Birds didn’t visit the garden anymore. When Ariadne had been around six or seven she had seen her Grandfather rescue an injured raven chick that had fallen from its nest; All sorts of birds used to sing at the old house in the wide fields - Grandmother’s house.

Ari had never quite worked out why it was Grandmother’s house, her Grandfather lived there too. But there was a confident, sturdy quality that surrounded Euphrates Somersby, an aura that made it all too clear to everyone in her orbit that she was the Matriarch and her word would be heeded. No one dared defy grandmother under her roof, except for her Son - Ariadne’s father Dominic.

She had loved to lie under the willow tree in the corner of that vast garden. Lying with friends and listening to the calls of the birds which flitted from branch to branch, watching Euphrates as she pottered in her greenhouse or the herb patch. Ariadne fancied that she could still remember the strong smell of Grandfather’s pipe smoke. She missed the old house and its golden thatched roof. She missed both of them too.

The new house (though she had lived there for several years now) was a dark, cold, uninviting monolith. A three-story tower house that looked as if it might have been fashioned from a single vast pillar of black granite, carved by some moribund soul and then left out in the rain for a century. The wooden window frames were pale and bleached of colour, and even the moss and weeds appeared hesitant to attack the bleak edifice.

Ariadne would swear that the forest that surrounded the building had been much smaller back when they had first arrived, but the tall pine trees her father had planted to surround the property had grown up far more quickly than most common trees would have been expected to. No other children nearby to visit, no friendly farmers or passing cars even. Just trees, fallen leaves, the slightly overgrown garden with an ageing swing set - and then more trees.

And birds didn’t visit the garden anymore, she thought again, looking into the sky and seeing nothing moving.

Ariadne and her youngest sister Jenelyn sat side by side on the swing set, Jenelyn in full motion, whilst Ariadne waited impatiently, moving with a gentle sway. She was thinking about Grandmother again, wondering where she was, and how she was doing, she even thought about that old fat cat Mr Miller, who smelled of old shoes, whom she had once followed out of a second-floor window as a younger child.

Father never spoke of her any more. Noone did. Not even Ariadne could bring herself to say a word about her.

Was that strange?

Ariadne was turning eleven that week and father had reminded her, unnecessarily, that an invitation to Hogwarts was due to arrive any day now. From that moment Ariadne had been waiting, eagerly at first. She had spent the best part of three days waiting out in that garden, sometimes with her sister, often alone. Eventually, eagerness had given way to a sort of resignation and eventually frustration. But what else could she do but wait?

She had watched the skies for the owls, but birds didn't visit this garden anymore.

Ariadne turned her gaze to the grim little windows on the upper floors of the tower house, seeing the shadow of her father pacing back and forth in the study, that same intensity that never seemed to leave him now. Her Mum would be back from her trip soon and Ari still held out some hope that she might be able to cheer her father, at least for a short time.

“Birb!” shouted little Jenelyn, pointing excitedly as the swing continued to arc back and forward, “Birb!”

Ariadne nearly fell from the seat of the swing as she struggled up and looked into the sky, shielding her gaze from the low sun with her hand and peering out looking for the dark shape - seeing nothing at first.

And then she saw it, flying in low and quickly from the west, almost a silhouette against the light. Ariadne felt her heart leap at the sight of the large grey owl, she turned to Jenny as the younger girl also came to a stop, smiled nodding in agreement and leaning over to kiss her sister on the forehead. “It’s is!”

With a deft move, the owl banked past the garden gates and a trio of letters flurried from the passing messenger to land, perfectly arranged, upon the doorstep of the tower. Ariadne and Jenelyn both ran excitedly to search through the pile, Ariadne snatching up the large yellow envelope with her name written upon it in fine green ink.

[font=Monotype Corsiva]Ariadne Belladonna Somersby
The Second Floor Bedroom,
Ballyhinch Tower
[/font]
With trembling hands, Ariadne held the letter in front of her for a moment and glanced to her sister, eyes wide, before she broke into an excited smile and carefully opened the envelope. She crouched to sit upon the cold doorstep, motioning for Jenny to sit by her side as she unfolded the first page of the letter. Ari inhaled sharply as she saw the heading of the letter, swallowing before slowly reading aloud for Jenny’s sake.

