At first, I think I'm imagining it.
A flicker — faint, distant — brushes against my senses. Magical energy. Human magic. Real, living magic that isn't mine.
For a moment, I don't dare believe it. I've imagined this before. Countless times. Pretending someone was near, that I'd hear voices or footsteps. But this… this is different. It's sharp, focused. Someone is actually here.
"Finally…" I whisper in my mind, the thought echoing like a spark in the silence.
The magic grows stronger, closer. Two distinct auras, then three — powerful ones. I catch the muffled sound of voices, distorted through the crystal. I can't make out words, but I know the cadence of authority anywhere. Professors.
Then, all at once, the world erupts in golden light.
A phoenix flash.
The brilliance cuts through the crystal like sunrise through fog, and there he is — unmistakable even through the distortion. Long silver beard, half-moon spectacles, eyes that hold galaxies of wisdom.
Dumbledore.
The real one.
He speaks quietly to the others — I think I hear McGonagall's crisp tone, and maybe Flitwick's higher pitch — before raising his wand. The Elder Wand.
For a heartbeat, everything stands still.
Then Dumbledore flicks his wrist.
A sound like shattering glass and thunder colliding fills my mind as the crystal fractures. Cracks of blue light race across its surface, splitting into a thousand luminous veins. The stasis spell that has held me for years finally breaks.
And I fall.
The sensation of gravity hits like a curse — my body slamming into reality after so long suspended in nothing. Air rushes into my lungs for the first time in forever, burning like fire. My vision swims, the world spinning in colors I can barely comprehend.
I hit the cold stone floor, weak, trembling, gasping. I try to say something — anything — but all that comes out is a faint sound, more breath than voice.
Hands reach for me. A voice says my name. Dumbledore's voice — calm, astonished, gentle.
Then darkness takes me.