Little Hangleton in the middle of Yorkshire.

That's exactly where my grandfather and his son, my uncle, seem to have been registered last. That, and why they were in Azkaban, is explained right here.

How extraordinarily bizarre, however, that after so many months of futile research and even blackmail of the Nott family, I finally receive the decisive clue from Azkaban of all places.

From one of the worst prisons this side of hell.
Being trapped there, in the dark of the heartless sea, untraceable and far from any good will, not only physical strength fades, but also one's magic.
Bitter irony that the prison is so safe especially because of that. Every day spent there urges the inmates irrevocably closer into madness – nothing about it is designed for atonement.
Only for death. Damnation.
And repentance and penance are bold demands when they carry no prospect of a second chance at life. What's the point of finding one's way back into the world after that relentless cold? To return to highly praised virtues when there can no longer be any hope of applying them.

And it's all the more absurd when the most unlikely of all cases suddenly occurs.
Survival.
The allowance back into the world, after all the horrors a battered soul had to endure. After dull monotony causing any rational being to stare into their own mental abyss.

Is true freedom ever possible again after Azkaban?
Is it even possible that Marvolo and Morfin returned as sane members of society?

Or was it not much more likely that all the raw, primal instinctive qualities and tendency towards aggression were irrevocably awakened in the depths of their psyche?
In the end, wasn't that likely just what kept them alive? The strongest, most savage spark of will in them?

"Tom?"

I don't know how many times Harper has said my name before I finally hear her.

"May I?" she gently asks, taking the letter from me after a barely perceptible nod.

I can instantly tell Harper isn't entirely comfortable with those lines. She tries hard not to let it show, for my sake. And she's really getting better at hiding her feelings. Almost as though she wasn't reading about the appalling torture of a ministry employee that only time in Azkaban could bring about – when, to my own surprise, she says, "Well, we have to go there."

"We?"

She holds my gaze as we remain standing under the very tree she's already decorated with Easter eggs.

"Harper, no …" I shake my head, it makes her look become even more demanding. "I'm going alone, just for a day or two –"

"That would suit you fine!" she hisses and pushes the letter back into my hand. "Like hell you're going to travel to Yorkshire all by yourself! We've been researching together day and night for months and now you won't take me with you?"

"I don't know what awaits us there," I reply as calmly as I can. "And that means it might not be safe for you."

"If it's not safe for either of us, it's even less safe for you alone."

"Harper, I alone can take care of myself perfectly fine, whereas if I need to worry about you –"

"I don't need anyone to worry about me. Those are just excuses!"

"No, darling," I push back. "Haven't you just read those lines? These two must be absolutely insane – we'd be on the lookout for people who'd not only been imprisoned in Azkaban, but also survived it."

"And yet," she says, "to me that's merely an argument for you to not go alone." I take a deep breath and she follows it up with frustration, "You don't want me there, right? Is that it?"

"Harper," I sigh, reaching for her hands, "any way you slice it – your parents would also never let you go with me, not in a million years."

"Well, you'd surely have to talk to them," she confirms. "You're always claiming you can be very persuasive. So be it."

I'm confused. "You want me to curse an Imperius your parents' way and –"

"No!" she's laughing. "Of course not! I'm sure you can achieve that purely based on verbal argumentation."

I shake my head, yet already completely resigned to fate. "You drive me crazy, do you know that?"

"We're square then, Riddle." She smiles. "Life's a movie. Action?"

"I'm going to regret this," I grumble as I walk past her and back towards the house. "Action …"

"There you are – what kind of charity is Azkaban again?" William asks as we come back into the living room.

"They do a lot of work to help people with reintegration into society – after …" Harper pauses.

I add, "Strokes of fate."

Harper nods. "Exactly. After strokes of fate."

"I see … May I have a look at the letter, too?"

"Oh, sure, sir." After a quick glance, Harper hands me the letter. With my silent Illegibilus on the document, I pass it on.

"The text is all blurred," William promptly wonders, looking up with concern. "Or have my eyes gone that bad?"