“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry -” she read through nervous lips, pausing only a moment to process the letter and then starting to read once more, beginning slowly but gaining pace as she continued, “ Dear Ms Somersby, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted!”

“YES!” Ari exclaimed and threw the empty envelope as high as she could, whilst still clutching her letter tightly, “I’m going to Hogwarts!”

It was everything she had been waiting for, the letter was the only communication that had ever arrived at the tower house addressed to Ariadne. Her father had been very specific about it with Ariadne, she would be permitted to leave to attend the school or she would remain and be homeschooled, but there was no other reason she was to be allowed to leave the bounds of the forest that had grown up surrounding the bleak tower.

Hogwarts was more than just a school to Ariadne, it would be her liberty. At least it would feel freer than the ten acres she currently considered her whole world. She had never been able to ask her Father why the girls were not allowed to leave, no matter how much she wanted to. The words just never came out and she would give up, frustrated with herself and confused, as much by her own inability as in her father’s sorrowful, silent pat on the head as he watched her struggle with her words.

What was wrong with her?

But Hogwarts was different. Dad had made it clear to Ari that she was expected at Hogwarts, and for his daughter not to attend would have been most unseemly.

“People would take note, the right sort of people would start to make the wrong assumptions” he had said when the subject had arisen, though Ariadne could only speculate as to who the rightand wrong sort of people might be, or how to tell them apart.

She had just started to unfold the second sheet of yellow parchment when the audible crack of Apparition sounded from beyond the bounds of the long path that wound through the wood, the noise brought both girls to attention and little Jenelyn sprang to her feet to run off toward the source of the sound yelling “Mummy! Mummy! Hogwots!- Mummy!”

Jenelyn had stood before her mother had come into sight, smoothing the creases out of her skirt and refolding the entry letter carefully. Aoife Somersby was a tall, blonde, slender woman with far paler hair than any of her children. To others, she might have been considered a beautiful yet severe woman, however, at home, amongst her daughters she found her smile more easily. At that moment the mediwitch was looking very pleased indeed, walking along the path with Jenelyns hand in hers as the little girl spoke of the owl she had seen with great excitement.

“Ariadne, Come, show me your letter then”, her Mother ordered in her soft Irish brogue, pausing by the old swing set and stooping to gather up the discarded remains of a picnic the girls had left there from lunchtime, her gaze flicked to the upper floors of the house as Ariadne closed with her, gesturing for Ariadne to show her the letter with a beckoning finger, immaculately manicured. “Does your Father know yet?”

It was with a blush of excitement on her cheeks that Ariadne skipped to her mothers side and held up the letter, shaking her head and scrunching her nose as she also glanced up at the tower. “It just arrived, I’ve not seen Da for most of the day.”

Her Mother started to walk back toward the house, picnic blanket folded over her left arm and the pair of stacked plates in the same hand as she reached for the letter and glanced over it, a warm grin spreading on her cheeks as she handed the letter back to Ariadne and ruffled her daughters blonde locks with her free hand. “Very good Love, I told you it would arrive, This is a Hogwarts family, get the door.”

Ari moved to open the solid iron latch on the door and pushed the heavy oak barrier until it gave way, whilst Aoife looked over her shoulder and called on Jenelyn who was moving off to find whereabouts of the discarded Hogwarts envelope. “Jenny, Get in now, it’s time for your bath!”

The younger daughter gave an exasperated whine and through her hands up, complaining “Noooo!” but Mother was having none of it.

Once they were inside Ariadne kicked off her shoes in the corner of the hall and went to check her hair in the long, slightly distorted mirror mounted by the door, their was a long crack that ran from head to toe but noone had even cared to fix it, perhaps it was meant to be like that.

“Go on and tell your Da, it will brighten his day” Aoife insisted, raising her chin in the direction of the spiraling staircase that led up to the upper floors and father’s study.

Ariadne halted at the foot of those steps, hesitating and looking unsure for a moment. She glanced back to her mother and wrinkled her nose again as she spoke, “Ma, he doesn’t like it when he goes into the study, I heard him yell at Cara when she went in earlier to get her books.

