I know you, but do you remember me?

I stroll through the snow-covered streets of Sokovia, my magical disguise firmly in place. Just a couple of days ago, I had felt a surge of energy, and it didn't take long for me to realize its source: chaos magic. Yet, I sensed that this magic was merely a flicker, a spark waiting to ignite into a raging inferno.

This was a perfect opportunity for me. I would find the person responsible for this surge, befriend them, and guide their growth. And when their power reached an adequate level, I would seize it for my own. It's been my strategy for over 300 years.

I had transformed myself into a young woman, appearing as though I were in my twenties—just the version of me from 280 years ago. After walking a few dirty streets, I began to feel the energy thickening around me, a clear sign that I was drawing closer to my target. Suddenly, I halted in my tracks as I came face to face with two young children—twins, clearly.

The boy and girl both had deep brown hair, matted with dirt. Her eyes were a vivid green, while his sparkled in shades of blue. They were huddled together beneath an old, tattered blanket, trembling against the cold.

It's evident that the energy I feel is emanating from the girl. I squat down so that I'm at their eye level and clear my throat, successfully capturing their attention.

"Hi there." I say, but the only response I receive is the two of them regarding me with wide, frightened eyes. "What are two little dolls like you doing sitting here on the street?"

While the girl continues to watch me warily, the boy speaks up. "We live here, ma'am."

I raise an eyebrow in surprise. "And why is that?"

"Our home got destroyed by a bomb attack." The girl pokes him is his side and whispers something in his ear, clearly not pleased by the fact that he is sharing this information with me.

"You know pals, I have a house on the edge of the city. It's warm and comfortable and there is food for the both of you. Want to come?" I stand up straight again, offering them the sweetest, most caring expression I can muster.

The boy's enthusiasm is immediate, but the girl remains hesitant. Of course, I didn't expect anything different.

"Come on, Wanda, it's better than staying out here!" So that's the name of the little witch.

She shakes her head, pulling the blanket even closer around her. "We don't know her, Pietro. Maybe she has bad intentions!" Her words are thick with her Sokovian accent.

"Maybe yes, but staying out here isn't a good idea either! I don't want to freeze to death, you know." With that, he stands up and takes a step in my direction.

I offer him a sweet smile, it's clear that the boy is the key to convincing the girl to come along. "He is right, you know. The nights are only going to get colder."

It's as if she considers every possible scenario, weighing her options. After going through them all, she finally rises, clearly deciding that following me is less dangerous than remaining here. If only she knew. "Okay, one night then."

Both of them follow as I lead them away from the city. Thank goodness my powers can create a house out of nothing before we arrive, I think to myself.

"How old are you?" I ask the twins, and it's Pietro's voice that answers.

"10!"

I let out a sigh. This is going to be a long journey.

Four years have passed since I brought the twins into my magically created house. During the first few days, they remained inside, reveling in the warmth of the fire and the comfort of full bellies. However, as time went on, they began to drift away, only returning to spend the nights with me.

I know that they are joining riots against the Avengers. The bomb that killed their parents was created by Stark Industries, which was owned by Tony Stark, who was the alter ego of Iron Man, an important member of the Avengers. It all makes sense in their heads.

I know that the world is more complicated than that, but I don't comment on it. I don't care about what they do in their own time, the only thing that frustrates me is that Wanda is still unaware of her magical potential. It's still the same little spark I felt at first, not growing at all.

I look through the window and pet Señor Scratchy, my familiar, who has taken on the form of a cat—his favorite shape.

I don't care about the boy at all, but I can't help but feel a sense of affection toward her. At one point, the word "mommy" accidentally slipped from Wanda's lips, and even though I pretended not to hear it, it warmed my heart in a way that it shouldn't have.

I don't do caring, I don't do love.

The door opens, and I hear the twins entering the house. While Pietro races upstairs toward their bedroom, Wanda approaches me. "Hi, Agatha."

I turn around, and Señor Scratchy leaps from my arms. "Hi there, Wanda. How was your day?"

She sits down, and I magically offer her a cup of hot cocoa, which she gladly accepts. She has never questioned my magic or viewed it as something negative, in fact, she's quite amazed by it and wishes she could do the same. Time would tell.

"Really good, we went to a riot outside the city. I think the Avengers aren't really a bunch of bad people, but they shouldn't have allowed Stark into their midst. How can you let a murderer act like a good guy?"

I swallow, if only she knew. I lean forward and press a kiss on her head. "Always follow your passion, my good girl."

The twins are 16 now, and I barely see them anymore. Of course, I keep tabs on Wanda, I still want and need her powers. Chaos magic is said to be the most powerful in the universe, and I don't doubt it.

I'm sitting on my couch, the fire burning comfortably and filling the room with warmth and coziness. Señor Scratchy is perched on my lap, and I'm holding the Darkhold in my hands, engrossed in the myth of the Scarlet Witch. When I reach for my cup of tea, I notice it's empty, and with just a touch of my finger, it refills itself. I hum in satisfaction.

I can feel Wanda's presence arrive about a minute before she bursts through the door, bringing the chill of winter with her. Immediately, I make the book disappear. She might know about my magic, but she doesn't need to know about that part.

"That absolute idiot!" she yells, and I respond: "Please close the door, deary."

With a frustrated grumble, she complies and then flops onto the sofa opposite me.

"What's wrong?" I ask, waiting for her reply. I have time.

