Cassie leaned forward on her knees, barely breathing as her mum flipped open the latch and slowly lifted the lid. Inside, there were only a few things—a wand, some old newspapers, and a small, creased photograph sitting right on top. Cassie's eyes darted to the wand immediately, her heart racing. Was that… was that her mum's wand? It was different from the one she saw the other time… Why did she have two?

But before she could ask, Marlene picked up the photograph, her hands cradling it like it might shatter. Cassie tilted her head, trying to get a better look. The photo moved. It moved. The man in the picture had dark, messy hair and a grin so wide it looked like his face might split in two. He was holding a tiny baby, and his thumb brushed over the baby's hand again and again in an endless loop.

"It… it moves!" she whispered, awe and disbelief bubbling in her voice. Her wide gray eyes darted back to her mum. "How does it do that? Photos don't move!"

Marlene gave her a small, bittersweet smile, her voice soft when she spoke. "Wizarding photos are… different. They capture moments a little more alive"

"Who's that?" Cassie asked, her voice breaking the silence. She leaned closer, her wide gray eyes fixed on the photo.

Marlene didn't look at her. She just stared at the picture, her thumb brushing over the man's face. "That's… that's Sirius," she said softly, her voice trembling. "Your father."

Cassie blinked, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Her father? That was her father? The man with the wild hair and the big grin and the laughing eyes? He looked… he looked fun. And kind of cool, actually. Not at all like the boring, suit-wearing dads she'd seen at school.

"That's… him?" Cassie finally managed, her voice barely audible. She pointed at the photo, her finger trembling. "That's dad?"

Marlene nodded, her lips curving into a faint, bittersweet smile. "That's him," she said, her voice thick.

Cassie stared at the photo, her mind racing. She'd always wondered how her dad look like. Why he wasn't with them. It had always just been her and her mum. But now… now she couldn't stop looking at him. The way he held her so carefully, like she was the most important thing in the world. The way he smiled, like he didn't have a care in the world.

"What was he like?" she asked, her voice small and hesitant. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know. What if she didn't like the answer?

Marlene's smile grew, just a little. "Well, I told you he was stubborn," she said, her voice soft and warm. "And reckless. And infuriating. But he was also brave. And loyal. And he loved you more than anything."

She felt a warmth in her chest, like the photo had reached out and touched her, but it was mixed with something else—something sharp.

She stared at his face, trying to piece him together. He looked so real, so alive—so much like the dad she'd always imagined—but he wasn't here. Why wasn't he here? Did he ever think about her? Did he miss her the way she missed him, even though she didn't really know him?

"Where… where is he now?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Why isn't he… with us?"

Marlene's face fell, and for a moment, she didn't answer. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "He… he is… well, he can't, love. It' is complicated, but believe me if he could be with us, he would be"

Before she could say anything, Marlene gave her the photo. Cassie's fingers hovered over the edge of it, her breath catching as she stared at the man cradling the tiny baby. The baby was her. She could hardly believe it—this was her dad. Her dad. The word felt strange, unfamiliar, like trying on someone else's clothes. She'd thought about him before, of course—imagined him as some faceless shadow, a character in a story her mum refused to tell. But now, here he was. A face. A grin. A laugh frozen in time.

Her gray eyes, so much like his, darted between his face and the baby in his arms. He looked young, younger than she'd imagined, and happy—so happy. His messy dark hair curled around his ears, and his grin was wide and a little wild, like he'd just been told the best joke in the world.

As she stared at his face, something stirred in her chest—a strange mix of warmth and longing. She didn't know this man, not really, but it felt like a piece of him was still there, in the grin they shared, in the way his eyes seemed to shine just like hers.

Cassie's gaze stayed glued to the photo, her heart thumping. "He looks so happy," she murmured, her voice tinged with awe.

"He was," Marlene said, her voice catching. "It was one of the happiest days of his life."

Cassie's brow furrowed as she stared harder at the photo, her fingers brushing the edges of the enchanted image. She watched as her dad's grin grew wider, his gray eyes shining with warmth as he looked down at the tiny bundle in his arms. The baby squirmed sleepily, her tiny face scrunching up in that funny way newborns always seemed to do.

"He had a beard," Cassie said suddenly, the corners of her mouth twitching into a small smile.

Marlene let out a soft laugh, her eyes flicking to the photo. "Yes, that ridiculous beard. I hated it. I told him he looked like a stray dog."

Cassie giggled, glancing up at her mum. She didn't laugh much like this—at least, not when they talked about serious things. But right now, there was something softer in her voice, something Cassie didn't quite understand but liked all the same.

"He didn't care, though," her mum added, shaking her head with a fond smile. "He said it made him look dashing."

Cassie let out a small laugh, her attention snapping back to the photo. "I don't know, Mum. I think he kinda pulls it off."

