The sea breeze brushed gently across their faces as they sat on the hillside, silent for a moment.
"So, you're the one who donated to the Ministry of Magic?" Adam tilted his head, studying Sherry's profile.
"Did Lilith tell you? Did you catch her that day? When I get back, I'll…" Sherry gazed out at the sea of flowers, her curled-up figure radiating a quiet sadness.
"Let poor Lilith off the hook. I just guessed, but you've never told me who took you from the orphanage," Adam said, reaching out to ruffle Sherry's hair gently.
"Aunt Corina told me. My mother's name was Annie Abraham," Sherry replied softly. "But she hasn't seen my mother in years. All she knows is that my mother came to England with my father."
"But if she'd never seen you, how did she recognize you?" Adam frowned, searching his memory but finding no trace of this person.
"Remember your first performance at the magic club?" Sherry turned slightly, her hair fluttering in the breeze. "She was in the audience. She saw me sneak out from backstage and stared at me like she'd seen a ghost."
Sherry shifted closer to Adam, their distance shrinking subtly. "I was terrified, but her expression softened. She asked gently if my name was Sherry."
Adam placed a hand on hers, feeling her cold fingers. "I didn't dare answer. She just smiled and handed me this pocket watch." Sherry's lips parted slightly as she spoke.
"She said she knew someone who looked just like me. Then she started talking about their youth—how they snuck into a wine cellar together. One girl raised a glass of wine and called it 'Spanish sunlight in a bottle.'"
"When they were tipsy, that girl suddenly said, 'My child will be named Sherry too.' But their mothers overheard, and they stumbled out, tripping into the flower fields outside."
Sherry pulled a platinum pocket watch from her undetectable extension bag and opened it to reveal an old photo. In the faded image, two girls with ribbons in their hair leaned against a lavender field. The girl in the white dress was beaming, a flower tucked in her hair, as if it might blow away any moment.
"After that, Aunt Corina took me from the orphanage. She's been so kind, always telling me stories about my mother. She even took me to France to visit my grandfather."
"But my grandfather looked at me strangely—part joy, part something bitter I couldn't place."
"Did you find any photos of your mother there?" Adam interrupted, his mind buzzing with questions.
"I didn't think to look… Maybe I should've stayed to search. You seem really curious about this," Sherry said, holding out the pocket watch.
Adam shook his head, avoiding her probing gaze. His eyes caught the faded ribbon peeking from her sleeve—identical to the one in the photo.
"Later, she took me to the Black family estate. The moment I saw that house, I felt it—like a pull in my blood. Aunt Corina said it was the power of lineage."
"But the place was empty. Just a mad old portrait and a house-elf."
"When the portrait saw me, it calmed down. It kept asking who I was, why I looked so much like her son."
"The house-elf burst into tears when it saw me, muttering apologies. Then the portrait ordered it to give me the key to the Black family vault…"
Sherry spoke calmly about the past two years, including how she and her aunt saved a maid named Lilith on the French border.
"So, you're the sole heir of the Black family now?" Adam, true to form, zeroed in on the oddest detail.
"I guess so. That's what the portrait said. What, are you jealous?" Sherry tilted her head, blinking curiously at him.
"Uh, I think 'Adam Morgan' is a perfectly fine name," he said after a pause, tossing out a regretful quip before standing and heading toward the flower sea below.
He was still young, he figured. Better to strive for something now than settle for an easy life.
Sherry watched him, puzzled. After a moment, her face flushed bright red. Flashing her small, tiger-like teeth, she chased after him, half-angry, half-amused.
The two darted through the flowers, the sea of blossoms swaying under the flickering moonlight, pulling them into a dreamlike fairyland. The little witch trailed close behind, running faster and faster, as if outrunning her sadness and regrets.
Her steps grew lighter, like she might take off into the night sky, soaring toward the two young stars above.
Suddenly, she crashed into Adam, falling into his warm embrace. Unable to hold back the grief buried deep inside, bitter tears streamed down her cheeks. She buried her face in his warmth, sobbing freely.
Adam held the grieving girl quietly, gazing at the faint coastline in the distance.
Her sobs gradually softened, her breathing steadying. He poked her cheek, only to realize she'd fallen asleep.
With a wry smile, he hoisted her onto his back and headed back the way they came. Her wine-red hair brushed against his cheek in the night breeze, accompanied by the sound of waves crashing on the rocks and the faint rustle of small animals in the underbrush.
"Will you come to my birthday next year too?" Sherry tugged lightly at his hair, her voice soft as a whisper in his ear.
"Every year," Adam replied.
"You said it!" The sadness in her eyes faded, her lips curving into a gentle smile. She closed her eyes, nestled in his warmth, savoring the summer night's breeze.
Back near the red-roofed cottage, Adam set the seemingly sleeping—but secretly blushing—Sherry down on her bed under Lilith's amused, aunt-like grin.
He fled back to his room, only to find Newt and Tina gone. Amy the cat was perched on the mailbox, a letter in her mouth.
"So, Newt and Grandma Tina went to London's Royal Albert Hall for a show?" Adam said, taking the letter. Tina's handwriting instructed him to take care of himself and to send an owl if anything happened.
"Alright, guess I can fix that flower-trimming machine tomorrow," Adam muttered, scratching his head as he returned to his room, Amy trailing lazily behind.
He pulled a ring from his pocket, examining it closely—the first object he'd seen tied to the Otherworld. After a moment's hesitation, he brushed his fingers over it, channeling a trickle of magic. Faint glowing words appeared.
A pull from the Otherworld surged, and the space before him shattered.
…
The crunch of sand under his shoes echoed as an unfamiliar, briny sea breeze, laced with the scent of seaweed, filled his nose. The snowy mountain town he expected was gone, replaced by endless gray-blue waves, their frothy crests crashing against jagged rocks.
A slanted wooden shack stood at the edge of the rocky outcrop, seaweed wedged in its weathered boards, its faded window frames pitted with salt-corroded holes. As another gust swept over the roof, the rotting wood groaned like it was on its last breath, startling a few silver-gray seabirds from the rocks. Their flapping wings pierced the empty beach with a harsh sound.
Adam drew his wand the moment he opened his eyes, but aside from the churning waves, the world was still.
As he studied the shack, his peripheral vision caught a hazy figure atop the highest rock in the distance. Wine-red hair danced wildly in the wind, the woman's arms outstretched as she sang, her form like a dying flame.
Adam strained to catch the fragmented syllables carried by the wind, gripping his wand tightly as he approached.
When he got closer, he realized it wasn't a song but broken murmurs and calls. The woman teetered on the edge of the rock, her tangled hair obscuring half her pale face. Over and over, she repeated two names, her voice torn apart by the wind.
"Regulus…"
"Sherry…"