RECAP
Progress didn't happen overnight. It would likely take years before anyone could say Everleigh Ravenstone had truly recovered. Healing wasn't measured in dramatic breakthroughs or recovered memories, but in the small moments that most people never thought twice about. Since autumn, those moments had slowly begun to grow.
September was much the same. Sessions with Liliya and other healers at St Mungos continued. Much of the time was spent teaching Ever that she wasn’t in prison.
Every morning looked a lot like the one before it. Breakfast arrived at the same time. The nurses rotated on a predictable schedule. Her bedroom, although still a boring bright white, was hers. Pictures of family and friends were hung on the walls, giving Ever something to look at other than the white walls. Books sat untouched, collecting dust. But the beautiful blue flower quilt that Tilly had brought for her was mysteriously draped somewhere different almost every day. Evidence that she did more than sit in silence while she was alone.
She rarely ventured beyond her room, except for brief periods in the day room where she sat quietly near the doorway, sketchbook balanced on her knees, watching the other children move around her without ever joining them.
October brought small victories. Everleigh began leaving her room without being asked. She learned the faces of the nurses, accepted meals without coaxing, and one morning surprised everyone by dressing herself before anyone arrived to help. It was hardly the sort of breakthrough that made headlines in medical journals, but for a girl whose entire life had been turned upside down, putting on her own cardigan felt monumental.
November reminded everyone that progress rarely traveled a straight line. A handful of words returned, unexpected and unprompted. Cold. Book. No. Eww, after a particularly gross dinner. They slipped into conversation like small surprises, then vanished just as fast.
December proved cruel.
The ward was decorated quietly for Christmas, but memories didn’t care about holidays. Everleigh's nightmares intensified. Her charcoal drawings darkened once again, fireplaces, silhouettes, and closed office doors were drawn with more detail. Bram visited consistently throughout the holidays, while Alice and Tilly spent nearly every day of their school break at the hospital, bringing books, fresh sketchpads and more colorful accents for her boring white room. Ever responded well to their presence and seemed to calm while they were near.
By January, another healer had been added to her care team. The trauma she suffered not only attacked her memories, but could be seen in her reactions. She startled at closing doors, flinched from unexpected movement and carried herself with the tension of someone waiting for the next hit. Her new healer attempted to teach her that surviving didn’t mean constantly preparing for the next catastrophe.
February surprised everyone.
For months, Everleigh had existed in a state of numbness, then one afternoon she became angry. She refused therapy, snapped charcoal in half, tore several sketches into tiny pieces before going quiet once again.
Some of the staff worried they were losing her, but the more experienced healers knew this was another step in the right direction. Anger required feelings. Anger meant Everleigh was beginning to feel something more than fear.
March came and her nightmares escalated. Sleep became difficult. Even without understanding why, her body remembered what happened in March two years prior. Therapy slowed to a crawl. The goal was no longer progress, but stability. Once the worst of March dwindled, the healers felt comfortable attempting something new.
The healers finally let Everleigh have short, supervised visits into the hospital gardens. The first outing lasted barely fifteen minutes. She sat, quietly looking without speaking or wandering. As the spring sun came out from behind the clouds, her eyes shut and a deep breath escaped while the sun warmed her skin.
When the session ended, she stood without issue and returned inside.
The next week, a new word appeared. It took only a few days for the nurses to recognize that whenever Ever whispered "sun," she wasn't commenting on the weather. She was asking to go outside. It was a simple request that showed her life wasn’t only fear.
10 April, 10:00am
St Mungo's Courtyard
It was another therapy day, but things looked different when Liliya came to see Ever. Normally, she would be found sitting quietly in the day room, but today Ever was sitting in the courtyard soaking up the sun. She had been outside for over an hour, quietly watching the other patients. It was the most present she had been in ages. Watching, and actually seeing.
It was the footsteps that drew Ever's attention. Normally, someone moving around barely got a glance. Today was different. Her eyes lifted toward the sound, seeing the familiar blonde walking across the courtyard. For a moment, Ever simply watched. For the first time in months, Everleigh Ravenstone looked at Liliya. Really looked at her. Something flickered behind her light blue eyes. Recognition. Her lips parted. The nurses had grown used to waiting. Sometimes no sound came out. This time, one quiet word appeared. ”Hi.”
Over time, Liliya had begun to understand something.
Everleigh’s mind wasn’t torn to pieces because her trauma had simply ripped it to shreds, blowing fractured pieces of memories through her head as though caught in a perpetual storm, no pattern and no aim. An impossible puzzle Liliya had been tasked with solving, to glue together what had been shattered like fragile porcelain dropped to the floor. No. Everleigh’s mind hadn't simply broken. The very walls of her reality had collapsed. Crumbled and fallen after what they now assumed must have been years of manipulation, and Liliya wasn’t here to rebuild or rearrange any of it.
Liliya was here to heal something else entirely.
Fear.
Those memories Liliya had tried to access: the office, her father — Everleigh wasn’t hiding it away from Liliya alone, but from herself as well. Perhaps it was the refusal to relive it all. Maybe whatever was locked deep within the folds of Everleigh’s mind was so horrific, barring everything away was the only way to cope, too painful and traumatic to keep alive. Too jarring to share with another. Liliya could understand that. Ignoring, shoving aside, pretending nonexistence — she knew it well enough. Some things were better left to hide in the dark, always there and lingering, but shrouded in shadow as long as no one looked.
And still, the nagging remained. There was something more to Everleigh’s avoidance. Something deeper Liliya couldn’t quite grasp, another layer to that fear that seemed to control her entire existence and that prevented Liliya from gaining access to any one specific thing. Always flitting away at the last moment, like a firefly too quick be get caught.
Some time after Christmas, after most of January, Liliya had stopped trying.
Instead of hunting, she had begun to linger. Drifting along with Everleigh’s flow, no resistance or intention, simply existing beside the girl in quiet company. A steady presence that watched but didn’t prod. She followed wherever she was taken, witnessed without reaction, judgement, or comment. Every session, all session. And over time, Everleigh had finally slowed. Not entirely. Not even close. But enough to shape fragmented pieces of information and suspicions into a theory.
Everleigh wanted safety. Her mind wanted safety.
By February, therapy and progress had been a constant up-and-down. March had been useless entirely, marked by breakdowns and panic attacks much as the very beginning of this journey had been. Sessions had been cancelled, delayed, cut short. Though Everleigh was still refusing to look at traumatic events, floating past every time without fail, her subconscious knew. Memory worked in funny ways like that.
Liliya hadn’t been all too concerned by it, though. If anything, she’d regarded it as a good sign. Outbursts were better than apathy, and eventually they had subsided, just as she’d thought they would.
