"You're very charming," she said quietly. "Not just charming, but beautiful in the sense that the world could almost pardon you for your sins."
Tom grinned cunningly, perhaps even blushing though he'd never admit it. "And you're very much mine."...
Before me was a small manor. It was foggy and not a sound was broken in the wind except for the creaking on the small steps as I neared the door. I knocked and there was no reply.
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"I'm sure I'm at the right place," I noted, reviewing the envelope in my hand. I clutched onto my bag and wand, not sure if this was the right decision after all.
Just as I turn to leave, the door opens and a vaguely familiar face appears. It was the same pale woman from Theo and my date. Though it was a few months ago, she had memorable freckles and curly orange hair. She's wearing a plain grey dress and a dusty apron. Without a word, she looks stunned as she stares me up and down.
"My name is Victoria," I say.
"Victoria McCallian," she says.
"No," I responded sternly. "Victoria Locke."
She ignored me.
"Annabeth never stopped talking about you after our encounter at the flower shop in Hogsmeade."
She quickly let me in the house and offered to take my bag. I declined and followed her to the sitting room. The house was quiet and dim, despite the few lamps in every corner. Family portraits were scarce. It was mostly art. Old acrylics, vases, and even wax figures filled the room instead of people.
"Whatever brings you by?" asks the pale woman.
The walls were striped pink downhill with browning floral prints. The corridors and sitting room had white trimmings and small windows with large and tall beige curtains.
"I was hoping to speak to Annabeth," I said and looked around. "Have you been working for her long, misses-?"
"Murphy," she finished. "Joan Murphy. But, ma'am-"
"Well you look pretty young for a Joan," I note. "And I suspected a woman like her would have house elves over a maid. Is Annabeth overworking you much?"
"Madam McCallian is dead."
I freeze in my tracks. My heart doesn't skip a beat and neither does my throat. Of all, it mostly disturbed me that I was having recurring visions of a dead woman.
"For how long now?" I asked.
"Nearly two months. Her will was hard to find and organise," she says. "But seeing as you're here now, it's the perfect time for you to collect her will."
"Her will?"
Joan rushes out of the sitting room and I hear her scattering for some parchments through a drawer before returning with a short stack of them. She sets them down in front of me and makes haste to set them down and organise them before me.
"You now own the McCallian manor, along with the gardens. You may need to hire a new gardener now, as I'm the only one left here. My last assignment was to contact you and give you a week to move in and now that we're here, I'm to leave by your command."
