NINE
' family line '

☾⋆₊✧

DECEMBER
1993

SHE was determined as she and Harry made their way back to Hogwarts, through Honeydukes, the tunnel, and then the one-eyed witch's statue. Harry had gone straight to his dorm, whereas Callie found herself walking the halls in attempts to find her father.

She checked the Defence classroom first, then his office inside, but found no trace of him. Next, she'd wandered off to the teacher's lounge, which was also empty. As she turned around, figuring to go to the Great Hall next, she nearly bumped into a brooding figure that had appeared behind her.

"Miss Lupin," Snape muttered, his voice dripping with disdain as his dark eyes swept over her. Callie felt her cheeks flush even deeper—not just from the warmth of the castle after the cold outside, but from the intensity of his scrutiny. She stood there, snow dripping from her weather gear, leaving a small puddle at her feet as she fidgeted with her gloves. "And what, pray tell, might you be hunting for this evening?" His tone was sharp, cutting, as if he already suspected she was up to something.

"Do you know where Professor Lupin is, sir?" she asked, her voice quieter than she'd intended. She straightened her posture, willing herself to seem more confident.

"Your uncle," Snape said, with an almost imperceptible sneer at the word, "is in his quarters. I don't believe he's left since Friday afternoon."

Callie hesitated, the knot in her stomach tightening. Friday afternoon? That meant he was probably ill again. She inhaled deeply and asked, "Could you point me in the right direction?"

After following Snape's discreet instructions and receiving many warnings from the ghosts about entering the teacher's territory, Callie came up to a big steel door with several locks on it. She gave three knocks, before stepping back and crossing her arms. Around two minutes later, the door creaked open, revealing her dull-eyed father looking as if he had just woken up.

After carefully following Snape's cryptic directions—and dodging several ghostly warnings about venturing into the teachers' quarters—Callie finally found herself standing before a large, imposing steel door. The metal gleamed faintly in the dim torchlight, and the numerous locks bolted across its surface gave it an almost foreboding presence. She hesitated for a moment, nerves fluttering in her chest, then stepped forward and rapped sharply three times.

The sound echoed faintly down the empty corridor, and she stepped back, crossing her arms against the chill that still clung to her from outside. The seconds ticked by, stretching into an agonizing wait. Just as she began to wonder if she should knock again, the door groaned in protest, the locks rattling as it creaked open.

Her father appeared in the doorway, looking disheveled and worn. His hair was tousled as though he'd been sleeping—or trying to. Shadows lingered beneath his eyes, and his expression was dull, almost unfocused, until his gaze fell on her. For a moment, surprise flickered there, followed by a weary sort of concern.

"Cal?" His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "What are you doing here?"

She glanced at him, taking in his rumpled robes and the faint lines of exhaustion etched into his face. "I needed to talk to you," she said simply, though her voice wavered slightly under his tired scrutiny.

Remus stepped aside, holding the door open wider. "Come in," he said with a sigh, the door creaking ominously behind her as he closed it. "Though I doubt this is a conversation I'm prepared for right now."

"Probably not," she muttered as she brushed by him and into his quarters. But just a few feet into the room, Callie froze.

This was where her father had been living for the past few months. The space was cramped and chaotic, far different from the homey chaos she was used to. Clothing and random clutter were strewn across the floor, and empty bottles rested haphazardly under tables. His bed, large and imposing, was unmade, the pillows and blankets spilling over onto a long, worn couch nearby, as if he'd been alternating between the two for restless nights.

Her gaze traveled to the farthest corner of the room, where another door stood. This one was even more secure, with thick bolts and an aura of finality. Callie didn't need to ask what it was for; she knew. The sight sent a sharp pang through her chest, and as a tear slid down her cheek, she turned to face her father.

"What's happened here?" he asked softly as he reached out to her.

"There's something you've been keeping from me," she interrupted, her voice firmer now as she dodged his hand.

Remus stiffened at her tone. "Keeping from you? Callie, I don't know what you—"

"I know why you're so worried about Sirius Black," she said, cutting him off again. "And why you never talked about Harry growing up." She took a shaky breath, meeting his startled gaze. "You were friends with him. With Sirius Black. And you were friends with Harry's dad."

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. Remus's face seemed to lose even more colour. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of her words had physically struck him.

"How did you...?" he started, but Callie pressed on.

"If you didn't want me questioning my reality, you shouldn't have brought me to a place filled with answers," she said, her tone sharp but trembling.

