The morning after the ritual dawned bright and warm — sunlight spilled through the tall windows of the Flamels' French manor, dancing on the rows of alchemical glass and crystal tomes. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and powdered gold.
Rowena Ravenclaw stood by the window, gazing out at the gardens below. Her long, raven-black hair now shimmered faintly with violet streaks — the trace of the soul vessel's fusion with Roy's energy.
She turned slowly, taking in the soft hum of Muggle machinery on a nearby table — a phonograph spinning faint music. Her brows furrowed in intrigue.
"The song comes from within the machine? Yet no enchantment binds it?"
Roy chuckled from the doorway, his sleeves rolled up, a faint smile playing at his lips.
"Electricity," he explained. "A Muggle kind of magic."
"Electricity…" she murmured, eyes wide, "a force tamed without runes, bound by knowledge alone. Oh, how far the world has leapt without wands."
Nicolas entered with a tray of tea and smiled.
"And still falling on its face in some places," he teased. "Humanity's leaps are often stumbles."
Rowena accepted a teacup, her fingers trembling slightly — new nerves, new senses.
"Even this taste," she whispered. "Warm, bitter, alive. I had forgotten what life feels like."
The Journey Beyond
Later that afternoon, they left the manor — a small group crossing into the French countryside.Rowena wore a simple modern dress — Perenelle's choice — though she had insisted on adding a faint silver brooch shaped like her old diadem's eagle.
Roy walked beside her, occasionally catching her steady gaze — the kind that saw through everything.
As they traveled by enchanted carriage (one secretly enhanced with Muggle engines by Roy), Rowena's fascination grew with every sight — paved roads, moving vehicles, children holding strange glowing rectangles (phones), and airplanes tracing lines across the sky.
"They fly," she said softly. "Without spells. Without charms. The dream of Daedalus made real by mortals."
Roy smiled. "You'd fit right in among them — they're all driven by curiosity and impossible dreams."
"And yet," she said, turning her head toward him, "no matter how far the world advances, knowledge still yearns for wisdom. Perhaps that is what I was missing all those years ago."
At a Paris Café
They stopped in Paris, sitting at a quiet street café overlooking the Seine. The afternoon sun bathed the city in gold.
Rowena sipped a cappuccino, eyes lighting up at the froth.
"This… is divine. I sense no potion, no magic — and yet it brings warmth to the heart. What is it called?"
"Coffee," Roy said, laughing softly. "Muggles' version of a stamina draught."
Perenelle leaned closer. "Careful, Rowena — it's addictive. You might start composing new spell theories just to justify another cup."
"Perhaps I shall," Rowena said with a small, knowing smile. "A Caffeine Charm to sustain clarity of mind…"
Nicolas nearly choked on his tea, and Roy burst into laughter.
For a moment, even Rowena smiled — a soft, genuine expression that transformed her regal calm into something almost human again.
Twilight Reflections
That evening, they returned to the manor's balcony overlooking the sea. The sunset painted the horizon in streaks of crimson and violet.
Rowena stood beside Roy in silence.
"I never thought I would see the world again," she said finally. "And yet, it feels… lonelier. Hogwarts stands, but my friends are long gone."
Roy nodded. "Time changes everything. But you're not alone anymore."
She turned to him — her expression gentle, but her voice trembling.
"You risked everything for me. Even your soul, even Avalon's protection. Why?"
Roy met her gaze calmly. "Because no one deserves to fade forgotten. Not someone who gave the world wisdom. And… because I couldn't bear to let your story end in tragedy."
Rowena blinked, the faintest hint of tears forming — centuries of pride melting into fragile gratitude.
"You speak like a scholar… but you act like a knight," she murmured. "Perhaps that is what the world truly needs — those who think and protect in equal measure."
Roy smiled faintly. "My grandfather used to say — 'A Valvas doesn't choose who to save. We save whoever the world forgets.'"
She turned toward the setting sun again, her voice barely a whisper.
"Then perhaps… I was waiting for you all along."
And as the last light faded from the sky, the faint glow of the soul tether shimmered between them — a bond no ritual could ever undo.