldric waited until everyone had served themselves and the initial hunger had been satisfied before he spoke. "Well?"
Jack set his chopsticks down. "She agreed. Petunia signed the contract, and she is an Evans again. The magic took hold immediately."
"There was a confrontation," Jane added, her voice dropping a fraction. "About Harry. We asked why he is so thin, why nothing fits him properly, why there is so little of him in that house."
She paused, her expression clouding as she remembered the sharp, defensive lines of Petunia's face. "She was defensive, angry, and scared, but she eventually began to talk. The truth wasn't pretty, but it was there."
Aldric nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "And Harry?"
"Thin," Jack said, his brow furrowing. "Small and clearly frightened of his own shadow." He took a slow sip of tea, the heat grounding him. "We came to an arrangement. Ten to fourteen days there, to keep the wards standing. The rest with us. It's not enough, but it's a beginning."
"Tomorrow we take him to Doctor Meadows," Jane said. "I want a full assessment before we do anything else. We need facts first."
Elara set down her tea. "I have made modifications to the wards and added exceptions for the Keith, LeFay, Valcourt, and Beaumont lines. We can discuss Harry openly now, though the original protections still apply to everyone else. The magic won't choke the words anymore."
She looked at Jack, a faint, knowing glint in her eyes. "I added redundancies. Outside interference will be unpleasant for the offender."
Viviane spoke next. "There are two contracts. Petunia's reclamation, and the custody arrangement. I want both processed through Beaumont channels in France, where the British Ministry cannot put its hands on them."
"I will return tomorrow," Elara said. "My work here is done for now."
Viviane agreed. "I will go with her. The paperwork won't wait."
Jane looked at them both, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. "So soon?"
"There is nothing further for me to do here," Elara replied. "The wards are stable, and the contracts are signed. The next part belongs to family."
Viviane reached across the linen tablecloth and touched Jane's hand, a brief, supportive gesture. "You can manage a doctor's appointment, chérie. You already have what matters."
Jane smiled, the tension in her face finally breaking as she touched Viviane's hand in return. "Thank you. Both of you. For everything."
Seraphina folded her napkin beside her plate. "That is enough for one evening," she said. "There will be worries in the morning. We need not begin them early."
Dinner continued as the conversation drifted to lighter things, the heavy topics tucked away for the night. They spoke of the garden's progress, the cooling weather, and the new foal in the creature meadow that had finally found its legs.
They discussed the rising cost of Floo powder and the gossip from the French courts, but no one mentioned Dumbledore or the Dark Lord again. They ate until the plates were empty and the teapot was dry, leaving only the soft crackle of the candles in the quiet room.
. . .
The morning arrived with a flat, colorless light that filtered through the mist, though the air remained mild.
Morwenna dressed quickly, moving with an efficient silence. She chose a dark green shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark trousers that allowed her to move freely. The pendant on her wrist swung with a rhythmic click as she buttoned her cuffs. Cinder curled on her bed, his tail twitching as he watched her movements with half-closed eyes.
She went to the kitchen where Tilly was already working, his large ears pointed forward and his small hands dusted with a fine coating of flour. A tray of chocolate chip cookies sat on the counter, the smell of melting chocolate and toasted sugar filling the warm space. They were slightly uneven, with dark chips poking through the golden-brown surface in places.
"I need a pouch," Morwenna said. "For these. I want to thank Doctor Meadows."
Tilly pulled a small cloth bag from a wooden drawer. It was made of pale, clean linen with a sturdy drawstring at the top. Morwenna packed twenty of the best cookies into it. She tied the string tight and tucked the bag into her coat pocket.
"The little miss made these herself," Tilly said, his ears turning a soft pink with pride. "Tilly only helped with the oven."
Morwenna patted his small, floury hand. "You helped a lot. Thank you, Tilly."
Jack drove while Jane sat in the front, her eyes fixed on the road, and Morwenna sat in the back with the pouch resting in her lap. The streets were wet from an early morning rain, and the car tires hissed on the damp asphalt.
The doctor's office was the same as always, marked by the polished brass sign and the small, tidy front garden. Inside, the waiting room featured a fish tank bubbling in the corner, where goldfish drifted lazily through green plastic weeds while soft, unobtrusive piano music played from hidden speakers.
Petunia and Harry were already there. Petunia sat stiffly on the edge of the couch, her handbag clutched in her lap, while Harry sat beside her. His back was remarkably straight, a rigid posture that made him look like he was trying to disappear into the upholstery, and his feet barely touched the floor.
He wore clothes that almost fit him—the jumper was new and the collar was stiff against his neck, though the sleeves were still slightly short, exposing his thin wrists. Despite the new clothes, the dark shadows under his eyes were impossible to hide.
Morwenna walked to the reception desk. "Is Doctor Meadows in?"
The receptionist looked up and smiled. "She will be with you shortly, Nimue."
Morwenna sat in the chair across from Harry. She didn't wave or smile; she simply looked at him, and he looked back with a quiet, intense curiosity. When the door finally opened, Doctor Meadows stood in the doorway. Her grey-streaked hair was pinned back in a sensible bun, and her glasses hung from a fine silver chain.