Marlene rolled her eyes. "Well, you're clearly biased."

Cassie grinned, but her smile quickly faded as she leaned closer to the photo, her face growing serious again. She couldn't stop staring at him—at Sirius, she reminded herself. That was his name. Sirius. She said it in her head, trying to make it feel real, like it belonged to her. Her dad. The thought made her chest feel strange, tight and warm and a little achy all at once.

Her fingers twitched as she traced the outline of his face, careful not to touch the enchanted surface of the photo.

Marlene was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was softer than Cassie had ever heard it. "He was… complicated," she began, her words slow and deliberate. "He was a troublemaker—just like you." She gave Cassie a small, knowing smile.

Cassie's lips twitched upward, but she didn't interrupt. She wanted to know more.

"He was brave," her mum continued, her voice growing distant, like she was speaking to someone who wasn't there. "The bravest person I ever knew. He had this way of… making you believe you could do anything. Like the whole world was yours if you just reached out and took it." She hesitated, her smile faltering. "And he was loyal. Fiercely loyal. He would've done anything for the people he loved. He did everything for them…"

Her voice cracked on the last word, and Cassie looked up, her chest tightening. Her mum wasn't crying, but there was something in her eyes that made Cassie's stomach twist. She wanted to ask why her mum sounded so sad, but the question caught in her throat. Instead, she asked the one that was already burning in her mind.

"How did you meet him?" she asked, her voice small but steady.

Marlene blinked, like she'd been pulled out of a dream. She gave Cassie a quick, tight smile. "We went to school together," she said simply, like that explained everything.

Cassie tilted her head, her curiosity sparking. "A school for witches?" she asked eagerly

"Yes…" her mother say and before Cassie could ask anything more, she pulled out the wand and held it out to Cassie.

Cassie's breath hitched, her eyes going wide. The wand was beautiful, with delicate carvings running along the handle. It looked so much more elegant, so much more alive than the wands in her storybooks.

"This was mine," Marlene said softly, holding it out for Cassie to see. "The first wand I ever owned. I got it when I was eleven. Red oak, nine and a half inches, semi-flexible, with a dragon heartstrings core."

"Do you remember what was dad's wand?" Cassie asked, not knowing why she was curious about that of all things.

Her mum smiled, closing her eyes like she was trying to retrieve a memory. "It was unyielding, like him, twelve inches, I think? I remember it was longer than mine. Unicorn hair core."

Cassie's fingers twitched, her eyes glued to the wand. "Can I… can I hold it?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Marlene hesitated for a moment, then nodded, placing the wand gently in Cassie's hands. Cassie's fingers wrapped around the smooth wood, and a strange, tingling warmth spread through her palm. She held her breath, afraid that if she moved too quickly, the wand might vanish.

"It's so… light," she whispered, turning it over in her hands. "It feels… alive."

Marlene smiled faintly, her eyes glistening. "That's the magic," she said softly. "A wand chooses its owner. It becomes a part of you."

Cassie's gaze flicked up to her mum, then back to the wand. "Mum," she whispered, her voice barely steady, "can you show me something else? Please?"

Her eyes shone with a mix of curiosity and determination, a look that had worked more times than she could count. It was the same look she'd used to convince her mum to let her stay up late, to get an extra helping of dessert, or to buy her the newest book at the shop. But this wasn't about staying up late or dessert—this was magic. Real, honest-to-goodness magic.

Marlene didn't answer right away. Instead, she just stared at the wand in Cassie's hands, her face unreadable. Her mum was always good at hiding what she was thinking—Cassie hated that about her sometimes. But right now, she could feel it, the tension in the room. Marlene was fighting with herself, just like she always did whenever Cassie asked too many questions about the things she wasn't supposed to know.

Cassie tilted her head, the corner of her mouth tugging into a small, mischievous grin. "Just one more thing, Mum," she coaxed, her voice soft but insistent. "Please? I won't tell anyone. I promise."

For a second, Cassie thought her mum was going to say no—Marlene's lips were pressed together in that thin, stubborn line she got when she was trying to be the "responsible" parent. But then she sighed, her shoulders slumping just a little, and Cassie knew she'd won. She usually won when she tried hard enough.

Marlene reached out and took the wand from Cassie's hands, gripping it tightly. She closed her eyes for a moment, like she was trying to gather herself, and then she raised the wand, pointing it toward the hallway. "Just one spell," she said firmly, her voice steady but low. "One. And then that's it."

Cassie nodded quickly, her excitement bubbling over. She leaned forward on her knees, her eyes glued to the wand.

Marlene took a deep breath, her grip tightening. "Accio shampoo bottle," she said clearly, flicking her wand toward the bathroom.

