The envelope sat alone on the kitchen table, angled just so, as if it had been waiting for the morning light to catch the crimson seal. For a while it rested in silence, the house still and peaceful around it.
Outside, the soft thump of footsteps broke that quiet.
"Go get it!" Tristan's voice carried through the open window, bright and breathless. His dog—an eager, mottled mutt named Bramble—bounded after a rubber ball skittering across the grass. Tristan chased after him, laughing as Bramble overshot the ball and skidded in a clumsy arc.
Elowen watched from the porch, arms folded loosely, her tea cooling beside her. Her gaze drifted between the lively pair and the envelope waiting inside. Every few seconds, her eyes flicked back toward the kitchen. That tiny motion betrayed her nerves even as the rest of her posture stayed composed.
'It came,' she thought, the words full of both relief and dread.
A final burst of barking and laughter filled the yard before Tristan came pounding up the steps, cheeks flushed and hair a windswept mess. Bramble trotted behind him proudly with the ball in his mouth.
"Mum, did the post—" He stopped mid-sentence.
The envelope waited in plain sight.
Elowen stepped aside softly and let him walk toward it at his own pace. His hand hovered over the parchment like it might vanish if he touched it.
"Go on," she said.
Tristan picked it up, turned it over, and stared at the wax seal. His throat bobbed. Then, carefully—almost ceremonially—he broke it open.
He read.
The house stayed still, the only sound the faint clatter of Bramble batting the ball around the kitchen floor.
When Tristan finally looked up, his eyes were wide, shining in disbelief. "I'm a— it's real— I'm actually going?"
Elowen let out a soft laugh, shaky around the edges. "You are. And you're ready for it."
He threw his arms around her, knocking the breath from her chest. Bramble barked in excitement, circling them like he wanted in on the moment.
"We have so much to do!" Tristan pulled back with a grin that seemed too big for his face. "We have to get my wand—and books—and robes—and—"
"Slow down, love," Elowen said with a smile. "One step at a time. We'll go to Diagon Alley today, all right?"
He nodded vigorously before sprinting off. "I'm getting my shoes!"
His footsteps thudded up the stairs, fading into hurried rummaging.
Elowen stood alone for a moment, turning her gaze once more to the envelope now lying open on the table. Then she walked to a cupboard high above the pantry shelf and pulled down a small wooden box. Her fingers lingered on the lid before she eased it open.
Inside lay a single silver clasp—simple, elegant, shaped like a star. Regulus's.
She brushed her thumb over it, feeling the echo of a life that had ended far too soon.
'He'd be so proud of you,' she thought.
Voices and footsteps sounded again upstairs. Elowen closed the box, tucking it back into its hiding place.
Tristan bounded down the steps, breathless and buzzing. "Ready! Are you ready? Can we go?"
She took one last steadying breath, then smiled and walked toward the door with him.
"Yes, sweetheart. Let's go."