The night outside the Flamel estate was quiet — the kind of quiet that held centuries of secrets.Moonlight pooled across marble floors, silvering the edges of ancient alchemical diagrams that still glowed faintly from the Lunar Alignment Ritual days before.
Within the atelier's upper chamber, Rowena Ravenclaw sat before the window, her long, silken hair spilling over a midnight-blue robe. The crystalline veins that had once pulsed with faint magic in her newly forged body were now warm, alive — almost too alive.
Yet her expression was not one of triumph. It was one of confusion… and longing.
A soft knock echoed on the door."May I come in, my dear?"
Rowena turned, and her lips curved into a small, uncertain smile. "Of course, Perenelle."
The older witch entered, graceful as always, her golden hair braided loosely, the faint glow of youth restored to her by Roy's magic making her look no older than thirty. She carried two steaming cups of silverleaf tea.
"You've been quiet tonight," Perenelle said, setting one cup before Rowena. "Is something troubling you, my dear?"
Rowena hesitated — a rare thing for a woman who once commanded respect from wizards and kings alike."I… feel strange, Perenelle," she said softly. "Ever since the ritual, I sense a thread. A bond that wasn't there before. It runs between my heart and his."
Perenelle's eyes softened. "Roy's?"
Rowena nodded, fingers curling around her cup. "He gave me life, but… something more, I think. A piece of his soul, perhaps? When the vessel formed, I could feel him — his warmth, his sorrow, his resolve. Even now, I can tell when he's in pain."
She pressed a hand to her chest, as if trying to still the flutter there. "And I am afraid. Because each time he smiles at me, I feel my heart race — not out of magic, but something… deeper. I was once the founder of Hogwarts, revered for wisdom. Yet now I feel as foolish as a lovestruck girl."
Her voice trembled on the last word.
Perenelle moved closer, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You are not foolish, Rowena. You are alive. And being alive means being vulnerable — to joy, to fear, to love."
Rowena looked up, eyes shimmering like liquid sapphire. "But if our souls are tied, what happens if one of us falters? I have already died once. I could not bear to bring him harm again."
Perenelle smiled — the kind of serene, knowing smile only centuries could forge."My dear, bonds forged through love are not chains. They are bridges. Roy carries the Avalon's scabbard within him — his body is a fortress against time and death. If your magic reached for him, it is because you trusted him. The universe answers trust with connection."
She took Rowena's hand, squeezing it gently.
"Don't fear the bond, Rowena. Let it grow. He may not yet understand what your heart already does — but one day, when he looks at you not as a relic of the past, but as his equal, that bond will be your greatest strength."
Rowena's eyes glistened. "And if I confess? If I tell him what I feel?"
Perenelle chuckled softly, standing. "Then you will do what every wise woman eventually learns, my dear — risk the heart, for the sake of truth."
She leaned down, pressing a motherly kiss to Rowena's forehead. "You gave the world wisdom once, Rowena. Perhaps now, it is time to learn love in return."
As Perenelle left the chamber, Rowena turned back to the moonlight. Her fingers brushed her chest where the crystalline heart pulsed in rhythm with another — far away, within a young man whose soul had touched hers.
And for the first time in centuries, the great witch whispered, almost like a prayer:
"Roy… what have you done to me?"