For a split second, nothing happened. But then Cassie heard it—the faint whoosh of something cutting through the air. Her jaw dropped as the shampoo bottle came hurtling around the corner and straight into her mum's hand.

Cassie gasped, her mouth falling open. "It just—it just came to you! Like it knew!" she cried, bouncing on her knees. "That was amazing! Mum, can I try? Please, please, please, just one time!"

Her mum looked down at the bottle in her hand, her fingers curling around it. For a moment, Cassie thought she might actually say yes. There was something different about her face—something softer, like she wasn't the same mum who told her to eat her vegetables or made her go to bed on time. She looked… happier, somehow. Like she was remembering something really good.

But then the softness was gone, and Marlene shook her head quickly, lowering the wand. "No, Cassie," she said, her voice tight. "Not yet."

Cassie's heart sank, and she sat back, her shoulders slumping. "But why not?" she asked, her voice coming out in a whine. "I could do it! I know I could! You did it—why can't I?"

Her mum crouched down in front of her, setting the shampoo bottle on the floor. "Because magic is complicated, Cassie," she said, her voice quieter now. "It's not something you just… play with. It's powerful. And it can be dangerous if you don't know what you're doing."

"I wouldn't mess it up," Cassie argued, her face scrunching up in frustration. "I'd be careful! I promise!"

"I know you would," Marlene said softly, brushing a strand of hair out of Cassie's face. "But you're not ready yet. Not for this. Magic is powerful, Cassie," her mum said, her voice trembling slightly. "It's not just about saying the words or waving a wand—it's about control. And when you don't have that control, it can hurt people."

Cassie huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. But as much as she wanted to argue, she could see it in her mum's face—that look she got when she was worried about something. It was the same look she'd had at the school earlier, when she'd been talking to the principal. Cassie didn't understand it, not really, but she knew enough to stop pushing. For now.

She looked down at the wand in her mum's hand, her fingers itching to reach for it again. Even though her mum said no, she couldn't help but imagine it—holding the wand, saying the words, and watching something happen.

Cassie watched as her mum hesitated, her hand resting on the edge of the trunk like she was holding something heavy inside herself. There was something different about her at that moment—something Cassie couldn't quite name. It wasn't the strict, no-nonsense Marlene she knew, the one who refused to explain anything. This version of her mum looked almost... uncertain, like she was fighting some kind of invisible battle.

Cassie tilted her head, waiting for her mum to say something. But instead of speaking, Marlene reached into the trunk and pulled out an old, yellowed newspaper. She handed it to Cassie with a sigh, her fingers brushing against the edge of the page for a moment before letting it go.

The newspaper was strange—bigger and heavier than any paper Cassie had ever seen. The headline screamed at her in bold, uneven letters: HE-WHO-MOST-NOT-BE-NAMED DEFEATED. Beneath it was an image of a house, completely destroyed, surrounded by witches and wizards with somber expressions.

Cassie's brow furrowed as she turned the paper over in her hands, running her fingers along the surface. It felt rougher than normal paper, like parchment. "What's this?" she asked, glancing up at her mum.

"It's a newspaper," Marlene said quietly. "From the wizarding world. It's called The Daily Prophet."

Cassie's eyes narrowed as she stared harder at the front page. Something wasn't right. The picture—it was also moving. The witches and wizards in the photo shifted, their robes swishing as they turned to look at the house. A small gasp escaped Cassie's lips, and she dropped the paper like it had burned her.

Cassie bent down and carefully picked up the paper again, holding it gingerly like it might bite her. Her fingers traced the edges of the moving image, her brow furrowed in concentration. The house in the photo flickered in and out of view as the wizards moved around, and Cassie's curiosity flared.

"Why did you keep this?" she asked, her voice quieter now, like she knew the answer might be something serious.

Marlene hesitated, her eyes dropping to the floor. "It was… a big day," she said finally, her voice tight. "The day the war ended…"

Cassie didn't fully understand what her mum meant, but something about her tone made her stomach twist. She looks thought the page carefully, her eyes flicking over the strange, magical text she couldn't quite make sense of. The headline above it read: HARRY POTTER, THE BOY WHO LIVED. Cassie wrinkled her nose as she skimmed the words below the photo, picking out bits and pieces.

"So a baby defeated this bully—what's his name? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Cassie's nose scrunched up as she looked up at her mum, her disbelief clear. "That's… odd. How can a baby beat anyone?"

To her surprise, Marlene gave a small laugh, the corner of her mouth lifting just slightly. "That's one way to put it," she murmured, her voice tinged with amusement.

"Well, it doesn't make any sense," Cassie continued, holding the paper up like it was evidence in court. "I mean, what could a baby do? Bite his ankles?"

Marlene smiled faintly, but Cassie could see something in her eyes—something sad and distant. "Magic is a tricky thing, honey," she said softly. "It can do a lot of things that no one can explain. That day... it changed everything."

