When Katya woke up, she still couldn't understand why her mother had never told her about the family secret,

  why Grandma's room was always locked. The strangest part — Katya didn’t even remember her grandmother.

  They only moved into the house after she passed away. Since Mom worked from home, she and Dad decided to relocate here.

  But now Katya had to go to school in the city with her father, since she was already in the first grade.

  Thankfully, her dad had a car. He dropped her off on the way to work and picked her up afterward.

  At breakfast, Katya asked her mom:

  — Mom, what was Grandma like? Why don’t I remember her?

  — Oh, sweetheart, — Mom sighed and stroked Katya’s head. — She was very sick when you were born.

  I took you to see her once, but you probably don’t remember. She passed away before you even turned one.

  Of course, it was hard for me. We spent two years looking for someone to buy the house,

  and then one day your dad and I just sat down and decided — we’d move in ourselves. You like it here, don’t you?

  Katya nodded. She really did like the house, especially the garden with its giant old trees

  — perfect for hiding, playing, and dreaming of far-off worlds.

  But there was one room that gave her no peace.

  — Why is Grandma’s room always locked? — Katya pressed on. — It’s... kind of strange.

  Her mother looked away.

  — It’s full of her things. It’s hard for me to see them… But I can’t bring myself to throw them away.

  She was still my mother...

  Katya finished her porridge in silence, but her mind was bubbling with questions.

  What things were in there? Why wouldn’t Mom talk about them?

  And what was that strange notebook she’d vaguely overheard adults whispering about?

  She remembered how people often called Grandma “a special woman,” “a seer.”

  And once, Grandma’s sister Aunt Liza had let something odd slip:

  “Her book is waiting for its new keeper now…”

  Katya shivered. So the book was still here? In the locked room?

  She couldn’t stop thinking about it all day at school. She barely listened to her teacher,

  just counting the minutes until class ended.

  That evening, when Dad picked her up and they returned home, Katya ate dinner quickly and slipped up to her room.

  She knew she had to talk to Timofey. Only he could help her figure it all out.

  She opened the old box on her desk. Inside, peeking out, was a small wooden pendant — a gift from Timofey.

  Katya clutched it in her hand, closed her eyes, and whispered:

  — Timofey, I’m waiting. I need to know the truth.

  And at that moment, a soft voice came from the shadow behind her chair:

  — I’m here, little star. What happened?

  Katya smiled. Tonight, her first real investigation would begin...

  She told Timofey everything she had learned at breakfast. About Grandma’s locked room, the strange feeling,

  the whispers of a hidden treasure behind that door.

  Timofey stroked his fluffy beard thoughtfully.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  — If that really is a witch’s notebook, — he said slowly, — then it’s waiting for you.

  But no one else will be able to open it — only your touch.

  Katya’s breath caught in her throat.

  — But what if Mom finds out?.. — she whispered.

  — We’ll do it quietly, — Timofey winked. — Ready for your first real adventure?

  Katya nodded.

  Later that evening, once Mom went to her workshop and Dad got lost in a book downstairs,

  Katya tiptoed toward the locked room. Timofey, now shrunken to palm size, perched on her shoulder.

  The old lock was nearly crumbling from age. Katya gently turned the handle — the door creaked open.

  Inside, it smelled of old paper, dried flowers, and something strange — like a faint breeze from a faraway spring.

  In the dim light, she saw bookshelves, chests, lace doilies, and an antique clock frozen at the same time.

  On the writing desk, hidden beneath a velvet cloth, lay the book.

  Katya reached for it, but Timofey stopped her:

  — Wait.

  He tried to lift the cloth — but his tiny paws slipped off, as if the book repelled him.

  — See? Only you can touch it.

  Katya took a deep breath and gently removed the cloth. The book felt warm under her fingers — almost alive.

  There was no title on the cover, no picture — just a strange symbol that looked like woven stars.

  The moment she placed her hand on it, the book rustled softly… and dropped a thin, yellowed page at her feet.

  She picked it up and carefully smoothed it on her palm. The ink had faded a little, but the handwriting was elegant,

  as if written with a feather-light quill.

  It read:

  “Katya, my little star,

  If you’re reading this letter — your time has come.

  Your mom and dad are always together, just like your grandpa and I were.

  I’m sure if you ask your mom how they met, she won’t remember — they went to kindergarten together.

  We loved her dearly, but she was never interested in spells or herbs.

  Her magic was of a different kind. I remember when she was 8 or 9, we tried to introduce her to the craft,

  but it never took root. And so it went.

  But now your path begins.

  This book is not just an old notebook — it’s one of the strongest magical artifacts.

  Remember that, and protect it. It will teach you.

  Whenever you need it, speak your question aloud — and it will open to the right page.

  Timofey will guide you — he’ll be your faithful helper.

  Hold on, my dear. Your grandpa and I always believed in you — and we still do.”

  Katya finished reading and felt warmth spread inside her — as if Grandma’s words had awakened something ancient and familiar.

  Timofey, still perched quietly on her shoulder, nodded:

  — Well then, little star… ready to begin your true journey?

  Katya smiled, hugging the book to her chest.

  Mysteries, discoveries, and her first real magic awaited.

  And outside, in the shadows beneath the trees,

  a tall figure stirred.

  Someone was watching the house...