Almost halfway through April, Everleigh seemed to be doing better than ever. Her arsenal of words had increased by one, her time spent in the hospital garden prolonged, and her moods seemed stable most of the time. Nothing major, but more than any of them had hoped for nearly a year ago. There was still a palpable air of absence about the girl, like she wasn’t quite present, perpetually moving through fog. Liliya didn’t expect to find her any different today, but as she made her way over to where Everleigh sat on a bench, basking in the sun, Liliya noticed it immediately.
There was a presence about her, a clarity with which she watched the passings of patients and healers alike. Awareness. And sure enough, as Liliya’s footsteps drew closer, shoes clicking on stone, Everleigh’s head turned to look at her, and stayed.
Eyes meeting, Liliya saw it flicker there for the first time. Cognisance. Life. An actual person residing within the shell she had been working with for months. As Everleigh spoke her quiet greeting — another first — Liliya felt the faintest shimmer of pride dance inside her chest, face brightening with restrained happiness.
“Hi,” she returned, sitting next to Everleigh with a light smile, eyes lingering on the girl’s face a moment longer before casting out over the courtyard instead, watching the comings and goings alongside her patient. Silence settled, and she let it linger, doing nothing but being company for a while, much like she did when she was in Everleigh’s head. Patients trudged past, one with a particularly interesting hairstyle, and Liliya had to snort, sending a glance to Everleigh.
“Definitely a choice,” she muttered, not expecting an answer but feeling the need to share the thought anyway. She doubted Everleigh had had a good gossip session in a while; giving her a piece of normalcy only seemed right.
She let another few minutes drift by. Eventually, Liliya nodded at Everleigh. “Ready?” she asked, giving the girl her usual moment for a reaction. By now she’d gotten proficient enough in determining whether Everleigh had a good or bad day for mind-wandering.
Today, though, seemed to be one of the good ones.
Her eyes stayed on Liliya, looking. Watching. Everleigh did a lot of watching these days. Sometimes seeing, mostly not. More often, she simply observed without understanding. Her favorite people to observe were the staff. The other patients, while different and unpredictable, were just as lost as Ever.
Sitting next to the girl was soothing in some way. Familiar. Not from the before times, when things were harder, but made sense. No, she was a new addition. Only here to see Ever because her mind was lost and her memories tangled.
“Definitely a choice.” Ever’s mind had wandered, entering into the territory of pain and suffering. Liliya’s words brought her back to the present. Looking at Liliya, following her gaze to the patient with the chaotic hairstyle.
Ever looked at the hair, cocking her head to one side. The interaction, if anyone was watching, was a drastic change to their usual sessions. Liliya pointed something out and Ever responded by paying attention. A monumental difference, but subtle in nature.
“Ready?”
Ever didn’t respond. There was no reason to.
Ever’s mind was a jumbled mess. Flashes of memories popping in and out. There was a difference in these memories, versus ones seen in their past sessions. Each one had an element of levity. They were almost happy in nature. The office was nowhere in site. No tower. No darkness. No father.
The memories drifted past the way leaves floated across water, appearing only long enough to disappear again. Until one didn't.
They were in a similar setting to the courtyard, but no buildings were shadowing their faces. Gardens surrounded their small stone sitting area. Even in the memory, Ever could feel the warmth of the sun on her skin. The smell of fresh grass replaced the cold smell of bleach and antiseptic.
There was laughter. Bright, unrestrained. The kind that left someone's stomach aching.
It took a moment to realize the loudest laugh belonged to Everleigh herself.
Tilly, however, looked scandalized.
Even with her younger age, the red hair was a dead giveaway. Standing in the middle of the gardens of Nordstrom hall, both hands buried in her own hair. Her cousin was angry, growling with rage and embarrassment.
Typically the ginger’s hair was perfectly put together, but in this memory things were not so. Tilly’s hair, typically wavy and long, was tightly curled and ratted into a nest.
Ever was snickering behind her glass of lemonade. Alice was laughing. Bram was trying very hard not to. Tilly scowled. "It wasn't supposed to do that."
It was an innocent enough memory, one that could have replayed hundreds of times in Ever’s head. It wasn't an important memory. No hidden clues. No office. No screaming. No shattered windows. Just sunshine, family, laughter. And a disastrous hairdo.
Forseeably, Everleigh didn’t answer, and unsurprisingly, her mind was the chaotic tumble it always was. Liliya knew the drill by now. Drop in, let go, float away on the ever-changing current, and watch the scenes flash by.
At first, the constant change-up had made her dizzy, disoriented and annoyed, but back then she had been subconsciously fighting still; she knew that now. Despite her attempts to let Everleigh take the lead — if one could call it that — Liliya hadn’t been fully able to release her grip on control. It had been slow coming, but eventually, drifting had become easier, the need to understand less important.
For weeks now, floating along with the girl’s mind was as effortless as watching her own memories pass by.
Today was no different, and yet it was. It seemed Everleigh wasn’t done with surprises. The flashing was the same; that hadn’t changed much, but the nature of those flashes was what caught Liliya’s attention. No fear, no sadness or horror or pain. Not one. Liliya sat upright inwardly, attention spiked. Typically, Everleigh rattled through all sorts of things and emotions. A farraginous assortment, random. But all of these were cast in light, happy and soft, as opposed to the more dominant gloom or neutrality they usually saw. It wasn’t so much the actual images telling this story — scenes moved in and out of the picture almost faster than one could get a real grasp on sometimes — but the underlying sense of…ease? Lightness perhaps.
Everleigh really seemed to be having a good day. The best one yet, Liliya dared say.
All at once, things stopped moving.
Everleigh’s mind had halted.
Liliya held her breath.
It was a garden, cast in sunlight and laughter, spilling over the cobblestone like pearls and glee. Everleigh sat close by, surrounded by Alice and Mr Nordstrom, all of them looking at the same thing. Tilly and the nest of hair atop her head.
Liliya took a moment to catch up with this shift in mood, taken off guard.
And then she shamelessly joined in. Her mental image standing amid the scene barked a laugh. Tilly was known for her beautiful, long, red hair, usually braided and far from the disaster her younger self seemed to have landed herself in here. Witnessing her future cousin-in-law like this was the best, unexpected thing Everleigh had ever presented her with, and the girl likely had no idea.
This session just kept on giving.
Cheeks aching from the broad grin plastered there, Liliya metaphorically nudged Everleigh’s mind. “Thank you,” she said. “You have made a boring day worth the hours.”
But beneath the humour, Liliya was feeling something else. A new spark of hope. A bit of giddiness.
Everleigh had made a connection. A real link between what they had just witnessed in St. Mungo’s garden and a memory from years ago. Same thing. Different time, different setting. The first true sign that her brain could still do what it was supposed to do. Liliya’s chest felt full with excitement, but she forced it to stay right there and not let it spill over into Everleigh’s own body.
