My dear brother Alger,

I hesitate to write at a time such as this, but my husband presses the quill to my hand daily with the sort of fervent fortitude I would have attributed only to a Hufflepuff. You have only recently taken on the mantle of leadership in the Mark, and I fear that any news from home would detract from your good work. Mother sends you her love and best wishes, and she desires that I tell you how proud Father would be that you have stepped into the work he so passionately fought for in life. You were but a child when the change was wrought in him, and I was but a thought in the future, but it has become a work of change in us both as well. Even my husband, much beloved but often a bit too honest for a Slytherin, speaks lovingly of how the work of the Mark has made me a woman of wisdom. He loved the foolish girl I was at Hogwarts, but how much more the woman I am becoming.

But, as our father would say, I digress and shall attempt to find my way back. As you well know, our father was working on a project with the brethren before his death. We had thoughts that his triumphant project would never come to fruition, a thought that left those last days with Father dark indeed. To think now that our self created hollows of pity were needless! Father had completed his task.

Although our brother Kinsey is convinced Father’s last task for the Mark shows the marks of senility, Mother is sure that his work was true and real. She, out of all of us, read Father as a favorite book, and you, my brother, must surely know the truth from your end. Was Father tasked in his last days with creating and hiding an object of such import he could tell no one? Why hide such treasure when surely the time is right for sharing between the Houses? We are a bonded unit for the good of our beloved school and beloved community, and there is naught to change that. What purpose could hiding this object serve?

Enlighten me, dear brother, as payment for what I am about to provide for you. Father treasured a letter he received from Mother during those hard years when you were a boy, and we found scribbled words on a piece of parchment wrapped inside. I send them both to you now. I will hold you to your honor as a Boniface and member of the Mark to tell me all you know. And do not tell Kinsey, for he is a prat beyond measure these days.

All my love,
Your sister,
Hope Madelaine Branxton

…truly, my husband? Did you not benefit from strength of character and mind, as well as strength of arm? Were not your wits and dedication as important as your courage when facing a foe? Is our marriage built upon your bravery or upon your loyalty and esteem of me? Lovely, silly, brave Auberon, you cannot be all of one thing or you shall become a slave to that thing. You cannot let the students in your care fall to the same beasts that have so long held us captive.

It is time, my love, to forge a new way, to recreate the world in a way more beautiful than it is now. For the good of the children you teach, for the good of our sons, and for the good of the child I am carrying now, we must find a way to live with ourselves and with each other. Be strong, my Auberon, for it is your gift, but be also clever and cunning and true to your convictions.