The second round of cake disappeared as everyone settled into the comfort of good food and familiar company. The great hall still smelled of vanilla and sugar, and the floating orbs cast a warm golden light over the table.
Morwenna had a second slice, then a third.
Jane allowed it because it was her birthday. Tilly had already learned that refusing her anything today was a losing battle. Jack glanced at Jane to make sure she had no objections, then watched his daughter tackle the thick green frosting with her little silver fork.
Morwenna ate with Cinder nestled in her lap. Every so often, she offered him a crumb of sponge, which he accepted with great dignity, his large ears twitching as he chewed. She also kept up a conversation in Parseltongue with the carved serpent Sylvaine had given her. Their soft hisses blended into the background chatter, and neither seemed dissatisfied with the exchange.
Around the table, the adults talked comfortably. For the first time in months, nothing urgent demanded their attention.
Viviane eventually brought the conversation back to more serious matters. She set her hands beside her teacup and looked across the table.
« Je voudrais poser une question (I would like to ask a question), » she said.
"Before I do, I want to make it clear that I'm not trying to bring darkness into today. I truly am not."
Jack met her eyes. "Ask."
Viviane placed her fork on her plate.
"You said an Alberich hasn't appeared in several centuries. That the name is almost mythical, recognised only by those with long memories and old knowledge."
She glanced around the table. "Earlier, you also told us that Harry Potter is hidden behind Fidelius-class wards, that Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban without a trial, and that Dumbledore has taken considerable steps to cut Harry off from every magical connection."
She paused, her brow furrowed.
"Morwenna is technically Harry's cousin through the Evans line. She was born in the middle of a war. The second Dark Lord of this century is presumably dead, though I doubt anyone believes the matter is settled."
Her gaze returned to Jack. "If Dumbledore knows what an Alberich is, or even hears a rumour, wouldn't she become a concern? Not just to him, but to anyone who understands what it means for someone like her to exist in this age? She is related by blood to the boy everyone is already watching."
The table fell silent. Elara listened closely, while Sylvaine set down her cup. Raphaël watched Jack, his expression serious.
"It isn't a small question," Viviane said. "But I don't think it's the wrong one, either."
"No," Jack replied. "It isn't."
Jane glanced at him before answering.
"We have thought about it since she was born. We knew what she might carry and what that could mean. You are right about Dumbledore being our first concern. He isn't the only one, but he is the most organised and the most capable of acting quickly on what he learns."
She straightened slightly.
"That's why Morwenna won't enter the wizarding world under her full name."
Viviane looked up with renewed interest.
"Publicly, she will be Nimue," Jack said. "Nimue Keith. That's the name she will use at Hogwarts, in the wider wizarding world, and with anyone outside this room. That's the name people will know."
"And Morwenna?" Celestine asked, her green eyes fixed on Jane.
"Morwenna is for family. For this circle. Her full formal name stays here. Publicly, there will be no Alberich marker and no LeFay surname."
Jane looked around the table to make sure everyone understood. "Anyone who recognises what she is will have to work it out through observation, not a registry. We will make sure there's as little as possible to observe."
"Nimue Keith," Sylvaine said thoughtfully. "A Keith. An old name that commands respect and carries weight, but not one so prominent that it attracts the wrong attention."
"Yes," Jack agreed.
"And if someone looks deeper?" Raphaël asked.
"They will find a Keith," Jack said. "The Emrys blood on her father's side is no secret. The Keith family has never hidden its descent. The LeFay connection through Jane's Evans line is there for anyone who knows the family history, but it isn't obvious. What they won't find easily is Alberich, unless they are deliberately looking for it and know exactly what to look for."
"And if they are?" Elara asked.
"Then we deal with it when it happens," Jane replied. "We can't make her invisible. What we can do is make sure people see something ordinary: Nimue Keith, a child from an old family with ancient blood, but nothing that seems particularly unusual. For most purposes, that will be enough."
Viviane's gaze fell on the silver bracelet around Morwenna's wrist. The Valcourt warding script was too fine to read from a distance, but its purpose was clear.
Unaware of the adults' concerns, Morwenna held up the carved serpent towards Lucien and spoke in Parseltongue, her hisses careful and inquisitive as she tilted her head.
Lucien listened patiently, smiling, though he understood none of it.
Morwenna tried again, speaking more slowly and concentrating on her pronunciation. Her little face scrunched with effort, but Lucien remained just as lost.
From across the room, Aldric said in Parseltongue, "He doesn't speak it, little one."
Morwenna looked between them, considering this. Then she hummed three clear notes from the Veela melody she had been practising in the garden.
Lucien immediately brightened. He replied in the Veela tongue with a short phrase, then pointed at the carved serpent.
Morwenna nodded in satisfaction and returned to her cake.
"What did she say?" Seraphina asked, leaning forward.