Instead, she kept on watching like the bystander she’d become. “I would like to be there when you remind her of this one day,” she said. “I want to see the look on her face.”
Ever felt like a casual observer watching the memory unfold. She was in it, lived it, but it was hard to put herself in that place from years ago. Happy, loved, whole. That wasn’t the Ever sitting in the garden today.
Even so, remembering the laughter, the love, the pure annoyance on Tilly’s end brought warmth to Everleigh’s soul. It had been a long time since she felt that feeling. Remembered it. Lost in so many bad memories for so long, that happy almost felt wrong. There was something healing about the moment she found herself in.
“Thank you. You have made a boring day worth the hours.” Liliya. Ever nearly forgot she had the visitor. She didn’t mind the intrusion anymore. At first, her mind fought tooth and nail to get the girl out, but now, it was the closest connection to life outside her mind that she had.
The simple touch to her consciousness, the feeling of not being alone. Alice visited, Bram came a lot, but they were only able to connect in the physical world. It was hard for Ever to feel their connection when she was locked so tight in her mind. Liliya was different.
Which was why, this moment, where she was able to share a memory that made sense was so monumental. It was like a piece of her knotted mind untied itself, a new thread unwinding, opening up so many more possibilities.
“I would like to be there when you remind her of this one day, I want to see the look on her face.”
It had been far too long since Everleigh Ravenstone held a conversation with anyone. The back and forth. She almost forgot how it worked, but in that moment, when her visitor said she wanted to see the look on Tilly’s face, Ever wanted to deliver. Participate.
In rapid succession, a slideshow of her cousins many different expressive faces played in her mind.
Shy Tilly. A rarity.
Angry Tilly. Red cheeks, glaring eyes, head ready to explode.
Sleepy Tilly. Hair standing on end, knotted and messy. Eyes glazed over a yawn on her lips.
Playful Tilly. Funny eyes and her tongue sticking out.
They kept playing, all different looks, all different emotions. Some funny, some sad, others just quintessentially Matilda.
This new way of conversing was taking a toll. The memories started breaking apart, dissolving around the edges, fading into nothing. Tilly's laughing face blurred into a mess of color, then everything went blank.
A large yawn escaped Ever as her head slowly tipped to one side. She was exhausted.
Strange. Remembering sunshine was somehow more tiring than remembering darkness. Yet she didn't fight the exhaustion. Somewhere beyond the quiet, she knew Liliya would understand.
Liliya could feel Everleigh’s attention perk up. Something alive was stirring beneath the usually so impassive atmosphere, something new. The moment the words had left her lips, it was as though for the first time, Everleigh was actually coming awake in her own head. It was a palpable shift, nothing one could see or touch, only feel, like a subtle ripple just beneath the surface.
Nonetheless, it felt monumental.
The girl never spoke to her. Not in the physical world, nor in here. All she ever did was exist, drifting with seemingly no active participation in the memories they visited. Even the connection to Tilly’s hair disaster hadn’t been a conscious one. A connection, yes, and the most Everleigh had accomplished yet, but passive still.
Now, though, as they rushed through flicker after flicker of Tilly’s many expressions, it was as though they had breached a wall neither of them had expected to come across so suddenly.
Liliya watched as Tilly’s face flashed from happy to angry to sad, her own lips holding a knowing smile, excitement dancing along her ribcage. She didn’t interrupt or comment, quietly joyful as she stood amid Everleigh’s first real progress — small yet insurmountable. A first show of trust, and a first step forward into opening the knitted ball of memories twisted in fear.
It didn’t last for long. After only a few moments, the images began to blur and dim, bleeding around the edges until they grew dark altogether. Liliya pulled backwards, out of Everleigh’s mind and back to herself, greeted by sunshine and rustling trees; the girl’s head tipped onto her shoulder.
Liliya smiled with amusement, disproportionately happy as she drew her wand to send a Patronus to the first nurse it encountered, informing them that Everleigh was ready to go back inside.
She had accomplished enough for one day.
03 May 1932
10:00 am
The letters were infrequent, but typically read the same. “No change. Still having panic attacks. Nightmares have increased. Your daughter is showing no signs of improvement.”
For most parents, these letters would bring despair. For Thatcher, the news was reassuring. Everleigh held the key to his demise. Locked tight in her mind, she held memories of torture, unforgivable curses, dishonest business practices, abuse of power and the multiple memory charms he cast against his daughter. She was a treasure trove of disaster.
The last letter concerned him.
She smiles more. Everleigh showed genuine emotion yesterday. She communicated through memories in her most recent session.
As Thatcher moved through the halls of St. Mungo's, his face told everyone around him that now was not the time to engage. Shoulders set in a hard line. Eyes dark under furrowed brows. His jaw worked silently, molars grinding together with every measured step.
Progress.
Such a simple word.
To everyone else it meant hope.
To Thatcher, it meant his ruin. Her death in the tower would have been much more convenient, but neither of his children had ever been accused of such things.
For almost two years Everleigh had remained exactly where he needed her. Broken. Unreliable. A collection of nightmares wrapped in the mind of a little girl. Whatever memories remained hopelessly tangled, dismissed as the ramblings of a traumatized child.
Now she was remembering. Not enough to matter, yet, but there was progress.
The garden was a peaceful area for patients and visitors to spend their time. Away from the hustle and bustle of the busy wards. The harsh smells of cleaner give way to the soft floral smells of the spring day. Lavender swayed with the breeze, bees drifting between blooms.
Peaceful.
Thatcher hated it.
His eyes found her almost immediately. Everleigh sat alone beneath a purple wisteria, hands folded lightly in her lap. A healer sat several yards away, pretending to read while quietly keeping watch.
She looked… Normal. Like him. Same eyes. Same hair color. Everleigh always favored his side of the family, with small bits of the Nordstrom’s sprinkled in.
Color had returned to her face. Her shoulders no longer curled inward. Her hair was braided down her back, in a clean simple style. This was a vast difference to the last time he saw her. Hair in a mess rats nest, clothing wrinkled, skin pail, eyes lost. Whatever these healers had been doing... It was working.
His stomach tightened. He crossed the garden without hesitation. "Everleigh."
No response. She continued staring toward the flowers, expression distant. He stopped beside the bench.
"You've been keeping your healers optimistic."
Silence.
"I've read your reports."
Nothing. Not even a glance. For several seconds he simply watched her, studying every tiny movement. Every breath. Every twitch of her fingers. Looking for cracks, recognition, fear.
"You've always been bright, I'm pleased to hear you're applying yourself." he said it loud enough for the healer to hear. For those around to see a loving father engaging with his damaged daughter. His attempt fell short.
