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Harry and Rowena returned to the kitchen, where Harry took his seat at the island while Rowena rummaged in the fridge. After revealing that Harry might be in great danger, she had merely announced they would continue the conversation over lunch. Harry didn't mind—his stomach growled as though he had been physically laboring all morning instead of just sitting cross-legged in the basement.
"I normally just have a sandwich for lunch," Rowena remarked, leaning into the refrigerator.
"That's fine," Harry said. He was hardly picky, and he wanted to get back to the explanation as soon as possible.
Rowena glanced over her shoulder. "Turkey or roast beef?"
"Turkey, please," Harry replied, trying (and mostly failing) not to stare at the mannequin-like curves her silhouette still displayed through his mana-vision. He could have deactivated that sight as she had shown him, but it was too intriguing—and still felt so new.
Rowena took some thick, fresh-cut turkey from a container in the fridge and set a variety of ingredients on the countertop: lettuce, tomatoes, mayonnaise, bread, and utensils. "Those of us with more than one resonant do our best to keep them balanced," she said casually, placing items on the island. "If one resonates too strongly, it can shape our emotions more than we'd like."
Harry thought back to his own resonants—those small, egg-like shapes, one of which currently glowed more brightly after absorbing that bubble-gum pink mana. So that's why I've been… preoccupied, he mused. If Lust was fuller than the others, it could well be making him feel unusually fixated on every curve he noticed. The mere idea made him flush.
Rowena neatly diced the turkey into small chunks. Then, with a wand-like gesture, she warmed the meat—filling the kitchen with a tempting aroma. "Nagini," she called, "lunch is ready. And I understand now."
Turning to Harry, she nodded. "Right, then. Let's talk about why you're in danger."
Harry noticed she sliced four thick cuts of bread, layering them with a mayonnaise-cranberry mixture. His stomach gave another eager rumble. Moments later, Rowena used her wand again to heat the sandwiches just enough that the turkey smelled freshly roasted, even as the lettuce and tomato remained crisp. Harry found himself more than ready to eat.
Before she could continue explaining, however, she looked up at Harry's question. "Salem?" he had repeated, catching a single word she'd let slip.
"Yes. The Trials," Rowena confirmed. "It ties into the Families and everything else. …Though the full details of certain agreements—some might call them a 'Statute of Secrecy'—aren't something you need to worry about just yet."
Footsteps pattered on the stairs. Nagini—her collar jingling—trotted into the kitchen and hopped onto the island. The cat sniffed once at the diced turkey on a plate, then turned her back with an air of disdain, twitching her tail. Harry noted Nagini also had her own faint "shields," which surprised him; he wondered if all animals could access magic or if this was something special.
Rowena spoke in low, measured tones, apparently addressing the cat. "I see now why you didn't tell me sooner, Nagini. Apology accepted. In part, at least."
"Mrowr," Nagini replied, an oddly dismissive sound.
"I gave you every chance to explain," Rowena said with a slight roll of her eyes. "You refused."
"Pfft!" Nagini's white teeth glinted as she tore into her turkey.
With a sigh, Rowena turned back to assemble the human sandwiches. Harry couldn't resist asking, "You… can talk to her?"
"Of course," Rowena said matter-of-factly. "Though she's not what you'd call my familiar. She's far too independent for that."
Harry cast a wary glance at Nagini. "But you did ground her earlier?"
Rowena shrugged lightly. "If she insists on acting like a rebellious teenager, she'll be treated like one. Doesn't make her any less headstrong."
The idea of a cat fully understanding human speech struck Harry as almost more bizarre than the magic itself. But then, he realized he'd told Nagini a number of personal secrets over the years… He swallowed, deciding he might need to speak with the cat in private later.
Rowena cleared her throat, redirecting his attention. "Where was I? Ah, yes—Salem. Those old witch trials were a catalyst. Back then, covens functioned differently. But in the aftermath of all that hysteria—and the tragedies that surrounded it—witches adapted. Muggles started burying the memory of their own cruelty by dismissing Salem as the product of fanatics. They wanted to forget; in doing so, they also largely dismissed the reality of magic. A number of discreet pacts took shape over time—some of which form the basis for secrecy laws we follow to this day."
She paused to take a bite of her sandwich, then continued. "In the New World, privacy was the privilege of the wealthy. Witches learned quickly that, with a bit of ingenuity, they could both earn and maintain significant resources. Rather than living as hermits in the woods and inviting suspicion, they bought estates or built large houses right under people's noses. A powerful warlock might be the official 'master' of a household—while the witches in his coven posed as relatives, housemaids, or guests. People rarely questioned it."
Setting aside her half-eaten sandwich, Rowena looked Harry in the eye. "That's how the Families came about. Instead of single covens operating in isolation, multiple linked covens formed under one familial umbrella, pooling wealth and magical protection. Witches got the privacy and security they needed. Muggles remained happily oblivious—even if a rich man had many 'women' living under his roof, outsiders assumed it was all some eccentric arrangement of sisters or aunts. They never realized they were dealing with real witches."
Harry savored the flavors of the warm turkey, the tang of cranberry, and the crunch of lettuce. It was easily one of the best sandwiches he had ever tasted. "Wow," he mumbled around a mouthful. "This is amazing."
Rowena offered a small, pleased smile. "Thank you. Now, as for the coven structure itself… Covens are inherently hierarchical. Twelve of the witches are bound directly to the warlock, or the warlock is marked by the high priestess—depending on the arrangement."
He frowned slightly. "Marked? Like… physically?"
Rowena nodded. "You might have heard legends about witches' marks. Witch hunters searched for them back in the day. Often they appear like birthmarks, but it's more than just a blemish: it's a magical bond between a warlock and witch that lets them share mana intimately. Permanently."