After a few moments of silence, she sighs. "He keeps stealing! He has no special powers, isn't even a super spy or super soldier or anything like that, he's just an ordinary human. We both are. Yet he continues to steal to help others in need. Of course, it's noble of him, but is helping others really worth the risk of getting killed?!"

I listen to her ramble, and the only thought occupying my mind is that she's most definitely not human.

"I already lost both of my parents, I can't lose him too. Can't you talk to him, Agatha? He always listens to you."

I give her a sad smile and make a dismissive wave with my hand. "Maybe he used to listen to me in the past, my sweet girl, but he has grown since then. Pietro really has a mind of his own, and when he sets his sights on achieving something, I don't think anything can stop him."

Wanda sighs; she knows I'm right. Slowly, she removes her jacket, then gets up to join me on my couch. "Thanks."

I raise my eyebrow at her. "For what?"

"For saving us that fateful day. We wouldn't have made it through the night. I might have lost my parents, but you are as close to a mother as it gets. I will always love you Agatha."

I pull her into a hug. Don't love her, don't love her.

"And I love you Wanda."

Shit.

Another year has passed when I suddenly can't feel Wanda's energy anymore. When the twins don't return home for a couple of nights, worry takes over, and I decide to go to the city.

I speak to what feels like a hundred people, but it's as if no one has seen them. It's as if they have just vanished from the earth.

After spending three months like this—waiting and searching—I have to admit to myself that they're not coming back. I don't know what happened, but my heart shatters at the thought that something fatal occurred. It's the only explanation I can find for Wanda's sudden disappearance.

I was a fool for loving her, and I promise myself: never again. From now on, the only being on earth that will receive my affection is my precious cat.

With a snap of my fingers, the house disappears, taking all of the warm memories with it.

I decide to go to Ireland, to explore the mythology there. Anywhere is better, as long as it's far away from Sokovia.

When I leave, I don't look back.

8 years later

I'm practicing a magic spell when it suddenly hits me: a wave of chaos magic. Not the small spark I felt 14 years ago, no. This is a full-blown surge of magical energy, and the first thing that crosses my mind is: Wanda. She's alive!

Immediately, I leave France, the country where I had been staying, and make my way to Westview. When I arrive, I can feel an entire barrier enveloping the town, and it's clear to me that this has been created by the magic I had hoped to harvest for myself.

I cloak myself in spells and walk through the barrier without hesitation. As soon as I'm inside, I notice that everything is in black and white, and everyone behaves as if they're in a… a sitcom.

Realization washes over me as I recall one of the nights long ago when Pietro was laughing as Wanda once more put on The Dick Van Dyke Show. I immediately understand that this entire hex has been created by my long-lost foster daughter.

I follow the trail of her magic and find myself in front of a house, number 2800. It's the zip code of Novi Grad, the capital of Sokovia.

I can see Wanda standing in front of the door, but this is no longer the 16-year-old child I last saw. This is a woman who must be 24 by now.

I approach her and call out her name. The woman turns around to look at me, but there's no flicker of recognition in her eyes. I realize that I also look different; I didn't bother adopting the appearance I had when I last saw her. Yet still, she should know it's me.

I take a few steps closer, my tone a mix of warmth and urgency. "Wanda, it's been far too long. What happened to you? How did you just vanish?"

She tilts her head, and with a cold, dangerous tone, she asks, "Who are you?" There's no hint of a Sokovian accent, it's perfect English, or perhaps American.

"What do you mean, darling? It's me, Agatha." I say, raising an eyebrow and forcing a playful smirk, though my heart races beneath the facade.

When I see a red mist swirl in her hands and her eyes take on a scarlet hue—the only color in our monochrome surroundings—I realize she doesn't know who I am. I can sense that she won't hesitate to wield the powers she has evidently learned against me.

With a snap of my fingers, she is thrown against the house, my purple binds ensnaring her. I walk toward her, unable to stop a tear from escaping. I never should have allowed myself to love her.

"I know you, but do you remember me?" My voice is barely a whisper, but she frantically shakes her head.

"Let me go, witch!"

"Don't you remember? You and Pietro, staying at my house…" Hearing his name only fuels her anger further.

"How dare you mention my brother! He died seven years ago, and he never said a single word about some purple freak!"

A sad smile tugs at my lips, and all I feel is a deep sorrow. How on earth did this happen? I lost both of them. I know I should leave, turn my back on this entire mess, and never return. But I can't.

All those years she spent by my side meant something to me, and I want to understand what happened, why she doesn't remember anything from the past. I need to know what caused this. So, I decide to revert to my old tricks and pose as someone I'm not.

With a broken heart, my fingers brush against her temple. Using my magic, I erase everything that has just happened in the last ten minutes from her memory.

For a moment, she just stands there, frozen in time, and before she can return to the present, I vanish.

I walk into the house on the right side of hers and immediately cast a spell on the inhabitant. I can deal with him later.

I look into the mirror and change my looks. It's almost the same as it was before, just a lot more sophisticated, with a checkered dress that echoes the elegance of the 1960s. And I'm now also black and white—an essential detail.

Looking into my own eyes, I practice the sentence I'll use when I next see her: "Hello, dear. I'm Agnes, your neighbor to the right. My right, not yours."

I hope you can hear me

I remember it clearly

The day you slipped away

Was the day I found it won't be the same