Epilogue- 25 years later

Samaritan Healthcare & Hospice

Marlton, New Jersey

Christmas Eve

Clara laid in her bed. The room was bright and cold, as hospital rooms were wont to be. At least they had given her a warmed blanket. Her family was there. Daughter and son in law. She liked him a whole lot. Matter of fact, she liked them all. Her grandchildren had graduated college, and the oldest had a family of her own. Beautiful family, she thought to herself.

'I've done well.' She mused as she took a labored breath.

Ninety-seven.

'People aren't supposed to grow this old,' she thought, smiling to herself.

She'd lost Morty shortly after the fated trip. He was terminal even then. He had been diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor and London was his bucket list. He had the time of his life, and so did she. They talked about the adventure often in the last days, before the pain was too great.

Somehow though, she continued on through the years... till now. Stubbornness mostly, but there was still that unnamed tug that compelled her to live the remaining years of her life, searching for those certain people that affected all of them so greatly. She felt, sometimes, that they were there, watching in the shadows. Keeping an eye out, as it were. She thought she saw them sometimes, out of the corner of her eye...but when she turned to look...they were gone.

Now, all she had, were the stories of that fateful night. Stories her children and grandchildren listened to, humoring her and finding excuses to do something else other than hear an old woman's crazy tales.

There was always one that listened, however. Her great grandson, Michael. He was ten, about to turn eleven. She had a feeling he might just receive his own Hogwart's letter soon. He was a special boy, different from the others, and not just because he listened to her stories.

There was a commotion at the door, and Clara looked toward the noise.

"You can't just bring that in here." Clara heard one of the many nurses say.

"I can do whatever I like. Besides, it's not up to you." He stated emphatically.

There was Michael. Carrying a small Christmas tree in.

"The boy's fine. Leave him be." Clara said smiling. "Besides...I like it. Doesn't an old woman deserve a dying Christmas wish?"

Michael grinned at the nurse who huffed as she went out the door.

"Mom... Stan and I are going to get a bite to eat. Will you be ok till we get back?" Clara's daughter inquired.

"I'll be fine dear."

Clara's daughter looked toward her grandson.

"Michael, are you hungry?"

"No Grandma, I'd like to stay with Gran for a bit." He said.

"Suit yourself then... try not to get her all riled up."

They left and Michael finished setting the tree up on the small dresser next to the window.

"You know I'm dying, don't you boy." Clara said. She was never one to mince words.

Michael fiddled with the tree as he spoke.

"Yes, Gran."

"Come here and sit with me."

Michael stopped and came over to sit on the edge of her bed.

"You were the only one who listened to my stories, you know." Clara said as a cough escaped her lips.

"I love your stories, Gran." He said reaching for her hand.

"Do you believe them?"

Michael paused, gathering his thoughts.

"Yes, I think I do. Why?"

Clara took her hand back and began to fish around in the opposite sleeve of her nightgown. The boy waited patiently as she withdrew an old knitted disaster of what appeared to be some sort of skull and snake.

"Is that...?" Michael began to ask.

Clara looked at her great grandson and smiled.

"I've kept this put away for so very long. It's time it made its debut."

"So the stories are true then." He mused.

"Indeed they are, my boy."

Michael sat back and eyed the ornament.

"Why are you showing me this now?" He asked.

Clara looked at her great grandson with brows raised.

"I see potential in you, boy. I see great things. I see things your own parents don't see. I knew you believed in my stories long before you answered that question. There is a world that exists beyond what you understand now, and it will soon become part of you, I'd wager."

Clara took a labored breath. At this point, breathing had even become difficult. Her new adventure would soon come round the bend, but she would not leave without speaking her peace to the one boy who would see her through, and take with him the hopes and dreams of a tired old woman.

Michael looked on, with the pensive gaze he assumed when he was processing something somewhat intangible to most. When his face relaxed, Clara knew he had realized a great truth. She reached out her hand once again and clasped his.

"Tell me what you're thinking, Michael."

He looked at her and took a breath. With a steel resolve, so unlike most ten year olds, he began to speak.

"Gran..." He began, "When most people say they believe in something, it's only mostly.

"Mostly?" She asked.

"Yes. I think when people say they believe in something they've never seen, they almost get there. But there's a piece of them that always wonders. Wonders if it's really so. Does that make sense, Gran?"

Clara smiled at the intuition the young boy brought forth.

"Yes... It makes complete sense, sweet boy."

"I heard your stories my whole life. I always believed... or maybe I only wanted to. I think up until just now, I only believed... mostly."

"What changed?" She asked.

Michael looked up at his great grandmother.

"Proof." He spoke plainly. "People just need proof. It takes away the bit that mostly leaves behind."

Clara squeezed the boy's hand. It was time.

"I want you to have this, Michael." Clara said as she handed the old ornament over to him. Michael took it gently. "When you get your letter, you go and be the best wizard you can. Try to always help people who need helping. Learn and love, boy. Make people laugh as much as you can."

Clara leaned toward him and whispered.

"Most of all, Michael...have fun."

"I love you, Gran." He said with tears in his eyes.

Clara leaned back, closed her eyes, and breathed her last.

Michael sat at her bedside for a few minutes in silence when he heard a popping noise outside the hall. Still clutching the ornament, he rose to investigate. Outside, there was nothing save an empty bed awaiting a room of its own.

Michael looked toward the empty nurse's station and his breath quickened. There, standing in the hallway, stood a man and a woman. The woman had the most interesting hair. Both blonde and black, as if her creator just couldn't decide what side she'd be on. The man, dressed in black, wore a fedora atop a head of hair so blonde it almost looked white.

Michael's mouth gaped open like a fish out of water.

"You..." Was all he managed to say in awe.

The woman smiled genuinely, and the man bowed and tipped his hat. They turned then, and disappeared down a hall.

"Wait! Stop!" Michael called as he gathered himself to pursue.

He turned the corner and stopped. The hall was a dead end, and they had seemingly just disappeared. Michael grinned and shook his head. He turned and made his way back to Clara's room. It was still silent as he looked around. His eyes fell to the tree he'd brought in earlier. The snow had begun to fall, as he walked toward the tree. Michael looked down at the ornament in his hand. It was really horrible looking. He smiled again and hung it on the tree.

"Happy Christmas, witches and wizards." He whispered as he turned and walked out of the silent room.

A/N

Well, that wraps it up. Thank you for staying till the end. Thanks again to the Milf that offered up challenge. This was fun. Thanks for all the kind reviews. Till next time then…