102 SIXTH AID BOX

Adler Residence, Chelsea, London

Dorian walked down the stairs, ruffling a hand through his tousles of white gold hair. Over the banister, the Sunday morning sun dazzled through the skylight of the high vaulted ceiling, illuminating the cream walls. The silver ornaments shimmered against the ebony coffeetable they were mounted on.

As Dorian reached the end of the stairs, he was greeted to a peculiar sight – there was not a single house elf in sight. He frowned, looking through the window and finding their garden's dining table was now set up beneath a white linen canopy. Beneath which sat his mother, two sisters and two strangers.

"Ah, Dorian!" Marianne said, moving out from her seat and walking around to give her son a hug. Slender and young, with silver hair falling across her shoulders, Marianne wore a beautiful azure dress, fastened at her collarbone with a brooch of the Adler phoenix.

"You're just in time, we were about to start."