Remus sighed deeply, running a hand through his greying hair. He motioned toward the small, round table in the centre of the room. "Sit down," he murmured. "I suppose we need to have this conversation."

Callie hesitated, but then crossed the room and lowered herself into one of the creaky chairs. She folded her hands on the table, staring at him expectantly.

After a long pause, Remus spoke, his voice heavy with an emotion she couldn't quite place. "Sirius and James weren't just my friends," he said quietly. "They were my best friends. My brothers. We were... inseparable."

"And Peter Pettigrew," Callie added quickly.

Remus's head snapped up, and he squinted at her, suspicion flickering across his face. "Now where did you hear that name?"

Her confidence faltered for a moment. "Well, you see, I—"

"We'll table that for now," he said, holding up a hand. "I owe you the truth, Callie. I know that much."

The room fell silent again as she waited for him to continue. In the dim light of the fire, his face looked more lined than she'd ever noticed before, as if the memories he was about to recount were etched into his skin as deeply as they were in his mind.

"When I came to Hogwarts," Remus began, his voice low and deliberate, "I didn't think I'd ever find a place where I belonged. I was the odd one out before I even stepped foot on the train. I was... different." His gaze drifted to the bolted door in the corner, lingering for a moment before he turned back to Callie. "But then I met James, Sirius, and Peter. They didn't just accept me—they made me feel like I mattered."

Callie leaned forward, her fingers curling into fists on her lap. "And they never found out? About... what you are?"

A small, humourless laugh escaped Remus. "Oh, they found out. Sirius figured it out first. He was always... perceptive, especially about things that didn't concern him." He paused, his lips twitching into the ghost of a smile. "But instead of being afraid, or shunning me, they—well, they did something I never expected. They became Animagi."

Callie blinked, stunned. "Animagi? You mean... like McGonagall?"

"Exactly like McGonagall," he confirmed, though his tone carried a mixture of pride and sorrow. "It took them years, without my knowledge, but they mastered it. They did it so I wouldn't have to face the full moons alone."

For a moment, Callie forgot her questions, her mind conjuring an image of her father and his friends—young, fearless, and wild—running through the Forbidden Forest under a full moon. But the thought quickly gave way to the present, the weight of reality settling back on her shoulders.

"That doesn't explain why Sirius would want to hurt you—or me," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "If he was your friend, why would he... what happened between the two of you all that time ago?"

Remus hesitated, the question hanging in the air between them. His fingers drummed on the table as he searched for the right words. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sirius had a sister. A twin sister."

Callie's breath caught. "Celene."

He nodded, his expression distant, as though he were staring into a memory only he could see. "Celene was nothing like Sirius. Where he was impulsive and brash, she was steady and thoughtful. She... she meant everything to him. And to me."

There was a beat of silence, heavy with unspoken words. Callie leaned forward slightly. "What happened to her?"

Remus' eyes dropped to the table. "She... she died, Callie. And Sirius never forgave me for it."

Callie's breath caught, the room suddenly quieter than before. She could feel the ache in his voice, the kind that came from years of holding something in.

Remus smiled sadly, the weight of memory heavy in his expression. "She was in Slytherin, our year, of course. She was never around Sirius that much at school, but they were inseparable growing up and in the summers when they went home. He didn't get along with his parents—never tried to—and Celene was always caught in the middle of those fights. Her concern for him eventually carried over to Hogwarts. She wanted to keep Sirius grounded, to remind him of the better parts of himself."

Callie tilted her head slightly, watching her father as he spoke. He seemed lost in the story, caught in a tide of regret.

"But Sirius built up walls," Remus continued. "He became bitter toward her, as if blaming her for being too much like their parents. And so, she started coming to me." He paused, his fingers brushing against the edge of the table. "I told her all I could, I... tried to help her see the person Sirius could still be, the friend I knew. But James—James had spotted us together one evening and warned me that it wasn't a good look."

"A good look?" Callie echoed, her voice soft.

Remus nodded, his eyes dimming. "You have to understand, Cal, her entire crowd were blood purists—rumoured Death Eater candidates, even. She wasn't outspoken about it, but she lived in their world. She walked their line. And yet... Celene was different. She didn't give anyone the answers or satisfaction they were looking for. No one but me."

Callie felt her chest tighten, as though bracing for impact. She could see where this was going, what it was leading to. The tension in her father's voice was a storm waiting to break.