Cara was Ariadne’s eldest litte sister, nine years old and obsessed with reading, the girl had been sulking in her room since their father’s rebuke, “Maybe I should just wait?”

Aoife gave a long irritable breath and rolled her eyes as she looked up, as if seeing through the floor itself, “That bloody man,” she growled under her breath and looked back to Ariadne and nodding reassuringly.

“Go to him, and if he raises his voice I’ll have his tongue, he needs a good sleep, so he does.” she added with a hard look at a family portrait hanging up in the hall.

Only a few years ago the portrait had looked a lot different from the image that was displayed there now.

The scene had been a golden afternoon in a verdant looking garden scene, complete with rustic fence and a blue sky dotted with white flowers. There had been birds there too. Her mother had been smiling brightly, she remembered, with hair the colour of fresh straw and holding the infant Jenny in her arms. Ariadne had been holding hands with Cara, both beaming excitedly and all four of the Somersby ladies’ hair fluttered in the gentle breeze. Her tall, willowy father had never been a particularly emotional man, but his smile had come easily in that portrait, his dark full beard had been neatly clipped and shaped then, his hairline near black and though he had an obvious widows peak it did little to distract from his overall features or from those piercing eyes behind wireframed round spectacles.

And she remembered the other two figures there too, a smiling old man who was as a vision of her father in years to come, and the plump, kindly faced woman who had so suddenly disappeared from their lives. She remembered that her grandfather’s image used to wink at her when only she was looking, it had always made her grin before.

Now the portrait was a shadow of that scene, the family was there, but the dark tower was framed at their back and the sky was grey. Her mother stood with that tired, severe expression on her face that was more common now, Jenny stood by her side holding her mother's hand and hiding against the woman's skirts shyly, Cara and Ariadne stood side by side again, but both seemed more withdrawn and reserved, neither smiled often in the family portrait. Dominic Somersby was most changed. His neat beard now full and wild for the most part, his shoulders stooped and skin far paler than it had once been. Worry troubled his eyelids, he had aged in the short years and his hair was peppered with grey, the hairline much receded. His wore a stoic expression that attempted to disguise a weariness, but it did little good.

The absence of the other two figures cut most deeply of all, and it was with that playing on her mind that Ariadne plodded up the stairs and around to stand before the heavy ebony-wood door of the study, hovering outside to try to hear any evidence of her father's activities beyond the sealed portal.

Hearing only the same pacing footsteps that she expected, Ariadne took one last moment to push some of her loose golden locks back behind her ears and swallow the hint of worry that had settled in her throat. Her knock at the door wasn’t a loud one, and she was about to knock again when the sound of the pacing ended with an audible sigh and she heard the footsteps approach her from within the room.

The heavy key thunked in the lock mechanism and when the door parted a short way. There was a smell of old pipesmoke, which reminded Ari of her grandfather and she was met by her father's distracted gaze, his slender form blocking her view to the rest of the study. His patience had once seemed infinite, but now it could often be counted in mere seconds.

Ariadne wasted no time in holding up the opened letter in both of her hands and offering it to him a nervous smile on her lips as he looked from the yellow parchment to her face and stood still, perplexed for a moment. When the moment passed he blinked and the pressure seemed to fall, his face softening as he took the letter and unfolded it, glancing sideline at Ariadne as he read the first words as written.

There was another sigh from Dominic, his right hand moving to ruffle Ari’s hair as he skimmed the letter, then the second sheet with easy efficiency.

“Well-.. ... Well well” he spoke with a warmth to the tone that had become rarer of late, “It looks like you will be going to Hogwart’s after all, my sweet girl. We must tell your Ma at once, She will be pleased,”

He seemed relieved, she thought, as her father gestured her back and stepped out into the hall, turning to lock the door behind him. In the brief moment, she had to look Ari saw a cauldron out in the study, half a dozen dusty old books lay open about the floor and marked with red and green ink, but the scene was hidden again before she could concentrate on much more.

“She knows, Daddy, I was to come to fetch you, if you - “ she started to speak again but was surprised when her father bent down and hoisted her up onto his shoulders, a familiar act but one he hadn't repeated for least the last two years.

“Well you have me now, sweet girl, and I think we should see what your Ma’s got cooking to celebrate. You steady up there, little bird? Well lets go..”