For the One Word Competition and Funny Little Lines Competition on Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges

Disclaimer: Don't own

"Daddy, where is the book?"

"Well—"

"Yes, I know I should look for my own things, and I have been for the past five minutes."

"Honey, you just—"

"You're right, I probably had it last; but can't you just help?"

"How many times—"

"I know; you don't want me to depend on magic to solve my problems, but just this once? Daddy, please? "

"Marya, if you listened to me for one second, you would know that it's been on your bookshelf all along," her dad finally got out.

"Well, Daddy, why didn't you say so?" She replied, smiling. She got of her messy bed, and grabbed the book, well—tried to, at least. "You know, one day I'll be strong enough to lift it," she said as her dad came to her aid.

"I know you will, Mar," he said as he carefully placed the book on her bed. Both of them stared at it for a while, and a silence fell over them.

"So, Daddy, are you ready?"

"I guess I am." He thought this would get easier, but every day it just got harder and harder. Sometimes, he couldn't stop himself from coming home in the middle of the day and just immersing himself into the memories, immersing himself into her.

Pretending, and almost succeeding; convincing himself that she wasn't dead, that she was right there next to him. That was, until the memories ended, and suddenly, cruelly, realty hit him. He picked up drinking, hoping it would ease the pain. It worked.

It didn't stop Parvati telling him of, "Dev, are you bloody mental? You cannot continue living like this; you have Mary to think of. I will not allow my child to be raised by a loony, so straighten yourself out, now. " Needless to say, the drinking came to an end after a couple of days of listening to her in his head.

He loved Marya, but his thoughts were all tangled up and tied about her. Sometimes he felt guilt; guilty that he wasn't a good enough dad, wasn't doing the right thing by showing her the memories.

He wondered if they were worth it, if they had the same effect on her as they did on him. If they did, he didn't want her to go through all that pain.

Never could he figure out whether they were helping her, or just deepening her sadness. He just didn't want her to forget her mum, forget how amazing, and wonderful she was; how much she loved them. At least, that was his rationale.

So now, on to the book; what was it exactly? Well, Parvati bought it during her pregnancy. She wanted to ensure that their child would always have their childhood memories with them when they grew up.

While she was shopping, she saw the book; it was a new device and quite expensive, but she bought it nonetheless. Dev hadn't been too excited about it then; but now— if only she knew how dependent he was on that thing.

So again back to the book, well, if it can be called a book at all. It lacked some of the physical qualities of a book, proper pages for one. It was also quite heavy. So heavy, in fact, that such a strong six-year-old like Marya Finch couldn't lift it— surprising, considering it was hallow.

It neither had a tittle, nor an author; no words, no pictures. So why did Marya and her dad, call this object a book? Mostly, they did because that's what Parvati had called it, but also— the book told stories.

These stories, they always had Marya's Mum and Dad in them, sometimes even Marya herself. Of course, Marya and everyone else, was usually younger in them.

These were the stories that affected Dev, the stories that he wanted to show Marya so desperately, the same stories that made him question his decision to do so. It was no ordinary book, it was the subject of much controversy —it was a type of pensieve.

Marya's dad opened the book, placed it on her bed, and both of them were thrown into the memory.

They were back in Marya's room, with a much younger Marya lying in bed, laughing hysterically. Her dad was sitting next to her, with a normal book in his lap and a wand in his hand.

Parvati wasn't there; it was unusual not to see her right away. They could see that Dev in the memory was in the middle of transforming himself. Within seconds he grew two blonde braids, and his shorts and t-shirt transformed into a glorious, beautiful, blue ball gown.

"Pwincess!" Marya shouted. All four of them laughed.

"Pwince!" Marya shouted again, and her dad transformed himself back to normal, but with a crown made out of tin foil on his head, and red velvet robes. Laughter ensued.

"…Knight!" Marya said again. Then, slowly, the foil from the crown unraveled and animatedly started wrapping itself around Dev's entire body. While everyone was laughing, the door opened.

"What is all this commotion, Dev, I thought you were putting her to sleep, not hyping her up," Parvati, said as she walked in. Then after taking a look at her husband, started laughing.

"Mummy, Daddy Knight!" Marya said, in between her laughter.

"It's true, I'm your knight in shining armor, Parvati," Dev told her.

"My knight in shining armor turned out to be a loser in kitchen foil," she said giggling, "Literally!"

"Hey, I'm not the loser!" Dev replied, and slowly the scene faded away.

"That was a nice memory, Daddy," Marya said smiling. It was moments like this when Dev thought he might actually be doing the right thing.

"It sure was," he replied smiling.

"Can we look at one more? Please Daddy!" Though she sounded hyper, she said this with a huge yawn.

"Well…how about you go to bed now, and we can look at two tomorrow. Okay? It's getting late."

"Okay, I guess."

"Goodnight," he said and kissed her on the forehead; taking the book with him as he left the room.

"I miss her, Daddy"

"Me too, Mar, me too."

A/N: Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought, constructive criticism welcome :)

Marya is in one of my other fics, Subtle Changes in Friendship, but she goes by Marry so if you recognized her, she's the same person.