The following week passed in a haze of recovery. My body might have been preserved in that crystal, but my stomach certainly wasn't. The first time I tried to eat, I nearly fainted from the sheer rush of taste and warmth — things I hadn't felt in over a century. Madam Pomfrey — or at least that's what her nameplate said — fussed over me constantly, muttering about "ancient preservation enchantments" and "magical malnutrition."
By the time I was allowed to leave the hospital wing, my legs felt steady again, my strength mostly returned, and my magic... well, that was another matter entirely. It pulsed stronger than ever — wilder, older, like it had been fermenting in that crystal along with me. I could feel both souls inside me perfectly fused now, every thought sharper, every spell instinctive.
When I finally walked into my new office — the Defence Against the Dark Arts office — I couldn't help but smile. It was strange being back at Hogwarts, not as a student this time, but as a professor. I remembered sitting in these classrooms once, dreaming about mastering every charm, curse, and hex in existence. Now the desk was mine.
And I wasn't alone.
I drew in a deep breath, closed my eyes, and whispered the familiar summoning incantation that resonated through my soul bond. A burst of golden-red light filled the room, and the air shimmered with warmth.
"Sol," I breathed.
Out of the fire emerged my phoenix — older, slower, but still magnificent. Her once-vivid feathers were duller now, her flames flickering faintly instead of blazing bright. My chest tightened. She had been waiting — refusing to be reborn — waiting for me.
"I'm back," I whispered softly, reaching out. She let out a low, warbling note, one that spoke of both joy and sorrow.
When my fingers brushed her feathers, the bond between us flared — not just magic, but emotion, memory, and time. I felt her pain, her patience, her unending loyalty. And she felt my guilt and gratitude in return.
"It's alright," I murmured. "You can rest now, Sol. I'm here."
For a moment, the flames around her brightened, just enough to illuminate the room. Then she leaned her head against my shoulder, and I felt warmth — true, living warmth — spread through me again.
After a century entombed in silence and crystal, my world burned anew.
The flame had returned.