"Harry Potter- Ravenclaw"Chapter 13: Phoenix Rebirth
"Cockroach Cluster!"
At the password, the gargoyle statue stretched and leapt aside, revealing the spiral staircase behind it.
As Wyzett stepped into the corridor leading to the Headmaster's office, a strange sensation washed over him. His body felt inexplicably weak, as if he'd suddenly come down with a fever—hot and cold flashes prickling his skin. With every step toward the Headmaster's door, the weakness deepened.
The world around him began to blur, as if the air itself shimmered with heat. The outlines of floor, walls, and ceiling melted together, everything twisting and indistinct.
Hiss…
A faint sound, like a match being struck, reached Wyzett's ears.
The distortion grew stronger. The corridor seemed to dissolve into a single, molten mass. The temperature soared, yet, oddly, Wyzett didn't feel suffocated. The feverish chills faded rapidly, replaced by a strange sense of relief—like a fish tossed onto cracked earth, now suddenly plunged back into cool water.
…
The world snapped into focus, but everything was unfamiliar.
At first, there was only a single flicker of flame. In the blink of an eye, it swelled and multiplied. Fire surged like ocean waves, rolling and churning up thick, black smoke. The smoke spiraled upward, then plunged down as if caught in a vortex, stirring the flames into a wild dance.
Fire and smoke wove together, crimson petals and jet-black stamens blooming into a radiant sea of flaming flowers.
But all flowers must wither, even those made of fire. The blazing sea faded, shrinking until only the original flame remained—then that, too, winked out.
Darkness pressed in, cold and absolute. For a heartbeat, it seemed warmth and light would never return.
Then, a pair of gentle, familiar eyes appeared in the void.
They were the eyes of Fawkes the phoenix.
A clear, melodic cry echoed through the darkness as Fawkes soared into view, wings unfurling in a burst of light. Flames whirled around him, chasing his tail or perhaps being chased by him—an endless, cyclical dance.
Fawkes swept down, magnificent wings wrapped in living fire, and landed before Wyzett.
The flames flared brighter, spilling from Fawkes' body and igniting Wyzett as well.
But the fire didn't burn. It embraced him. Warmth and vigor flooded his heart.
Fawkes spread his wings once more, lifting Wyzett up and away from the darkness, higher and higher, until the world around them grew familiar again…
…
Wyzett found himself back in the corridor, drenched in sweat as though pulled from a river. It was December, yet he felt no chill at all—his palm radiated a gentle heat.
He quickly raised his hand. There, on his palm, glowed an orange-red mark in the shape of a phoenix taking flight.
At that moment, The Wizard's Practical Combat Guide in his mind sprang open, pages fluttering wildly. All the Ancient Magic he'd gathered over the past weeks was drawn into a single page.
The page slipped back into the book. Where it had been blank, new words now shimmered:
Ancient Magic: Pyromastery—Channel Ancient Magic to cast fire-making spells… amplify magical power… summon a ring of fire when conjuring flames…
Along with the new page came a flood of insight into fire magic.
Wyzett immediately began the Custodis Meditatio—the Guardian's Meditation—steadying his mind and letting the new knowledge settle and organize itself.
After a while, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. "Incendio!"
Snap!
A flame flickered between his thumb and forefinger.
He opened his palm, and the fire swelled, growing into a blazing orb that hovered above his hand—silent, heat shimmering in the air.
…
Suddenly, a chill crept in. Wyzett glanced at his palm, where the phoenix mark was fading, the warmth ebbing away as cold pressed in through his damp clothes.
"If that's how it works…" He flicked his wrist. The flame above his palm burst apart, spreading instantly across his entire body.
He was engulfed in fire—clothes and hair ablaze—yet nothing was scorched. The flames danced over him, drying his sweat, banishing the cold.
Moments later, the fire coalesced back into his palm, leaving him comfortable and refreshed.
This was what mastery over fire meant. Compared to the usual household charms, using fire magic for cleaning seemed a bit over the top—but Wyzett was testing his limits, seeing just how much control he'd gained.
Wandless magic—he could now shape and command fire without a wand. He could even dry his clothes with pinpoint precision, not a thread singed.
He gazed at the flame in his hand, momentarily lost in thought.
The fire remained steady, unflickering, as if his subconscious held it in place.
…
"How did Professor Snape do it at the Dueling Club?" Wyzett murmured, closing his eyes to recall the memory. "That serpent of flame…"
He moved his fingers as if sculpting clay, molding the fire in his palm.
The flame shrank, rounding into a glowing red egg. A bump appeared, then a tiny serpent of fire slithered out, wriggling through the air.
Wyzett watched the agile little fire snake, but frowned. "It's not the same… too stiff… Something's missing. It's not just Incendio and Transfiguration…"
"How did Professor Snape do it? It was a student duel—no need for Dark Magic…"
He pondered a moment longer. "Could it have been… the Patronus Charm?"
After a long pause, he brought his wand close to the fire snake's head. "Expecto Patronum!"
His wand traced a smooth circle, the tip glowing with warm silver light. The fire snake followed, moving as if truly alive, coiling gracefully through the air.
Just then, a cold voice cut through the corridor.
"Wyzett, what… are you doing here?"
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