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Summary
Former Death Eaters are not welcome anywhere, so the keeper of a lighthouse on the far edge of the Hebrides hasn't touched his wand in three years. A voluntary exile: an island, an axe, a plane, books instead of magic. All perfectly legal — The-Boy-Who-Now-Heads-the-Auror-Office is well aware.
Draco knows everything about this island. About himself — only what he permits himself to know.
The days here are short. The twilights are long.
And what does the Piranesi casket have to do with any of it?