« Que le serpent est heureux d'être ici (That the serpent is happy to be here), » Lucien replied.
"I told her that was reasonable. It's a good house."
Saoirse raised her cup, the silver catching the light.
"To Nimue Keith," she said. "Who is also Morwenna. Who is two years old today and has already told a carved serpent more secrets than any of us."
"To Morwenna," the others echoed.
Some raised their voices in English, others in French. Aldric and Celestine added a brief toast in Parseltongue, their hisses joining the well-wishes around the table.
Morwenna looked up at the eleven people raising their cups towards her. Her white curls bounced as she lifted her cake fork.
"Two," she declared.
....
The afternoon passed in comfortable conversation as sunlight streamed through the hall's tall windows.
Morwenna soon discovered a new way to get everyone's attention. Standing in the middle of the hall, she spoke loudly in Parseltongue. Every adult stopped talking and turned towards her.
She tested this discovery four more times over the next hour. Each time, the result was the same: eleven people fell silent and looked straight at her. She seemed delighted by the attention, her green eyes bright with mischief.
On her fifth attempt, Raphaël answered her from across the room without interrupting his conversation with Aldric.
Morwenna froze. Her eyes widened in astonishment.
Luelle had to put down her cup before she burst out laughing at her niece's expression.
Cinder proved a willing companion in Morwenna's activities. The little fennec followed her everywhere, his amber eyes tracking her as she wandered through the patches of sunlight.
At one point, Morwenna carried him over to the dancing wooden figures on the mantelpiece. She held him up and gave what sounded like a formal introduction, speaking in a mixture of English and Parseltongue.
Cinder's enormous ears tilted forward as he examined the tiny wooden people.
Among them was a carved fox caught mid-leap. As they approached, the figure turned slightly towards Cinder, responding to his presence. Morwenna noticed at once and made a satisfied sound, tightening her hold on his fur.
Later, she took Raphaël to the library window to show him the frost patterns she had made earlier. She pressed a finger against the cold glass and concentrated.
The crystals shifted beneath her touch, rearranging themselves into serpentine shapes as white lines spread across the pane.
Raphaël watched with his arms folded, following the changing patterns. He murmured something to Celestine in French, too softly for the others to hear over the crackling fire.
Celestine nodded. She appeared to share his conclusion.
By mid-afternoon, Morwenna finally grew tired. While the adults talked, she fell asleep on Sylvaine's lap.
One moment she had been watching the room with interest. The next, she was fast asleep, her little body relaxing as her head rested against Sylvaine's arm.
Sylvaine remained still for twenty minutes, continuing her conversation with Aldric in a lower voice so as not to wake Morwenna. One hand rested lightly on the child's back.
When Morwenna finally awoke, she looked mildly offended. She sat up with a scowl, as though sleep had been an inconvenience imposed on her without permission.
She surveyed the hall, checking the furniture and the floor as if something important might have happened while she was asleep. Finding nothing of interest, she climbed down from Sylvaine's lap and went looking for Saoirse.
Saoirse was in a corner, trying to teach Luelle a card trick. A deck of silver-backed cards lay spread across a small table, but the lesson wasn't going well.
"Not that one," Saoirse said for the third time. "That one. The one with the border."
"They all have borders," Luelle replied, growing frustrated.
"Different borders. Look closely."
"You aren't looking properly."
"Je regarde (I'm looking)," Luelle insisted.
"You aren't looking properly."
"Saoirse, they look identical."
Morwenna stepped between them, her wooden serpent clasped in her left hand. She studied the cards in silence before tapping one with the serpent's carved head.
"That one," she declared.
Saoirse picked it up and turned it over. It was the correct card.
She slowly looked back at Morwenna, one eyebrow raised.
Morwenna met her gaze and tilted her head, seemingly unconcerned by the surprise around her. The crescent moon birthmark behind her left ear caught the light.
"Right," Luelle said, throwing up her hands. "She is two years old, and I have just been defeated by a two-year-old. That's what happened."
"Happened," Morwenna confirmed with a satisfied nod.
Then she wandered off in search of Cinder.
...
Evening settled over the manor as the sun sank behind the distant hills. Tilly prepared dinner, and the family gathered around the table without any need to hurry.
Raphaël and Jack discovered a shared interest in the practical use of druidic rune sequences in modern ward construction. Their discussion soon turned technical, with Raphaël tracing symbols in the air with his fork while Jack considered how ancient magic could be incorporated into existing wards.
Across from them, Celestine and Seraphina chatted comfortably, their conversation flowing with the ease of two women who understood each other well.
Viviane told a story about a Beaumont contract negotiation that had gone spectacularly wrong. A misdirected owl and a baffled Ministry of Finance official had turned an ordinary professional matter into a farce.
