The healing chambers of St. Mungo's were quieter than usual.
Behind reinforced privacy wards, Caelum lay motionless on the white linen bed, pale as moonlight. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths—alive, but barely.
Dumbledore sat beside him, hands folded in his lap, his expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his half-moon glasses. The smell of smoke still clung faintly to his robes. Hours had passed since the rescue, but the weight of what he had seen—what he had felt—lingered.
Across the room, Amelia Bones stood near the window, her arm freshly bandaged, a healing salve gleaming faintly across her cheek. She had barely spoken since their return.
"He was conscious… for a time," she murmured at last. "Not him, though. The other. Aurelian."
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "The Patriarch of House Varnak. A remnant soul bound to Caelum's bloodline. I suspected something remained… but not to that extent."
"He burned half the compound to ash," Amelia said, her voice low. "I saw the report. They found thirty-two bodies—wizards, vampires. All dead before you even landed."
"Lucian Vortelan escaped," Dumbledore replied, his tone quiet. "But not unscathed. And not unchanged. He's seen now that Caelum has truly awakened the Varnak flame—and that will rattle him."
Amelia's jaw tightened. "What about Caelum?"
Dumbledore looked down at the boy—so still now, a fragile contrast to the inferno he had become hours earlier.
"He's alive. But his body is spent. And… he may not wake soon." His eyes flicked to the glowing runes pulsing faintly around the room, wards meant to stabilize magical trauma. "The possession forced his bloodline open. What should have taken years happened in minutes. The cost was immense."
Amelia turned away from the window, stepping closer. "Can we protect him?"
"We must," Dumbledore said simply. "He is no longer just a student. The chain of events leading to this has made it clear—he's been a target for quite some time. And after this… perhaps something more."
There was silence between them.
Then Amelia asked, "Do we tell him? About what he did? About Aurelian?"
Dumbledore was quiet for a long time. Then he said, "When he wakes… he deserves the truth. But not all of it at once."
A faint knock came at the door.
Vesper stood there, pale, her face unreadable.
"Is he—?" she started, but faltered.
Dumbledore nodded. "He will live."
She stepped inside. Her eyes didn't leave Caelum once.
"May I stay?" she asked softly.
Amelia glanced at her, something unreadable passing through her eyes.
Dumbledore studied the girl for a moment, then offered a gentle smile tinged with weariness.
"Perhaps it's better for you to go back first, Miss Blackbourne. You need rest as well. It will be some time before Caelum wakes."
Vesper hesitated—just for a heartbeat—then gave a small nod. Her gaze lingered on Caelum, the firelight in her expression quietly dimmed.
"I'll come back tomorrow," she whispered, then turned and slipped silently out the door.
Wizengamot Chambers – Ministry of Magic
The ancient courtroom buzzed with barely-contained tension beneath the high, vaulted ceiling. At the center stood Alastor Moody, posture rigid, magical eye swiveling across the semi-circular bench of robed figures watching him from above.
"—and as of this morning," he barked, "the boy still hasn't regained consciousness. That's fifteen days, if you're counting."
He slammed a thick report onto the marble lectern. "Caelum Sanguine survived forced ritual extraction, possession by a thousand-year-old blood mage, and a battle that leveled a Rosier stronghold. He's not your threat—he's your survivor."
A ripple of murmurs passed through the chamber.
Acting in place of Director Bones, who had recused herself from the case following formal conflict-of-interest review, Undersecretary Thaddeus Marchbanks sat stiffly in the lead chair. His expression was unreadable, but his tone carried caution.
"Thank you for the report, Auror Moody. It remains a fact, however, that thirty-two individuals—wizards and vampires alike—were killed in the incident. The Rosier family is effectively annihilated. What assurance do we have that this… boy won't lose control again?"
A witch from the left tier interjected, her voice sharp and precise.
"Perhaps he shouldn't return to Hogwarts. We have secure containment facilities for magical anomalies of this nature."
She adjusted her spectacles and added, "While what happened to the boy during his stay at Greystone is unfortunate, I still believe that placing him in a secure facility is the more responsible course of action. Hogwarts is not equipped to handle this level of magical volatility—not without risking the lives of other students."
Moody's magical eye swiveled toward her, unblinking. "He's twelve. He didn't choose this. You want to throw a kid into containment for surviving a kidnapping?"
"Would you rather we take the risk of another outburst?" snapped another wizard. "From what I read, he leveled the entire eastern wing of the Rosier manor with a single spell. What if next time, it's Hogsmeade? Or a classroom?"
Dumbledore rose slowly from his seat behind the defense podium, face calm, but voice edged with authority.
"I have watched Caelum closely for a year," Dumbledore said. "His behavior has been exemplary. His grades exceed expectations. His sense of ethics and control are exceptional—especially for a student his age. What happened was not a conscious decision—it was the result of a forced ritual and possession."
"Possession by a known blood sorcerer," Thaddeus Marchbanks reminded, his voice clipped. Then, after a beat, he added, "A heretic descended from a bloodline no one in this room even knew existed until days ago—because every document mentioning the House of Varnak was purged during their extermination. That ignorance was deliberate. And now one of their heirs has returned, not as a ghost of history, but standing here under our jurisdiction."
Dumbledore did not flinch. "An echo of Aurelian Varnak's soul, yes. But it has passed. And the boy has returned to himself."
A pause. Then a new voice:
"And what of the other children at Hogwarts?"
It came from a steely-eyed man near the upper benches. "This isn't only about Caelum. Can you assure us the safety of every student while he is enrolled? The public will demand protection."
Another voice followed. "Then let him swear an oath. A magical one. He will not raise his wand against another student or staff member except in defense of life."
Dumbledore hesitated.
But Marchbanks nodded. "A fair suggestion. Not as punishment, but as precaution."
Moody bristled. "He's unconscious."
"And the oath will wait until he wakes," Marchbanks replied smoothly. "It will be administered at the Ministry, under supervision, with appropriate magical safeguards in place. If he refuses…"
"He won't," Dumbledore said quietly. "He will understand."
There was silence. Then Marchbanks brought his gavel down.
"So ruled. The Wizengamot will defer judgment until the boy awakens. Until such time, he remains under Hogwarts' protection, and the oath shall be prepared."
St. Mungo's Hospital – Private Wing
The ward was quiet. Lantern light glowed dimly against the curtains, casting long shadows across the room.
Caelum's fingers twitched beneath the blanket.
A breath caught in his throat—and released.
Golden light flickered behind his eyelids.
He was waking up.