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Marz hadn’t expected to see her mother ever again.
For years, she had pictured her dead. It was easier to imagine her buried somewhere unknown than wandering, free and absent. There had never been a body, but there had been silence—a silence so heavy it had filled the grave Marz dug for her in the woods when she was barely 9. Finally accepting she would never see her again.
So when she first saw her, standing beneath the shadow of the archway in Hogsmeade, her brain simply—broke.
At first, she thought it was someone else. A trick of the eyes. A cruel resemblance. She blinked, stared, and blinked again. But the woman didn’t disappear. The sharpness of her jaw, the slight arch of her brow—it was her.
Audrey. Her mom.
Marz’s breath froze in her throat. Her feet wouldn’t move. The world dulled like a film stretched too thin, sounds muffled as if submerged underwater. She could barely hear her own heartbeat.
And then her mother smiled. Soft. Unbothered. Like she’d simply run into an old friend.
“Hello, darling.”
Marz said nothing. She wasn’t sure she could.
Audrey tilted her head slightly, examining her daughter’s face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She gave a small, breathy laugh at her own joke. “Oh, come now. Don’t be so dramatic. I thought you might have heard by now. I'm not quite as mischievous as I was when you were young but I had some feats since I left.”
Marz’s lips trembled, but no words came. She wanted to speak—to scream—but her throat was locked.
“Oh, you didn’t know.” Her mother’s voice was almost amused, as if pleasantly surprised. “Hm. Well, I’m here.” She gestured casually to the street around them. “Not exactly Hogwarts, but close enough. I’ll be in the area for a bit… a week or so. I thought perhaps you’d like to catch up. I know you're still in school but you can learn magic on the way. Plenty of families homeschool their kids.”
Still, nothing from Marz. She was lost somewhere in herself. The ground felt like it might swallow her whole.
Audrey’s expression turned mildly disappointed, but her voice stayed sweet. “No need to decide right away, dear. I’ll be around.”
And then, as if they’d merely discussed the weather, her mother walked away. Marz remembered a similar picture many years ago.
---
For the next several days, Marz couldn’t think. Not properly.
She went through classes like a ghost of herself, floating from corridor to corridor while conversations happened around her. She heard her friends talk. She nodded when they asked her questions. But everything was distant. Muffled.
Her mother was alive.
Her mother was alive.
The thought circled endlessly, tightening like a noose.
For years, she had mourned her. She had grieved her. She had rewritten memories—smoothed over jagged edges, softened the blows—because grieving made it easier to forget the violence, the volatility.
But now the grave she had made in the woods felt like a joke. A mockery.
"I thought you might have heard by now."
The words spun in her mind as she lay awake at night, her fingers nervously twisting Puecy’s ring over and over again. She’d never felt smaller. Never more unsure.
Did she want to see her again?
Did she want answers?
Did she want to scream at her, or hold her, or run?
The part that terrified Marz most was that she wanted all three.
---
And so, on the sixth day, as the sun dipped behind gray clouds and the sky fell into that heavy half-light that always made Hogsmeade feel just a little lonelier, Marz finally went.
Her mother had chosen a quiet place—somewhere off the main road, hidden behind an old brick shop wedged between buildings. A place people didn’t look twice at. Of course.
Marz’s stomach twisted as she approached. Her hands trembled at her sides. But she knocked anyway.
The door opened.
Her mother smiled again. “I was wondering if you’d come.”
Marz said nothing. Her throat felt raw.
Audrey stepped aside to let her in. The space was small, simple—temporary. A single suitcase sat neatly packed in the corner, as though she might leave at any moment.
The silence hung thick.
And then her mother broke it. “So.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I imagine you have… questions.”
Marz’s voice finally cracked out, brittle and dry. “Why?”
Audrey sighed, almost as if she found the question exhausting. “Why did I leave? Why didn’t I tell you? Why now?” She ticked the questions off on her fingers. “I had reasons for all of it, darling. Reasons you might not understand yet.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Her mother smiled faintly. “I’ve been watching you.”
That made Marz recoil slightly.
