Already dressed, I made my way down to the kitchen.

Maybe it was because I was tired yesterday, but I noticed much more things on the walls.

Like paintings, and like any magical one, it moved. I think my favorite one is one of a beautiful pixie dancing in circles around a big colored like the sunset tree. In the walls above the stairs, were moving pictures. I had to rest my back carefully on the stairs to see the ones glued on the ceiling. Some were big, others too small for me to see.

The first one starting from the top of the stairs had two beautiful woman smiling at me. Intertwined arms, their background was a peaceful tree. The lady on the left had straight black hair with some green hair lights: her eyes were extremely extravagant. A mix of blue, green and amber. Her smile was kind.

The woman on the left gazed at me with a cocky smirk, her own mix of purple and silver eyes holding a mischievously glint. Her hair was flowing around her like a golden veil, her own locks of blue matching the sky.

And it continued like that. As I walked slowly downstairs, different people appeared in the photographs, looking slightly similar at the two woman from the first photo. The only difference were their eyes. All of them had unique mixes of colors on their own, never repeating the cycles. It seemed as the eyes were the thing that made them be their selves.

It was then that I reached the final family portrait that made me take a sharp intake of breath.

My attention wasn't on the older woman that had light brown hair like mine and blue cerulean eyes with green specks on them. Nor the couple with brown and red hair with another set of mixed eyes on her left side.

I stared longingly at the two teenagers in front of them.

In front of the couple was a redhead girl with blue greenish eyes, a somewhat smirk at the corner of her lips, having both arms crossed on her chest. It was odd to see that reaction on her, seeing as I just had seen a more calm state on her.

She was a young Natasha Rosenberg.

Around her shoulders was an arm that belonged to a boy. He was very tall for his age. His eyes were light brown with green and amber specks on. His skin was almost an eerie white that remarkably outstands the tanned skins of the others. He was laughing. A laugh that seemed to bring warm on the photo's background. Yet, as I stared at him, he seemed to have this childlike mind, not knowing what was going to happen in the next years of his life, not knowing that a war was going to begin on his era, not knowing that he was going to marry the daughter of one of the darkest families the Wizarding World had known, not knowing he was going to lost his friends in one Halloween night, or that he was going to die in the hands of a raving lunatic.

Alec Barton playfully made bunny fingers behind Natasha's head.

Dunno how much time was I seated in the first step of the stairs, staring at my father sadly.

The old grandfather clock had chimed four times, but I still wasn't sure what the time was.

"We were fourteen then," I jumped. Turning around, I saw Nat standing there with a sad expression on her face. She was wearing a baggy t-shirt and a white apron with blue jeans and black shoes. "See those behind me? They are my parents. Vladimir Rosenberg and Alana Reese." She smiled sadly. "I reckon they would have loved you."

"What happened to them?" I asked quietly.

She ran a hand through her hair, taking a seat next to me.

"The dark times just had begun," she started, a gloomy expression forming on her face, "I myself don't remember it quite well. Dumbledore gathered every wizard he could on our side, trying to stop Voldemort's –" I looked at her surprised. I didn't know she wasn't afraid of his name, "followers. Each day they grew stronger, but so we did. A group was created, but –" she scrunched her face in thought, "I don't remember how it's called anymore. Anyway, between those people were Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew," she scrunched her nose in disgust, "the Potters, James and Lily, the McKinnon's, the Longbottoms, the Bartons, and my parents, the Rosenbergs."

Natasha was looking somehow lost. But why?

"My parents were on guard with Marlene McKinnon one night. Apparently they were ambushed by Death Eathers. That's how his followers called themselves. Marlene's family was wiped off. No survivors at all. But I know who killed my mum and dad." Her tone turned bitter. "He was Travers. One of the most insane wizards of the lot. He was always polite before he killed someone, like if it was a very simple matter of a job."

"And she?" I pointed to the woman behind my father, but I had a very good idea whom she was.

Nat smiled again. "Your grandmother, Karina Barton. She was kind to everyone, always thought there was good on every soul. She was killed around your father's sixth year." She glanced at me. "Your dad was a mess. Thought that life didn't matter anymore. She was his last family and said that he didn't matter."

I frown. "What made him change his mind then?" because he didn't go off to get himself killed…not yet.

"Your mum," she laughed, "I still remember what Ren did. It was another day of brooding for Alec. Ren couldn't take it anymore, so she walked deadly to the table and slapped him hard. In the Great Hall, in front of the teachers, even Professor Dumbledore."

"She said "Life still goes on. We may lost important people on the way, but the important thing to remember is this: the most difficult task to do is live on this world. So live for her, Alec. Don't make your mum's sacrifice be in vain. Please, live, for me." And they started dating and eventually married."

I chuckled. That was really funny.

"Hey!" a sudden thought entered my mind. "How do you know where this happened? Or exactly what? I mean, you didn't even went to Hogwarts!"

Nat's face suddenly paled. She was looking more conflicted than I had ever seen her.

"I – I don't know." She shook her head. Looking behind her to the other portraits.

"You and my dad seemed to know each other," I started. "Why didn't you tell me you apparently knew him? Didn't you thought that I needed to know more about me? The truth perhaps?"

Natasha stared off in a daze.

"I'm not sure," she mumbled.

She looks so lost I couldn't even try to snap at her.

"The please answer this," I pointed to all the portraits, "Who are they?"

Natasha paused a little, smiled, and looked up above us. I saw the portrait of the two woman again.

"They are our ancestors. Madeline Barton and Isobel Rosenberg."

"Ours?"

"The Bartons and the Rosenbergs are old families of American wizards. Or like they liked to call us, Wiccan people. Our name was always put first because of heritage. Madeline had a son –" she pointed to the next painting where a handsome brunette man stared at us with an arm around a blond woman, "- that married Isobel's daughter. You could say we are long forgotten cousins or something like that. This place," she motioned a hand to the room, "is the Barton – Rosenberg Manor. Or just Wiccan Manor."

I nodded, staring at the eyes of my – just recently discovered – ancestors.

"You noticed that too, right?" Natasha still stared at the portrait of where it just began. "Poets always said that our eyes are windows to our soul. Our family took it quite literally. See, the colors never had to repeat, is a signature of our magic. But –" she looked over at me with raised eyebrows, "You broke the rules. You inherited your father's colors. It wasn't supposed to happen." A sigh. "Then again, they could probably change when you are of age or sooner."

We both went silent. The only sound I could hear was the birds happily chirping outside the door.

"So, in another words, we are just a big messed up family."

Natasha smirked and let out a chuckle.

"You can say that again."