"She was sneaky, just like Sirius was—still is," Remus began, his voice tinged with a faint, bittersweet smile. "Always looking for trouble, always pushing boundaries. One night, she was wandering around the castle after curfew, up to no good. It was the full moon. I was heading to the Shrieking Shack, where Dumbledore would have me stay for my transformations back then. She followed me."

Callie's breath hitched, her mind racing ahead of his story, but she stayed quiet, letting him continue.

"She saw everything," Remus said, his voice growing quieter. "That night, her curious face was the last thing I remembered before the moon took over, before I became... what I become. When I woke up human again, all I could think about was what she might have done with what she'd learned."

His gaze dropped to his hands, fingers tightening around the edge of the table as though bracing himself. "I thought for sure that when I returned the next afternoon, the entire school would know my secret. That everyone would look at me and see the monster. But when I sat down in the Great Hall for lunch, nothing was amiss. The whispers I was bracing for never came. And then I saw her."

"She nodded at me," Remus said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Just nodded, winked, and went back to her friends like nothing had happened. It was like... like she was telling me I was safe. When I finally found the nerve to talk to her, she swore she didn't mean any harm. Promised she'd keep my secret."

"She was never scared of me," Remus said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "Never repulsed by the fact that I was a werewolf. At the end of that year, she admitted she had feelings for me, and... I finally told her I felt the same way."

Callie's eyes widened slightly. This wasn't just a story—it was something deeper, something that shaped her father's life in ways she'd never imagined.

"It was a secret at first," Remus continued, his tone tinged with nostalgia. "Things at home for Sirius, Celene, their younger brother Regulus, and their parents were worse than ever. We didn't want to burden Sirius with it—not when he was already carrying so much. But we promised each other he would be the first to know."

"And was he?" Callie asked hesitantly.

Remus nodded. "He wasn't happy about it—far from it. But Celene wasn't one to let things fester. She dragged him by the ear, and they screamed at each other about everything—years of pent-up frustrations and misunderstandings. They yelled about her not siding with him against their parents, about me being a werewolf, about everything you could imagine. It was ugly, but it cleared the air. Somehow, by the end of it, they reached an understanding."

Callie couldn't help but smile faintly, imagining her father standing awkwardly in the middle of a Black family argument.

"After Sirius came around, we told James, Peter, and Lily," Remus said, his expression softening at the mention of Harry's mother. "None of them quite understood it—not entirely. But it didn't matter to us. They supported us because they cared, even if it didn't make sense to them."

"And then?" Callie prompted, leaning closer as though she didn't want to miss a word.

"And then," Remus said with a bittersweet smile, "we started to believe we could have a future. That maybe, despite everything, it was possible."

"That summer, Sirius finally left home," Remus said quietly. "He told us it was the worst experience of his life, leaving that house and his siblings behind. But he couldn't stay. It was suffocating him."

Callie's voice was barely above a whisper. "And Celene?"

"She stayed," Remus replied, his gaze distant. "She understood Sirius' decision—had even thought about leaving herself. But Regulus was still there. She couldn't bring herself to leave him alone with their parents. She swore to protect him, no matter what."

His expression darkened slightly. "Even when Regulus became a Death Eater, she stayed close to him. She knew what it meant, what he was getting involved in, but she still wouldn't abandon him. But Celene... she was on our side. Always. She became Dumbledore's first spy—working from the inside, feeding us information."

Callie's breath hitched. This was more than she'd ever imagined about her father's life beforehand, of people she never knew.

"Whenever Dumbledore arranged a meeting or retaliation against Voldemort, she would visit as often as she could," Remus continued, his voice growing softer. "One night in early September, she came back... but something was different. She looked exhausted, and at first, I thought she'd just been pushing herself too hard." He shook his head, his eyes clouded with emotion. "But it wasn't that. She wasn't sick. She was with child." Remus' brown eyes flickered to Calista. "Our child."

In that moment, she felt the world stop. Her breath paused, her father froze, the room seemed to still. The crackling fire from the lanterns quieted as did everything else.

Then, as it all fell into place, time started moving again.

Her voice trembled as she spoke. "Celene is my mother."

Remus nodded, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of sorrow and tenderness. "And Sirius is your uncle. You aren't just a Lupin; you're a Black."

