Harry was fussing again.
It wasn't hunger. It wasn't a dirty nappy. Twilly had tried every comfort she knew—spells for warmth, soft lullabies, even a flickering light display in the air shaped like stars and moons.
But nothing helped.
He kicked his feet against the blanket, tiny fists clenched, cheeks blotchy with tears.
"Mama!"
His voice cracked with the effort. "Dada! …Pad!"
The last name came out in a hiccuping sob.
Twilly's ears drooped. Her heart ached, ancient and fierce. Even without memory, the blood remembered. The love Harry had known, the safety—he knew what he had lost.
"Oh, little one…" she whispered, scooping him into her arms again.
His cries didn't stop.
So she stood.
And she carried him to the wall.
A simple gesture—her hand pressed gently to the panel beside the hearth, her voice a soft whisper in the language of old magic.
The wall shifted.
Changed.
Became a tall, wide window.
Outside, golden light spilled across an endless meadow—soft grasses, tall trees in the distance, and a sky painted in the colors of peace.
And there, near the tree line, movement.
A stag.
Tall, graceful, with antlers like branches dipped in moonlight.
Beside him bounded a massive black dog, tongue lolling, tail wagging with joyful energy.
And at their heels darted a red fox, sleek and clever, weaving between the two as they played.
Harry gasped. "Pad!"
The dog barked—once—then reared up, pawing the air in greeting.
The stag lowered its head and gave a gentle nod.
And the fox, red as autumn leaves, curled its tail and sat with quiet grace—watching over them both.
The baby reached for the glass with both hands, breath fogging the surface. He let out a delighted squeal as the fox leapt and spun in a lazy circle, then pressed its nose against the windowpane—right where Harry's tiny fingers met the glass.
Twilly didn't speak.
She simply sat in the wide cushioned window seat, cradling him as he watched.
The cries faded.
His breathing slowed.
His head drooped against her chest, lulled by the sight of love shaped into memory.
Outside, the three figures continued their quiet game, never straying far, never leaving sight.
And Harry slept, a smile curled at the corners of his mouth.