The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the grand windows of the Lovelace Manor’s sitting room, casting a golden hue over the antique furniture and the fine china set neatly on the table. The faint scent of old parchment and lavender drifted through the air as Aurelia Lovelace poured herself a cup of Earl Grey tea, her gnarled fingers as steady as ever despite the weight of her years. Across from her, Artemis sat curled in an armchair, her small frame relaxed but attentive. Between them, Fenny and Grent, their house-elves, moved efficiently, setting down a tray of biscuits and tarts with an air of quiet dignity.

“You’ve grown into quite the young lady, Artemis,” Aurelia remarked, her deep-set blue eyes scrutinizing her grand-niece over the rim of her teacup. “Merlin knows, when they left you with me, I had no notion of what to do with a child. A stubborn, too-intelligent-for-her-own-good child, no less.”

Artemis smirked slightly, stirring her tea absentmindedly. “You did alright. I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“Hmph. Credit for that goes to Fenny and Grent, I suspect,” Aurelia muttered, casting a glance at the house-elves who were currently fussing over Artemis’s tea. Fenny beamed proudly, refilling the tea with the utmost care. Grent nodded solemnly and put two more biscuits in her plate.

Aurelia sighed, setting down her cup. “You remind me so much of my brother—your great grandfather—when he was your age. The same sharp wit, the same determination. He never did listen to me either.” She gave Artemis a wry smile before glancing out the window, as if looking into the past. “Hogwarts will be good for you.”

A silence stretched between them, filled only by the quiet clinking of china. Artemis finally spoke, her voice softer. “I just… wish things were different.”

Aurelia nodded, understanding the weight behind those words. “Life is rarely as we wish it to be, child. But we move forward regardless.”

Artemis bit her lip, eyes fixed on the teacup in her hands. The war raged outside the manor’s protective wards. Hogwarts had always been a dream, a symbol of something new and exciting, but now, uncertainty clung to it like a dark shadow.

“Do you know, child,” Aurelia began, stirring her tea with a delicate silver spoon, “this time of year always makes me think of my school days. Spring at Hogwarts was something to behold—buds blooming across the castle grounds, the Great Lake thawing, the air crisp with the scent of damp parchment and ink. It was always a time of change.”

Artemis listened intently, resting her chin on her palm. “What was Hogwarts like when you attended?”

A smile ghosted over Aurelia’s lips. “I was your age when I first stepped onto the Hogwarts Express,” Aurelia said, staring out the window. “Back then, the world was simpler — or so I thought. The world was different then. Magic was… less tamed, more instinctive. There were fewer rules, but more traditions. We didn’t have half the modern spells children learn now, but we learned to channel our magic through sheer will. And our professors? Stern as anything. Headmaster Aldous Fitzwilliam ran the school with the strictness of a military campaign.”

Artemis smirked. “I can’t imagine you being an obedient student.”

Aurelia let out a soft chuckle, sipping her tea. “Oh, I was an absolute menace. Not in the Chaotic sense—no Dungbombs in the corridors—but I questioned everything. I wanted knowledge beyond what was spoon-fed to us in class. I would sneak into the library’s restricted section with a Disillusionment Charm and pore over ancient texts for hours. It wasn’t about mischief—it was about breaking the mold I was expected to fit as a pure blood daughter of a respected family.”

Artemis found herself grinning. She had long suspected Aurelia had never been the prim and proper pure-blood lady society had wanted her to be. “Did you have friends?” she asked, tilting her head.

Aurelia hesitated. “Not many, no. What little bonds I had faded over the time. I wasn’t like you, Artemis. I didn’t form bonds easily. My studies were my company, my books, my closest confidants. There was one boy, though—Cassius Bole. He was clever, ambitious. A Slytherin through and through, but we had long debates about everything—magic, politics, philosophy. He married young and inherited his family’s estate while I… Well, I chose my own path.”

