It was a sunny September day in 1958.

The morning sun shone brightly through a window, illuminating a picture frame sitting atop the dresser in the corner of the room. A young woman stood before it, watching as the man and woman in the photograph danced within the frame. She recalled the memory of the day the photo had been taken. It had been the pair's wedding day.

"Mum, have you seen my jumper?" The woman pulled her eyes away from the photo at the sound of her daughter's voice.

"Check the laundry sweetheart," She called back. Her eyes falling back on the photo before her, the woman reached out, brushing her fingertips against its frame. "I don't think I can do this without you," she whispered, watching the man in the picture pull his bride close as they twirled around.

It had been a year since Ellison had received the worst news of her life: that her husband had been killed. It had happened while on a job in Egypt ... a bad curse ... a spell gone awry. The specifics of how it had happened had been lost to her. It had all become white noise when Amos's co-worker, and friend, Thomas Welby had broken the news to her. All she had been able to gather was that they had been unable to save him from the injuries he had sustained.

There had been a funeral, people had attended, had grieved a long side her. But then, as most people do when tragedy strikes someone else, they had moved on. They had forgotten. Everyone except Ellison. She had been left to grieve alone. The only thing pulling her away from her sorrow had been the two beautiful girls Amos had given her: Calla and Ella. It had been for them, that she had pulled herself off her knees, and had forced herself to push forward.

It had gotten easier as the months passed. She had moved her family out of the cottage she had shared with Amos, resolving a fresh start would be best for not just Calla and Ella, but herself as well. They had moved into a two bedroom flat in London with the gold Amos had left them. Ellison liked the hustle and bustle of the city. The lights and sounds often drawing her mind away from the memory of her late husband.

"Mum, Gran's here!" The voice of her youngest daughter called from the sitting room. Ellison swallowed, stealing one last glance at the photograph.

"I love you darling," she whispered. Wiping the tears that had brimmed in her eyes away with the back of her hands, she left the bedroom. She was met at the bottom of the staircase by Ella, who had managed to put her own shoes on, although they were on the wrong feet. "Love, I think you've mixed up your lefts and rights again." Ella, who was nearly seven, grinned up at her mother, obviously still proud of her attempt nonetheless. Ellison laughed, "Go sit down and I'll put them right for you." Ella obliged, running and jumping onto the sofa. Ellison walked past her to the front door. Turning the knob, she opened it, revealing a thin woman with dark hair like Ellison's, though it had begun to gray. "Hello mum."

"Hello darling," Mrs. Pennifold smiled at her daughter, embracing her in a tight hug.

"Gran!" Ella squealed, jumping off the sofa, colliding with her grandmother's leg, squeezing it in a tight embrace of her own. Mrs. Pennifold laughed.

"Hello love," Mrs. Pennifold said, bending down to give her granddaughter a hug. Releasing her after a moment, she looked down at her. "Why don't you go round up your sister while I talk to your mum, hmm?" Ella nodded, darting down the hall. Mrs. Pennifold stood up straight, fixing her eyes on her daughter. "How are you sweetheart?"

Ellison gave her mother a smile. "I'm getting along." Mrs. Pennifold reached for her daughter's hands, returning her smile.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" She asked, giving them a light squeeze. "You know Amos left you enough gold that you don't have to-"

"I want to mum," Ellison replied, nodding in affirmation. "I think it would be good to be back at work. Keep myself busy, instead of held up in the house all day." Mrs. Pennifold nodded, giving her daughter a reassuring smile.

"I am so proud of you sweetheart ... and you know that your father and I are always here for you, whatever you need. Even if it's just watching the girls."

"Thank you mum," Ellison replied with a smile. "How is dad, by the way?"

"Oh busy as ever, as usual," Mrs. Pennifold replied with a wave of the hand. "There have been more disappearances..." she added in a more serious tone.

"More?" Ellison asked, her brow furrowing. Mrs. Pennifold nodded.

"I'm afraid so."

"Does The Ministry know who's behind them?"

"According to your father, a wizard who calls himself Voldemort has taken credit for a number of the disappearances."

"Voldemort?" Ellison asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"I know." Mrs. Pennifold nodded. "I thought it was a bit of an odd name as well. The Ministry seems to think it's some sort of pseudonym." The two were interrupted by the sound of bounding footsteps entering the room.

"Stop pulling me Ella, I'm coming!" The women turned around to see Ella gripping her older sister's wrist as she drug Calla into the sitting room.

"Ella Beth, let go of your sister."

"Gran told me to round her up, so I did!" Ella retorted.

"Fair enough." Ellison replied, snickering under her breath.

"Ellie Bellie," Mrs. Pennifold teased, peering down at her granddaughter, "Are your shoes on the wrong feet?" Ella looked down at her feet, as if realizing for the first time, that her shoes were still on wrong.

"Mum was going to fix them for me," Ella replied, looking back up at her grandmother.

"Well I would," Ellison began, patting her daughter on the head. "If you'd stay still long enough," she added with a smirk. "Go sit down while Gran takes your sister to the car." Turning to face her oldest daughter, Ellison knelt in front of her. "I love you sweetheart," she said, taking Calla's hands in her own.

Calla smiled at her. "I love you too mum." Ellison returned her daughter's smile. While Ella favored Ellison more so than Amos, there was no doubting that Calla was the spitting image of her father. Though she had Ellison's dark shade of hair, Calla had her father's facial features, and bright blue eyes. Her appearance wasn't where the resemblance stopped either. Calla had Amos's sweet, quiet disposition as well. She had always been the most levelheaded child out of the two, Ella having received her mother's spontaneity and cheekiness tenfold. Ellison squeezed her daughter's hands, planting a kiss on her forehead. Releasing them and standing to her feet, she watched as Calla took her grandmother's hand, and walked out the door.

"Mum, hurry and fix my shoes so I can go too!" Ella called, pulling Ellison out of her thoughts.

"Okay, okay," she laughed, kneeling in front of the place Ella sat on the sofa. Unbuckling the straps of her sandals, she took them off, placing them on the correct feet. "There we are, good to go!" She looked up at her daughter, who was watching her intently.

"Mum, why do you cry so much?" Ellison stared at her daughter, dumbfounded by her question.

"Wha-what do you mean sweetheart?"

"You cry more than you used to. Calla says it's because you miss daddy." Ellison's heart wretched at her daughter's words. She drew in a breath.

"I do miss daddy," Ellison replied, contemplating her next words. "I miss him very much."

"I miss him too," Ella said, peering up at her mother. Ellison gave her a soft smile.

"It's okay to miss him sweetheart. I bet if daddy were here, he would tell you he's missed you too," Ellison began, taking her daughter's hands in her own. "And that he loves you so so much."

Ella smiled back at her mother and nodded "I love you mum."

Wrapping her daughter in a tight hug Ellison whispered, "I love you too."

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GUYS. I have contemplated this chapter for DAYS ... WEEKS. I think I've finally found a starting point that I'm happy with, though I have no clue (aside from a very rough idea) as to where I want the story to go. I hope you guys are happy with this first chapter. I figured this would give a good back story so that some of the gap between the Epilogue of 'The Girl Who Loved' and now, would be filled.

STAY TUNED FOR SCENES WITH TOM ... or should we call him Voldemort now?

and PLEASE, PLEASE give me some feedback!!