Still nothing. His patience waned. Stepping closer, teeth clenched, he spoke low. "Look at me."
His words were not a request. The tone familiar in their house.
Slowly… Almost mechanically… Everleigh turned her head. Their eyes met. There was no panic, no tears, no screaming. Only recognition. For just a moment something passed between them.
She knew exactly who he was. And Thatcher knew, with certainty, that she remembered something. Not everything, not yet, but something. Enough that the empty, frightened child he'd left behind no longer hid from her mind. The eyes that stared back at him, weren’t blind anymore.
Taking a small step back, he smiled for the benefit of the healer watching from across the garden. "Ever, my darling, I am so glad you're doing better." His voice carried easily through the quiet garden. "Keep listening to your healers. I'll come visit you again soon. Keep up the good work, I’d hate to see you have another setback."
He reached out, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from the shoulder of her cardigan with the tenderness of a doting father. To anyone watching, it was a sweet gesture.
To Everleigh… It felt like a threat.
Without another word, Thatcher turned and walked back toward the hospital, never once looking over his shoulder.
Today was a good day.
The sun warmed her face, drawing the faintest hint of color into skin. Being stuck in the white walled rooms of the hospital all winter had made her ghostly pale. Her head rested against the back of the bench, eyes closed as she breathed deeply. Lilac and roses drifted on the spring breeze. Somewhere nearby, a bee lazily wandered from blossom to blossom.
She focused on the peach-colored rose growing beside the bench.
Beautiful. Soft. Until your fingers found the thorns.
Her attention focused on the bloom long enough that she never heard the footsteps approaching. "Everleigh."
The voice stole every ounce of warmth from the afternoon. Her lungs forgot how to breathe. Somewhere inside her mind, dozens of memories scattered like startled birds. Not one remained long enough to understand.
A hand adjusting the collar of her dress. A pair of polished shoes outside an office door. Green light. His silhouette framed against a fireplace.
”Look at me.”
The memories refused to settle. They simply collided in her mind until all she knew was that the man standing beside her had once been the most dangerous person in her world.
Slowly, almost mechanically, Everleigh turned her head. Blue eyes found blue eyes. The world narrowed until there was only him.
Not Father. Not Dad. Not even Thatcher. Just… Him.
The man whose voice she heard in every nightmare. The man whose shadow stood on the edge of every memory. Something shifted within her mind. The memories that were once scattered throughout her subconscious no longer floated aimlessly.
The fog hadn’t completely lifted, but she was beginning to see the shapes hiding within. Edges becoming clearer.
The polished shoes were his. The hand wrapped around the wand. The green light. The voice that demanded obedience. The man standing over her.
They were all him.
The memories were still jumbled, but the pieces of the puzzle were coming in to focus. The memories were no longer abstract with a dark foreboding presence. That shadowy figure now took shape.
Her heartbeat slowed instead of racing. Her mind tried to retreat inside itself, putting up walls to protect her fragile state, but she didn’t allow it.
Her fingers tightened against the edge of the stone bench until her knuckles turned white. She stayed still, present, coherent. She looked at him, really looked at him.
The lines around his eyes. The fake smile that he brought out to please those watching. The same face appeared in her fractured memories and nightmares.
Understanding arrived slowly. It hadn't been the tower that broke her. Not the screaming, the green flashes or the torture. He had done this, her father.
Every missing day. Every nightmare. Every hole in her memory. Every white wall surrounding her at St. Mungo's. Every goodbye to Alice at the end of school holidays. Every moment she'd spent wondering what was wrong with her.
It all came back to him.
The anger came quietly, not wild or explosive. It was hot, heating her from the inside out. Steady, like the beat of a drum. It settled deep inside her chest where the fear had lived for so long. Fear of loosing herself, her mind, her life. The fear didn’t disappear, it simply stepped aside, letting the anger take over.
Liliya saw him from afar. Thatcher Ravenstone. Standing before his daughter in the garden at St. Mungo’s, pretending to be a father. She could smell it from all the way down the path, even through the overwhelming scent of the rose bushes she had sidestepped into. The foulness of that man. Rotten and evil.
And here he was.
It was like a confirmation she hadn’t asked for, a little nugget of luck thrown her way by whoever pulled the strings of the universe. Ravenstone hadn’t come to see Everleigh in all the time that she’d been here; she had asked the staff about it. How very funny that he did so now.
Liliya stepped from the greenery as the man patted the girl’s shoulder, seconds before he turned to leave. Walking unhurriedly, her gaze snapped to him as the distance shrank, staring fire into his soul. Danger radiated from Ravenstone like invisible smoke, surrounding him like a poisonous aura. She didn’t smile, and she didn’t greet, looking ahead the moment he was past.
The anger was banished from her eyes by the time she reached Everleigh, replaced by a hint of concern. “Hi, Everleigh,” she said, her tone easy and soft. Studying the girl’s face, Liliya sat, noting the subtlest difference in her patient’s expression and posture. Barely there, but she could see it.
Casting a glance sideways, she watched Ravenstone retreat into the building. Looking back around, Liliya contemplated for a moment.
But Oleg had been clear, and maybe this was her chance.
“You know…” Her eyes cast out over the garden, lips pursing. “My family did something similar to me, too. Memories. Messing around in brains. It’s their business, their money-machine and legacy, so they’re pretty damn good at it.” She paused, settling her attention onto Everleigh once more. “I had trouble remembering for a while. I was constantly forgetting things I’d already done, couldn’t recall certain memories. I still get spasms sometimes.”
She swallowed, leaning back against the bench. For a moment her gaze dropped to the fingers of one hand, tapping against the back of the other before she continued. “I don’t really have a choice. That’s my family, my life. Powerful people inside a powerful system that I’m merely a puppet in. Another cog in the machine.”
A faint smile played over her lips, and she playfully nudged her shoulder into Everleigh’s, eyes to the girl's. “But you’re not. You have Bertram, and Alice, and Tilly. And you got me. And if you want to see that man burn —” Her head nodded towards the entrance at her back without looking away from Everleigh. “— then I’m your girl.”
Liliya leaned a little closer, eyes glittering as her smile turned wicked. “And I love seeing men burn.”
Like night and day, suddenly Everleigh felt a new presence by her side. This one was different. Where one was dark, this one was light. Hard to soft. Evil to kind. Without looking she could feel the switch.
It was Liliya, familiar, safe, warm.
Subconsciously, Ever knew the girl with white hair wandered through the hallways of her mind, carefully stepping around memories like they were bombs. Yet there was no malice attached to her presence. No anger. No fear. No feeling of dread
Only patience.
She listened while Liliya spoke, her words slowly calming the panic still gripping Ever's chest. Memories manipulated. Minds altered. Powerful families. Expectations. A life that wasn't entirely her own.