Artemis studied her great-aunt’s expression carefully. There was no sadness, only the quiet acceptance of a life well-lived. “And you never regretted not marrying?”

Aurelia shook her head. “Never. Love is not the only measure of a life well spent, child. My work, my studies, the knowledge I left behind in my books—that is my legacy. But you… you are different. You have forged connections. Those three children who practically live here when they aren’t with their families— Rosaline, Eliza and Henry. You belong to the world in a way I never did.”

Artemis looked down at her cup, warmth spreading through her chest. Aurelia never spoke in sentiment, not often. To hear her acknowledge the bonds she had formed in the past few years felt… validating. She had not just survived—she had lived.

Aurelia set her tea down with a decisive clink. “Speaking of your little trio, my owl’s brood is well past their fledgling days. You should take one. And I suggest you offer the others to your friends. A young witch needs a reliable owl, and in times like these, the ability to send word quickly may make all the difference.”

Artemis’s eyes widened in delight. She had admired Aurelia’s owls for years, but to have one of her own… “You really mean it?”

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Aurelia smirked. “I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t.”

“I think I’ll choose the tawny one—she’s the fastest,” Artemis decided, already picturing the bird perched on her shoulder. “And I’ll write to Rosaline, Eliza and Henry tonight. I know Rose has been pestering her parents for an owl for months.”

“Good,” Aurelia said, leaning back in her chair. “Now, as for your Hogwarts supplies…” Her expression darkened slightly. “We are not going to Diagon Alley.”

Artemis set her cup down. She had expected as much. “Because of the war.”

Aurelia nodded. “Voldemort’s forces are becoming bolder. Attacks are happening in broad daylight. The Ministry is useless, and I have no intention of walking you straight into danger. We will order everything by owl. I’ve already sent inquiries to Flourish and Blotts, Slug and Jiggers, and Twilfitt and Tattings and many more”

“What about a wand?” Artemis asked, though she already knew the answer.

Aurelia arched an eyebrow. “Do you feel Edward’s wand has failed you in any way?”

Artemis shook her head. It hadn’t. If anything, the willow wand had grown attuned to her over the years, responding to her every spell with remarkable fluidity. “No. It works fine.”

“Then that settles it. A wand chooses the wizard, yes, but magic is not so rigid as to reject a worthy wielder. And you, my dear, have proven yourself worthy.”

Artemis let out a breath, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction settle in her bones. She wasn’t just surviving—she was growing, adapting. And as she looked across the room at Aurelia, this eccentric, wise, and fearsome woman who had taken her in, she felt a rare and precious thing bloom within her.

Belonging.

Fenny appeared at her side, beaming. “Miss Artemis will be needing a name for her new owl, yes?”

Artemis grinned, reaching for the tawny owl perched near the window. “Yes, I think I will.”

Aurelia watched her fondly, taking another sip of tea. “Then choose wisely. A name holds power.”

Artemis met her great-aunt’s gaze and, for the first time in years, felt content in her skin.

The following day, the grounds of Lovelace Manor echoed with laughter and the whooshing sound of broomsticks as Artemis and her friends took to the skies. The summer sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the sprawling gardens. The orchard in the distance shimmered in the golden light, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of fresh grass and blooming honeysuckle.

Rosaline and Eliza Dawson, identical in every way but personality, zoomed ahead, their matching blonde braids whipping behind them. Their parents, Healer and Potioneer at St. Mungo’s and old friends of Eleanor, often sent them over to Lovelace Manor for safety and company. Henry Bell , a year younger than the girls and the son of one of Lysander’s old colleagues from the Ministry, trailed behind them, gripping his broomstick tightly with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

Artemis followed at a steadier pace, letting the wind whip through her dark curls as she watched her friends with amusement. She had always been comfortable in the air—perhaps not as daring as Eliza or as graceful as Rosaline, but flying had become a quiet solace for her over the years.