It was like retrieving the missing pieces to a puzzle. Her mother wasn't just a distant figure whose name she'd overheard in hushed conversations; she was someone who had loved and been loved fiercely. Callie could see her now, not as some abstract memory but as a real person: a young woman caught between worlds, determined to protect her family while secretly building a life with the man she loved.

And Sirius—her uncle. The name that had loomed over her like a shadow since the day she arrived at Hogwarts wasn't just a stranger or a threat but family. Her heart pounded, her breaths quickened, and tears burned in her eyes. She wasn't sure if she felt overwhelmed or betrayed—or both. For so long, she'd thought herself an island, tethered only to her father. Now, she wasn't sure what to think, and the realization was both terrifying and strangely comforting.

"She's really dead?" Callie whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of the question.

"Yes," Remus said softly, his eyes clouded with sorrow.

"And Sirius wants revenge, so he wants to hurt us? Or... does he want to finish us off because Voldemort didn't get the chance? He's so loyal to that—that monster, he'd kill his own family?" Her voice rose in disbelief, tinged with anger.

"I don't have an answer to that, Cal," Remus admitted, his shoulders sagging. "All I know is that grief makes people do unimaginable things."

Callie hesitated, her throat tightening. "How... how did it happen?" she finally managed to ask.

"I don't have a clear-cut picture of it, and I never will," he began, his voice heavy with the burden of unspoken truths. "But Severus—Professor Snape—told Dumbledore what he knew. He was a Death Eater then, before he became a double agent for the Headmaster. After the war, he revealed there had been a commotion at Malfoy Manor one night. Celene... she was drenched in sweat and blood, clutching you in her arms as she ran. No one knew where the infant had come from. She hid the pregnancy brilliantly, even from the darkest wizards she had to - with."

Remus's voice cracked, and he took a shaky breath before continuing. "She Apparated, trying to escape, but... she wasn't fast enough. Something happened—something terrible."

"What?" Callie pressed, tears brimming in her eyes.

"We presume it was Voldemort. He must've found out not only who you were, but that Celene had been a mole that entire time. None of the other Death Eaters would have been capable of magic that dark, that cruel. Whatever it was, it wasn't just an attack. It... it left a mark on you."

Callie's breath hitched, and she shook her head, as if refusing to believe what he was about to say.

"You aren't just sick, Callie," he said gently but firmly. "You're cursed."

Her knees nearly buckled beneath her. "Cursed?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's not natural or biological," Remus explained. "It was forced upon you. Dark magic of the vilest kind. Your body's struggles—it's all a result of what Voldemort did to her and, through her, to you. Celene gave everything to shield you, but..." His voice broke, and he couldn't finish the sentence.

They must have both been silent for a few minutes.

Then, all of the regret began spilling out of Remus at that moment. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I never told you the truth, that I lied to you your entire life. You deserved to know. But I wasn't strong enough. I'm still not."

"It's my fault—my fault your mother didn't survive, my fault you were cursed, that you've had to suffer all of this time."

He looked down at his hands, trembling slightly. "I understand if you never want to speak to me again. I deserve it. I never deserved you, or your mother."

"No."

Remus blinked, his head jerking up in confusion. "What?"

"I said no." Callie stood abruptly, moving to kneel beside him. She reached for his hands, holding them tightly, as if anchoring him. "Dad," she said firmly, her voice resolute despite the tremble in it, "please don't blame yourself. For any of it."

He stared at her, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I don't know how I feel right now," Callie admitted, her voice softening. "I don't know how I'll feel tomorrow. There was so much of my life hidden from me until now. But Dad, whatever happened—why I was ever cursed—that wasn't my mother's fault, and it has never been yours."

Remus shook his head, a deep ache evident in his expression. "How can you say that? I should've stopped her. I shouldn't have let your mother go back to them after I found out she was pregnant. I should have—"

"It wouldn't have changed anything," Callie interrupted, gripping his hands tighter. "Those people, that man... they were evil. It's their fault, and their fault alone." Her voice wavered but remained steady enough to press through. "I need you to believe that. Please, Dad, you need to believe that."

A moment passed between them, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, a tear slipped down Remus's cheek as he studied her face, so resolute, so grown beyond her years.

"When did you get so grown up?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Callie offered him a small, bittersweet smile. "Under many circumstances."

Then she stood, hesitated for only a moment, and threw herself into his arms. His embrace was immediate, instinctive, as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded. He buried his tear-streaked face in her hair—the same shade of auburn that he could never tire of seeing.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice breaking under the weight of his guilt. "I'm so sorry, Callie."

