All of Philippa's understanding of magic would be for nothing. She couldn't use the spells she knew if someone did show up. Dorcas had confirmed that though there were many protections placed on the house, that a wizard or witch with enough skill really wanted to break the enchantments or spells, they could. It would take some time but there weren't that many infallible spells, just irreversible results as Lydia had mentioned grimly in another letter. Philippa didn't want to be cooped up doing nothing on top of everything else. She had to leave nursing school to be stuck at home and that felt necessary at the time given the worry in Dorcas' eyes and the fear in her voice. Now, it felt silly. She practiced on the piano for hours. She read until her eyes watered at the corners. She ran up and down the stairs for exercise and the place was spotless. She spent time cooking enough food to feed several grown men. Lupin could consume a whole stew pot on his own but even he had to insist on saving some leftovers on the days when Philippa stress cooked. Alastor and Edgar didn't mention it but, they had Frank to thank for mentioning how good Lupin looked, healthy and full. He looked sad and withdrawn as always but he'd gained weight while Dorcas was losing it. Lupin for the first time in a long time looked, if not his age then closer to it, softened at the edges for the war going on between friends.

Philippa left the house alone after she'd been told not to and after trying to stay home indoors. She had tried as long as she could. She looked over her shoulder, found herself wondering if the stove was left off and found that she had forgotten in some ways how to be around other people. That the shade of the world seemed less substantial. she only needed to find where the door to the real world was. She wandered and saw the people around her and realized they too were absorbed in her thoughts and that something in Dorcas was broken and maybe had recently or maybe a long time ago or maybe had always been and as if she called her into existence, as if by a magic of her own, upon her return home, Philippa found Dorcas waiting for her at home. She was sitting at the table as if she'd left her there. Dorcas could be very good about keeping what she felt contained but now and with Philippa, who knew, it was starting to leak out. Dorcas could no longer contain all of the energy of everything she felt. She forced everything around her to vibrate with her agitation or anger or fear. Unlike when she was very young, she and the everything in the house sat still. Philippa could just make out on the horizon a mounting impatience in Dorcas that made her nervous. She didn't know what Dorcas was waiting for or on. Dorcas didn't mention that Philippa was gone but she didn't have to.

They no longer spoke because they knew what the other was thinking but just in case, Philippa broached saying she would not be staying in the house any more. She wouldn't be punished for whoever it was trying to do whatever to whomever. War be damned. There was nothing for her to do in the house but think about being in the house. Dorcas had tried to make it very clear that these were very dangerous people and she wouldn't ask if she didn't think it was important. It would be easier to find Philippa if Dorcas knew she was at the house. If she needed to send someone for her, there would only be one place she could be. They had not argued in a long time. Both too tired to raise their voices, a type of dissonance arising from the other believing the other understood but would still do what she wanted anyway.

It really started with that cluster of sparkling, shimmering something they passed on their way back from the lake. Once they found out what it meant, it was the relative end. First that, then the exploding glass and then sending grandpa away. Then the confiscating the books and insisting that Philippa stay at home, the implication being that she wait to be rescued or killed. Philippas would rather die outside if anywhere. She would leave and come home and check the fusfium on the desk. Sometimes, she would leave to walk for so long that she would find one of the members of the Order waiting for her, Fabian or Lupin, sometimes Gideon or Basil who never failed to apologize about the windows which made her think of that evening. They were ordered with express direction not to leave until it was confirmed that Philippa was at home. More often, she might find Dorcas in the house staring at the wall or the fusfium watching it puff one little puff in intervals.

Philippa learned later that Dorcas had begun to abandon her posts to be home. If she had known, she might have been more sympathetic but she was tired. Her whole life stopped for a war she couldn't read about in the papers. An entire war that did not exist to her kind, muggles. Every time she read about anything bad happening, she imagined it was a cover up for something in a war that couldn't be discussed openly. Dorcas had never lied to her and Philippa had been very patient, she thought. She believed that every concession she granted Dorcas made both of their lives easier until she realized maybe that had been a mistake. It had been a mistake. This was a mistake.