Trying to comprehend was useless, but the message came across. A kinship, understanding, like no one else could. Liliya wasn’t speaking to her like she was broken.
“And I love seeing men burn.”
The words settled somewhere deep inside her. Everleigh let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. For as long as she could remember, she had believed there were only two choices. Obey or suffer. That was how life worked at Blackthorn Hall.
How it had always worked. How it would always work.
Except…
Liliya had spoken as though another choice existed. As though Thatcher Ravenstone wasn’t unstoppable, he could lose, he could be held accountable for his sins. Just maybe, Thatcher Ravenstone could burn. The thought was so strange it was almost scary.
For the first time on this visit, Everleigh turned her head to look at Liliya. Her eyes were clear today. Things were getting in, being understood. Since speech was useless, only coming when the words stumbled out without thought or effort, Ever did the next best thing.
Shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath, Ever waited for Liliya to join her.
As Liliya enters Ever’s mind, she finds a familiar sight. The office door, closed, locked tight. But then, out of nowhere, the door opens wide.
The office was still. Dangerously so. Not abandoned. Not forgotten. Simply... frozen, as though time itself had stopped the last moment Thatcher Ravenstone walked through its door.
Everything sat exactly where it belonged.
The mahogany desk was pristine, papers arranged into precise stacks with edges perfectly aligned. Purchase orders. Quality control reports. Ministry correspondence. The newest edition of the Daily Prophet. Legal documents. Internal memoranda. The sort of paperwork one would expect from an influential businessman with nothing to hide.
Nothing immediately stood out. Nothing was immediately incriminating.
Thatcher Ravenstone had been far too smart for that.
Every cupboard unlocked. Every drawer waiting. Every book rested neatly on the shelves, free for Liliya to inspect.
Everleigh had already done the searching years ago. Long before she understood why. The curious little girl who questioned everything had wandered through this room a hundred times, pulling books from shelves, peering into drawers, searching every forgotten corner and hidden space simply because she wanted to know. She had memorized the office without ever realizing she was collecting pieces of the puzzle.
Now… Liliya was free to search alongside her.
When Everleigh turned her head, eyes clear, Liliya knew that she had understood. In its most fundamental, most essential way, Everleigh was thinking. She didn’t need to smile, or nod, or speak. The look in her eyes told enough. She was considering. A subtle smirk crawled over Liliya's lips. Feeling hopeful, she entered the girl's mind.
And came to stand in front of the office door, closed and locked as always, emanating a sense of darkness. Liliya waited, not daring to move or breathe. Then, as though pushed by a gust of wind, the door opened. Releasing a huff of amazement, Liliya stared and smiled for a moment.
After all this time. After almost a year—Ravenstone’s office, stable and ready. This was the biggest step they had taken yet. The excitement and pride for both herself and Everleigh was almost too much to bear, but Liliya carefully tied it down. It remained as a happily bobbing light, bouncing inside her chest.
Calmly, she entered the room.
Empty. Quiet. A memory not quite like the usual, more of a construct. A collection of fragments of the same space, compressed into one. It weighed heavily. A subtle pressure that lingered in shadowed corners, creeping from all sides and above, as though Ravenstone himself could burst in at any second, tinging the air with nervous anticipation. He wouldn’t. Liliya didn’t allow the feeling to take hold.
Stepping idly, she rounded the room. Her fingers trailed along the polished surface of the desk, gaze sweeping from the shelves to the window, the fireplace, the chair. Everything was neat, impeccably aligned and orderly. Almost intimidatingly so. A room designed to appear perfect. Professional, clean, important.
Liliya’s nails tapped a rhythm against the wood.
Why this? Why was she here? What was Thatcher Ravenstone hiding in here that Everleigh wanted her to find?
Liliya rounded the desk and settled into the expensive leather of Ravenstone’s office chair. Systematically, she began to go through everything she could find.
Letters, bills, performance reports. Nothing that caught her attention. It all seemed like ordinary business, the type of documents the managing director of a Quidditch Broom Company would keep in his files. Unremarkable. Boring even.
But there had to be something. Everleigh had brought her here for a reason. She had kept every memory of this office locked and buried for the better part of a year, always hurrying past when it surfaced through the mass of her twisted past. Seeing her father in the garden earlier and Liliya’s words afterwards must have finally given her enough courage to create this space. What for?
A sharp clang rang through the silence, and Liliya jolted in her chair, heart leaping. To her left, a drawer she hadn’t noticed earlier had sprung open, hidden just beneath the desktop, barely two hand-widths wide and an inch tall. A heavy sigh deflated her lungs, shoulders sagging.
“Merlin’s hanging ballsack, Everleigh. That scared the fucking shit out of me.”
Shaking off the shock, Liliya peered into the drawer. One singular sheet of parchment. Neatly folded. She pulled it out, forearms settling against the desk’s edge as she began to read.
Now that was odd. Why would Thatcher Ravenstone discuss the Quidditch league standings with someone from the Department of Magical Games and Sports? In any other case, it might seem innocent enough, but the wording was strange, let alone the fact he had hidden this away. There was something in between the lines here. Liliya just couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
But it reeked.
Settling back into the chair, Liliya let her eyes sweep the room, thinking.
It was weird, having someone poke around inside your head. Everleigh was used to it by now. Strange as it was, Liliya's presence had become comforting. For so long, Ever had been trapped inside herself, unable to truly connect with anyone.
Until Liliya.
Now, things were different.
It had taken months, but Everleigh had finally learned how to communicate through her memories. It wasn't a conversation in the traditional sense. No words passed between them. Instead, Ever could point. Guide. Show Liliya the pieces of herself she had spent so long trying to hide.
Tell her things.
"Merlin's hanging ballsack, Everleigh. That scared the fucking shit out of me."
A smile tugged at Everleigh's lips. The hidden drawer startling Liliya hadn't exactly been intentional… But she certainly wasn't upset about it.
Liliya settled back into the leather chair, considering the letter she'd found. Ever wanted her up and moving again. Looking. There was so much more hidden inside the room. So many places a curious little girl had discovered over the years, though never truly understood.
Liliya had barely a moment to think before another sound broke the silence.
Click.
A portrait beside the bookshelf shifted ever so slightly before slowly swinging outward with a soft creak.
Behind it sat a small wall safe.
Everleigh remembered finding it years ago. She'd watched her father stand before it often enough to memorize the combination without ever trying. His birthday. Because of course it was.
Inside were sacks of Galleons, neatly stacked financial records, and letters tucked into leather folders. As a child, they had been nothing more than mysterious papers adults cared about.
Now…
She wanted Liliya to see them for herself.
A quiet giggle drifted through the room. It echoed in the otherwise silent office.