"Nimue." She smiled, her eyes crinkling. "You have grown."
Morwenna walked straight to her and held out the cloth pouch. "I made these for you. To thank you for always helping us."
Doctor Meadows took the pouch, her fingers brushing the linen, and untied the string. The rich, sweet smell of chocolate and butter immediately filled the small doorway.
"Chocolate chip," Morwenna said. "I made them this morning. Tilly helped, but I did most of it. He is our senior butler, and he is very patient."
Doctor Meadows laughed softly, a warm sound. "Thank you, Nimue. I will eat them with my tea this afternoon." She set the pouch on her desk and turned to the others.
Jane stepped forward. "Doctor Meadows, this is Harry. He is my cousin's son. We have only recently been reunited with that branch of the family. He is orphaned, and we will be sharing custody with his aunt."
The doctor nodded, her observant eyes moving to Harry. He was far too small for his age, and while his clothes were clean, they seemed to swallow his fragile frame.
"Hello, Harry," she said, her voice dropping to a gentle, soothing register. "I'm going to ask you some questions and check how you are growing. Is that all right?"
Harry nodded, his eyes wide behind his glasses.
"Have you had vaccines? The usual ones? Measles, mumps, rubella?"
Harry looked at Petunia, whose face was tight with a sudden, sharp discomfort. "He has had some," she said, her voice clipped. "Not all. We couldn't afford—" She stopped abruptly and pressed her lips together into a hard line.
Doctor Meadows made a quick note on her clipboard, the pen scratching against the paper. "We will catch him up on the essentials today. And his name? For the medical records?"
"Harry Evans," Jane answered firmly and Petunia didn't correct her.
The examination took an hour. Doctor Meadows listened to Harry's heart, the steady thump-thump loud in the quiet room, checked his lungs, and pressed her fingers along his ribs, which stood out sharply under his skin.
She shone a small light in his eyes and watched him follow her finger, noting the speed of his reactions. She then asked him to stand on a scale and measured his height against the wall. He was 115 centimeters tall and weighed only 18 kilograms.
The doctor's face didn't change, but her hand moved more slowly as she recorded the numbers. "He is malnourished," she said, her voice flat and factual. "Not severely, but he hasn't been getting enough food, or at least not the right kind for a growing child. His muscle is poor, and his bone density is lower than it should be for a child of seven."
Petunia's face flushed a deep, embarrassed red. "We didn't have much money. We couldn't—"
Doctor Meadows held up a hand, cutting her off gently. "I'm not here to judge the past. I'm here to help him now."
She wrote quickly on a prescription pad and tore off the sheet with a sharp rip.
"These are supplements. He will need them daily, without fail. He also needs to move—run, jump, and climb—to build up his muscle. He needs sunlight and Vitamin D, so he should spend at least an hour outside every day."
She looked at Jane, her expression serious. "His body has been conserving energy just to keep going, which is why he is so small. With proper nutrition and consistent activity, he will catch up, though it will take time."
Jane nodded, her jaw tight and her eyes flashing with a cold, silent fury.
Doctor Meadows turned to Morwenna. "Your turn, Nimue."
Morwenna stepped onto the scale. She was 130 centimeters tall and weighed 27 kilograms.
The doctor smiled, a genuine expression of relief. "You are growing well, and you seem fully recovered."
"I'm better now," Morwenna said.
The doctor listened to her heart and checked her reflexes before nodding in satisfaction. "Excellent. You are thriving."
Morwenna stepped down from the scale. She didn't say thank you; she simply nodded back, a mirror of the doctor's own professionalism.
Doctor Meadows laughed softly. "Still the same as ever."
They left the office together as the sky cleared, the clouds breaking to reveal a pale, watery blue. The pavement began to dry, the steam rising in invisible curls.
Jack stopped at the curb, the car door already open. "We will pick Harry up in one week. We will park at the back of the house, not the front. We don't want to be seen by the neighbors."
Petunia nodded, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
"The homeschooling arrangements will be in place by then," Jack added. "His withdrawal from formal school will be processed and finalized."
"It will be done," Petunia said, her voice sounding tired.
Jane crouched in front of Harry one last time. She looked at his face, noting the dark circles and the way his shoulder blades felt like bird bones under her palm.
"One week," she said softly. "Then you come with us, yes?"
Harry looked at her, then at Morwenna, and finally back to Jane. "Okay," he said, his voice a tiny, hopeful thread.
Jane let go, and Petunia walked Harry toward the bus stop, their shadows trailing behind them. Jane and Jack walked toward the car, but Morwenna looked back once. Harry was looking back too, his small figure framed against the street. She raised her hand in a silent salute, and he raised his in return before they both turned away.
The car door closed with a solid thud and the engine started, a low, familiar rumble. Morwenna leaned her head against the cool glass and watched London slide past.
One week.
She closed her eyes and let the hum of the tyres carry her home.