Elara listened with her usual composure, her hands folded beside her plate.
When Viviane finished, Elara offered a brief reply. Viviane covered her mouth in surprise, then burst out laughing. Even Elara's expression softened, the corners of her eyes creasing slightly.
Morwenna concentrated on her dinner. After a day of activities, presents, and cake, she was hungry. Seated between Jane and Lucien, she occasionally tugged at Jane's sleeve to ask about a carrot slice or a piece of bread.
Between bites, she hummed fragments of the Veela melodies Lucien had taught her. Sometimes she simply looked around the table at the faces of her family and their guests, content to watch and listen.
Partway through the meal, she climbed into Jane's lap without warning. She leaned against her mother's chest while Cinder settled across her own lap, his ears twitching lazily as he watched the fire.
From Jane's lap, Morwenna watched the room. She wasn't quite asleep yet, but she had reached the point where doing things on her own took more effort than she wanted to spend. For now, staying close to her mother was enough.
Jane continued her conversation, keeping one arm around Morwenna and resting her hand on the child's shoulder.
Gradually, Morwenna's eyes grew heavy. Each time they began to close, she stubbornly forced them open again, looking faintly annoyed with herself for getting sleepy. But each time, she stayed awake a little less successfully, until her eyes finally closed and didn't open again.
Cinder shifted on her lap, curling up with his dark nose tucked into his tail. Morwenna's hands rested against his warm fur.
Her breathing soon settled into a slow, steady rhythm.
The adults lowered their voices. Conversation continued, but the hall grew quieter as the day's excitement gave way to evening.
Jane looked down at her daughter. White curls framed Morwenna's sleeping face, and one tiny fist still held the pale grey memory stone Elara had given her that afternoon. She hadn't let it go once.
Carefully, Jane stood and lifted Morwenna higher against her shoulder before carrying her out of the great hall. The conversation faded behind them as they left.
The upper stairs were lit by flickering wall sconces, and the spring night had left the manor's stone walls cool. As Jane passed along the corridor, the portraits watched her carry her sleeping daughter.
Morwenna didn't stir when Jane laid her in the nursery bed. She slept through the removal of her little shoes and the tucking of the soft wool blanket around her. Her left hand remained tightly closed around the grey memory stone, while the other rested open beside her face, its fingers curled slightly.
Tilly appeared in the doorway, his large eyes reflecting the moonlight spilling through the window onto the nursery floor.
Jane stayed beside the bed for a moment, watching her daughter sleep. Then she left and returned downstairs, her footsteps soft against the carpet runner.
The great hall was quieter when she returned. The air still smelled of woodsmoke, mixed with the faint, sharp scent left by the ritual flame earlier that day.
The birthday decorations remained, though their magic had settled. Floating lights drifted closer to the stone floor, casting a warm amber glow, while the enchanted wooden figures wandered across the mantelpiece with soft clicks. The long table had been cleared of most of the dishes, leaving a few half-full glasses and the remains of the feast.
The eleven adults had settled wherever they felt comfortable, with none of the formality that had marked the earlier gathering.
Aldric and Sylvaine sat in high-backed chairs near the fire, talking in low voices. After decades of knowing each other, they were comfortable with silences as well as conversation.
Saoirse sat on the rug, leaning against the velvet settee with her legs stretched towards the hearth. Cinder lay beside her, his large ears finally relaxed after a day of being passed around and admired.
Luelle sat on a nearby ottoman, asking Saoirse about the places she had visited during her travels. Saoirse answered with enthusiasm, using small gestures as she described jagged mountains and rugged coastlines. She was clearly enjoying having someone so interested in her stories.
Raphaël and Jack had moved on from their technical discussion to quieter, more reflective conversation. Nearby, Seraphina read a heavy, leather-bound book, following the yellowed lines of text in the firelight.
Viviane joined Jane, with Elara, Celestine, and Lucien sitting nearby. Their conversation wandered from one subject to another as everyone relaxed after the long day.
Celestine spoke about the LeFay library in France, where years of investigation were finally bringing forgotten family records to light. Jane listened with her chin resting on one hand, her green eyes following the conversation.
When someone asked Elara about the Valcourt estates, she answered in three precise sentences before smoothly steering the discussion elsewhere.
The fire burned lower, its flames shrinking until only red coals remained beneath the logs.
Eventually, Saoirse fell asleep on the rug, her head resting against the settee. Cinder curled up across her legs, soon falling asleep as well.
The conversations grew slower, with longer pauses between replies. The day's exhaustion was catching up with everyone, and the manor remained warm despite the cold night outside.
Seraphina closed her book with a soft thud. Aldric refilled Sylvaine's cup without a word, and she thanked him with a nod.
Outside, the April night was clear and cold. Frost began to form across the grass, untouched by the warmth within the manor.
No one was in a hurry to leave.