A little girl skipped into view as though she'd always belonged there. Seven, maybe eight years old, a book hugged tightly against her chest. Younger Everleigh. The dark hair and blue eyes were a dead giveaway.
She crossed the room without a care in the world.
The heavy oak door clicked shut behind her as she wandered toward the narrow gap between a loveseat and the wall, a hiding place only a child would find. Curling herself into the tiny space, she opened her book and settled in.
Then she shifted.
Her palm pressed against the floorboards.
Thunk.
She frowned. Book forgotten, she leaned forward and pushed harder. Another click.
One of the boards lifted just enough to reveal a shallow compartment beneath. Curiosity won immediately. Little Ever reached inside and pulled free a thick leather ledger.
She flipped through the pages with all the interest of a child pretending to read an adult's newspaper. Names. Columns of figures. Large sums of money. Abbreviations beside the names of professional Quidditch clubs. Symbols she couldn't understand.
After only a few moments, she wrinkled her nose.
"Boring."
The ledger was shoved back into its hiding place, the compartment closed, and within seconds she was lost in her storybook once again.
Little more than a moment passed before a soft click sounded from somewhere to her right. It pulled Liliya from her thoughts, whipping her head around as her heart did another flip of surprise inside her chest. Next to one of the towering bookshelves, a portrait slowly creaked forward. The slow sound sent a chill down her spine. It seemed Everleigh had a taste for the eerie. Interesting.
A soft snort of amusement curled her lips as Liliya rose from her chair and crossed the room. With the letter still in hand, she stepped up to the wall behind the portrait. Or what was supposed to be a wall. Instead of wallpaper, a safe greeted her, its door ajar. Without hesitation, Liliya pulled it open, peering inside.
Ignoring the stacks of gold, she reached for the folders instead.
Back at Ravenstone’s desk, Liliya went through the contents. More cryptic letters, more financial records, but all of them slightly more interesting than what she had seen before. She wasn’t a bookkeeping expert by any means, and business was a very much foreign language to her, but she could recognise a pattern when it screamed in her face.
The same name, again and again.
The same one from the letter.
Alistair Pritchard.
Tugged between suppliers, investors, employees, and Quidditch clubs, his name appeared far too often to seem normal, the descriptions beside the payments vague enough to make her suspicious.
Consultation, league matters, reimbursement.
Liliya frowned.
She didn’t know enough about accounting to make sense of this, but beneath the veneer of a perfectly ordinary-looking ledger, even she could tell something didn’t fit. Alistair Pritchard and Thatcher Ravenstone certainly appeared to have a business relationship far more involved than it ought to be.
Letting the ledger fall shut with a sigh, Liliya leaned back in her chair once more, the wheels in her head turning. But again, Everleigh didn’t leave her even a minute to breathe.
The girl definitely was on a mission here.
A giggle sounded from beyond the office door, light and airy and a little too spooky for Liliya’s liking. A second later, a young Everleigh skipped into the room, oblivious to her presence, this one, apparently, a real memory.
Rising, Liliya watched, slow steps carrying her toward the loveseat where Everleigh was wedging herself behind it, a book clutched in hands and a smile on her face that Liliya had never seen before. Childlike and free. Happy.
Her attention only lingered for a moment.
A deep thunk interrupted both their thoughts, their gazes dropping towards the floor. Liliya stepped closer. From beneath the floorboard, another ledger had come to see the light of day.
Everleigh’s younger self lost interest almost immediately, but Liliya’s heart leapt with excitement. Her hands pressed down on the same spot only moments after the floorboard had closed, little Everleigh still sitting there peacefully, lost in her book. She pulled the ledger free and hurried back to the desk, flipping through pages, searching.
A laugh rang through the room as Liliya’s head fell back, that fucking name burned into the retinas of her eyes.
Alistair Pritchard.
Oleg would like this.
Looking back down, Liliya grinned like a cat.
“Good shit, Ever.”
Her fingers drummed against the cover, excitement prickling beneath her skin. She didn’t know what Pritchard had been doing for Ravenstone, or what the latter had been paying him for, but there was something here. Something that had been deliberately hidden beneath floorboards and behind portraits, something Oleg would have the connection and skills to dig into deeper.
Liliya cast a last glance towards the girl still sitting in the corner, blissfully unaware, before she pulled herself backwards and out.
Back into the sunshine of St. Mungo’s garden.
03 June 1923
Sunday
It was raining. Not uncommon in London, but not what Ever wanted to see. Rain meant no garden. Rain meant no sun.
Bram and Tilly had just visited. Which was nice. Tilly brushed her hair. It was braided now, No more knots. Tilly was good at hair.
Bram smiled a lot. That was nice too. He talked a lot about things. The house, the family, just… things. Ever didn’t much care about those things, but liked hearing her grandfather’s voice. It was calming.
Tilly made her giggle twice. That made Bram smile wider. She liked making him happy.
Her cousin always made things lighter. Funny. Less tense. Ever wanted to join in the conversation, but couldn’t. Her voice still didn’t work on demand. Single words came out here and there. It was great when they matched the conversation, but that didn’t always happen.
Today it did. Tilly was talking about Hogwarts. People Ever knew, professors and students. Funny stories and something about candy. One name struck a cord with Ever.
“Maeive?”
Both Tilly and Bram stopped, her cousin’s hands stilled in her hair. Ever remembered her friend. They shared a bond after the tower. She hadn’t thought about her in awhile.
”Maevie is good. Really good. If you’d like I can write to her. Maybe she can come visit you this summer. I’m sure she would love that.”
Ever smiled and nodded once. Her ability to talk gone, but still able to convey her desires. Yes. Friends would be nice. She would like that.
After the visit Ever didn’t want to go back to her room. Her room was small. Colorless. Quiet.
Her mind was running in overdrive since Tilly and Bram left. Memories swirling around in her head. Good ones. Bad ones. Simple events like random mornings at home with Alice and breakfasts at Hogwarts with her friends. Nothing of note. Nothing of substance.
Sitting in the sitting room with the other residents, Ever watched the rain hit the window. The pitter patter of water hitting glass adding a beat to her memories.
Movement caught her eye.
Her eyes found a Daily Prophet article sitting on the table next to where she was sitting. She knew the face, it made her heart skip a beat.
Ravenstone Flightworks Does it Again! New Broom Being Released This Summer!
It was her father, standing in front of a display of brooms. Beautiful. Sleek. Modern in design. No doubt fast and smooth. Ravenstone Flightworks didn’t do anything else. All night, after seeing the picture in the paper, Ever felt unnerved.
Her skin itched. Her head throbbed. Her brain ran in circles.
It was after she went to sleep that everything became clear. Memories assaulted her in sleep. No longer fragments, full memories from her younger years with one person playing a starring role.
