25/07/2026
My room was pitch black. I was asleep; just as I would have been any other night at this time. There was no warning, nothing out of place or any different from usual.
“Kira.” My mother's sharp voice rang loudly, echoing off the walls of my previously silent bedroom.
“Get up. And pack your things.”
I sat up, rubbing my heavy eyes,
“Mama, it’s…” , The glowing numbers on my nightstand showed the time,
“3 in the morning.” Groaning, I fell, letting my back hit the mattress with a soft thud. Why? Why did I have to pack a bag with my things at such an ungodly hour? We aren’t supposed to go anywhere. At least not that I’m aware of.
“Перестань задавать вопросы, (don’t ask questions)” she fired back hastily,
“Be downstairs in half an hour.”
I dragged myself into my feet, mind still foggy with sleep. I walked with my hands out in front of me, feeling my way around until I found my duffel bag near the base of my desk. Usually I only use it when I go to dance or skate, but it would do just fine for this. In went my hairbrush and pencil case as I passed my desk. Next came skirts, dresses and pants pulled randomly from the large cherrywood wardrobe. Lastly, any remaining stray objects from around the room, hair ties, a book, jewelry. I checked the clock again, 15 minutes left. I changed, stuffing my pajamas into my bag and adding to the existing mess in favour of something more presentable, and headed towards the door.
A faint ray of moonlight reflected off of a picture frame on my vanity. It was a family portrait, one of the many we take professionally every year at Christmas time to send to friends and relatives. In this one, us three children were sat in front with our parents stood behind us. All of us were smiling and waving, a friendly greeting to whoever would receive it.
I still remember having to smile and laugh when I was itching to get out of the scratchy beige dress I’d been made to wear. The colour didn’t suit me, it washed me out, which is probably exactly why mother had chosen it. In fact, the whole shoot seemed to be painted in whites and beiges. Why have the typical Christmas reds and greens when you can have proper, clean white instead? It was typical of her mother; we wouldn’t want anyone to think that the Orlovs weren’t sophisticated, would we?
The corridor outside her room was lit by the faint moonlight that penetrated from the large arching windows. It was the type of place they spoke of in ghost stories, grand, luxurious but empty. Most of the rooms they had weren’t being used most of the time. Owing to the fact that Sasha and I are gone most of the year anyway, most of the rooms that aren’t necessary, the study, nursery or library were just collecting dust. Only metaphorically, of course, the staff saw to it that they were ready for use at any time.
I headed to the room only two doors away from my own. Sasha. It was only two quick knocks later before the male version of myself was standing before me. Though we weren’t identical twins, we looked so similar we may as well have been.
“You too?” I asked, gesturing towards his own backpack. I guess he was given the same instructions, though he likely wasn’t woken up as abruptly.
“Unfortunately.” He replied. Neither of us was much in the mood for talking, there would be plenty of time later, wherever they were headed.
The pair drifted down the grand staircase into the foyer. A cold shiver caressed my spine as we walked, footsteps ringing out in the empty hall. Some of the staff must have been roused because the wall torches had been lit. Why did this place suddenly seem so foreboding?
Our mother stood, waiting for us, at the bottom of the staircase.
“Hurry,” she said curtly, leading the way to the library. The room was warm, courtesy to the roaring flames sitting snugly in the cover of the marble fireplace.
“You know the drill, speak clearly and step into the flames.” How were we supposed to say the name of the place if we didn’t even know where we were going? She voiced the thought,
“You’re staying with your grandparents in Russia for a while. Kazan, Russia” Where even was that? It had been so long since I’d last seen them. We stopped visiting ever since moving.
“But why must we leave? What happened?” These were but two of the most important questions on my mind. What if I didn’t like them anymore? What if they had changed? How long were we staying for?
“I’ve explained it all in here” she answered, pressing an envelope into my hand before handing an identical one to Sasha.
"Read it when you arrive. Or don’t.” She caught her breath, looking me down.
“Good. At least you’re dressed reasonably. Now GO!”
A solid shove sent me stumbling into the marble entrance of our fireplace. The last thing I saw before being submerged into a world of green was Nastya, watching from the top of the stairs with her thumb in her mouth.
