Linus Alvin Bones stopped at the edge of the shadows.
The magic in the air hummed with a faint vibration as an orb of soft white light coalesced, gradually shaping itself into the figure of a woman.
Her dark hair fell down to her waist, and her posture carried a quiet, aristocratic grace—a mix of scholarly detachment and innate pride.
It was Helena Ravenclaw, daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw.
“Linus,” she spoke calmly, her voice bearing a touch of chill.
“It has been five years.
You simply abandoned me all this time?” Linus offered a faint smile.
“I told you before I left that this day would come.
You can hardly blame me.” “Oh?
With your capabilities, could you not have Apparated back to visit me?” Helena arched an eyebrow.
“Hogwarts is warded against Apparition.” “Not even the Forbidden Forest?
Or had a house-elf fetch you?” Linus fell silent for a moment, an embarrassed look crossing his face.
Helena felt a faint flicker of satisfaction at his expression, though she kept her demeanor stern.
“Let us not dwell on the past,” Linus said, stepping forward with a gentler tone.
“I am back now, and I am teaching at Hogwarts this term.
We will have plenty of time ahead of us.” He raised his wand and softly chanted an incantation.
“*Corpus Manifestum.*” A ripple of magic washed outward.
Helena’s translucent form began to solidify.
Her skin, her hair, and even the heavy fabric of her tenth-century gown gained weight and substance until she was fully tangible.
She lifted a hand, gently touching her own arm.
Warmth and breath had returned to her body.
Before she could process her astonishment, Linus pulled her into a firm embrace.
In that instant, the cold night air seemed to melt away, leaving only the warmth of a long-awaited reunion.
“Do not dwell on the years apart,” he whispered against her ear.
“From now on, time belongs to us.” Helena let out a soft sound, a trace of hidden affection slipping through her quiet voice.
“Hmph…
Had I not found you somewhat charming, I would not forgive you so easily.” Their lips met, their breath intertwining.
Like lovers separated by a thousand years of time, they poured their long-suppressed emotions into the quiet night.
The faint sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor—Filch on his nightly patrol.
Linus frowned, raising his wand with a swift flick.
“*Invisibilis.*” Their figures dissolved into transparent ripples.
Lifting Helena into his arms, he rose soundlessly off the ground and flew upward toward the professors’ quarters.
They spent the remainder of the night lying together.
For a ghost, such an experience ought to have been impossible, yet under the combined mastery of Linus’s alchemy and soul magic, boundaries blurred.
When dawn broke, Linus stirred awake.
Helena was nowhere to be seen, leaving behind only the lingering trace of magical warmth on the sheets.
Linus murmured softly to himself, “It seems the duration of the flesh manifestation spell is still too limited…
Still, she could have left a note.
Is she pouting?” After washing up, he made his way toward the Great Hall for breakfast.
Along the corridor, a familiar boy caught his attention—Neville Longbottom.
The boy was cradling two carefully wrapped packages, looking nervous yet eager.
“Professor!” Neville ran over, offering the parcels with both hands.
“The first one is from my grandmother, and the second I bought with my own saved pocket money…
Thank you for saving my parents.” Linus was taken aback.
Accepting the parcels, he unwrapped them to find an antique book and a bag of sweets.
“Thank you, Neville,” Linus said with a warm smile.
“A gift’s true value lies not in its price, but in the heart behind it.” The boy bowed deeply in gratitude before hurrying off.
Further down the hall, Neville ran into Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who eagerly crowded around him after catching the end of the exchange.
Neville made no secret of it, explaining softly, “After Voldemort was defeated, my parents were placed under the Imperius Curse by Bellatrix Lestrange, driving them to complete mental breakdown.
Years later, Professor Bones developed a new form of soul-healing magic and gradually restored them.
Now they can recognize me and Grandmother.
Even though they can’t use magic yet, the healers say they’ll fully recover in a few years.” Harry, Ron, and Hermione fell silent, their expressions complex.
For the first time, they gained a true glimpse into how many burdens and risks this seemingly gentle professor had carried in silence.
*** Inside the Great Hall, Linus sat at the staff table, his mind wandering.
His thoughts drifted back to his research on the delicate balance between mind, body, memory, and soul.
It was that very research that had led him to spend a year interning at St.
Mungo’s Hospital, where he witnessed countless souls shattered by dark magic—some deprived of consciousness, some stripped of memory, others torn to fragments.
During that time, he had even visited Gilderoy Lockhart, studying the intricate mechanisms of memory modification to crack the underlying principles of the Memory Charm.
Eventually, he perfected his soul-restoration framework and successfully cured several long-standing patients.
To the magical world, it had appeared an act of noble charity.
To Linus, it had simply been another crucial experiment in binding the soul back to the flesh.
Before breakfast concluded, a subtle pulse of magic reached Linus’s mind—a message from Snape.
“I forgot to mention last night.
Something has gone wrong with that Muggle cloning company of yours.” Linus set down his goblet.
“Understood.
I shall look into it this afternoon.” “Suit yourself,” the voice faded away.
Linus looked out through the high stained-glass windows of the hall.
Sunlight filtered through the morning mist, casting warm golden patterns across the long house tables.
A faint smile touched the corner of his lips.
“It seems…
it is time to move the next phase of the plan forward.”