“I wanted to see who you became. And I must say, I’m impressed.” Audrey’s gaze swept over her. “You’ve grown up well. Strong. Determined.”
Marz clenched her fists. “You let me think you were dead.”
“I did.” Her voice was unapologetic. “It was easier for you to move on, wasn’t it?”
Marz flinched. She hated that small part of her that almost understood what her mother meant.
“I’m offering you something now.” Audrey’s voice softened, syrup-sweet. “A chance to leave all of this behind. I can protect you. We can start again. You and I. The dark lord is rising again but we can be far away when it all happens.” She took a step forward. “Come with me.”
Marz couldn’t breathe for a moment. Her vision blurred around the edges.
She thought of her friends. Of Stevens. Who she had promised to find to his parents and herself. Of everything they were fighting for. Of everything her mother had already taken from her.
Her heart twisted.
“I… I can’t,” she whispered.
Audrey blinked, genuinely surprised. “You don’t have to answer right away. I’ll still be here tomorrow. I knew you wouldn't be sure of your decision yet.”
She touched Marz’s shoulder briefly, then pulled back. “Think it over, darling.”
And again, she was gone.
---
The next day, Marz barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, memories spun—her mother’s volatility, her tenderness, her abandonment. The softness of her voice when she said 'Darling', the sharpness when she spat cruel words. The warmth of her hand on her shoulder the night before. The coldness of the grave she thought had held her all these years.
She thought of Stevens—wherever he was. Of her friends, of what they were risking.
Marz knew.
She met her mother again, the astronomy tower in the dead of night. Her hands were shaking already stuffed in her robes pockets
Her mother had asked, “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m not coming.”
She had watched her mother’s face shift—offense tightening her features. Marz’s hands had still been bleeding then.
“What do you mean you’re not coming?” her mother snapped, voice steeped in something between fury and disgust. Marz never liked her like this. She had rewritten it, rewritten how volatile her mother could be, how sharp the edges were. But even now, sometimes, someone would move too quickly, and of all those who had hurt her, it was her mother’s ghost that made her flinch.
"What did you expect for me to change my mind? I have a life here! More family than you ever were! I have to fight for them. Just because you left doesnt mean I will so easily!" She shouted
She remembered reading once about names and their meanings. Her mother’s name was Audrey—derived from the Anglo-Saxon aethel, meaning honorable, and thryth, meaning power. Honorable power. She had never met her grandparents—she doubted they had ever met their daughter. Marz’s own name meant warrior: strong, brave, fierce. She remembered the strange disappointment that filled her when she learned that.
“Are you even listening to me?!” her mother suddenly shouted. “I hated when you got like this—so emotional, so disappointing. You never hear the world around you. You’ve ruined so many chances because of it. This is why I had to leave!” The words spilled out like venom, and then she paused, breathing sharply. “Calm, calm,” she whispered to herself, controlling her breath in a way Marz couldn’t.
Marz had loved her mother. And hated her. Both, equally, silently, in ways she never fully said—not until now.
“You always brought out the worst in me,” Audrey said, and somehow it sounded oddly fond.
“I was a child!”
Her mother laughed. “You were never just a child.” The older woman’s expression turned expectant. “I thought you’d be happy. You always whined about me being away.”
“You left.” Marz’s voice broke. “I thought you were dead.”
Audrey waved a hand, dismissive. “Are you still not over that? You had a week to process.” A week, after believing she was dead since she was seven. What a fucking joke.
“Why aren’t you happy? I came to get you back.”
“I have people to fight for. I won’t leave them.”
“Darling,” she said, saccharine and venomous all at once.
“You wouldn’t know about loyalty. But I’ll protect them.”
“From what?” her mother smirked, eyes glinting. “From what I’ve heard, your life isn’t going so great here. That boy of yours isn’t around much anymore, is he? Are the others going to leave, too?” Her smile twisted, and for a moment, Marz saw her own reflection in it. People had always said she was a perfect blend of her parents. The thought had made her smash more than a few mirrors growing up.
“Don’t you dare talk about him.” Marz hissed.