Thatcher in his office. Thatcher in meetings. Thatcher reprimanding Ever. Thatcher finding her in the hiding spot behind the loveseat. There were multiple memories flashing in and out. One, came forth only once, but caused Ever to wake up with a start.
Thatcher, once again, in his office. A man standing in front of him, hands pressed together, pleading with her father. He looked worried. Scared. There was sweat on his brow, his mouth moving with words Ever couldn’t hear. The sound was muted by the wooshing in her ears of a rapid heartbeat. Hers.
Thatcher was angry. The man was terrified.
Ever recognized the man from other times he had visited. He was always nice to her. Smiling at her, complimenting her drawings or sneaking her a small Peppermint Humbug sweet. Alice and Ever knew him as the candy man. The nicest of Thatcher’s connections.
The greenlight was blinding. Thatcher didn’t seem to care that the man was screaming in agony on the floor. Ever was frozen in place. Eyes never leaving the man. Their voices were still obscured, but she could hear the screams.
When she woke up, still breathing heavily from the dream, Ever replayed the dream over and over in her mind.
Not a dream… A memory.
She knew it was important.
Before her healer was able to come in, Ever was already up. Still in her nightdress, she put on her blue cardigan and grabbed her journal. Charcoal in hand, she flipped to a new page and tried multiple times to write what she wanted. It took five pages of scribbled out letters before one made sense.
Running out her door, Ever found the healer on duty and slammed the journal down in front of her. She was disheveled from sleep, clothes rumpled, braided hair trying to escape its folds. Black dust from the charcoal covered her hands and was smugged on her face.
She was truly a mess.
”Everleigh darling. What's wrong my dear.” The healer stood, worried about her charge.
Pointing to the page of her journal with one word scribbled, but clear.
LILIA
The healer looked with raised brows. ”Please.” Was the only word she was able to squeak out, but the request was clear.
”Yes my dear. I’ll send an owl at once.”
The letter had reached Liliya before she had left her bedroom. Brought to her by a house-elf, her morning had barely begun—hair unbraided and rumpled, eyes tired—Liliya had accepted the parchment still wrapped in her morning robe, frowning.
Sent during the night, the house-elf had mentioned.
One glance at the sender had been enough to send a cold shower of worry through her system.
Leave it to Everleigh to give her a heart attack before the day had properly started.
For a moment, Liliya had feared the worst. St. Mungo’s had never written her at night. In hindsight, however, if something truly urgent had needed her attention, they probably would have sent something more insistent than a piece of parchment.
Regardless, the message had left Liliya restless. Not out of worry, but rather out of curiosity.
Everleigh had asked for her. In the middle of the night. She had never done that, and considering the time she had chosen, she must have had something extraordinarily urgent on her mind. And Liliya was all too keen to find out.
If it had anything to do with Thatcher Ravenstone, she might get one step closer to giving Oleg what he wanted. Demanded—beneath the veneer. The information on that Ministry contact had been good; Oleg had been satisfied with that. But since then, an entire month had passed with nothing more to show for. No matter how much Liliya had begun to actually care about Everleigh’s recovery, the expectations to deliver always hovered at the back of her mind.
This could be it, though.
This could be what’d prove her capabilities to both Oleg and Nadežda.
Liliya arrived as early as she could without appearing too eager. Nine sharp. Luckily, she didn’t have anything scheduled until the afternoon.
The nurse at the front desk gestured her towards Everleigh’s room, and only moments later, Liliya knocked. Wearing her usual calm smile, she carefully entered.
“Everleigh? Hi. I heard you just couldn’t wait to see me again. What’s going on?”
Her mind was quiet. A rarity.
The nightmare had brought up some memories that she would have liked hidden forever. She tried to go back to sleep, but the green light kept flashing behind her closed eyes. Every time, causing her to abandon sleep all together.
His eyes haunted her. The kind man with the peppermint candy. His smile. His kind face. His screams. The pain in his eyes. The way his body locked up then spasmed on the floor.
Ever rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to forget the feeling. She had been on the receiving end of that same curse in the dark tower. It wasn’t a memory she brought forward often, but it was there now. Right up front with the candy man.
She sat on the window seat, looking out over the city, watching life pass her by. All those people, going about their lives. The more Ever woke up from her memory alterations, the more she realized what she was missing.
“Everleigh? Hi. I heard you just couldn’t wait to see me again. What’s going on?”
She hadn’t heard the door shut, or the footsteps. It was the greeting that brought her back.
Liliya, she was here, she had gotten the message.
Ever immediately stood up, and grabbed Liliya by the upper arms lightly. Steering her to the window seat, Ever made the girl sit down, looking more and more confused. This was not the normal Ever.
Patting her down, Ever quickly found her wand, pulling it out. It had been years since she had held a wand. Years since magic was produced by her hand. That would continue, the wand was not for her. Taking the wand, Ever placed it in Liliya’s hand, wrapping her fingers around it then lifted it to point at her own head.
Her request was clear. Get in my head, I have things to show you.
Sitting next to her on the window seat, she settled and waited for the familiar feeling. It once bothered her, but now it felt like companionship. Someone with her. Helping her. Up to this point, the memories had been disjointed, no rhyme or reason to them. Today, was different.
The minute Liliya entered her mind, Ever was off. From her point of view, little Ever ran into the office. Giggles leaving her lips. She was probably nine or ten years old, but she wasn’t sure. Her small figure showed up in a mirror for a split second, before scurrying behind the sofa. A small space, just big enough for a little girl to hide.
It was her favorite spot, quiet, cozy, and secret. Thatcher had been at the office all day, so Ever was surprised when he walked in with a man. The candy man, someone who Alice and Ever liked. He would smile, give them candy, comment on their drawing. He was one of the nicer of Thatcher's connections.
Her father was mad at the man. Thatcher had called him Edwin. Ever’s little eyes peered around the edge of the sofa, looking at the man and her father. The man nervous, twisting his hat between his hands. Thatcher sat at his large mahogany desk, completely at ease.
"I've given you seven years, Thatcher."
No response. Thatcher continued reading the contract in front of him, turning a page as though the conversation could wait.
"Did you hear me?"
"I did." He said, eyes still down, turning another page.
"Then say something."
Thatcher finally looked up. "Something."
Mercer's jaw tensed. "I'm serious."
"So am I."
Silence. Mercer took a slow breath.
"I'm done."
Thatcher's expression didn't change. "Done with what?"
"All of it." Mercer gestured towards the desk. "The broom alterations. The deliveries. The meetings. The money changing hands. The bribes. I'm finished."
Edwin sighed, bowing his head.
"I've got children now. I can't keep looking over my shoulder every time the Badges come poking around."
Thatcher leaned back in his chair. "Has someone approached you?"
"No."
"Threatened you?"
"No."
"Offered you money?"
