From the grand dining room came the low murmur of voices—Tom’s measured, velvet tones interlaced with Lucius’s cool drawl and Bellatrix’s occasional, sharp-edged laugh.

Your fingers moved deftly over a cluster of fresh herbs, mincing them with practiced precision, when Nagini’s head lifted. Her forked tongue flickered against your ear.

Then you heard it.

A heavy knock at the front door—three deliberate, echoing raps.