"I know," she whispered, her voice muffled against his shoulder. She tightened her arms around him, holding on as if she could shield him from his own pain. "But you were doing your job, Dad. Protecting me. You always have."

It was a few more minutes before they pulled away. Callie wiped at her face, dabbing away the tears and the moisture that had collected around her breathing tube. She took a shaky breath, her voice small but steady as she asked, "Can I stay here? For now, I... I don't want to be alone."

Remus cupped her cheek gently, his eyes soft and full of understanding. "Of course, moonbeam. Of course you can."

And so, they went to bed early that night, gathering all the scattered blankets and pillows and piling them back onto the bed. Callie curled up beside him, her head resting against his side, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. For a moment, she felt much younger, as though she were four years old again, unable to fall asleep unless she was nestled securely in her father's arms.

Neither of them spoke, the silence between them heavy but comforting. Neither of them slept right away, either. But when sleep finally came, it brought a fragile sense of peace, like a small light breaking through a long, dark night.

☾⋆₊✧

The days leading up to Christmas felt strangely surreal.

During the daylight hours, her dad mostly slept, only stirring when Callie roused him to eat—though 'force-fed' was a more accurate description, as she insisted he have whatever she'd managed to bring up from the kitchens.

But in the quiet moments when he was awake, Callie's questions came non-stop, her curiosity about her birth mother seemingly endless.

Remus, despite his lingering exhaustion, was happy to oblige, his voice soft but steady as he shared stories and memories, painting a vivid picture of the woman Callie had never had the chance to know. Finally, he had someone in his life again which he could freely talk to Callie about, and finally, his own daughter was able to know the woman who loved her first.

He showed her a photo of Celene, one he always kept on him but had hidden so well that Callie had never noticed it before. Celene was the most beautiful woman Callie had ever seen, with long, dark hair and a smile that seemed to light up the entire picture. There was an undeniable air of charisma about her, something magnetic and captivating.

But what struck Callie most were her deep, doe-like brown eyes—the same eyes that stared back at her every time she looked in the mirror. She couldn't help but wonder, did her dad see her mum in her every time he pulled out the picture?

She had sent a note to the Gryffindor common room to reassure her friends that she was still alive. The note explained, vaguely, that she and her uncle were isolating in the teacher's quarters due to a new illness they had contracted. She longed to check on Harry, to see how he was holding up, but something deep inside told her she needed to stay with Dad for now. The night before Christmas, she enchanted a card to sing a cheerful tune when opened and sent it over to the common room, hoping it would bring a smile to her friends' faces.

On Christmas morning, Callie woke to find the bed empty. Alarmed, she sprang up and began searching the quarters, her mind racing with worry. But as she turned the corner, her breath hitched. The room had been transformed: colorful string lights adorned the walls, and the rich scent of pine filled the air. A small but beautifully decorated tree stood in the corner, and the table was stacked high with an assortment of breakfast foods that looked far more appetizing than anything they usually had.

Remus stood by the tree, holding a wrapped package. "Happy Christmas, Cal," he said softly, his smile warm and genuine.

Callie blinked back tears and smiled up at him. "Happy Christmas, Dad." Her eyes fell on the gift in his hand, and her shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry I didn't have time to make anything this year—"

But he cut her off, shaking his head. "You being here with me is all I could ever want."

Her heart warmed as she took the package. Carefully, she tore off the wrapping to reveal a beautifully bound photo album, faint whispers emanating from within.

"It's all the pictures she ever sent me from her youth," Remus explained, his voice thick with emotion, "and whatever I could get my hands on from during the war. I know there's not much, but... you should have it now."

Callie eagerly flipped to the first picture: Celene, her mum, looking like a rebellious young teenager. Her dark brown hair was styled in a long plait draped over her shoulder, and two long strands framed her face, accentuating her sharp features. She wore an oversized black T-shirt emblazoned with "Black Sabbath" in bold graphics, her tongue sticking out as she struck a rock-and-roll pose with one hand, while the other held a rolled-up piece of white paper between her fingers.

Callie raised an eyebrow, holding back a laugh. "Was she... smoking in this?"

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. "Probably pretending to. She liked to mock Sirius and his bad habits. I imagine this was one of her impressions." His smile softened. "She must've been about fourteen here. Always imitating her brother in some way, though she'd never admit it."