Cassie nodded, though she wasn't sure she believed it. The idea of a baby defeating an evil wizard just seemed ridiculous. But then again, magic was still new to her, and if there was one thing she'd learned, it was that magic didn't follow the rules she knew.

Cassie watched her mum's hand hover over the lid of the trunk, her fingers lingering, as though she couldn't bring herself to close it. She didn't understand why her mum looked so sad—why she'd gone quiet all of a sudden. They'd been laughing just a few minutes ago, talking about her dad, and now it was like someone had turned off the lights inside her mum.

And then, her face hardened, like she was locking something away—not just in the trunk, but inside herself.

"That's enough story time for tonight, Cassie," Marlene said softly, her voice quiet but firm. She put everything back inside and looked away, like it hurt her to remember it all. The lid of the trunk clicked shut, and Cassie's chest tightened.

"Why can't I know more?" Cassie asked, her voice small but stubborn. Her fingers clutched the edge of the photo she still held, the one of her dad holding her as a baby. "You can't just show me this and then stop. I want to know. I deserve to know!"

"Enough, Cassie," her mum said sharply, her voice cutting through the room like a whip.

Cassie froze, her eyes widening in surprise. Her mum never yelled like that—at least, not at her. She swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as she held back the tears.

Her mum's face crumpled immediately, like she regretted her words the second they left her mouth. Marlene closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, letting out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, love," she murmured, her voice softer now, but it didn't erase the sting of the moment. "I just… I'm trying to protect you. That's all."

Cassie's disappointment burned in her chest, but she didn't argue. She looked back to the trunk, invoking her dad's face—his grin, his scruffy beard, the way his thumb brushed over baby Cassie's tiny hand. She wanted to keep looking, to hold onto this tiny piece of him, but it was locked away now.

Marlene stared at the closed trunk, her hand resting on it like she couldn't quite let go. Cassie didn't understand why her mum was like this—so secretive, so guarded. There were so many things she wanted to ask, things she needed to know, but every time she got close, her mum would slam the door shut. It wasn't fair.

"Mum?" Cassie said softly, watching as her mum's eyes drifted toward the photo of her dad, still sitting on top of the trunk.

Marlene didn't respond right away. She just stared, her face unreadable. For a moment, Cassie thought her mum might cry. She was about to reach out—say something, anything—when Marlene finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What would you have done, Pads?" she said, her eyes still locked on the photo. Her tone was strange, almost like she was talking to someone who wasn't there. "Would you have stayed and fought? Or would you have run, too?"

Cassie's chest tightened as she watched her mum's face. Pads? Who was Pads? She opened her mouth to ask, but the look on her face made Cassie change her mind.

Why did she sound like she was talking to someone who wasn't there? There was something raw in her voice, something Cassie wasn't sure she'd ever heard before. It was too raw, too sad. She didn't want to make it worse.

Marlene stood up slowly, brushing her hands on her jeans as though she could wipe away whatever ghosts had just crept in. She gave Cassie a faint smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Come on, my little marauder," she said, her voice soft but tired. "It's past your bedtime."

Cassie wrinkled her nose at the nickname but didn't argue. She slid off the bed, her bare feet padding against the floor as she followed her mum out of the room.

She couldn't stop glancing back at the trunk, though. It felt like it was calling to her, like it was full of answers she wasn't allowed to have yet. She wanted to march back in there, fling it open, and demand her mum tell her everything. But she didn't. Not yet, anyway.

As they walked to her room, Cassie's mind buzzed with questions. About her dad, about magic, about why her mum was so determined to hide everything. Her mum had said enough for tonight, but that didn't mean Cassie was done. She wasn't going to let this go—not when there was so much more to know, so much more she hadn't been told.

Her mum tucked her into bed, brushing a stray curl out of Cassie's face with a soft smile. "Goodnight, Cass," she murmured.

But Cassie didn't say goodnight back. She was staring out the window, her thoughts spinning. Her mum's stories were like pieces of a puzzle, but half the pieces were missing, and the picture didn't make sense yet.

She thought about the photo of her dad—the way he'd looked at her like she was the most important thing in the world. She thought about her mum's face when she talked about the past, the sadness that seemed too heavy for one person to carry. And she thought about the trunk, sitting quietly in her mum's room, full of secrets she wasn't supposed to know.

Cassie wasn't going to forget this. She wasn't going to let it go. Her mum could try to protect her all she wanted, but Cassie was going to figure this out. She had to.

As her mum turned out the light and closed the door softly behind her, Cassie stared up at the ceiling, her gray eyes shining in the dark.

Her mum thought she could protect her by keeping things hidden, but Cassie knew better. The answers were there, just out of reach, and she wasn't going to stop until she found them. No matter what.