Polly frowned as Harry, carrying the skull, followed Keira. “Where are you going?” “Occult rituals, Mother.” Harry’s voice, as always, was completely void of inflection. “I may not return. Or if I do, I will likely forever be changed.” “Well, all right then, have fun. Curfew’s at ten. Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate for when you get back?” Harry, already partway through the doorway, hesitated. “Yes.”