"Let me see," Polly says, also directly taken aback. "No, I can't read anything either. Not a word."

I sigh, "How unfortunate …"

They both look at me with wide eyes.

"I assume it's a magical barrier for confidential data."

"Yes," Harper also plays along, "surely some kind of security that no information of the magical world is accessed by third parties. Sorry …"

I nod in agreement. So am I. Very much.

Because what I never thought possible happens. My guilty conscience awakes. Simply because Polly and William have been nothing but good and kind to me. While I'm smiling and lying right in their faces, in order to let their only daughter join me in searching for two convicted lunatics in the middle of nowhere.

"Would you like me to read it to you?" Harper offers, but Polly's already shaking her head.

"It's fine," William agrees, "but why is this institution writing to you?"

I pause and take heart. "Sir, to be honest – I had requested information from them in hopes of finding out something about my family."

Polly nods at once. "What a good idea, and is the letter getting you anywhere?"

"Yes," I say, letting out a harsh breath. "It certainly looks like it."

"But that means," she begins, already visibly affected, "that your family must have had to cope with a stroke of fate?"

"It seems that way," I soberly confirm, "but at least I got some clues from it. Everything bad also comes with some good, doesn't it?"

"Why, yes," William eagerly agrees with me. "And what clues did you get?"

"Specifically, the possible location of my family's origin," I reply. "A solid hint."

"Oh, that's fantastic!" Polly beams.

William also rejoices. "So your research is finally paying off, Tom!"

"Sir, with respect – it wasn't just my research by any means," I correct. "Your daughter has been a great help to me."

"Do you hear that?" With obvious euphoria, Harper's simply ripping off the band-aid to announce the plan. "That's why Tom and I now need to go to Yorkshire together, to follow all this up. Preferably as soon as possible while we're still on holiday."

"You must … wait, what?" William blinks a couple of times. "Slow down, young lady," he says, "what do you mean, you have to follow up on it?"

"This," she begins to explain, raising the letter in demonstration, "may finally be what leads us to Tom's family. Do you understand? We've been brooding over books every single day ever since Christmas, plotting how to secretly gain access to files in the headmaster's office, we've spent nights reading –"

"I guess you really are thick as thieves," William sighs a little incredulously, leaning back in resentment. "You've gained access to the headmaster's office and risked to be expelled?"

"Put drastically, yes," I try to placate him, "but I could have justified our actions at any time as a Prefect."

"But no one even saw us – it was in the middle of the night when we checked the school files."

"You two?" William repeats, his tone clearly worried. "At night. Alone." He shakes his head. "And you're seriously telling me all you did there was read school documents?"

"Oh, don't," Harper already groans, massaging her temples.

"Sir," I immediately say, "we were indeed only reading …"

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"Come on, William!" Even Polly is rolling her eyes now. "If your daughter and Tom say they have been reading, then they have been reading!"

"Well, even if …" William looks at us in sorrow. "How do you imagine that? We can't let you travel on your own, you're minors!"

Harper looks at her mother with wide eyes. "Tom isn't a minor! And I'll also be 17 soon, so I'm of age and -"

"Not in my world, missy," William firmly disagrees, crossing his arms over his chest. "Polly, you ought to say something, too!"

With a heavy heart she sighs. "Bill, well … it's just the way it is – I remember what we did when we were 16. Our parents had to live with the worries, too. I guess that's part of it."

"Polly!" William really has a hard time. "Surely I'm not going to let our daughter travel alone to … where did you say you were going?"

"Little Hangleton, in Yorkshire," Harper repeats. "And I wouldn't be alone at all!"

"But what if you get lost?" William asks. "If something happens to you?"

"Sir, of course I'd take good care of your daughter."

"As if that were necessary," Harper mutters, pursing her lips.

"Tom," William ignores her as much as I do, "I know you'd do that, and you look older than you are, and certainly you have more sense of responsibility than many other young men your age, but …" He shrugs. "If only people saw you with each other on the train in Derby …"

"We can apparate."

I nod. "No one would see us that way."

