Fortunately.

Though once the girls get settled in - she and Bellatrix do have something to talk to them about. 

All right.

What is it?

She gets them all sat around the table, and: "Shortly after Bellatrix came home, she told me about an artifact Voldemort had tasked her with securing. We went to retrieve it, and managed to get it fully under our control before Voldemort could take it from her. It was a golden cup, we believe to be Helga Hufflepuff's."

"I've been talking to some experts in the Dark Arts abroad over the last year, primarily about the Diary from your second year and Ravenclaw's Diadem. This summer, we took the cup to one of those experts, and confirmed that it at least is a Dark artifact called a horcrux - and given how lightly Voldemort secured the cup, and given the displayed properties of the Diadem and Diary, we suspect those are horcruxes as well, and that Voldemort might have created several more."

"Horcruxes are a method of obtaining immortality by anchoring your soul into objects through a human sacrifice. Usually, the soul pieces are small, only ensuring that their creator will stay tied to the mortal plane after death and have a chance to recreate their body. Voldemort seems to have figured out how to not only split his soul, but also grow the resulting pieces until they can act as forks, possessing people - though they seem to have different amounts of trouble with that."

"We spent some of this summer investigating the cup. We think we know how to identify other objects like it, now, and - we didn't feel comfortable leaving it active too long, even monitoring each other, so we destroyed it."

"Good that you destroyed it. Not great news otherwise."

Anathema nods.

"Do we know how many more?"

Bellatrix shakes her head. "No, not for sure. There's some magically significant numbers he might've been going for - either for number of Horcruxes or for number of soul pieces - but no one's ever made more than one Horcrux and written down what happened. We don't know what the upper limit is, if any, or if there's anything stopping him from creating new Horcruxes to replace destroyed ones, or if there's a rate limit on Horcrux creation."

"We can guess some items he might have targeted as Horcruxes - he seems to be using significant items, which might help the magic hold. Artifacts of the Founders seem likely, especially since he's already used two, and both Slytherin's locket and Gryffindor's sword are unaccounted for. Past that... Culturally, magically, or personally significant items. We need to know more."

"Do we have a plan?"

"Some of one, though we're still gathering information. We need to focus on finding out how many he has and where he's hidden them, mostly, but the Diadem is the only other one we know exists for sure."

Nod.

"I wanted to ask... Do you know what he was planning, that night in the graveyard?"

"I wasn't very aware then, but... I know he was planning to sacrifice you in some ritual he thought would add another layer of immortality to him. He was convinced he had somehow found one of the Deathly Hallows, the Resurrection Stone. I don't know the details of what he thought he was doing with it - the ritual was related to an old one for transferring magical debts though."

"...He did have a stone. I grabbed it before I left."

"...Huh."

"I remember him being angry after, but - not much more specific."

"It's up in our room, I can go get it."

She nods. "They're basically legends, but - I might be able to figure out some clue at least if it actually is one."

She darts upstairs and retrieves the stone from her trunk, then returns. "Here it is."

She takes it, examining it. "...See, here, etched into it," she says, indicating a small carving - a triangle containing a line and circle. "This is the symbol of the Deathly Hallows." She traces the triangle, "Death's Cloak," the line, "Death's Wand," and the circle, "Death's Stone."

She turns it over in her hands three times. It glints. Bellatrix stares at it with a raised eyebrow, then laughs a little and hands it over to Fay. "I think you'll have to do the proper test. There's no shades waiting for me."

Fay smiles a little, taking the stone, and flips it over three times.

And - 

Ghosts, but not quite, manifest around her. They look real, almost, still in the colors of life, just... Faded. Washed out. Translucent.

One of them - the most substantial - an old man in a trim suit, blinks around, then focuses on Fay, a wide smile spreading across his face. "Can it be?" he asks. "Little Fay. You've grown."

Fay smiles more broadly, something soft in her eyes. "Hello, grandpa," she says. "I'm not sure 'grown' is the right word. I was as tall as I'll ever be last I saw you."

He chuckles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. "There's other ways to grow, little sprite."

She nods. "I suppose there are." And, looking at the others - a handful only, not everyone she's lost, but... The most impactful. The ones she missed. And - one she's never even met, a young man in a soldier's uniform, who she blinks at, then - "Grandfather? - Lawrence Reynolds?"

The man stares around, clearly disoriented. "I. Yes. How?" To the shade Fay was talking to - "Father? Where..."

Fay leans forward. "You're dead. You have been for - a long time." She swallows. "I'm your granddaughter. Your son - he grew up to be a great man."

The shade blinks, nodding, and takes a shaky breath.

Fay looks around - and, softly, "I miss you all." One shade, a woman probably in her early twenties, walks over to squeeze Fay's shoulder and smile at her. "But..." Fay smiles a little. "This was - a bit of a test - "

Her great-grandfather chuckles. "Say no more, little sprite. Go about your business. Us dead can rest a bit longer, and if your strange magic's at all repeatable - well, I do say I'd like to catch up sometime."

Fay nods, tears in her eyes despite her smile - and flips the stone the other way. Her shades dissipate, softly, and she takes a deep breath.

"...Well. It certainly works like the Resurrection Stone should."

"Wow."

"There's supposedly a risk of getting obsessed with it, or suicidally depressed from using it too much, but... The stories mostly sound like 'person obsessed with dead person uses the stone to try to talk to their dead and freaks out when this does not solve their actual problem.'"

"I can be cautious."

"Can I try?"

She nods, handing it over. "Keep your Occlumentic shields up," she says, "In case the obsession is both magical in origin and accurately reported."

"Right." She takes a moment to focus, then turns the stone over three times.

And - 

There's only two shades. One of them is faded, barely visible - male, looks a lot like Ellie, not much older than her, early twenties - 

And a woman, indistinguishable from someone alive except for the golden light softly outlining her, shining from her skin. She looks somewhat like Petunia, minus years of bitterness and rage. Tremendously like Ellie. She beams at her daughter, then grins over to Anathema, to Fay - 

"I'm happy for you," she says, laughing, tears in her eyes. "That stone can't keep me here long, but - "

"I'm so happy for you. Proud of you. Love is a wonderful thing."

Her form's wavering already.