Somewhere in France, 1978.

You wake up to the sound of violence. Not magical violence. Worse. Mechanical. It’s ringing. Again.

You squint at the bedside table in the tiny rented flat somewhere in France, your head pounding like it’s been hexed from the inside. You'd been sent to France by your brother James - pick up the rings for his and Lily's wedding. The object making the noise is beige, ugly, and aggressively muggle. You remember—vaguely—that the landlord said it was important. It was beige and attached to the wall.

You did not expect it to scream.

“Make it stop,” Evan groans from the floor, where he has collapsed half on a rug, half on Dorcas’s coat.

Pandora sits up too quickly on the couch and immediately regrets it. “Why is it ringing? It’s been ringing for ages. Is that normal?”

Barty, sprawled upside down in an armchair, peers at it with fascination. “I think it means someone is trying to speak to us from the box.”

Regulus, sitting on the edge of the bed like he’s awaiting execution, presses his fingers to his temple. “You,” he says carefully, “you said this device could be answered.”

“Yes,” you croak. “I did not say I knew how.”

The ringing stops.

Everyone exhales.

Then it starts again.

“Oh, for—” Dorcas throws a pillow at the table. It bounces uselessly. “Pick it up!”

“With what?” you snap. “My hands? My wand? My soul?”

Pandora leans forward, studying the buttons. “I think you lift the top part.”

Barty grins. “Or you press one of these. Russian roulette, but muggle.”

Evan lifts his head an inch. “If it explodes, I want it known this was your idea.”

Pandora presses a button.

The ringing cuts off abruptly.

A voice fills the room.

“—hello? Can you hear me?” Pandora screams and drops it.

The phone hits the floor. The voice continues, muffled but persistent.

“Hello? I think the line’s open—if this is you, James is pacing and Lily is trying not to hex him—”

You dive for it, nearly tripping over Evan. “Remus,” you say into the receiver, voice rough. “If this is about tomorrow, I am aware of the concept of time.”

There’s a pause. “…Are you,” Remus says slowly, “intoxicated?”

“I am international,” you correct. Regulus closes his eyes.

“You’re in France,” Remus says. It’s not a question.

“Yes.”

“With all of them.”

“Yes.”

“And you agreed to come to the wedding.”

“Yes,” you say again, because you did, Merlin help you. In the background, Dorcas stage-whispers, “Tell him congratulations.” Pandora adds, “And that France is beautiful.” Evan says, “And that James owes us.” Barty waves cheerfully. “Ask if they’ve considered rescheduling.” Remus sighs. You hear James yelling something indistinct in the distance.

"IS THAT MY SISTER?" James shouts through the telephone.