Relbert Pilliwickle could remember the day he held his daughter for the first time. He had felt so scared that he'd break this precious little bundle. He couldn't help but sob a little. He'd always felt to big, to clumsy for small fragile things, but Nephie, when he'd held her for the first time… there were no words for it. He might have even shed a tear or two.

"So," he whispered, "This is Nephele Pilliwickle. I've been waiting a long time to meet you Miss Nephie."

His wife laughed, "You don't seem all that scared anymore, dear."

He shook his head at her, "I'm absolutely terrified!" His voice softened as he looked back at his daughter, "But somehow, somehow I know it'll be alright in the end."

The two proud parents watched as the little baby opened her big blues eyes, staring up at her Papa. He'd never felt more proud, or more scared in his life.


Relbert Pilliwickle could remember the first time he was cheered up by his daughter. He had lost his wife to sickness when Nephie was five. He could remember standing before her grave, Nephie's hand in his. He'd cried. The gentle, 6'8 giant had cried, his daughter's hand in his, grounding him to the world. She'd looked up at him with her big blue eyes, and then hugged him.

"Don't be sad, Papa," he glanced down at her.

"And why, darling Nephele should I not be sad? Don't I have a right to it, you mother, my wife, is dead?" he'd asked her.

Nephie smiled in return, and then ignored the use of her full name, "Because Mama said not to let you be sad. She said that you would feel guil… gultry-"

He gently corrected her, "Guilty?"

She nodded, a serious look on her face, "Yes. She said it would… eat you? I told her that that didn't make sense, I mean, how is it going to eat you? Your… your big! She laughed, and said that you needed to be happy for her, since she couldn't be happy for us anymore."

He nodded at his daughter, "But sometimes, Nephie, we can't help, but be sad."

She cocked her head to one side, "That's okay, Papa. I'll just have to be the happy for both of us!"

He smiled at her, "Thank you, Nephie, thank you."


Relbert Pilliwickle could remember when he first cried for his daughter. She was twenty-six, and marrying the love of her life. They were happy tears this time. He felt as though Randy was good man, and a good fit for his daughter, although he had threatened the man pretty well. Their wedding was a beautiful thing, and then he got the first dance with his daughter, and well the giant couldn't help, but cry a little.

"Don't cry Papa, this is a happy time!" she said to him, as they spun around.

He grinned at him, "Yes, yes, I know. I am happy for the both of you. I just wish your mother was here for this."

Nephie shook her head sadly at him, "Mama would have liked it, wouldn't have she?"\

"Well, she would have hated the pink, and yellow color scheme, but yes, she would have loved it."

She glanced into his brown eyes, her blue ones sparkling, "Maybe in a way she's here. Enjoying this with us. Happy for us. I'd like to think she is."

He held her gaze, "Your mother didn't believe in afterlife, or in having a soul for that matter."

Nephie considered this for a second, "I think that she was a very modern witch, at least for a pureblood. But I want to believe that she found her own afterlife in the end. One where I might see her again. One where… where she's at peace."

He raised an eyebrow at her, "Oh?"

She grinned at him, "Yes, Papa. I may be Slytherin, but I'm not heartless!"

He laughed at this, "I never said you were! Your mother was one, the man you're marrying was one. No, your just ambitious. Out to prove the world wrong, one stubborn idea at a time."

Her laughter joined his, "Even if half of them aren't completely thought out?"

"Even then, I'll still love you. No matter what."


The first time Relbert Pilliwickle felt old was with his daughter. It was the second best day of his life. He had grandsons! Two in fact, twins. Elward Pilliwickle-Dasenger, and Oliver Pilliwickle-Dasenger, born only twenty minutes apart. It had been thirty two years since he'd held Nephie for the first time, and he couldn't say that this time was much different. Although this time Randy was more terrified of dropping one of the babies then he was.

"Papa, would you like to hold your oldest grandson?" Nephie asked him.

He smiled at his daughter, "Of course I would." He took one of the bundles of blue blankets, and pink baby. "Which ones this?"

"Uh… that one's Elward," Randy answered as he tried to calm the crying Oliver.

"Careful with him, Papa," Nephie smiled at him.

He nodded, looking down at his grandson, "Hullo Elward. Welcome to the world, quite the name you've got there."

Randy nodded, "Nephie liked it. I think I'm going to just call him El."

"Where as you like a normal, common name like Oliver," Nephele snorted.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Randy protested, "Oliver is a perfectly good name."

She smirked at him, "I'm joking dear."

He glanced up, "Did you, and your wife ever argue over names for Nephie here, Relbert?"

He laughed at the question from the younger generation, "Yes, we did. We had five names that we narrowed it down to, Nicolette, Rosella, Jacintia, Odessa, and Amber."

"Wait," Nephie stopped him, "No Nephele?"

"No Nephele. We hadn't even considered it. We decided that Jacintia would be to hard to pronounce, and Amber to muggleish. Odessa was pretty, but a coworker of your mother's named her son Odessey, and we decided it was to close. We were down to those two. We argued like crazy over the two names. I was for Nicolette, and your mother for Rosella. And then this little girl came up to us, and started asking us about you. You weren't born at this point yet, but she was cirious. So we talked. And she said that she would name her daughter Nephella because it was pretty. We didn't quite like that, but we liked the nickname Nephie. So we wound up with Nephele, and your middle name was easy after that."

"Was I always going to have a nickname?" she asked.

He nodded, "It would have either been Lettie, or Rose. but I like Nephie better."

She looked up at him, "So do I, Papa. So do I."


Relbert Pilliwickle knows that this is his closest connection to his daughter, it's been a little over a year, and half sense that battle, and the two sixth year Slythrien boys have come to vist, like they do every Christmas. He's the closest thing randy, and the boys have to what's left of their mother.

Oliver, always the more bold of the two speaks up first, "She would have wanted to be here, right?" He looks so desperate. About to cry. He knows his mother belived in having a soul, and afterlife, but he took after his grandmother. He's having a hard time hanging on to his mother not being erased as he puts it.

Randy shakes his head at his son. He wants to honor his wife's ideals, but he too, thinks like Oliver, "She might be around us right now. You never know…. Even if…" He can't finish the satement. He wants to keep his father-in-law and youngest son's belief unquestioned.

Elward shakes his head of curly hair. His hands, as always are cover in paint stains, but unlike before the war when they where reds, greens, blues, and yellows, they are now blacks, greys, and whites. They are tapping out something, maybe a song, maybe a code. No one but Elward knows.

"Even if she's not here, I think she's happy, and at peace," he tells them.

"And why do you think that El?" Relbert asks.

"Because," he says very simply, "She believed it so."


Happy first day of school! At least for those who started school today.

I meant to have this up yesterday, but one thing led to another, and that lead to yet another thing. (Basically six kids instead of seven kids getting ready for school is no less chaotic)

~Andy