“Wait!” I cried out, but the sound was lost as I spun in a tornado of chimneys.
The heat from the fire only lasted a few seconds before I was whisked away. A dizzying tunnel pulled me towards my grandparents. Fireplaces leading to all possible destinations blurred into one another as a sick feeling began spreading in my stomach. Usually I avoided floo travel as much as possible, choosing a longer journey over this. Finally, the fireplace I needed appeared and I reached towards it.
I emerged in a stone fireplace and immediately sought for something to lean on.The palm of my hand was spread on cool stone. I braced myself, still getting over the nausea left by the floo powder. God I hated that. I slowly opened my eyes again, sweeping around the room.
If my house was huge, this one could only be described as humongous. It seemed twice the size of how I remembered it. The parlor itself could fit a family of four comfortably. In this centre, an L-shaped sofa and armchair surrounded a wooden coffee table. The dark wallpaper was littered with photos of my grandparents, me and Sasha and Ana. Everyone except for my parents.
A flash of green light erupted behind me as Sasha appeared.
“Oh, my dears! How nice to see you again!” A warm voice greeted us from across the room. My grandmother hurried towards us, pulling us into a rib crushing embrace. Her blonde hair was wispier than I remembered but, although she had aged, she still looked breathtakingly beautiful. I breathed in her comforting scent of coffee and cinnamon. It reminded me of when we tried to bake cupcakes for my grandfather’s birthday, the muggle way. I smiled at the memory. We’d both stood in the kitchen covered in flour and cocoa powder, laughing at the recipe. Beating eggs? What’s that supposed to mean? I’d said, giggling at how ridiculous muggles could be. We spent hours doing our best to follow the absurd instructions before giving up and letting the house elves do it instead.
“What are you doing here at this hour?” She asked us. What? Did mother not tell her? I can’t imagine what could possibly have happened so urgently that they had to be sent away to Russia without anyone else knowing?
“Mama sent us,” I replied, trying not to let annoyance seep into my voice.
“I think we’re meant to stay here for some time. She didn’t tell us why.”
“It doesn’t matter now. You’re here. The house elves are preparing your rooms. Go to bed.” She ushered us up the stairs to our old bedrooms. It felt like muscle memory, my legs remembered the turns of the corridor, my feet knew the hardwood floors by heart and my hand knew where to reach out and feel the frames of the portraits on the wall. I used to look up at them and tell myself that, one day, I would hang next to them and watch over the house even once everyone I knew was gone. Actually, the same thought crossed my mind now only it was tinted with a sense of sadness. I don’t know if I’ll have a portrait of my own now, just because of my mother. Just because she couldn’t stay friendly with her own mother. Just because of her, my own name was tainted with the shame of our ancestors. And I hate her for it.
I pushed the silver handle down, opening the door to the room. It had everything one needed in a bedroom and more but all of my things had been taken with us to France: toys, posters and everything. It seemed so… desolate now. There was nothing personal left, just dark ambiguity.
I dropped my duffel bag to the side. Making my way to the queen sized bed. What if someone else has slept in it? Someone likely had, seeing as the room had been turned into an ordinary guest room. It felt wrong to return to a place that used to be mine only for it to no longer be. Sighing, I grabbed the blanket and walked over to the windowsill. I sat down, pulling my knees to my chest and watching the winding road that led to the main city. Slowly, the excitement of the night gave way to exhaustion and the world faded away.
26/07/2026
The pale morning light shone unfiltered into the room as the world began to wake. Birds began to sing sweet melodies, morning dew shimmered on the short stalks of grass covering the garden. My eyelids fluttered open with a groan. God was I sore. I stretched, pushing my arms over my head and felt something poke me in my leg. What?
Reaching into my pocket I retrieved a pale envelope. I’d forgotten all about that. Did I even want to read it? I could very well just leave it and live in oblivion. But I knew I didn’t really want that. Curiosity would kill me eventually. My finger traced its sharp edges as I turned it over in my hand.
Giving in, I tore open the seal and pulled out its contents. I unfolded it slowly, wary of what I would find inside.
