I bawled my eyes out towards the end of writing this. This is a special thank you for everyone who had been following up with my stories and also for all the devoted fans of Harry potter out there who adore the imaginative world JK. Rowling has created for us to explore. Love you guys. Enjoy.


Mischief Managed
The countdown on her computer monitor read 07 days: 06 hrs: 54 mins: 32 secs. She turned a page and the title read Chapter One- The Boy Who Lived.

She began to read the text that she had instantly fallen in love with the first time she had set her eyes on it almost a decade ago. Back then, she was a child, and now, she had become an adult. She sighed and continued on reading, realizing that this time it was a start towards the end. Usually she would go back to reading her utmost favorite series of books on this planet and with the realization that there’d be more of it to be looking forward to, she’d immediately be filled with joy and optimism.

This time however, she felt hollow. The void which threatened to engulf her drew closer with the ticking footsteps of the wall clock. The arrows ticked by and the sound of footsteps became louder as if someone was beating on a drum. Her heartbeats pounded in harmony with the rhythm.

One book after the other, she read every single word with heed and admiration as if there meant to be a secret meaning behind the printed letters on the smooth surface of the pages. She took it all in and pondered upon every consequence and choice made by the characters. They were so real. She almost felt an emotional bond to every single one of them. They were long time friends of hers. She had grown up with them, went on adventures with them, stood alongside them in times of joy and sorrow, shed tears with them when they have encountered failure and rejoiced when they have attained victory. Their ride was soon about to end. She would sure miss them. Another tear streamed down her face.

Night fell and she lay awake on her bed, a heavier book in hand and the lamplight casted light upon the pages of the book as she continued on reading. Was she tired? Physically yes, but mentally no. She was determined to follow suit of her idol and remain persistent. This was the least she could do for the stories that meant so much to her.

The round clock right over her computer desk struck 11:00. The seconds ticked by and soon the pattern of the ticking seemed to have picked up in paste. She could almost hear the drum roll playing with the approach of the end.

“All was well,” she whispered to herself as she read the final words on the bottom of the page. For a minute or so she considered the conveyed message and then smiled. There was nothing to worry about. It had came to a fair conclusion and she was ready to move on as well. The steaming engine of the Hogwarts Express would always be fueled for her to hop on. And as she was assured, "Hogwarts would always be there to welcome her home."

The book was closed with a thud and she embraced it in her arms. It must have looked odd to be hugging and inanimate book so admiringly, but if you have gone through what she had felt, then you’d probably smile and nod of recognition. She gently held the book with both her hands and quite cautiously, took measured steps towards the bookshelf on the far corner of her room. She went on her tiptoes and placed it in the highest shelf she could possibly reach, since that’s where it belonged. It towered above the rest of the books which did not look as yellowed and crumpled. Not that she hadn’t cared for it. Actually she had cared for it really well considering the many times that she had read it and all the places that she had taken it with her. The stains were a sign of excessive attention almost like a child which has been spoiled by the parents.

She stood there and took in the image. The radiant book had a special place in her heart. It was stacked beside its siblings. How she loved that family. “Goodbye childhood,” she uttered.

An hour later she was seated beside her friends at a movie theatre close to her residence. The anticipation was overwhelming. She took a deep breath and waited for the moment that she had been impatiently anticipating for over the course of the past several years. The moment was finally about to arrive. The drum roll hammered like crazy and the hummingbird in her heart danced with joy. Any second now. The countdown reached single digits. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, and 1... The lights were turned off, a piercing silence followed and then the end began.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

She sobbed in her lap as everyone around her broke into a deafening applause. The moment was bittersweet. She did not know what to make of it. Nevertheless, she held up the stick she had carved with care and love towards the ceiling. Her friends imitated her and soon most of the crowd were raising their hands regardless of whether they were holding wands, crooked sticks, pencils or even straws. The effect was powerful and a wave of radiation seemed to go around the group. The hair on their necks stood on their ends.

Then all at once they shouted, “Mischief managed!”



-Ava. G-

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Author's note: Of course as you may have recognized, "Mischief Manage" refers to an actual movement going around the internet. Join in the cause if you wish.