"But I died long ago..."
Halfway through being inspired, Gryffindor suddenly deflated again. It seemed he had run into a mental dead end.
Seeing that his good friend appeared ready to give up and lie flat, Rhys hurriedly tried to persuade him.
"Godric, what do you think it means for a person to be dead?"
The question came rather abruptly, but Gryffindor still gave it serious thought.
"When the heart stops beating, breathing ceases, and the body decays, that is death."
Rhys shook his head.
"That is merely the death of the body. If the flesh decays but the soul continues to exist, then it cannot truly be called death."
"Then according to you, ghosts aren't dead either?"
Rhys nodded.
Ghosts naturally could not be considered dead, though neither did they belong among the living. They were a very special kind of existence.
"As long as you can still think, you cannot be considered dead," Rhys said, giving his own definition of death.
"Godric, Muggle technology is developing rapidly. They can even keep dead people alive. Their brains have lost the ability to think, yet their bodies remain alive."
Rhys shared with his old friend a strange phenomenon he had read about in books.
"Their hearts still beat, their lungs continue to breathe, and with the help of medicine, their bodies do not decay. Yet they can never think again. They cannot hear the voices of the people they love. Every memory from their lives, whether beautiful or painful, has vanished completely.
"They cannot smell the flowers of spring, feel the scorching summer sun, witness the harvest of autumn, or endure the bitter winds of winter. They simply lie in rooms that Muggles call ICUs, while cold machines maintain their so-called lives.
"Do you think such a person is alive or dead?"
Gryffindor fell silent.
What Salazar said seemed to make sense, yet it also conflicted with his own understanding.
Something felt wrong, but he could not identify exactly what.
"Godric, you can still think. You can react to what I say. How can you possibly be dead? You simply exist in a rather unusual state."
Seeing that his words were having an effect, Rhys pressed his advantage and continued trying to persuade Gryffindor.
Don't actually convince yourself that you're dead, Godric!
"But what if I'm merely a projection of myself from your memories?" Gryffindor pointed at the Resurrection Stone ring in Rhys's hand. "According to what you told me, isn't that thing an evil artefact that manipulates people's memories and tempts them into suicide?"
Rhys shook his head.
"You underestimate Rowena and me. We can still distinguish between a genuine soul and a projection created from memories.
"Besides, how do you explain Dumbledore seeing you? Rowena and I are one thing, but where would Dumbledore have obtained memories of you?"
Godric was left speechless.
His old friend was still as persuasive as ever.
"Fine. Perhaps I really am still 'alive.' But in my current state, I can't even be considered a ghost. How am I supposed to return to Hogwarts?"
"You don't need to worry about that. Leave it to Rowena, Helga, and me. I'm a professional when it comes to this."
Godric only needed to wait to be revived.
The three of them, on the other hand, had a great deal of work ahead of them.
Gryffindor scratched the back of his head. Salazar's words made perfect sense, and everything he said was sincere. Yet his instincts told him that Salazar seemed to be hiding something beneath those genuine emotions, though he could not figure out what it was.
Since he could not figure it out, there was no point dwelling on it. Salazar would never harm him, would he?
Gryffindor stopped thinking about it and sincerely thanked Salazar instead.
"Thank you, Salazar. I know this will be a lot of trouble for you."
Seeing Godric respond so readily, Rhys could not conceal his delight.
Poor Gryffindor. He had never stopped to wonder why his other three old friends were all unwilling to appear at Hogwarts under their true identities.
Had he thought about that question, he probably would not have been so eager to come back to life.
But it was already too late!
Wizards throughout the world now knew that Godric Gryffindor, one of Hogwarts' founders, was still alive. Godric could only obediently return to life as Gryffindor. He could forget about following the example of the other three and hiding behind some strange new name.
Now that Godric had agreed, Salazar Slytherin would undoubtedly revive him and return the true Godric Gryffindor to his beloved Hogwarts!
After settling the matter with Godric, Rhys began tinkering with his crystal ball.
He wanted to see whether he could crack it and use it to accomplish a few things, such as restoring contact with Daphne, Astoria, and the others.
It was also time to revise his objective for this competition.
After learning that all seven Mystic Society members who had come this time were among the organisation's elite, Rhys's mission had changed slightly.
Not a single one of those seven could be allowed to return to Hogwarts.
Godric sat down in the neighbouring seat and silently watched Rhys work on the crystal ball in his hands.
...
"It's over."
The silver-haired girl found a clean spot to sit and looked down at the dumbfounded natives from above.
Behind her, an enormous black dragon lay sprawled across the ground. Its body had shrivelled in a bizarre fashion, resembling poultry slaughtered in winter and hung beneath the eaves to dry.
The leader of the native group swallowed.
He felt that he ought to say something, but the moment he opened his mouth, his throat went dry and no words came out.
It was too bizarre!
After everything they had just witnessed, even the girl's delicate features now seemed sinister.
This seemingly frail girl whom they had encountered on the road had single-handedly killed Ares, the black dragon that had terrorised the region, using methods they could not even begin to comprehend.
During the battle between the girl and the black dragon, even they, elite knights of the kingdom, had been unable to approach. The moment they drew near the battlefield, the blood inside their bodies began to boil.
Perhaps that was how the girl had killed the dragon.
Astoria could not be bothered to guess what the natives were thinking. She had travelled with them only because she needed them to guide the way.
Sure enough, with their assistance, she had successfully completed the main quest.
Judging by their current behaviour, she might even be able to complete the side quest along the way.
The girl walked over to the black dragon's remains. After considerable effort, she dug the dragon's heart, now shrivelled into a small lump, out of its withered corpse.
"The evil dragon is dead. You can return and report that the task is complete, but I'll be keeping the dragon's heart," Astoria told the natives.
Naturally, the knights had no objections.
After dismembering the dragon's corpse and collecting its various valuable materials, the knights exchanged glances. In the end, their leader stepped forward and respectfully asked Astoria to accompany them back to meet His Majesty the King.
At that moment, a voice suddenly rang out.
"My apologies, fellow Hogwarts student, but could you give that dragon heart to me?"
A person emerged from the nearby forest with a radiant smile on his face.
"I had my eye on this dragon as well. Unfortunately, I arrived a little too late," he even explained.
"Someone from the Mystic Society?" Astoria raised an eyebrow.
"That's right!"
A trace of pride flashed across the young monk's face.
____
12 Chaps ahead at Patreon.com/HornyFBI