Harry considered that, then remembered her use of the word "permanent." He tilted his head, curiosity piqued. "So, is it like a marriage, then?"
A soft chuckle escaped Rowena's lips. "Marriage can be dissolved, dear. The coven bond is permanent in a very literal sense—quite unlike the way people casually misuse the word 'permanent' these days."
"Oh," Harry said quietly.
"Yes. Now, if the warlock marks all the witches, that coven effectively becomes independent. But if one witch marks the warlock, she's the high priestess—while still remaining vulnerable to being marked by another warlock. That can create a hierarchy of covens." Rowena paused to take another bite of her sandwich.
Harry chewed thoughtfully on his own food, pondering her words. "So, witches have to decide whether to be independent or part of some… bigger structure?"
"It's rarely a conscious choice these days," Rowena replied, brushing crumbs from her plate. "The marking process is often an instinctual struggle for dominance, yet many Families now plan their covens with that hierarchy in mind. A warlock can funnel a coven's collective power to its high priestess for a ritual, but if she's bound to another warlock higher up the chain, that warlock can take the power from her and pass it on. Eventually it flows to the head coven of the entire Family."
Harry snorted softly. "So it's… a pyramid scheme?"
Rowena's brow furrowed at the comparison, but she said nothing immediately. After a moment, she walked to the fridge, retrieved two cans of strawberry soda, and handed one to Harry. "Sorry, this is all we have—Nagini's favorite, believe it or not. I can add something else to the grocery order if you like."
Harry accepted the can and twisted it open, glancing briefly at the cat lapping pink bubbles from a dish. "No, this is fine," he said. Quietly, he reflected on the unspoken implication that she assumed he would be around long enough for more grocery shopping.
Rowena resumed her seat. "A pyramid scheme is not the worst analogy," she admitted. "All covens benefit from the arrangement to a degree, but power does funnel to those at the top."
He cleared his throat. "So, how exactly does that put me in danger?"
Rowena set her sandwich down. "In three ways. First, as an unmarked warlock, every Family would want to add you to their hierarchy—willingly or not. Second, because you're a trinitara warlock, they'd want you all the more. Lastly, you have the Control resonant with a Command affinity. Some factions will be desperate to harness that power, while others will prefer simply to kill you."
Harry's stomach lurched. He stared at Rowena, who calmly took another bite as though discussing nothing more pressing than the weather.
"Kill me?" he echoed.
Rowena sighed. "Consider it, dear. You have the capacity to compel others—perhaps only mundanes right now, being untrained, but eventually even witches would be vulnerable if you break their shields and overpower their will. Any Family that fears it cannot keep you under control may try to ensure no one else can, either."
He swallowed hard, appetite vanishing. He pushed his plate away.
Rowena continued, her tone measured. "That's why Nagini was right to wait before bringing you to me. My first instinct would have been to whisk you here for safekeeping, but in truth, that wouldn't help for long. I'm not a hermit—I have a life—and eventually word would get out. Before your powers awakened, you blended in as any mundane would. No witch would suspect you unless she scrutinized you closely. But now that you're actively absorbing mana, you're… well, let's just say it's glaringly obvious."
Harry felt an odd mix of relief and dread. "So, once I learn these shields, I'll be safe?"
"Somewhat," Rowena allowed, collecting the plates from the island. "You might hide your resonants and the fact you're a trinitara, but an unmarked warlock is valuable enough on its own. If you decided to join a Family, I could introduce you. A warlock's life there might lack freedom, but it's… luxurious."
He grimaced. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Rowena rinsed the plates at the sink. "Family warlocks almost never leave the estate. They're kept… protected. It's not that time-consuming, I suppose. Their main role is to collect mana from their coven and pass it up the chain. The witches have more autonomy than a Family warlock typically does."
Harry slouched in his chair, crossing his arms. "I don't think I like the idea of being kept. That's too much like foster care was."
Rowena gave a sympathetic nod. "Many who weren't raised in the Families feel that way. Smaller, more independent Families exist, but none would risk bringing in an unmarked warlock—especially one with Command."
"How is it still a risk if we're all bound?" Harry asked, recalling that covens were thirteen witches to one warlock. "Isn't that permanent?"
"Permanent until a witch's death," Rowena clarified, drying the dishes. "That frees her place in the coven. It also frees the warlock to be marked again by another. In theory, that warlock could shift allegiance."
"Oh," Harry muttered, feeling a shiver at the idea.
Nagini took that moment to stroll closer, nudging Harry's elbow and then flopping down to expose her belly. Without thinking, he began stroking the cat's soft fur, earning a loud purr.
Rowena returned, arching one brow at Nagini's unabashed display. "You see? She's hardly my familiar. She does as she likes."
Harry managed a small smile. "Guess so."
"Anyway," Rowena went on, "if you don't want to join an established Family—and if you don't care for the idea of being at the bottom of any hierarchy—your best course is to form your own coven as soon as you can, then build enough power to protect yourself. Meanwhile, once you master your shields, there are ways to keep you safer."
He looked up at her from where he knelt beside Nagini. "Like what?"
"Well, if you stay here, people will assume I plan to form a coven with you. That alone will discourage some from making any overt moves. I'm not part of a Family at present, so there's no immediate chain for them to follow. And," she added, "I have someone in mind who might help—provided she's still trustworthy. I need to speak with her first."
Harry ruffled Nagini's belly fur, feeling the warmth of her contented purr. It was odd to think that this casual moment stood in stark contrast to the gravity of all he had learned—like how he was apparently a highly sought-after prize in a world he barely understood.
"All right," Rowena said, nodding toward the basement door. "If you've finished with Nagini, let's head back down and work on your shields. That's the next crucial step."
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