Snape scowled, arms folded across his chest. "You sound awfully calm. Do you know who's behind this? This cloud feels... hostile. And dangerous."
"I have a few guesses," Dumbledore said gently, fingers steepled in front of him as he studied the sky. "There's a strong surge of lightning magic out there, an elemental force, and quite unusual. Very few wizards have such a natural affinity with thunder and lightning."
Snape raised a brow, unconvinced. "Lightning magic? We haven't seen any actual spells. And since when do you care about thunder, Albus? I thought water and fire were your specialties."
Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Let's just say I'm always excited when something rare appears. I wouldn't be surprised if some spectacular lightning spells come from this eventually."
He turned from the window, brushing imaginary dust from his robes. "Anyway, I expect the clouds will start to fade soon. In the meantime, would you care to try my latest creation, cockroach clusters? Surprisingly good."
Snape gave him a look of utter revulsion. "You must be joking. I'm not eating that foul thing."
His expression quickly shifted from disgust to intensity. "But more importantly, are you seriously planning to clear Sirius Black's name? He's the one who got Lily killed. What could he possibly have said to make you doubt his guilt? Don't tell me you've fallen for whatever sob story he gave you."
"No," Dumbledore said firmly, the humor gone from his voice. "I haven't been misled. I trust my own judgment, Severus. When I tried to retrieve the Secret-Keeper's address from Sirius's mind and found nothing, I knew he wasn't the traitor. He never had that information to begin with."
He looked Snape squarely in the eyes. "Someone else betrayed Lily. And you, Severus, have been hating the wrong man all this time."
"Have I hated the wrong person all this time? Maybe you're the old fool," Snape snapped, his voice sharp and bitter. "Back then, you were the one who insisted, again and again, that it was that bastard Sirius who betrayed Lily. And now you're saying something else? I don't believe it!"
His eyes burned with anger as he stared at Dumbledore, and Sirius's irritating face flashed through his mind, adding fuel to the fire.
"Everyone makes mistakes, Severus. I'm no exception," Dumbledore said quietly, rubbing his tired eyes. "If you truly want to avenge Lily, you'd do better to look for Peter Pettigrew. He's the real Secret-Keeper… and he's still out there."
Truth be told, many wizards shared Snape's disbelief. Even among the members of the Order of Merlin, doubts ran deep. Despite all of Dumbledore's efforts to explain, most found the so-called evidence too flimsy to accept. It just didn't add up.
"Hiding behind a dead man, is that what you lot are doing now?" Snape sneered, voice laced with scorn, though a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. Still, he turned away, unwilling to accept it, and stormed off in frustration.
Dumbledore watched him leave, a faint, bitter smile tugging at his lips. With a sigh, he turned back to the window, eyes settling on the dark clouds rolling across the sky.
"Alex… Bagnold may believe in you without question," he murmured, "but how far can you really go?"
Elsewhere in Britain, beyond the Forbidden Forest and far from Hogwarts, there were other creatures that noticed the storm gathering in the north.
At the Scamander residence, Newt was tending to the magical creatures in his indoor sanctuary when he was startled by a loud, sharp cry overhead. It was a familiar call, high-pitched, powerful, and unmistakable. He quickly tossed aside the weather blanket he'd been using and hurried out of the enclosure.
There, soaring into the air with crackling arcs of electricity dancing around its body, was the Thunderbird, healthy, strong, and suddenly very agitated. It let out another piercing cry, wings flaring as it pointed itself due north.
"What's going on?" Newt muttered, confused. "Why is it acting like this all of a sudden?"
Something had clearly stirred the Thunderbird's instincts. Without wasting a second, Newt sprinted after it, knowing full well that if the creature hit the enchanted walls, part of a carefully constructed, hidden protective barrier, it could injure itself or worse, damage the magic keeping everything in place.
He didn't have time to think. Drawing his wand, he summoned his water bottle, releasing the enchanted liquid to flow across the Thunderbird's body. The magic water calmed it just enough to drag it back down.
Even so, the Thunderbird remained wildly agitated, pacing and flapping as Newt tried everything he could to soothe it. Nothing worked.
Unbeknownst to him, when Alex began using lightning to temper his body, the spiritual link he shared with the Thunderbird was triggered. The storm had called to it, awakening a urge to chase the lightning. The pull was irresistible.
Unfortunately, they were in the south of England, far from the raging thunderstorm over the Forbidden Forest. Newt, unable to sense what the Thunderbird did, was left guessing. All he could do was hold on and hope the creature didn't hurt itself.
After half an hour of struggling, the Thunderbird finally began to calm down. It wasn't much, but it gave Newt a chance to catch his breath and start thinking of a way to help it. Something was clearly happening in the north, and whatever it was, the Thunderbird had felt it first.
At that moment, the thunderstorm swirling above the centaur camp began to change. The churning clouds started to slow, and the bolts of lightning flashing within them gradually thinned, flickering less intensely.
The group gathered atop the mountain had been staring at the sky this entire time. Truthfully, they couldn't see much, but the phenomenon was so rare and awe-inspiring that no one dared look away.
"Look! Up there, what is that?" shouted Firenze, the tribe's sharp-eyed archer, pointing a finger skyward as though he had spotted something extraordinary.
Fang blinked his wide eyes, trying to make sense of the figure slowly descending through the clouds. There was uncertainty in his voice, not because he didn't recognize the figure, but because the person returning looked so different from the Alex they'd watched fly up into the storm.
What descended now was cloaked in lightning and awe. His hair stood straight up, glowing with an silver hue that gave him an almost Super Saiyan-like appearance.
His clothes shimmered with a silver sheen, as though dipped in liquid light, and electric arcs snaked across his entire body like dozens of silver serpents slithering around him. His eyes had turned silver, cold and piercing.
As he descended, the glow slowly faded. Bit by bit, the dazzling vision melted away until the familiar figure of Alex returned. Yet, even though he looked the same on the outside, everyone could sense that something about him had changed.
His eyes were the most obvious sign. Where once there were only dark pupils filled with resolve and intensity, there was now a faint ring of silver threading through the black, giving off a mysterious aura.
It wasn't just strange, it was unsettling. Looking into those eyes felt like being hunted by some unseen predator, even though Alex himself still radiated the calm, grounded energy he always had. The contradiction made everyone feel oddly uneasy.
"Master… are you alright?" Fang asked hesitantly, clearly shaken by the transformation but relieved to see Alex standing.