"No."
"Then why are you here? I pay you well for your work and your discretion."
Mercer stared at him. "Because I'm asking you to be a decent man. I want out."
The corner of Thatcher's mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, something sinister in its simplicity.
"There's your mistake. One, that you expect me to be decent. This is business, there is no room for decency. And two, you don’t get to decide when you're out.”
Mercer frowned, he ran his hand through his disheveled hair.
"We're finished. I’m done. I’m not doing it anymore Thatcher. That last match, someone got seriously hurt. They say he may never play again. That’s not what I signed up for."
Thatcher stood. Slowly.
"Do you know why Ravenstone Flightworks is so successful? It isn't because I make the finest brooms." He rounded the desk at a slow leisurely pace. "I know how to invest in people. I choose them carefully. I build them up. I reward loyalty."
He stopped only a few feet from Edwin.
"You are one of those people."
Edwin swallowed loudly.
Thatcher's voice remained calm, but took on a dark tone. "You're asking to become a liability."
"I gave you my word. I'll never tell a soul."
"I believe you."
Edwin’s shoulders lowered slightly, easing just a bit.
"Then let me go."
Thatcher smiled.
"That isn't how ownership works. I won't just give you away Edwin."
Silence filled the office. The tension thick.
"You seem to have mistaken this arrangement as employment. Employees quit. When a man knows enough to ruin me, he gives up the right to choose his own future ."
Edwin's breathing became uneven.
"Please... my wife, my children..."
"Your wife lives in the house I helped you purchase. Your son attends a preschool you couldn't afford without me. Everything you have is because I allow it."
Edwin backed into the wall.
"Thatcher..."
Thatcher reached into his robes and withdrew his wand in a smooth motion.
"You don't leave me, Edwin. You survive me."
A flash of emerald lit the room.
"Crucio."
The curse went on for what felt like ages to little Ever. Tears running down her face. Thatcher would let Edwin go, then start the pain again. He threatened his children, then his wife. Edwin would continue to work for him or there would be no reason to quit. Thatcher would take away all that Edwin loved in the world.
As the man with the kind smiled lay in a heap on the floor, Ever shook in her small hiding spot. The book she had clutched in her hands fell, echoing in the otherwise silent room.
Thatcher’s head snapped up, locking eyes with his youngest daughter. There was no yelling. No reprimand. Just the look of man who never once questioned his next move.
“Obliveate.”
There was a bright white flash, then suddenly they were back in Ever’s hospital room, where the rain on the window was the only sound.
Everleigh jumped up from her usual window seat like an excited puppy and darted over to where Liliya stood by the door. Well, maybe not excited, Liliya thought as she was steered across the room like a piece of furniture and pushed into a chair with determined fervour. Maybe something more akin to restless.
Liliya let the girl do as she pleased, thoroughly confused but willing to play along. After a moment of patting her down, Everleigh apparently found what she was looking for and presented Liliya with her own wand, pulled from the pocket of her dress, invisible if one didn’t know where to look. Liliya took it, watching with a slightly dumbfounded expression as Everleigh guided her hand and the tip of her wand towards her own head.
A second later, Everleigh sat, and Liliya understood.
“You want to show me something?” she asked, keeping the excitement in her chest from rising too quickly, though it still crept into her voice. A small, eager smile crawled onto her lips, eyes twinkling. “Could’ve just said that,” she teased lightly, knowing well enough that Everleigh barely managed to string two words together.
She didn’t linger to see whether the joke had landed.
With a twist of her wrist, Liliya floated forward into Everleigh’s mind.
Ravenstone’s office greeted her immediately. A memory this time. The door stood open, and a younger Everleigh was running across the threshold, aiming for the hiding spot behind the sofa like she must have done a million times before. Liliya watched her only for a moment.
Two men walking in drew her attention. One of them was Ravenstone; she hadn’t seen the other before. He looked nervous, twisting his hat between his hands and shifting his feet, while Ravenstone looked like a man who had never been bothered a day in his life.
The conversation took an interesting twist right from the start.
Broom alterations, deliveries, money, bribes.
Bingo.
If the Ministry worker Pritchard and the strange ledger entries had been enough to create suspicions, this was certainly enough to confirm them. Ravenstone was meddling with some very dirty shit, and Edwin wanted out.
Thatcher took it about as well as expected. Liliya had never really met the man, but even just walking past him once in St. Mungo’s gardens and seeing his smarmy, oily smile in the papers had been enough to paint a picture. She couldn’t help the disgust crawling across her face as the conversation continued. Ugh. What a worm.
"We're finished. I’m done. I’m not doing it anymore Thatcher. That last match, someone got seriously hurt. They say he may never play again. That’s not what I signed up for."
Liliya’s brows perked up.
Naturally, Oleg hadn’t told her a goddamn thing about why he wanted any kind of damning information on Ravenstone she could find, and for her own good, Liliya hadn’t inquired. She had stopped asking a long time ago. It didn’t matter any longer. All that mattered was delivering, and that she would.
Memorising every little detail, Liliya watched the scene slowly devolve into something charged. The air seemed to thicken with Ravenstone’s vileness as Edwin shrank further and further against the wall.
And then the room erupted in a flash of light.
Liliya didn’t flinch as the man began to scream. Not when he dropped to the floor, not when his body twisted and writhed, and not when the sound became something raw and desperate. Something in her gaze grew distant, allowing her to watch it all unfold without turning away. Her blood coursed with aversion and disgust, but beneath it, a small spark of triumph managed to peek through.
At long last, the torture ended.
Liliya turned her head to look at little Everleigh. Shaking and tear-streaked, the girl had watched the entire thing from behind the sofa, the book she had brought falling to the ground with a dull thump. Ravenstone didn’t hesitate. His wand rose to point at his daughter. The man spoke one word, and then, in a flash of white light, the memory disappeared.
Rain pattered against the window, filling the silence with heavy melancholy. Liliya sighed, her eyes fixed on Everleigh as she reached out and brushed a loose strand from the girl’s face. “I’m sorry,” she said, forcing a small smile.
She wasn’t sure how Everleigh had managed to remember this event after an Obliviate. Maybe Ravenstone had botched the spell. Perhaps the damage done to her mind had somehow allowed it to resurface. Perhaps there was some other explanation. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that Everleigh had remembered. And now Liliya had seen it too.
She glanced down at the wand still resting in her hand before looking back at the girl.
This was no longer suspicion. No longer instinct, or a collection of strange ledger entries and half-formed theories. This was something real. Something she could take back with her.
“We’ll make the bastard pay,” Liliya said quietly, though there was a spark of mischief and determination crackling beneath the words. Her lips spread a little wider as one hand reached for Everleigh’s and squeezed slightly. “Good job, Everleigh.”
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