Callie turned the pages slowly, savouring every image of her mother. There were snapshots of Celene wearing more band shirts and oversized sweaters, always leaning into her rebellious streak. In one picture, she was sitting cross-legged under a tree, her head tilted back as she laughed, carefree and alive. The soft sway of her hair in the moving image felt oddly familiar, like watching herself from the outside.

And then there were the photos of her parents together—young, in love, and glowing with happiness. In one, Celene leaned against Remus's shoulder while he scribbled something in a notebook. In another, she was grinning as she tugged at his scarf, pulling him closer for what was likely a kiss right after the frame had been taken. Callie couldn't help but smile at the joy radiating from their faces.

But as she flipped further, her heart sank. A photograph of Celene with her family brought a cold, heavy weight to her chest. The image was stark and stiff. Sirius stood on one side, a scowl on his face, his features nearly identical to Celene's save for his lighter eyes. Regulus, a younger boy with haunted gray eyes, sat in the middle, looking painfully out of place. Celene, despite her beauty, looked subdued, her dark hair perfectly styled, and her black robes fitted to an oppressive perfection. And then there were her grandparents—Callie's grandparents—standing on either side. Their expressions were devoid of warmth, their faces carved into cruel masks of aristocratic disdain.

"They don't look very happy," Callie murmured, tracing her mother's face with her fingertip.

"They weren't," Remus said softly. "That was the Black family for you. Cold, controlling, and suffocating. Your mum endured it all for Sirius and Regulus. She never gave up on them."

Callie lingered on the image before closing the album, though she kept her hand resting on its cover. "I wish I could have known her," she said quietly, her voice tinged with sadness.

Remus reached out, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I wish you could have too. She would've loved you more than anything. And she'd be so proud of you, Callie."

Callie nodded, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. "Do you think she'd have told me all of this? About Sirius, the Blacks, everything?"

"Eventually," Remus replied. "She believed in honesty, even when it was hard. She'd have wanted you to know the truth about where you came from and who you are. Just... maybe not all at once," he added with a small, sad smile.

Callie returned his smile faintly before staring down at the album. "I'm glad I have this. It's like... a piece of her I can keep."

"You deserve to have every piece of her, Callie," Remus said gently. "She's still with you. Always."

Callie stood up, gently taking her father's wrist before rising on her tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his cheek. "Can we go for a walk?" She asked as she pulled away. "Just a short one, maybe along the courtyard. If you're feeling up to it, of course. We've been cooped up for days, and I think I need some fresh air before I lose my mind."

Remus tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Can't hurt to try."

They set off, not caring about the few pairs of eyes that might still linger at Hogwarts during the holiday. Snowflakes danced gently around them, settling in Callie's hair and on Remus's threadbare scarf. The cold air was sharp, but refreshing, and for the first time in days, it felt like they could truly breathe.

They reminisced about Christmases at the cottage—the warmth of the small fireplace, their makeshift decorations, and the way Remus always insisted on reading A Christmas Carol aloud, even if Callie would groan about hearing it for the tenth time. She laughed as he reminded her of the year she had tried to charm an old stocking into filling itself with gifts, only for it to burst into a puff of glitter that they were still finding months later.

Then there was the first holiday Callie could remember, spent at her grandmother's house before her passing. She recalled the smell of freshly baked bread, the warmth of her grandmother's hands, and the worn patchwork quilt she would curl up under while the adults talked late into the night.

There couldn't have been a more perfect moment for the two of them. With nothing left unspoken between them, it felt as if all their burdens had melted away, carried off by the crisp winter air and the soft fall of snow around them.

But at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, unnoticed by the Lupins despite its stark contrast against the snowy landscape, stood a large black dog. Its sleek fur gleamed faintly in the dim light, and it watched them intently, unmoving. After a moment, it took a single tentative step forward, as if considering approaching. Then, just as quickly, it hesitated, retreating two steps back before turning and slipping soundlessly into the shadows of the forest, vanishing from sight.

biggest chapter (in terms of plot points) yet! thoughts? now callie knows the truth, she knows about her mother and sirius, and her curse. it's instrumental that she and remus don't have any more secrets between each other and maybe it will be enough to get them through the rest of the year...

i apologize for the delay in getting this out! i've been super busy with school the past few weeks so i didn't have any time to edit. i still have exams to get through as well but after that i'm hoping to get a lot of writing done and hopefully be able to update on a regular schedule.

happy (MM) monday!!