The hospital window had frost on the inside again.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUcpvZDl7wK
Mavis traced the white patterns with a trembling fingertip, pretending they were constellations instead of cracks of ice. Beyond the glass, the city glowed orange in the snow, and somewhere in it her parents were probably smiling for photos with her older brother, Ethan—the perfect child, the one who had plans.
They hadn't called in weeks.
Only her grandparents came. Always them.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6vN5vjaplC
Every afternoon the door would creak open and there they were—Grandpa with his slightly crooked hat and Grandma with a book tucked under her arm and a paper bag of pastries she wasn't supposed to have.
"All right, starlight," Grandpa said, setting the pastries down. "Chapter four tonight: The Keeper of the Keys."
Mavis smiled weakly. "I already know what happens."
"Then you'll enjoy watching me get it wrong," Grandma teased, settling beside her.
They read the Harry Potter books together while the machines hummed around them. Sometimes they paused to watch the movie version on the tiny screen of Grandpa's tablet, whispering lines along with the characters.
It was their world—one stitched from stories, laughter, and the stubborn belief that magic did exist somewhere.
Spring came early that year, and the hospital air smelled faintly of rain.
Her grandparents left one evening after promising to bring her favorite soup the next day. She waved from her bed, the Harry Potter book resting open on her lap.
They never arrived.
Two days later, a nurse came in with red eyes. Words blurred together—collision, rain, instant. The world went silent except for the steady beep of her heart monitor.
Mavis stared at the wall for a long time. Then she whispered,
"Guess you'll see the real magic first."
The machines began to slow that night. The air grew heavy and still.
When she opened her eyes again, the hospital lights were gone. She stood in a field of stars, barefoot, her gown fluttering like mist.
A figure approached—tall, robed in shadows that shimmered silver at the edges. His eyes were calm and endless. Thanatos, the God of Death.
Beside him, the air pulsed with life. Roots and petals wove themselves into the shape of a woman crowned with blossoms and light—Hecate, the Lady of Magic.
Mavis didn't run. She only asked, softly,
"Am I dying?"
Thanatos inclined his head. "You already have. But endings are not always the final line."
Hecate stepped closer, her voice like wind through leaves.
"You were born in a world that forgot how to see wonder. Yet you believed. You carried magic in your heart even when none could see it."
Mavis swallowed hard. "Believing didn't make me special. It just... kept me company."
Hecate smiled. "And that is exactly why we have come."
A silver light appeared between them, swirling like ink in water. Within it, Mavis saw flickers—an infant crying beneath a bolt of green light, a castle in the Scottish highlands.
"The world you loved was never merely a story," Thanatos said. "It is one of many realms where life and death dance in balance. Its threads have frayed. Its people will need someone who remembers kindness."
"A second chance," Hecate said gently. "To live, to shape, to heal. But it is not a gift—it is a vow. You will carry both light and shadow, and the path will not be easy."
Mavis looked down at her trembling hands. "If I go... will I see them again? My grandparents?"
Hecate reached out and touched her brow. "Not yet. But their souls will follow. In time, they will find you—as they always have."
Mavis took a breath that tasted like starlight. "Then I'll go."
Thanatos extended his hand, and a small flame appeared—silver-blue, gentle yet endless.
"Then take this spark," he said. "It is your soul, renewed. Guard it well."
She touched the light, and warmth flooded her chest. The stars around her spun faster, becoming a spiral of silver mist. She felt herself falling—through wind, through rain, through heartbeat and breath.
As the light faded, she heard Hecate's voice one last time:
"Remember, Mavis Calloway. You are loved beyond one lifetime."
Somewhere far away, in a quiet cottage in Godric's Hollow, a baby cried for the first time.
Lily Potter looked down at the little girl in her arms—green-eyed, red-haired, "She's beautiful, James."
"She sure is, Lily. Do you have a name picked out, my love?" James Potter asked, stroking the infant girl's head.
Lily held her daughter close and gazed at her with affection, "Mavis. Mavis Rose Potter."
"Mavis Potter. It suits her." James agreed.
Outside, the wind stirred, carrying the scent of roses and rain.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEVq3MLbZzF
And for a heartbeat, two unseen spirits watched from beyond—the God of Death and Goddess of Magic. The Goddess was smiling through tears while the God has a small smile as the newborn's cry echoed through the night.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ836fSGZ7eK
and then Add to home screen.