24 May 1899

"Well, Miss Ariana, what is it?" Bathilda smiled shrewdly as Ariana blushed. She was seated on the floor before her mother's chair, with Bathilda's birthday gift in her lap.

"You can open it, darling," Kendra told her, rubbing her back gently. "That's it—pull the ribbon."

Very delicately—Bathilda had always noticed how delicately the girl moved, as though she were afraid of breaking something—Ariana lifted away the lid of the box. Her eyes lit up, and she lifted a beautiful doll from the wrappings.

"Oh, Ariana," said Kendra. "She looks just like you, darling, doesn't she?"

"I tried to think of the prettiest girl I knew," said Bathilda. "She's got a special charm on her—she'll never wear or get dirty, Ariana, so you can take her anywhere you like. You can keep her with you always."

"Can you thank Miss Bagshot, Ariana?" Kendra asked Ariana, who seemed to be transported with delight at the gift. She looked up at Bathilda and gave her a luminous smile.

"You're welcome, my dear," Bathilda promised, leaning forward and patting her cheek. "Happy birthday."

Ariana looked up at her mother, hugging the doll to her chest, and Kendra nodded. "Yes, go and play, darling. Good girl."

Ariana rose gracefully and drifted over to the window seat, settling herself on the cushions where she could look out at the rain-soaked garden, cradling her doll. Unlike her older brothers, Ariana was quite small for her age, and curled up into such a tiny ball that she looked like a small child, rather than a girl of fourteen. Kendra sighed and turned to Bathilda.

"It was kind of you to come and see us in this awful weather," Kendra said. She looked rather tired, Bathilda thought. There were more lines on her face than suited her age, and her dark hair—usually shining and sleek—seemed to betray more of the graying streaks that were beginning to appear prematurely. But Bathilda was quite used to that: Kendra's life had not been easy, especially in these last few years. No, there was something else that troubled her, now, and it made Bathilda feel rather anxious.

But she had been silent too long. Kendra shifted slightly in her chair. "The gift is lovely," she said.

"Well, I couldn't let my favorite girl think I'd forgotten her special day," said Bathilda fondly. "She is a dear one."

Kendra nodded, looking over to Ariana for a moment. "She is." Then she seemed to shake herself and sat forward, picking up her wand. She raised the flames in the fireplace slightly and rapped the teapot; it poured second cups for both of them.

"I imagine you're looking forward to having the boys home," said Bathilda, accepting her cup. "Hogwarts exams are quite soon. Albus confessed in one of his notes that even he is feeling daunted by the prospect of his Arithmancy examination."

Kendra smiled rather proudly as she spooned a little sugar into her tea. "I don't worry about that boy. He can talk about nerves all he likes—he's never brought home a bad report yet. He'll be a Minister for Magic before he's twenty-five, I'm sure."

"And how is Aberforth?" Bathilda asked.

Kendra smiled even more. "Envious that Albus is finishing school," she laughed. "He's a bit more like Percival always was—he wants to go off, travel, be somewhere new. Albus takes after me, I never wanted to leave Hogwarts."

Bathilda nodded. "I expect Albus is planning his tour?"

"With Elphias Doge, I believe, and perhaps another friend of theirs," Kendra said. "It's going to be a long summer without him."

"Well, you'll have Aberforth," said Bathilda. "And this darling child." Ariana had come wandering back over, curious about the conversation, and Bathilda held out a hand to her. Shyly, Ariana took it, still holding her doll in her other arm. "You sweet girl. Are you glad your brothers are coming home?"

Ariana's features lit up once again, and she withdrew her hand from Bathilda's to reach into her dress pocket. She produced a folded-up square of parchment and held it out to her mother. "Ab," she said, pointing at the letter. "Ab."

"It's a letter from Aberforth," Kendra explained, as Ariana reached into her pocket again and gave her mother a second letter.

"Al," she told Bathilda, pointing again, and she sat down on the floor, looking avidly up at her mother, who shook open the first letter.

Kendra cleared her throat. "Aberforth says, 'Tell Ariana how much I miss her, and I love her very much. I hope she has a wonderful birthday. Love from Aberforth.'"

Ariana smiled widely and looked at Bathilda, who—though she didn't quite know why—was having a hard time smiling again.

"And Albus says, 'Ariana, have the most wonderful birthday you can dream of. I love you and miss you, and I will see you soon.'" Kendra folded the two notes up carefully and returned them to Ariana, who tucked them away in her pocket again, beaming.

"Bathilda?" Kendra asked. "You—you've a very strange look in your eye."

"Oh, no," Bathilda said. "I apologize, I was just—oh, Kendra, I am sorry."

Kendra sighed. Her smile had vanished. "Bathilda, you know I am…grateful for your friendship. It has made all the difference, recently, but—"

"It wasn't my intention to—"

"You know I do not like feeling pitied," Kendra said, in a low, deliberately calm voice for Ariana's sake, but with an intensity that made Bathilda feel ashamed.

"I apologize, Kendra," she said quietly, a few moments later. "I just can't help but think that—that no one deserves to experience what your family have."

Kendra's eyes were fixed on Ariana, who was playing with her doll, apparently uninterested in their conversation. She nodded. "Well, I must agree with you there," she said, her voice hard. Ariana looked up at her tone, worried, and Kendra smiled at her.

"Kendra," Bathilda said slowly, "Are you feeling well? You—you seem rather—well, tired."

"Do I?" Kendra sighed. "It must be because I'm missing the boys," she smiled. "They make everything brighter—don't they, darling?" she asked Ariana, who nodded enthusiastically.

Bathilda was trying to choose her words carefully, and folded her hands tightly on her knee. "What if—and it's just a thought, Kendra, so don't—don't think anything of it—what if you left me here, with Ariana, one day next week? You could go down to London, stop in at St. Mungo's—"

"Do I look that bad, Bathilda?" Kendra asked sardonically. Ariana had moved to lean against her knees, and Kendra was playing absently with her long, golden hair. "You know she doesn't like it when I go away. And I don't like leaving."

"Just for a few hours, to be certain you're all right," Bathilda said. "You don't want to be ill before Aberforth or Albus can come home. I could make you an appointment with my cousin, you could be there and back in three hours."

Kendra smoothed back a strand of her own lightly graying hair and sighed again. "I'll think about it," she said quietly.

"I wish you would," Bathilda said earnestly. "I—I am very fond of you and your family, Kendra. I should hate it if I didn't feel that I had done all my duty as your neighbor—and your friend."

Finally, Kendra looked up again. "Thank you, Bathilda. I appreciate that."

"Miss?"

Bathilda started and looked down at Ariana; she had never heard Ariana address anyone other than her mother or brothers.

"That's you," Kendra said, looking amused. "'Miss.'"

Bathilda smiled and leaned down to Ariana. "What is it, my dear?" Ariana bit her lip, holding the doll forward; the collar of the tiny dress had come unbuttoned. "Oh, I can fix that for you," she promised with a wink. With a great show, as though she were doing something very secretive and throwing Ariana teasingly furtive looks every few moments, Bathilda fastened the button again and returned the doll.

Ariana beamed and hugged it close again.

"You would be a good mother," said Kendra, smiling at Bathilda.

"You are a great one," she replied.