The moonlight spilled softly through the tall windows of the Flamel atelier, illuminating the ancient parchment and crystal runes scattered across the marble desk.Rowena Ravenclaw sat there, quill poised, her long hair braided with strands of faintly glowing silver. The world outside hummed with new inventions, moving faster than she ever imagined — brooms of fire and jade, shops filled with runes she'd never seen before.
But her thoughts lingered on one person.
Beside her, Perenelle Flamel watched silently, knitting with gentle amusement.
"You've been staring at that parchment for nearly an hour, dear," she said softly. "I take it this letter isn't purely academic?"
Rowena's cheeks flushed faintly — a rare sight for the once-proud founder of Ravenclaw.
"I am... composing my thoughts," she admitted. "Every time I try to speak of him, the words become... clumsy."
"Ah," Perenelle smiled knowingly, "then they're honest."
Rowena finally began to write.
To Roy,
I have read of your new creation — the broom that carries not only speed, but equality upon its wind. Even in my time, I dreamt of magic that could lift all, not only the privileged few. You have achieved what I only ever theorized.
The world speaks your name in whispers now, even when it does not know you. I find that oddly fitting — for you move the world quietly, as the moon moves the tides.
Nicolas says I should congratulate you as a mentor might a student.But I find that impossible. You are far beyond any student now.
When you left for Hogwarts again, the atelier seemed... emptier. Nicolas fills the silence with chatter about alchemical yields and Perenelle hums while she tends to her roses, but I find myself turning when I hear footsteps, thinking it might be you.
It is foolish, I know — a founder of Hogwarts reduced to missing the presence of a boy who sees the world brighter than I ever dared.
Yet… I do.
There is something I must also confess — during the ritual, when you anchored my soul to the vessel, there was a resonance, a tether that remains. I sense your thoughts at times, faint as a whisper under moonlight.
It frightens me — not for myself, but for you. I fear what this bond may cost if you continue to bear it alone.
Still, if this is the price of existing once more — of feeling the world and its wonders — then I accept it, with gratitude and... affection.
Always watching the skies that you make new,Rowena
When she finished, Rowena folded the letter carefully and sealed it with a drop of shimmering blue wax — her old sigil reawakened after a thousand years.
Perenelle, watching from her chair, smiled quietly.
"You write as though you've known him all your life."
Rowena met her gaze.
"Sometimes, Perenelle… it feels as though I have."
Later that night, Nicolas entered, holding a tray of tea.
"Ah, writing again? You know, she hasn't stopped thinking about your young Roy since he left," he teased lightly."I've told her — it's not every century you meet someone who makes even an immortal curious."
Rowena smiled faintly, staring out at the moon.
"Curious," she murmured. "Yes. That's the word I'd use."
But in the reflection of the window, her expression softened — curiosity was only the beginning.