The snow hadn't stopped falling for days. Thick, soft flakes drifted past the tall windows of Hogwarts, dusting the ledges and piling high along the walkways. Inside the castle, warmth pulsed from enchanted fireplaces and floating candles, while students scurried through corridors, some hauling trunks, others saying their goodbyes.

May stood near the front steps with Olivia, bundled in scarves and gloves, her trunk floating beside her with a soft hum of magic. Olivia's face was pale.

"You'll be alright?" May asked, reaching to adjust the collar of Olivia's coat. "Spending Christmas here, I mean."

Olivia nodded, though her expression faltered. "Professor Flitwick promised to teach me snow enchantments. And I'll write, obviously."

May smiled, even though her chest ached a little. "You better."

They hugged quickly, before the final call for the train echoed through the courtyard.

⸻

The Hogwarts Express steamed out of the station, rattling rhythmically over frost-laced tracks. May shared a compartment with James and three other Gryffindor second-years, though her brother spent most of the time retelling stories from his term — mostly centered around Lily Evans.

"She hexed Mulciber in Defense. Clean hit. You should've seen Slughorn's face—"

"I thought you were going to talk about your actual classes," May interrupted mildly.

James blinked. "Right, right. Well, Potions was fine too. But did I tell you Lily—"

"Yes," May groaned. "Six times."

James grinned, unfazed.

When he dozed off near the end of the journey, May tucked her cloak tighter and stared out at the white blur speeding past. The Avalon pendant beneath her jumper was faintly warm — not hot, just a quiet hum against her skin. As if reminding her it was still there.

⸻

The Potter home glowed with warmth and cinnamon-scented air. Pine garlands were strung across doorways, and a fire crackled in the hearth. Joanne Potter wrapped May in a tight hug the moment she stepped in, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"You've grown," she said, as always.

James bounded past them with his trunk, yelling a cheerful "Oi! Dad!" through the house.

Thomas emerged from the study, his wand in one hand, his sweater slightly rumpled. His eyes lit up when he saw his daughter. "Welcome home, little one."

He lifted her into a brief, tight hug — tighter than usual, she thought. When he set her down, his eyes lingered just a moment too long near her collarbone.

May glanced away.

That evening was full of warmth: the smell of spiced cider, the twinkle of fairy lights on the tree, James chatting nonstop at the dinner table. For a while, it felt like everything was as it had always been.

Later, after James had gone upstairs, May and her father sat by the fire. She curled under a blanket with a book on enchantment theory while Thomas read some diplomatic correspondence — or at least pretended to.

"You seem different," he said after a while.

May looked up. "Do I?"

"You've grown. Not just taller."

She hesitated, hand slipping to the chain hidden beneath her jumper. "School makes you grow fast, I guess."

Thomas watched her carefully, but didn't press further. "It does," he said softly. "And some things help us grow in ways we don't understand until much later."

May looked into the flames, heart beating faster.

Upstairs, the house creaked gently. Joanne hummed as she folded laundry. The world outside was white and still.

⸻

Two nights before Christmas, May slipped into the attic. Dust coated the old trunks and stacked bookshelves. Her breath clouded in the cold air.

She stood by the round window, staring at the snow. The Avalon pendant pulsed softly under her fingers, like a heartbeat.

It had called to her. And now that it was hers, it felt like something inside her had shifted, even if she didn't understand how.

Behind her, the shadows seemed to lean in.