Her mother stepped closer. “Oooh, feisty. Is that what drew him in—or pushed him away?” she teased, words light but sharpened like blades.
“I said don’t talk about him.” The growl came from deep in Marz’s throat.
Audrey seized her hand, eyeing it. “You have his ring. Expensive thing,” she noted with a sickening trace of approval.
Marz yanked her hand away on instinct. Her eyes widened—oh, Puecy. She meant Puecy, of course.
Her mother paused, eyes narrowing slightly. She caught it. Marz was good at reading people—a skill from the streets, but truly inherited from her mother.
“Leave him out of it.” Marz repeated, firmer.
“Unless...” Audrey’s smile stretched wider, like a cat scenting prey. “Oh, that’s interesting. There’s another, isn’t there? Quite the charmer?”
Marz stiffened, stepping back, but her mother pursued her like a hunter.
“There’s someone else. Who? Is that why he left you?”
“Don’t—” Marz tried to steady herself, but her mother ignited every fight-or-flight instinct inside her. “There’s no one,” she said, warning in her tone.
“So protective… you must really care. I wonder—is that why you won’t leave? You wear his ring, but he wasn’t the first name on your mind. That's who your so institent about.” Her head tilted—exactly the way Marz so often did when puzzled.
“Stop talking.”
“Oh, he’s going to ruin you, isn’t he?” Audrey’s voice darkened, a realization flickering to life. “There were whispers. I’ve kept an eye on you. There was a boy you were close with—closer than most. And this year? He didn’t come back. Something about Voldemort’s son—”
Marz cut her off, stepping forward sharply. “I said don’t talk about him.”
Her mother’s eyes gleamed, pleased. “Oh, bullseye, I got it, didn’t I?”
Marz bared her teeth in a snarl.
“It’s hopeless, darling. You should come with me. He’s probably dead by now.”
“Shut up.”
“Maybe he’s joined them.”
“He didn’t.” He wouldn’t.
“It runs in his blood. You know something about that.”
“He’s not like them!” Marz shouted, voice cracking.
Audrey chuckled softly. “Don't you remember anything I taught you? Never trust a survivor until you know what they did to survive. Tell me—what is it you like about him? I heard he’s quite dashing. Or do you like the danger?”
“Mother, please—” Marz could feel her throat drying. The fear that he might truly be gone gnawed at her bones, and her mother mocked her.
“To be honest, I don’t think he’s dead—but in what world would He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named approve? Hm? Nothing to say? After all these years, it’s talking about Matteo Riddle that finally shuts you up.”
Rage surged. Marz grabbed her wand. “Don’t call him that.”
Her mother blinked. “What, his name?”
“That’s not his name.” Matteo Stevens. He was Matteo Stevens. She wouldn’t let anyone take that from him.
Audrey sighed, exasperated. “You’re really not coming with me, are you?”
Marz only glared.
“Fine, then.” And just like that, she was gone—as she had been all those years ago.
Marz stood there long after her mother vanished, her chest tight. Part of her wanted to chase after her, to ask why. Had her mother changed? Maybe. But she hadn’t lied: Marz wouldn’t abandon her friends in the fight against Voldemort, and if the Ministry wouldn’t find Stevens—she would. Her heart pounded, sick with worry, as she toyed with Puecy’s ring. She felt conflicted, but her mind clouded over, heavy as storm clouds.
She had tracked her mother with a spell. For months, Audrey stayed in Europe, moving constantly, sometimes settling for a while. Once, during a break, Marz made the decision to go. She needed to see her—needed to know. And when she checked the spell, her mother was nearby.
It led her to a graveyard. Different than her father's graveyard. Who was she visiting? She hadn't been close with her family? Unless they reconnected?
She saw it then. The rain had soaked the earth, but it was the weight in her chest that made her legs buckle. She collapsed to her knees, eyes burning. Before her stood a proper gravestone—far different from the crude marker she had made in the woods years ago with her mother’s name.
Her mother was dead. Officially. Again.
She curled against the headstones, the sky crying with her. Marz wasn’t meant for family. She wasn’t meant to love. She was made for tragedy. Just like those buried beneath her.