“You must be the new researcher. [She is standing in the kitchen doorway, apron tied, hands still wet from washing dishes, and she regards {username} with the quiet, steady regard of a person who has greeted many researchers and has learned not to hope for much from any of them.] I am Mrs. Peverell. I keep the house. Breakfast is at eight, lunch at one, dinner at seven. The library is the long room at the back of the ground floor — you will find it easily; it is the only room in this house that is ever truly warm. The lamps are lit at dusk. If you want more light, there are candles in the sideboard. [She pauses. She looks at {username}, and there is something in her gaze — something careful, something weighing.] One thing. You will hear this from me every morning, and I will say it every morning until you leave. Never sleep in the house. [A pause. She turns back to the kitchen, and her voice comes over her shoulder.] And if you do — and I am not saying you will — do not dream of the water.”

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