In the Shadow of What If's

Ashes and Olive Branches

Eventually, Hal nudged him. "So... are we still riding brooms when we get back to the villa?"

Thomas grinned. "Of course."

"Just checking. Because if you start riding with her all the time, I swear I'll throw your wand into the sea."

Thomas leaned back on his elbows, the sun warm on his face.

"There's enough of me to go around, Hal."

"Good," Hal said. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

Far ahead, Harrison had stopped walking.

He stood at the edge of a collapsed bathhouse, gazing back over his shoulder, eyes narrowed against the glare.

Fleamont joined him after a moment.

"They're talking again," the elder Potter said quietly.

"I know," Harrison replied.

"You didn't interfere?"

"No need."

He let out a long breath.

"They're figuring it out on their own."

"Good."

They turned back toward the ruins. The group was reconvening. Alessia waved them forward.

But Harrison lingered just a moment longer—watching the two boys side by side again. Hal still scowling, but now with his usual mischief rather than pain. And Thomas, his hand casually bumping Hal's as they walked.

There was space for many people in Thomas's world.

But some?

Some had earned their place in the foundations.

"So," Hal said as he trudged beside Thomas, hands shoved in his pockets, "what do we do with her?"

Thomas glanced sideways. "Her name is Walburga."

Hal rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you, I was there when you told me the first ten times."

The girl in question was a few paces ahead, the hem of her lavender sundress brushing against the sunbaked stone as she walked. She pretended not to hear them, though Thomas knew perfectly well that she had. Her spine was too straight, her shoulders too still. Which meant she was listening. Always listening.

"She's not that bad," Thomas muttered.

"She's terrifying," Hal replied. "You don't know what it's like to get a broom stolen out from under you by a six-year-old girl in pressed lace gloves."

"She didn't steal it," Thomas said. "She tactically acquired it."

"She didn't ask."

"She left you the nicest seashell from the beach."

"She threw it at me."

"It landed in your lap."

They paused as Walburga stopped and turned. Her face was impassive, but there was a hint of glint in her dark eyes.

"If you're both done," she said coolly, "I'd like to see the temple again."

Thomas frowned. "The one Alessia mentioned?"

"Yes. The priestess. The one who foresaw the eruption. I want to see where she stood."

Hal made a face. "Why? So you can practice looking dramatic?"

Walburga lifted her chin. "So I can understand."

Thomas shifted his weight, gaze flicking toward the path ahead where the rest of the group had just turned past a columned ruin.