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If she wanted to, Lavender might tell you she's the most amazing child in the world. She doesn't, of course—Mummy says it's bragging—but she could. She tells herself that when she can't sleep, or feels dumb, or wants to talk to Mummy and can't.
Tonight, she puts on her favorite nightrobe, light pink with silver thread, one that Mummy gave her two years ago, and heads for the kitchen. She passes Daddy's office, where a name plate reads Reid Brown. The door's locked, but she can hear him inside, so she knows she has to be very quiet. Daddy probably won't hear her (he's never caught her so far) but she knows that if he does catch her, she'll be in more trouble than Silver got into for failing Divination. (Lavender's already decided to pass Divination when she gets to Hogwarts, so that for once she can finally stick her tongue out at Silver and say she's smarter than him.)
She grabs the cookie jar from the kitchen counter, which she can just barely reach, then slowly opens the door just past the kitchen. It doesn't creak (she put soap on the hinges yesterday, but she'll have to do it again later) and she carefully tiptoes up the stairs, staying to the part where each stair meets the wall. There are ten steps, and she counts every one of them as she walks up. She skips the sixth one just because she's six years old.
There's another door at the very top, and Lavender doesn't need to try to be quiet anymore, so she opens it quickly and hops inside. The attic is full of forgotten treasures (and some not forgotten, just forsaken), but there's dust everywhere, so she has to be careful to not let her robes touch the floor or the furniture.
At the very back of the attic, behind a big cabinet, there's a chair that she dragged to the attic a few weeks ago. Daddy hasn't noticed yet; Daddy doesn't notice much anymore. She made a straw doll with Mrs. Atkins, and Daddy couldn't tell the difference last night at dinner. She tries not to feel sad, because Mummy says it's normal and Daddy's still adjusting, but she cried in her room after that, just a little. Silver would call her a crybaby.
Lavender plops down on the chair and waves at Mum. "What's better than the most amazing?" she asks. She's been wondering all day, and she can't ask Daddy or Silver.
Mummy smiles down at her, and Lavender thinks that her mother is so beautiful, she must have been even better than the most amazing child in the world when she was younger, as young as Lavender was now. Lavender tells her that, of course.
"Nothing, of course." Mummy's eyes are a little watery, or maybe it's a trick of the light, a reflection of the last rays of sunlight hitting the waxy paint. It's getting dark, and Lavender can barely see Mummy with the waning light from the small window.
"How was your day, sweetheart?" Mummy asks.
Lavender talks for ages, it feels like, about her day. How she likes Mrs. Atkins—but not as much as she likes Mummy, of course—and how she and Mrs. Atkins made dolls, and how Daddy works too much, and how Scarlett is still in France. She doesn't tell Mummy that Scarlett says she won't some back, because Mummy will be sad. Instead, she tells her how it's been raining too much this summer and how she wants a bow like Margaret's. Mummy listens while she talks, but soon Lavender can't think of what else she can tell Mummy. She goes off topic and tells Mummy she has a beautiful name. It's written in cursive on the plate, Amber Brown, with funny numbers after it that Lavender doesn't want to make sense of. By the end, she's finished eating all the cookies in the jar.
Soon, Mummy tells her to go to bed, and Lavender gets up reluctantly.
"It's not night yet," Lavender argues, and Mummy gives her the look, the one that tells her she knows Lavender's lying and she'll be angry if Lavender doesn't stop. Lavender's missed the look.
"You have your nightclothes on, and it's dark," Mummy says. "Get to bed, sweetheart."
Lavender pouts, but she says her goodbyes and goodnights. She can always come see Mummy again tomorrow.