Kira,
Your father is in the hospital. We don’t know what it is yet so please don’t ask. I’m sorry you have to find out like this but there was no time to explain. You will stay with your grandparents until he can come back home.
Best Regards,
Mother
What! My heart hammered in my chest, sending my pulse racing. Was my father okay? Why did he have to go to the hospital? Could we visit him? A million questions whirred around in my head as I read the letter over and over again. It was short and very basic but it was enough to worry me. I need to calm down. I can’t change what happened, there’s no point getting upset about it. But what if I’d been with him? What if I’d noticed that he was different or strange or just… not normal? There was no way I could have known. We rarely saw each other, there was no need to when the house was big enough. Other than when he trained me we’d only been as a family during occasional dinners. But you could have talked to him! Nothing was stopping you from going to find him!
I needed to go outside, the room was suddenly becoming increasingly suffocating. I stumbled out of my room, headed to the garden. I never made it all the way outside, instead I was stopped by Sasha’s voice in the foyer.
“Wait up!” he called after me as I turned to face him. Good, someone I could talk to.
“Did you read it? The letter?” I needed him to understand the urgency of the situation and what we had to do.
“Yes,” he answered softly. I don’t understand why he isn't more agitated? Does he not care?
“I know you want to see him but- ”
“But what?” I interrupted him.
“What could possibly keep us here when our father could be dying!” Panic tinged my words as the facade began to fall. “I want to leave. I want to see him.” Shaky breaths outlined each word as I hastily swiped away a tear that had started down my cheek.
“Kira we can’t.” He sounded like he was trying to coax a scared animal into his lap.
“Mother wouldn’t have sent us here without a good reason.” I hated that he was right.
“But we can’t. I can’t.” My voice started breaking again. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t just stay here, pretend nothing was wrong and live comfortably.
Why am I getting so emotional? I need to get over it, I need to stop. I straightened my back, balling my hands into fists to stop them fidgeting.
“I need to do something.”
“And we can do something. From here.” I waited silently. What did he suggest we do?
“Maybe Grandmother knows something.”
I hadn’t thought of that but it was unlikely. This whole situation was unusual, mother sending us away to the parents she cut contact with, father being ill and me and Sasha being left without any knowledge of what on earth was going on.
“Maybe.” It was worth a try, if not for information then simply as a distraction.
—
We found her in the living room, sitting by herself with an open book in her lap.
“Бабушка” I started,
“Did mother tell you anything. Perhaps she sent an owl?” I was careful, unsure how she would react.
“No,” she replied,
“Why? Is there something you would like to know?” She seemed suspicious, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
I glanced at Sasha, should we tell her what we wanted? If we did she would know what happened to father. She would probably choose not to help us. Sasha remained oblivious to my attempts at silent communication and started on his own.
“Father is unwell, that's why we were sent away. We wish to know why.”
I’d thought that grandmother would be annoyed, even angry, instead she just let out a laugh.
“Your father, hah, of course he’s gotten himself in trouble. That man is trouble! I warned your mother, you know, but she still ran off with him like a fool.” What!? My father was a good man. He would never put himself into danger unless it were for us. Grandmother must have read the confusion off of my face as she continued,
“Oh, you do not even know?”
“Know what? What is there to know, he likely just got hurt by some reckless wizard gone rogue on the street.” My frustration began building up as grandmother kept chuckling to herself like she knew some inside joke we didn’t. Would she just spit it out already!
“Where do you think your father goes when leaves for weeks, huh? What lies does he tell you?” That goddamn amusement.
“Oh, does he go off on vacation? Or to secure business partners? At least that would be partially true, he does meet friends of his. Very good friend, I should say.”
Why wasn’t Sasha doing anything? He was just standing beside me, mute as a puppet.
“Our father goes away to help his business. To earn money for our family.” I said through gritted teeth.
“Oh darling, keep telling yourself that.” That was enough, I wasn’t sure what I was planning to do but I lunged towards her. Anything to get her to stop talking.
A stern hand caught my wrist, making me stagger and lose momentum. My grandmother’s face had changed, a new darkness hung over it.
“You know I love you both but your father… "She stopped for a second,
“Your father is involved with bad bad people. I failed to keep my daughter from him and now he’s going to get himself killed.”