"Apart from that, I couldn't care less what our neighbours think!" Harper adds. "It's nobody's business what we do."

"You're in Scotland all year round, little one," her father wearily retorts. "I, on the other hand, have to listen to the local rumours about you two. Like after Christmas …"

"William," Polly growls, shaking her head in a warning.

"What?" he asks, shrugging his shoulders before turning back to us. "After the holidays, pretty much the whole neighbourhood asked extremely interested questions about you two, do you know that?"

"Did they now?" Harper asks stoically.

"Oh yes, young lady," William confirms. "And particularly piquant: some even swore they have seen you both in the attic window on occasion, at night – despite the separate beds …"

"That can't be," Harper claims.

"Good heavens!" William looks up at the ceiling, half exasperated. "Since when do you lie so convincingly without even blushing? Harper dear, do you think we're deaf? You didn't sneak up to the roof particularly quietly …"

As awkward as it is right now – even I'm moderately surprised that her parents noticed.

"You knew?" Harper asks, suddenly singing small. "Why didn't you scold me straight away and lock me in my room?"

"After Tom and I had a private conversation …" William looks at me and nods. "I realised that I could trust him."

"You can," Harper confirms. "But what convinced you of that?"

William and I exchange a long glance.
It's like a silent question he's asking me. And in silence I answer.

"You're still very young, aren't you?" William leans back again, his eyes never leaving my face.

"Many soldiers of war are very young, too, sir," I reply. "And yet they are apparently old enough to die."

"That is sad and true, my boy." William ponders, then he seems certain. "You would have my blessing. Of course you would."

"Blessing for what?" Harper asks so quickly that I already know she has a clue.

So I turn to her and say, "Your father didn't lock you in your room because he knows fully well I'm going to marry you as soon as we've graduated."

Silence arises as Harper seems completely surprised – and yet again, not at all.

"Are you serious, Tom?" Polly asks.

"Harper is my family – it's the only logical thing to do."

"Do you hear that, William?" Polly asks. "So much for people whispering! Completely irrelevant, obviously …"

"But maybe I don't agree with marrying someone for the sake of mere logic," Harper complains.

"I should've expected that objection," I say, giving her a tired smile, "but I thought you knew I was just using rationality for lack of better words."

Her look is still ever so dark, but I can see her mouth twitch.

"Well," William mumbles, "and still, there's the matter of letting my daughter go on a journey to a place I don't even know pending …"

"She will come back to you safe and sound," I promise. "Sir, you know I wouldn't let anything happen to her."

"And I still have a wand myself," Harper reminds us again, likely just for her peace of mind.

William hopes for Polly to protest at last, but she winks. "Come on, Bill …"

"All right," he finally sighs, despite it still giving him anxiety. "But!" He pauses and raises his index finger. "You don't do anything stupid! Pretend like we're just next to you, only one floor below, yes? And you'll be back on time in a week at the latest, otherwise I'll perish with worry! Do you promise?"

"I promise." Harper hastily nods, as do I.

"And you'll take the train!"

"What?" Harper shakes her head. "No, absolutely not, why –"

"I'm sure there's a reason you're not officially allowed to do that until you're 17."

"Apparating is free, Dad!" she wants to argue.

"I don't care," he says. "I'm not comfortable with it, and I've read that it can lead to serious injuries."

"If you can't properly control it, sir," I confirm to him. "That, however, doesn't concern your daughter."

"No, no, not a chance – I'd rather pay for the train myself than have you floundering around somewhere between the universes! How much money do you need?"

"None at all, I'll pay for it," I assure him, even if it makes Harper look at me in surprise. As she raises her brows, I explain, "Before I came here, I worked for Borgin & Burkes."

"Why's that?"

"Boomslang skin," I lie. "For our Polyjuice Potion. And while I was at it, I went on to sell a bit of junk …"

"There you go," William rejoices. "Then we're in agreement, and your future husband is obviously hardworking and affluent!"

"Sure, that makes me want to marry him for logical reasons straight away," she snaps, and yet her cheeks turn pink as she can't hide a subsequent smile.