“I’m telling you, I’m going to be in Gryffindor,” Eliza declared, executing a rather wobbly twirl in midair. “That’s where all the best duellists go. Brave witches and wizards.”

“Maybe you should focus on not falling off your broom first,” Rose teased, expertly looping around her twin, much more in control of her flight.

Henry, struggling to keep up, huffed as he pulled alongside Artemis. “You two are ridiculous. I think Hufflepuff would be nice. They seem friendly. Good food, good people. What more could you want?”

Eliza scoffed. “You just don’t want to get involved in any of the house rivalries.”

“Exactly,” Henry said with a grin. “Safe, happy, and surrounded by loyal friends. Sounds perfect to me.”

Artemis listened to them bicker, a small warmth settling in her chest. It was easy to pretend, in these moments, that they were just ordinary children excited for Hogwarts. That there wasn’t a war looming over them, that she hadn’t lost everything once before.

Sometimes, when Artemis closed her eyes, she could almost remember flying in another sky, but on an Airplane she hadn’t been on in this life.

“Where do you think you’ll go, Artemis?” Eliza asked suddenly, pulling her from her thoughts.

Artemis hesitated, gripping the handle of her broomstick a little tighter. “I… don’t know.”

“I bet Ravenclaw,” Rosaline said confidently. “You’re always reading and asking questions. You know things.”

“She’s got the attitude for Slytherin,” Henry pointed out, ducking to avoid Rosaline’s half-hearted swing at him.

Artemis only smiled faintly, though she didn’t voice what she really felt—that it didn’t matter. Not really. The Sorting Hat could put her anywhere, and it wouldn’t bring back what she had lost. She could picture Edward’s bright excitement before his own first year, how their parents had told him he’d make a fine Gryffindor or Ravenclaw or even a Slytherin. The thought sent a sharp pang through her chest. It was a simpler time. They should have been here.

Sensing the shift in her mood, Henry reached into his pocket and pulled out a pilfered biscuit, holding it out to her. “Here. Stole... Er borrowed it from the kitchen.”

Artemis raised a brow but accepted the offering. Rosaline and Eliza, not to be left out, immediately pulled out their own stash of stolen sweets. Soon enough, all four of them were sprawled out on the grass, munching on biscuits and trading stories about what they thought Hogwarts would be like.

“I hope we all end up in the same house,” Henry said, licking crumbs from his fingers. “Even if I have to wait a year to join you.”

“We’ll make sure you have plenty of stories to catch up on,” Eliza assured him.

As they lay there, Rosaline suddenly sat up and pointed toward the owlery in the manor. “We still need to pick our owls, don’t we? Aunt Aurelia is so good to us!”

Artemis nodded. Aunt Aurelia’s owl had laid eggs over a year ago, and the young ones had recently begun flying about. It had been decided that each of them would take one as their own to bring to Hogwarts.

They made their way over, excitement bubbling up as they entered the airy loft where the owlets perched. The owl loft smelled of dry straw and the faint musk of feathers. Sunlight spilled through the high windows, dust motes swirling lazily in the golden light. The tawny owl Artemis had been watching for weeks ruffled its feathers when she approached, tilting its head as though deciding whether she was worthy.

A small, tawny owl with sharp amber eyes. It let out a soft hoot as she reached out, letting her fingers brush against its feathers.

“This one,” she whispered, feeling an unexpected surge of connection. The owl tilted its head, as if considering her just as much as she was considering it.

Rosaline chose a gentle white owl that nipped at her fingers affectionately, while Eliza picked a sleek grey owl that blinked at her with large, intelligent eyes. Henry, despite not heading to Hogwarts just yet, picked a fluffy brown owl that was still a bit clumsy in its movements.

As they laughed and debated names, Artemis felt something settle within her.

As the sun began to set, Artemis found herself watching her friends, memorizing their faces. They were her family now, in a way. The ache of loss would never truly fade, but she wasn’t alone. Not anymore.